The Witches of Dark Root: Daughters of Dark Root: Book One (The Daughters of Dark Root) (30 page)

“Surprised?”

“Yes. You are the last person I expected to help out with something like that. This means more to me than you will ever know.”

I almost told her I wasn’t sure how long I would be in town or how much I would actually help, but she looked so happy. We could talk later.

“I need to go the cafeteria.” Merry glanced through the door at our mother. “Do you mind staying with Mama? You don’t have to go in. Just stand out here. If anything changes, there’s a button on her bed that will call the nurses. Don’t worry,” she added, sensing my nervousness. “There are always nurses buzzing around here. I haven’t had to push that button yet.”

“Okay.” If she could stay here with Mother for days, I could survive a few minutes.
 

“I love you, Magdalene.” Merry kissed my cheek, then left.

I was left feeling like a peeping tom as I watched Mother from the doorway. I regarded her thin, lined face, her slightly parted lips as she struggled for breath. Her hair was tangled and matted around her. I stood for a while, lulled into a semi-trance as I listened to the machines hum along reassuringly.

“She’d be a great decoration for Haunted Dark Root,” Merry said, startling me.

I laughed at her joke. She wasn’t usually one for dark humor.

“Yep. Put her in a haunted house.”

“She used to scare the Bejeezus out of me when she would run around like a wild woman under the full moons,” Merry admitted.

“Really? You never told me you were afraid of anything.”

“Well, after awhile, it just became par for the course.”

I took Merry’s hand and we stood like ghosts outside her door, lost in memories of a shared childhood.

Suddenly, Mom jolted and her body began to convulse.

“Mama!” Merry dropped my hand and raced inside. Mother’s head flopped violently from side to side. Her eyes opened, then rolled back into her head.

Merry jabbed her fingers at the call button. “Maggie, quick. Find a nurse!”

I sped up and down the hall, but the place was quiet. I came back to the room and Merry was holding our mother, trying to calm her.

“You must stop Larinda!” my mother said, her head turning in my direction. “You must stop her!”

“Where’s the fucking nurse?” I took over Merry’s job of punching the call button.

“Calm down, Mama,” Merry said. “We are here. Everything will be okay.”
 

“The circle will be broken!” Mother screeched, arching her back and aiming her chin towards the ceiling.

Three women in gray scrubs rushed in, pushing us aside. “Please step out,” a nurse ordered me. I nodded, backing into the hallway.
 

Merry remained at Mother’s side before being ushered out herself. The same nurse took a long needle and injected something into Mother’s bony arm. She let out one final yowl and collapsed onto the bed.

“Larinda. She said the name a lot, that first day we arrived here. Who is that?” Merry asked.
 

Her face was wet and I couldn’t tell if it was because of sweat or tears.

The memory of the dream I had several weeks ago came back at me: The spiral-haired woman chasing us through the parade and Mother calling her Larinda.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m going to find out.”

A nurse left the room and I caught her arm as she tried to pass. “Is she going to be all right?”
 

She gave me a solemn look but didn’t respond.

“Go home and take care of my daughter,” Merry directed me. “I’ve been here a few days now, I can stay here as long as I’m needed. Aunt Dora can relieve me if necessary.”

I felt like a beaten dog as I slunk out of the hospital, but I couldn’t go back. I would rather face that ‘thing’ in the nursery a dozen times then see Mother like this. I stood in the elevator pressing random buttons, letting the doors open and close as I decided what to do. I remembered the vision of my mother lying in bed with me, telling the Universe that she loved me.

Everything was so confusing.

I reached for the bus ticket in my pocket––the ticket that could take me away from this place.

I was a coward but I wasn’t so low as to leave things the way they currently were. I might not be able to help with Mother, but I could do other things for a while, like help with June Bug and Shane’s stupid idea to bring back Haunted Dark Root.

And maybe find out who Larinda was.

“Fucking guilt,” I said, as a woman stepped inside the elevator.

She gave me an empathetic smile.

Maybe I wasn’t the only one in the world who had difficult decisions to make.

“
Are you sure you’re up to this?” Shane asked, as I slid into the passenger seat. He had made his way back to the parking lot, blasting country music so loudly that I could find him with my eyes closed.

“I don’t know what I’m up for, anymore,” I sighed.

He gave me a concerned look but didn’t start the car. This was his way of telling me to buckle up. I was getting used to his profound need to follow rules and I half-heartedly obliged.

“Well,” he said, lowering the volume and starting the ignition. “Far be it from me to challenge the intuition of a witch.”

I bristled at the word, but didn't take the bait.

He laughed. “No comment? Does that mean I actually won? The score is now Shane, one, Maggie, one hundred...”

