The Witches of Dark Root: Daughters of Dark Root: Book One (The Daughters of Dark Root) (32 page)

“So, ya had a good visit wit’ yer mother?” Aunt Dora was attempting to lift her considerable body from the old kitchen chair. There were loud creaking sounds and I wasn’t sure if they were coming from my Aunt or the chair. I shot June Bug a knowing look and she covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

I motioned for Aunt Dora to sit back down and I took over the task or clearing the table.

June Bug sat opposite her, coloring with markers on a sheet of poster board. I’d check her progress every now and then, giving her suggestions as well as encouragement. Her tongue flicked excitedly out of the side of her mouth like a little frog grasping at flies.

“I wouldn’t call it a visit,” I said, taking a dish cloth to the table.

Aunt Dora shook her head and pointed to a dry cloth and spray in the windowsill instead. I took the bottle and spritzed it across the table.

“...It was more like a haunting,” I added.

Aunt Dora took a sip of her tea, watching me over the top of her cup. Though her face was covered in lines, she was as mentally sharp as ever. I could tell she was waiting to see if I would continue, so I teased her by humming quietly to myself. It wasn’t long before she couldn’t handle it and broke the silence.

“Well, what happened then?” she grumbled. “Ya really want to keep an ol’ lady in suspense? Then yer gonna have two relations in da hospital.” Aunt Dora slammed her cup onto the saucer and June Bug couldn’t contain her laughter any longer.

“Let’s just say I’m no Merry,” I said.

At the mention of her mother’s name June Bug grew quiet, gathered her markers, and proceeded into the living room.

“Poor dear,” Aunt Dora said, her eyes following her great-niece. “Sensitive, jus’ like her mother.”

I nodded and peeked around the corner, into the living room. June Bug was coloring again but the expression on her face had changed.

“I’m worried about Merry,” I whispered, shaking my head. My hair fell into my face, creating a curtain of red between me and my aunt. I pulled it back into a loose knot at the nape of my neck. “...She seems drained. I feel so guilty being here while she is there.”

“An’ ya should!”

The tone of Aunt Dora’s voice surprised me. I looked up.

She caught herself and lowered it.

“...We all should, for dat matter,” she said. “Yer sister is a good woman and one o’ da few people in dis family wit’ genuine compassion, and we are takin’ her for granted. It’s too much for her, especially wit’ her havin’ a lil’ one an’ all.” Aunt Dora’s eyes drifted towards the kitchen window, at a blue bird sitting on the branch of a tree.
 

“...I will go tomorrow an’ give her a break.” Her eyes found mine. “Ya can help yer sister in other ways. I think ya already are.”

“Thank you,” I said, rinsing the cloth under the faucet, watching the water turn from brown to clear. “That makes me feel better.”

“I know ya long enough ta know there’s something else on yer mind. Spill it, missy.”

I sighed, leaning my hands on the counter. “I keep thinking back to the mother I knew and the mother I have now. I just can’t reconcile them.” I wrung out the cloth, hanging it across the sink divider. I watched as small droplets clung stubbornly to the rag before submitting to the drain below.

Aunt Dora nodded. “It’s a hard thing, watchin’ yer parents grow ol’. I remember my own mother. So sad at da end.”

I had never heard Mother or Aunt Dora mention their parents. I didn’t speak, hoping she would say more about my grandparents, but she changed the subject.

“Yer mother hasn’ been herself fer many years. She started having some phys’cal diff’culties after ya girls left. Back problems. Knees. Complained o’ pains in her chest. She tried ta work da store by herself. She was so used ta having ya girls aroun’, I’m not sure she knew what ta do once ya were gone...”

“I thought she hired someone?”

“Oh, she did, a college girl. But yer mother’s phys’cal condition got worse and den her mental state took a turn. I guess it was too much fer da two o’ dem.” Aunt Dora stirred her coffee with a small, silver spoon, clanking the edge of the porcelain cup. “The hired girl left an’ yer mother took to stayin’ in dat ol’ house o’ hers alone. Den she closed da shop down.”

I sat down in June Bug’s empty chair.

Aunt Dora lifted the teapot from the trivet and poured me a cup. The steam came up, wafting the scent of her special blend towards my nose. I inhaled and smiled. Aunt Dora claimed she didn’t dabble in herb magic, but there was something special about her teas, something even Eve could not duplicate.
 

When she saw that I was relaxing, she continued.

“Don’ go blamin’ yerself, or any o’ yer sisters for dis one. Kids get big. Dey grow up. Dey leave. Dat’s da natural order o’ things.” Aunt Dora drummed her plump fingers across the table. “At least, dat’s da way it’s s’posed to be. But yer mother, she’s a hard-head. She ne’er understood dat. When Ruth Anne left...”

Aunt Dora paused and I could hear the lump that settled in her throat.

Though we all loved Aunt Dora––and she, us––she had formed a special bond with Ruth Anne, long before the rest of us ever came into the world.

“Well, anyway,” Aunt Dora went on. “Losin’ Ruth Anne was hard on e’eryone. Not just yer mother.” Aunt Dora pushed herself up with the help of the chair handle and immediately reached for a cane. She pulled herself to a walking position and went to the sink to rinse her cup.

“Why did Ruth Anne leave?” I asked.

I remembered the night she left. She had said she was going to live with her father, but had never given us a reason.

“It’s not fer me ta say, Missy,” Aunt Dora said, her body tensing. “An’ it’s not fer ya ta be askin’. Sometimes families think dey shoul’ be privy to all sorts o’ information jus’ cuz they’re family. But truth is, sometimes families know too much.”

