The Witches of Dark Root: Daughters of Dark Root: Book One (The Daughters of Dark Root) (44 page)

The Maggie cat leapt from June Bug’s arms and pounced onto a small beam of sunlight on the floor. She curled up on the same patch of floor then, and fell quickly asleep.

Merry wiped her palms on her corduroy jeans. “I couldn’t have done this without you guys.” She allowed her eyes to rest on Shane.

He blushed, shuffling his feet, and this time I did throw a pillow at him.

“Stop that,” I huffed. “Your golly-gee-willikers act makes you look like a dork.”

He flushed a little more, but grinned at me.

“Grandma’s going to be so excited,” June Bug grinned, revealing a missing front tooth.

Merry, Shane and I glanced at one another.

June Bug was aware that grandma was coming home and that she was still ‘sleeping,’ but she didn’t know there was a chance she might not wake up. After discovering that Leah had been ‘attending’ to Mother, the doctors conducted tests and found that her blood contained large traces of jimson weed, a poisonous plant that could bring about violent behavior, hallucinations, and even death. The doctors insisted the jimson weed may have been the reason she was mad as a hatter for these last few years, but it wasn’t the reason she was still in a coma-like state.

“She’s going to get better,” June Bug said when no one spoke. She walked over to the Maggie cat, crossed her ankles, and sat primly down beside her. “I will give her my healing energy when she gets here, just the way Mama taught me.”

I was filled with love for my niece. She had that same, selfless, caring quality that Merry possessed. I also hoped she was right. June Bug had lost her father and her home; she deserved to have a grandmother.

“Well,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “It seems we are clear of...” I looked up the staircase, remembering that night a few weeks before. “...Everything.”

Merry nodded.

Since we had ‘cleansed’ the house, there hadn’t been any signs of mysterious activities here. Gahabrien remained caged in a mason jar, locked up in one of closets at Harvest Home. Sometimes, when I walked by the closet at night, I’d hear the soft noises from within, scratchings and scuttlings, but I never opened the door to check.

Some doors were better left closed.

“Are you ready?” I asked Shane.

He was driving me to Linsburg to pick up something nice to wear for the festival, a reluctant concession on my part after a week of listening to Merry and Eve’s pleas. I argued that it was Halloween and most everyone would be in costume anyway, to which Eve replied, “Then you are going as the town beggar?”

Shane took out his keys and tipped his hat goodbye. “Come by for dinner, okay? Don’t tell anyone but there’s no dipping tonight. Paul’s grilling steaks out back. Should be fun.” He turned to me. “...Meet you out front, Mags.”

“Thanks for helping, sis.” Merry wrapped her arm around my neck and whispered, “I swear, if you don’t hurry up and nab that boy, I will.”

“As I said before,” I reminded her, “I’m done with men. Too much work and not enough payoff.” I didn’t tell her that he was earmarked for Ruth Anne. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, assuming we ever found our eldest sister.

“Suit yourself,” Merry said, dreamily watching Shane get into his truck through the living room window. “Just remember, I’m a single woman now, with needs.”

“What needs, Mama?” June Bug piped up.

“Yeah,” I teased, crossing my arms. “...What needs?”

“Steak, baby. Steak,” Merry said, winking at me as she shooed me outside.

“Uh-huh.” I said goodbye to June Bug and made my way to Shane’s pickup, slamming the truck door after I climbed in.

“What’s wrong with you?” Shane asked as we pulled out of the gravel driveway.

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t seem like nothing,” he said, scratching his head and turning on the country music station.

“Do we have to listen to this crap every time we get in the car?” I said, rubbing my temple. “And why do you have to smile at every woman we run across, including my sister? She has real problems and here you are playing cowboy hero.”

“Why, Maggie Maddock,” he said, a pleased grin on his face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, putting my feet up on the dashboard. “I’m just looking after Merry, is all.”

“Yes, Maggie, my dear. Your kindness knows no bounds.”

“Besides,” I said, looking gloomily out the window. “You are supposed to be saving yourself for Ruth Anne.”

Shane removed both hands from the steering wheel, placing his palms together in a jerky, praying motion. He mumbled something under his breath then returned to driving.

“Okay, Maggie. I will save myself for
Ruth Anne
.”

Neither of us said another word as we made our way towards Linsburg.

Despite my irritation with Shane, my mood improved once we got to Linsburg, a town nestled in the mountains and paradoxically both colder and sunnier than Dark Root.

I could see the frost of my breath as we exited the truck and meandered down Main Street. Everywhere, there were smiling townies carrying steaming mugs of chocolate, talking about school, the holidays, and “
Have you heard, Haunted Dark Root is returning?”

The place was positively buzzing.

“This is how Dark Root will look in just a few years,” Shane said, sliding on the black gloves he kept in his console. “Mark my words.”

“Dark Root still has a ways to go,” I said, noticing the array of colorful shops that lined the road. “But we’re getting there,” I added, before he could start in on his positive thinking lecture.
 

