The Witches of Dark Root: Daughters of Dark Root: Book One (The Daughters of Dark Root) (45 page)

“Careful,” he said, rubbing his arm. “I bruise like a peach.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have any peaches on me,” I replied. “Or I’d throw them at you, too.”

“I can’t believe how mean you are being to me, after I went out and bought you presents. Now you’ll never get to see what’s inside these bags.” He dangled the sacks in front of me but I ignored him and went to pay my bill.

“I forget you’re not a normal woman, Maggie,” he continued, following me out. “And that you can’t be bribed with stuff, but...” He opened one of his bags and pulled out a topaz-colored bracelet. “...I got you some baubles.”

“Pretty,” I admitted, snatching a rose-colored broach from his hand. “But you shouldn’t have spent your money on me.”

“It’s costume jewelry,” he said, pinning the broach on my shirt and stepping back to look. “Didn’t cost much. Now, let’s get you dolled up.”

Shane took me by the arm, pulling me into a boutique next door. It was small but overwhelming. I had never been shopping in a store that didn’t sell second-hand clothing, and I wasn’t sure where to start. Shane grabbed a sales girl and before long, my arms were loaded up with colorful pieces to try on.

“Try not to get carried away,” he said as I zipped in and out of the dressing room with piles of clothes. “We don’t want to start you on the path to hoarding. I hear it’s hereditary.”

I stuck my tongue out at him as I took in another armful.

“How do I look?” I said, emerging with my first real
outfit––
a form-fitting turquoise sweater dress and chocolate brown, heeled boots.

“Wow!” Shane’s jaw dropped. I spun around then curtsied. “I have never seen anyone so beautiful in all my life!”

“You say that to everyone,” I said, appraising my appearance in the three-way mirror. The dress clung to me in the right places and was forgiving in the others. It also brought out the color of my eyes. I just needed a belt.

Shane scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, but I mean it this time.”

Looking at the price tags, I frowned. $85 for the dress and $70 for the boots. Though I hadn’t spent much since returning to Dark Root, it was still a huge chunk of the money I had left.

“I wish Mom was awake,” I said, ducking back into the dressing room to remove the garments. “She could probably make me something almost as pretty.”

I heard him laugh from the other side of the fitting room. “No offense to your ma, but she didn’t exactly dress you girls in the latest fashions. Most of the time, I expected to find you all in prairie dresses and bonnets.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, reluctantly putting on my old clothes. “The only shows she watched on TV were
Little House on the Prairie
and
The Partridge Family.
I guess that’s where she got her design ideas from.” I left the fitting room and handed the sales girl the clothing I didn’t want. But I kept the dress.

“Well?” I asked. “Should I?”

“Tell you what...” Shane said, grabbing the boots back from the sales girl. “You buy the dress and I will buy these. They seem to go together.”

“I can’t ask you to buy me those!”

“You didn’t. It’s my gift to you, for all you’ve done. You’d be insulting me if you didn’t take them.” He grinned, holding the two boots out before him.

I huffed, then grabbed them out of his hands. “Okay, then. But you will probably see me in this dress every day for the next three months. If I break down the cost versus how often I will wear it, it works out to less than a dollar a day.”

“Why, Maggie,” Shane said as we paid the bill. “I never knew you were so good at math.”

“I'm a woman of many talents.” I smiled coyly, watching the sales girl wrap my dress in tissue paper before placing it into a lavender-scented bag.

“So I’ve noticed.”

We walked back to his vehicle and Shane set the packages down on the floorboard of the back seat. “And now it’s time to get down to business,” he said. “Do you know what you are going to ask her this time?”

I nodded, but truth be told, I didn’t know. I had even more questions for Jillian this time than I did the first time I had come to see her.

Twenty-Five: Fly Like an Eagle

“You’re right on time,” Jillian said, opening the door. She was wearing a fitted, blue jacket layered over a beige, turtleneck sweater. Her hair was neat and her makeup perfect. She looked nothing like the psychics I was used to.

“And I love what you’ve done to your hair,” Jillian added. I spun so that she could see the entire makeover and she clapped appropriately.

“Please, have a seat,” she motioned towards the chair opposite her desk.

I glanced around the room. Some of the furniture I remembered from before was gone and there were boxes strewn about. I raised my eyebrows as she sat down and folded her hands beneath her chin.

“You caught me,” she said. “I’m leaving.”

“For good?” Though we had only seen each other a couple of times, I felt a strong connection to her and wasn’t ready to let her go.

“It’s the nature of the beast, I’m afraid,” Jillian said, rolling her chair closer to mine. “I promise to keep in touch, though, don’t worry.”

“Where are you going?”

“Maggie,” she smiled. “I haven’t told many people, but I will tell you. I'm going to be a grandmother soon! I need to get ready for the birth of my first grandson.” She clicked a button on her computer and it powered off. “I was going to leave a few days ago, but when I got your call, I decided to wait. You are officially my last client.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully, then added, “...And congratulations!”

“Now, what brings you to my neck of the woods, my dear?”

I told her the entire story of how my sisters and I had captured Gahabrien and put him in a jar. Jillian listened intently, nodding from time to time. I concluded the story by telling her that the being was now being stored at Harvest Home, locked in a closet, and I wasn’t sure where to go from there.