“I wish I was a witch,” I said. “A witch could at least be useful.” I bit at a hangnail near my thumb.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Mags. Witch or no witch, you are very useful.” He gave me a tight-lipped smile as he pulled onto the freeway. Linsburg was two exits away. “Are you going to ask about your mother?”

I turned Jillian’s card over in my hand. If she really was a psychic medium, someone who could predict the future
and
talk to the dead, I had many questions for her.

“Among other things,” I said.

“You could ask her how to make our festival a success?” Shane put on his country boy grin.

I had to admire his dedication. He had been working so hard, including coming up with a new look and theme for Dip Stix.

“Fondue is all the rage in big cities,” Eve had explained to him. “And...it’s still in the dipping genre. You can use cheese, chocolates, wines, broths. There’s no limit to what can be dipped.”

With that, he was sold, and the two had been making plans to turn the cafe into a posh restaurant by the end of October.

“We don’t need a psychic for that,” I answered. “If you want the festival to be a success you have to advertise and get all those fogies in town to keep their shops open more than three hours a day.”

“Advertising...yes. Brilliant idea! Signs, posters, Craigslist.”

“Craig’s what?”

“Never mind.” He scratched the left side of his jaw. “What about your mother’s shop? Think you gals will reopen?”

I scrunched my lips as I watched the scenery wiz by. When I had left Dark Root I had vowed to never step foot in Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe again. But then again, so many of my plans had changed. Besides, it was only for a few weeks and it might alleviate a bit of this guilt that was building up. “It’s not on the top of my bucket list but we do need to open it if we are going to revive the festival. Without it, Haunted Dark Root would just be...”

“...mundane,” Shane finished for me.

We passed a sign that read, ‘Welcome to Linsburg. The Happiest Place in Oregon.’

“Who comes up with the town slogans?” I asked.

“That, my dear, is our tax money hard at work.” Shane scratched his head and a flake of dandruff fell out. I resisted the urge to make a snow globe joke. If living with Michael had taught me anything, it was that men were big babies when it came to their hair.

Shane pulled into the lot of a yellow, cottage-like house on the outskirts of town. The flower boxes were empty and brown-green grass dotted the front lawn. The trim, pillars, and shutters were painted a dull white. The house had a certain charm but I could tell it had seen better days. A sign on the front door let us know that Jillian Lightheart was open for business until noon.

If she wasn’t busy, that would give me a solid half hour.

“Want to come?” I asked, grabbing my purse from the floorboard. “I could use the moral support.”

“I’ll support you from afar and maybe at lunchtime if you are willing to try the spinach-cauliflower sauce I invented last night...”

I nodded––though not quite sure about his concoction––and made my way up the four cement steps to the door of the house.
 

I knocked politely, waited a moment, and turned the knob.

I had known many people who claimed to be psychics. Mother loved to chat with them in the parlor of our home––
“Oh, please tell me what the weather will be like for Spring. It’s been such a wet season already.” “So he’s going to cheat on me? That son of a bitch!”––
but I had never consulted with one myself.

The interior was nothing like I expected.

For starters, it was clean, well lit, and organized. It looked more like an office than a place where people came to have their palms read and futures told. A desk and computer sat in the center of the room, facing two comfortable-looking chairs. To the right was a leather love seat. Built-in shelves lined the back wall, crammed with books about psychology, religion, spirituality, history, geology, archeology, astronomy, philosophy and astrology. I recognized several of the titles from Mother’s shop, Uncle Joe’s house and Michael’s library. I was glad Shane hadn’t come in after all. We might have been here all day.

“Hello there.” Jillian’s lyrical voice greeted me.

She emerged from a side room dressed in a two-piece suit and heels. She gave me a warm hug and took a seat at her desk.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly, realizing she was probably about to leave. “I know I should have called, but I was in the neighborhood and thought...”

“...Thought you’d get your fortune told?” Jillian’s eyes twinkled. “No worries, Maggie. I had a feeling you would be dropping by.” She motioned for me to sit in the chair facing her. “I don’t have much time, but the time I do have is yours. Just give me a moment.”

She tapped on her keyboard and I shifted uneasily, pretending to be interested in a glass sculpture of a pyramid that sat on the table nearest me.

“There,” she said, raising her hands and wiggling her fingers. “Just had to update my Facebook. Now what can I do for you?”

Jillian rolled her chair out so that she was sitting directly in front of me. I wasn’t sure where to start. Larinda? The ‘thing’? My sick mother? It all felt crazy.

Noting my hesitation, Jillian took the lead.
 

“Hmmm...so much going on with young Maggie.” She reached for my hands, placed them on her knees, then covered them with her own. A warmth crept through me and I relaxed. “Maggie, dear, your mind is all over the place, but we will begin with the most pressing issues and we can talk in the future about the others...alright?”

I nodded dumbly and Jillian closed her eyes.

I could feel her energy searching me, poking through the holes and pits of my soul.