Shane pointed to a small restaurant across the street called Sammy’s, which boasted the
Best Grilled Cheese Sandwic
hes in the Pacific Northwest. “Let’s check that place out.”

I readily agreed. Though I loved Aunt Dora’s cooking and the new cuisine at Dip Stix, a plain old grilled cheese sandwich on a cold fall day sounded really good.

The restaurant was charming, a revamped fifties diner complete with an old juke box and a red and white soda fountain. We took seats at the counter and ordered the house specialty from a blue-haired waitress named Marge.

“This is really good,” I said, dipping my sandwich into the rich tomato bisque. Shane took a bite, smiled, then made a note in the little black journal he carried with him everywhere. “We might have to add this to our Dip Stix fare.”

I finished my lunch and thought about ordering pie––there was a piece of apple that had taunted me since we arrived. Had Shane not been sitting across from me, already teasing me about inhaling my soup, I would have.

“Where next?” I asked, looking out the window as the waitress cleared our plates. There were so many fun shops, and I wanted to hit them all.

“We’ll have to do the whole tourist thing some other day. The plan for today is to get you pretty for your big night,” Shane said, grinning. He had a small glob of tomato soup on his chin and I didn’t tell him––his penance for teasing me.

“I still don’t think I’m fit to be the Master of Ceremonies. I think you would do a better job.”

“Probably.” His brown eyelashes fluttered as he considered. “But we need one of the Maddock girls. Merry’s shy and Eve’s––”

“––Eve,” I finished for him.

Had we given Eve the MC title, the theme would have changed from Haunted Dark Root to All About Eve
,
complete with a slide-show
presentation. Luckily, she was satisfied with decorating and bossing Paul around.

I handed the waitress a Haunted Dark Root flier and asked where the nearest beauty parlor was, which Shane found uncontrollably funny. The waitress directed us to Sally’s Cut and Curl across the street. I had never had a real haircut before and I stroked my locks protectively as we entered the establishment.

“Will it hurt?” I asked.

“If it hurt,” Shane said, removing his hat. “Men would all have long hair. Haven’t you heard we are babies when it comes to physical pain?”

“Good point.”

“Besides,” he said, flagging down the receptionist, who was watching a reality show in the back room. “You don’t have to get it cut short. Just styled.”
 

I swallowed. If we were going to resurrect Dark Root I had to keep my hair long. It was a well-known truth that a witch’s power was in the length of her hair.

“Why, aren't you pretty!” said a lady, whose name tag read Cleo.

She was an older woman, probably closer to my mother’s age than mine. I looked around for someone younger, more modern, but they were all occupied.

Seeming to sense my nerves, Cleo waved a manicured hand. “Don’t you worry. I’ve been cutting hair for forty years. I’m sure I can tackle that mane.” She examined my wiry strands, puckering her lips as she scrutinized what she would be working with. “...How about we layer, highlight, condition, and straighten?” she said. “Maybe add in some side bangs? I think it will really bring out your eyes.”

I looked helplessly at Shane, hoping he understood what she meant. It was all a foreign language to me.

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I just tell them to cut off anything sticking out from under my hat.” He rubbed one of his ears. “Almost lost the right one that way.”

He smiled again, said something about me being in good hands and that he was going to check some other stores while I got pampered.
 

“I’ll be back in a couple hours,” he said, when he saw the look of panic in my eyes. “I think you will keep Cleo plenty busy till then.”

When he was gone, Cleo swooned. “Isn’t he a little muffin? You’re a lucky woman.”

“Yeah,” I said, as she pushed my head under a faucet. “Lucky me.”

When the first lock of hair fell from my head––a shocking, two-inch chunk of coppery wire––I gasped, then squeezed my eyes shut for the duration of the process. Cleo complained about the thickness, dryness, and overall sorry condition of my hair. I apologized repeatedly as she yanked and combed out knots. At last, she tapped the side of my cheek with her comb, telling me that it was time to look. I opened my eyes and gazed in the mirror.

Was that really me?

I had grown up sandwiched between Merry and Eve, both of whom were beautiful, but I had never felt anything other than average myself. Now, staring into the mirror and noticing how the bangs framed my green eyes, the way soft wisps fell across my shoulders, and the new honey-colored strands interwoven with my natural red hue, I felt beautiful. My skin was still pale and freckled and my nose a bit too thin, but my features came together.

I was Maggie, improved.

“Thank you!” I said, almost falling out of my chair. “You’re a magical woman, Cleo.” I handed her a flier and gave her a quick hug. “If you come to Haunted Dark Root I’ll hook you up with a free henna tattoo.”

Cleo removed my bib and I ran my fingers through my hair. It was so soft I couldn’t keep my hands out of it. I turned from one side to the other, checking out every angle of my face in the mirror.
 

A low whistle caught my attention and I turned to see Shane, standing in the doorway with a few plastic sacks in his hand. He removed his hat and sauntered in my direction.

“You’re as pretty as a flower,” he said. It wasn’t very poetic but I blushed nonetheless. Then I remembered how he flirted with other girls that way and I socked him in the arm.