“Oh, Maggie,” she said, her green eyes amused. “You shouldn’t go trapping goblins if you don’t know what to do with them!”

She threw her head back and let out a musical laugh, though I didn’t understand why, because the story didn’t seem funny to me at all.

“Well,” she said, taking a pair of glasses out of her desk drawer and popping them onto her nose. “I get the feeling you’ve weakened it, anyway. Gahabrien never could stand up to a real challenge. How did you know to use glass?”

“Intuition, I guess.”

“He hasn’t given up, of course. But it’s a pretty safe bet that as long as he is inside both your crystal owl and the mason jar, he isn’t going to be going anywhere. But you must relocate him. Someplace where no one might accidentally stumble upon him, okay?”

Jillian reached beneath her blazer and pulled out a cross on a chain. “Take this and put it around the jar before you hide it. It will help to keep him sealed.”

“But why a cross? Especially if he isn’t really a demon?”

“The symbol of the cross predates Christianity. It has been used since the dawn of civilization as a means of keeping the dark at bay.”

“So, it’s powerful?” I took the chain and felt the weight of it in my hand.

“Symbolism, like any form of Magick, is reliant on a collective belief system. So, in this case, yes. Against Gahabrien and lower minions like him, the cross will be very effective.”

I put the chain in my purse. “Thank you.”

“Speaking of symbolism,” Jillian continued, as she studied me. “I find it interesting that you used a glass owl to capture the thing in the first place.”

“It was in my mother’s shop and I took it home. Aunt Dora said it’s my totem.”

Jillian smiled when I spoke my aunt’s name. “Yes. I would never doubt Dora’s abilities to name someone’s totem. She has a strong link to the animal world. Did you know...” Jillian raised the finger with the large diamond on it, twirling it at me. “...That owls were revered in some ancient cultures, as the guardians of the underworld? They helped transport souls from this realm to the next. How fitting that the owl is your totem.”

“I don’t think I like that,” I said, shifting in my chair. Why did every conversation about my magical abilities always turn to dead things? “I was just thinking it was because I was wise.”

“Maggie, some day you will embrace your gifts. For now...” Jillian tilted her head and her green eyes shone prettily in the light. “...You just have to accept them.”

“Thank you...I guess,” I said. “There is something else.”

I removed the picture of Leah from my purse and slid it across the desk, not wanting to touch it any more than I had to.

“Can you get a read on the woman in this photo?” I said. “Her name is Leah. I knew her and I just found out she was working for my mother. I think she’s somehow tied to Mother’s sudden illness.”
 

I tried to appear calm, but there was a burning in the pit of my stomach as I asked the question. I sat, quietly waiting for Jillian’s verdict.

“You’re not going to like this,” Jillian said, after studying the picture for several minutes.

My heart was racing, wondering what she was about to say. “Go on.”

“She is Larinda’s daughter. And...” Jillian stopped mid-sentence, her eyes flickering off to the side. “...Well, let me just preface it by saying that what you are about to hear is going to be difficult. You and Leah share the same father. So that makes her your...”

“No.” My mouth went dry. I had three sisters, I didn’t need another––especially one like Leah. Psychics weren't always right, and for all I knew, Jillian might be some nut job. I mean, who else laughs about exorcisms?

I shook my head, contemplating getting up and walking out the door without a word.

Jillian nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry. There is no way to soften this. And the quicker you knew the better. The girl in this photo has a very bad energy. Like rotten milk.”

I sat blinking in my chair, wringing my hands, wishing I had never found the picture. Leah and I couldn’t have the same blood. It was impossible. But I had to ask.

“Jillian, who is my father?” I said.

She pressed her lips together, as if she had said too much, but she answered. “He was a powerful warlock named Armand. He was a member of the original council.”

The pieces were arranging themselves in my head. “He was the warlock who tried to summon a demon?”

“Yes.” Jillian smiled softly and patted my hand. “We lost a great power when he went dark.”

“My mother banished our father from the Council, without even trying to save him?” I couldn't believe it. We had the opportunity to know our father, and our mother had taken that from us. If Armand had gotten the chance to know his daughters, he might have turned out differently.

We
might have turned out differently.

“Now, before you go blaming Sasha, there is something you should know.” Jillian leaned in, cupping her hands in mine. “Your mother was trying to protect you...protect all of us. She could see the circle breaking and you girls were the only means she had of protecting it.”

“The spells around Dark Root,” I said, remembering what Aunt Dora had told me.

“That is one circle, yes. And so much hinges on Dark Root staying a stronghold. The world as we know it is changing. Some...” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “...Some would even say it’s ending. The town you live in, is...was...a small point of light in a dark world. And Sasha foresaw it all slipping away, if she lost you to your father...”

“Even if everything you say is true, that still doesn't change the fact she kept us from him.”

I was close to crying. I stood and walked to the bathroom. I splashed water across my face and took a sip by dipping my head and mouth beneath the faucet. Returning, I paced around the chair, not wanting to believe what she was telling me.

“Dear,” Jillian said, rising. “Your father wanted to use your talents to further his own goals. He and Larinda didn’t care anything about the rest of the world. They knew the end was coming, and all they were concerned about was protecting their own. That’s probably why they went and had a baby of their own, hoping for someone with even half of your abilities. But I’m guessing that didn’t work out, or Larinda wouldn’t have gone after you or Miss Sasha.”