I took another sip of tea, then gently set my cup back down on the table, trying to decide if I should pursue the topic or move on to something else. Aunt Dora was as stubborn as my mother, if in a different way. If I wanted to know more about Ruth Anne, I would have to wait.

“There was one thing that happened in the hospital,” I said, adding a drop of honey to my tea.

“Oh?”

“Mother spoke to us. She said something about the circle being broken, and stopping a woman named Larinda. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?” I kept my eyes turned down, watching as the honey dissolved.

“Larinda? Ya sure, girl? She said Larinda?” Aunt Dora had somehow teleported back to the table, hovering over me with wide eyes.

I nodded and Aunt Dora let out a little gasp.

“But I thought...I mean, we all thought...”

“Thought what?” I said.

Aunt Dora made no motion to answer me and I repeated my question.

“What did you think?”

“Dat Larinda was dead. Many years ago. Yer mother must be delirious.”

“Aunt Dora, I know that Larinda was part of the original Council, but why is Mother afraid of her?”

Aunt Dora’s eyes were far away. She didn't seem to be hearing me.

I tried again. “I had a dream about a woman named Larinda. She had dark hair and appeared at the festival parade. Mother was scared and hid us. But I know it wasn’t just a dream. It happened.”

“Shhh!” Aunt Dora had an expression of fear on her face. “Der are some secrets darker den witchcraft.”

“Why does everyone talk in these crazy riddles? What do you mean?”

“Larinda was a powerful witch. Secon’ only to yer mother. But she wanted more, started playin’ wit’ da dark arts. Even fancied herself a summoner.” Aunt Dora looked down at me, her eyes watering, her body quivering.

“A summoner, as in summoning...what?”

“All manner o’ ungodly things.” Aunt Dora laughed, but it was clear she didn’t find it funny. “O’ course,” she added, cautiously. “Der hasn’t been a successful summoner in many years. But she’s a strong witch, e’en wit’out that ability.” Aunt Dora shook her head, as if doing so would erase the thought from her brain. “Be careful, girl. Ya could be in serious trouble.”

“I thought it was the men in the group who were trying to summon?”

“Dat’s true. But yer mother wasn’t worried about da men. Dey couldn’ do much alone.” Aunt Dora parted her lips, licking them. “But wit’ a witch at his side! A warlock was capable o’ mos’ anything.”

“I’m still lost,” I said, shaking my head.

“Der was one warlock, good fella, at first...but like all men, he wanted ta do more. He made Larinda fall in love wit’ him, den used her power to aid himself. But dey had no success. He wanted us ta help him wit’ it, too.” Aunt Dora lowered her eyes and I could tell she was deciding how much to tell me. “Dis is dark Magick, Maggie. An’ yer mother would ha’ none o’ it! An’ me, neither! Dark Magick is fast an’ powerful. It may serve ya in da short run but it will eat yer soul in da process.” She leaned forward, her razor-sharp eyes fixing on me. “An’ once ya journey down dat road, it’s a long walk back.”

I tried to piece it all together. Everyone had their own version of the same story. It was confusing, but I knew it was also important.

“And that’s why the Council broke up?” I said finally.

“Der were many reasons, but dat was da last straw, da real reason yer mother wouldn’ let warlocks in after. Dey weaken women.”

“Do you think Larinda has figured out how to summon? Is that why Mother’s afraid?”

Aunt Dora tapped her fingers on the table. “It’s been many years since I seen her. Who knows what she’s been able ta do in dat time? Assumin’ she’s alive...”

An image came to me, an army of horrendous dark shapes standing over my body while I slept. I wanted nothing to do with summoners. I was going to run, I decided...right away. Everyone was okay before I had come home. They would be okay after I left. I was about to tell Aunt Dora where she could stuff all this witchery business, when a small voice from the doorway brought me back.

“Aunt Maggie,” June Bug said, holding up her picture. “I’m done.”

“Well, look der!” Aunt Dora clapped her hands and took the poster, holding it up for me to see. There were skeletons, jack-o’-lanterns and ghosts, surrounded by families eating ice cream and playing games. In the center of the picture, a blond girl smiled, holding a balloon.

“Dis is exactly what Haunted Dark Root looks like!” Aunt Dora said. “I think ya got some of yer Aunt Maggie’s artistic abil’ties...”

June Bug beamed.

I patted my lap and June Bug raced towards me, jumping on my legs. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed the back of her neck.

“I think yer stayin’ a while more,” Aunt Dora said, smiling wryly. “Yer work here is not yet done.”

Seventeen: Main Street

Sister House, Dark Root, Oregon

June, 1997

“Don’t you turn your back on me!”
 

Miss Sasha was in a frenzy, chasing after Ruth Anne in the kitchen. Maggie and Merry watched from the sofa, not sure if they should be worried or amused. The two went at it often now, Ruth Anne accusing Miss Sasha of being a bad mother and Miss Sasha accusing Ruth Anne of being an ungrateful daughter.

“There’s knives in the kitchen,” Merry whispered to Maggie, but neither girl was alarmed. For all the shouting and name calling, neither Miss Sasha nor Ruth Anne had resorted to physical violence.

“When will you tell them?” Ruth Anne stopped on one side of the kitchen table, facing her mother on the opposite side. “They deserve to know. If you don’t tell them...” Her words stopped.

Tell them what?
Maggie wondered.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Miss Sasha straightened herself, patting her hair back in place. “And if you care about them, you will shut your mouth and go back to your books.”

Ruth Anne pulled open the junk drawer and removed a pair of sewing scissors. Maggie’s hand tightened on Merry’s arm and the two girls caught their breath.

“Put those away,” Miss Sasha ordered. “I’m not playing with you.”