The Witches of Dark Root: Daughters of Dark Root: Book One (The Daughters of Dark Root) (8 page)

I raced across the living room, through the dining area, and into the library, Michael’s personal retreat. It was empty.

Maybe he was back at the grange hall?
 

It was possible. Whatever had caused that ‘boom’ earlier may have been something breaking, something that needed his immediate attention. I didn’t want to make the trek out there in the dark alone. I could ask Jason to escort me but I couldn’t bring myself to let him see me like this. I bit my lip, wondering how I should proceed.

I was starting to feel silly as I wandered around the house in my nightgown, looking for my lost boyfriend, all because of a dislodged shelf and a dark room. I decided to return to my bedroom where I would turn on all of the lights, leave the door open, and wait for him in private. It was bad enough that he knew about my fear of the dark. I didn’t want everyone else at Woodhaven––especially Leah––having that kind of power, as well.

I crept back upstairs and down the hall, hoping no one would notice my return. I should have grabbed a biscuit or a cup of tea, some tangible excuse to prove that I had a reason for roaming about at this time of night. Something to prove that I wasn’t crazy.

On the way to my bedroom I passed
her
door.

The very dimmest of twinkling lights shone beneath it and the scent of pure lavender wafted out, a heady fragrance. Leah was burning candles. I paused at the door, listening, but there was only silence. Lavender was a well-known sleep-inducer, I told myself, an ancient remedy for insomnia that many were familiar with, not just those who practiced magick.

I turned to leave. And that’s when I heard her giggle.

Leah was a lot of things––a lot of wretched things––but she wasn’t a giggler.
 

I started to panic but caught myself. Maybe she was on the phone, or reading a book? Or watching sitcoms on a smuggled-in TV? If I burst in now, she would know my insecurities.
 

Another laugh––no longer a girlish giggle but a deep, throaty laugh––forced my hand to the knob. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pushed open the door.

Leah stood in the middle of the room, her thin body draped in a long, sheer nightgown. She was surrounded by pink, red, and purple candles of all shapes and sizes, placed on shelves and dressers around the bedroom. Though she was facing me, her eyes were closed, her arms wrapped sensuously around Michael.

“What...?”

At the sound of my voice, Michael pushed Leah away and spun towards me.

“Maggie!” he said, as Leah’s eyes turned to daggers. He made a grab for me, but I stepped back. “What’s the matter, baby?” he asked coolly, smiling and licking his lips as he continued to advance. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I shook my head in disbelief.

This couldn’t be real. Not Michael. Not with Leah. We had our problems but he had never given me a reason to distrust him. I felt sick, sick like I could throw up, right then and there. I swallowed, hoping to stave back the bile that was working its way up my throat.

“How long?” was all I could manage to choke out.

“Maggie, come on. You know me.” Michael took another step forward. His calm, smiling face filled me with rage. A red candle from a high shelf toppled to the floor. Leah let out a small yelp and jumped to grab it, swatting at the spot where the flame singed the carpet.

“Maggie, stop! It’s not what it looks like.”

“Now I know why you won't touch me."
 

Another candle––larger than the last––plunged to the floor, like a swimmer from a diving board. The carpet hissed as the flame licked it.

“Maggie, please...” His eyes were desperate. Leah crouched beside him, ready to grab any other candles that might fall. “We’ve just been talking shop. She has some great ideas for this place.” He opened his arms at his side. “...That’s all.”

“I bet she does. I hope you take them all to heart too, Michael. You will need all the help you can get.”

“Can’t we just talk...?”

“Unless you want this whole fucking place to burn down, you will never speak to me again,
Brother.
”

I ran down the hall, holding back the moan that was threatening to escape me. When I got to my room––our room––I slammed the door shut and turned the lock.
 

Michael was right behind me, knocking, quietly at first, then louder, more insistent. He knocked for such a long time that I was sure his knuckles bled and that everyone in Woodhaven was now awake. After what felt like hours, he stopped, the knocking replaced by whimpers.

“Please, Maggie, please open the door. I’m begging you. I was stupid. I love you. Please.”

I had been a fool, but not again. Not this night.

When he finally left, I fell asleep, slumped against the bedroom door, the light in the closet still burning.

Five: Turn the Page

I felt so many emotions during those first hours after discovering Michael and Leah together. Rage, jealousy, betrayal, hurt. I stayed locked in my room for two days, living on tap water and Oreos as my heart ran its emotional obstacle course.
 

True, Michael had never married me, but he knew I would never share him. I had told him so, on many occasions after making love. He’d stroked my hair and told me I would never need to. We were soul mates, he assured me, an indestructible match forged by God himself.

Fucking liar.

I pulled his ring from my finger, shredding my knuckle in the process, and tried to melt it in a candle. I watched it sink deep into the votive, floundering in the wax as it made its descent, but it refused to dissolve. When the candle liquefied, I removed the ring and pressed it into my palm, searing my skin. The pain was excruciating, but it offered me a reprieve from the inner reel that played in my head of Michael embracing Leah, telling me I had gotten it wrong, crying at my door. It was my own little horror movie and it looped endlessly, without commercial breaks.
 

Sometimes the scenes changed just a little, freeze-framing on Leah as she snatched at falling candles, or Michael, arms open as he moved towards me, but the ending remained the same and I was stuck through the closing credits.

I opened my hand and surveyed the damage.

The ring wasn’t hot enough to leave a mark.

Too bad. I wanted a permanent reminder of his betrayal.

Through the parade of emotions, I felt there was one that led the charge, refusing to go away no matter how many cookies I shoved down my throat. Humiliation. I couldn’t live in this house anymore, not amongst the people who had seen me played the fool. I imagined them whispering, mocking me, or worse, feeling sorry for me.

I was leaving Michael, and Woodhaven, behind.

On day three I emerged, with wild hair and hollow eyes, dressed in my white assembly gown.

Michael was sitting by the door, looking thinner than I had ever seen him. “Maggie. Oh, God. I am so sorry.”

He didn’t stand. He just sat there, crying. It was pathetic.

“I’m going.” I announced simply.

“Please, no.”

He had spent the last two days shoving notes under my door and shouting out promises of what would change. He would kick Leah out of Woodhaven. We would start over, run off, leaving everyone else and this damned house behind.
 

I was tempted to accept his offer, run away with him and then desert him in the middle of the night in some town in Godforsaken nowhere. Leave him, just as he left me. But it didn’t matter. There was nothing I could do that would hurt him the way he had hurt me.
 

His tactics changed the next day as I packed.

“You won’t make it in the outside world,” he said. “You’re institutionalized now.”

I ignored him, throwing candles, magazines, a hair brush, and my clothes into a Goodwill suitcase.

“You forgot your crystal,” he said, opening his hand to reveal the necklace I had left on the side of the bathtub the night he tucked me into bed. “If you do nothing else, take this. It will help channel your energy, and if anyone needs help with that, it’s you.”

He smiled sadly, pressing his lips together.

I stared at the necklace like it was poisoned, but I took it, shoving it into my skirt pocket, and then slammed the suitcase closed.

“I did love you,” he said, his hand lightly grazing my wrist.

I wrenched my arm away and stood on tiptoes so that we were eye to eye. “Michael. You never loved anybody but yourself.”

“Ready, Sister?” Jason asked, peeking into my bedroom.

I nodded, relieved that he would be the one driving me to the bus station. He offered to take my bags but I shook my head. I wanted to drag it down the stairs myself, listening to the satisfying thump-thump as it hit each step. There were several members gathered by the open front door. I wasn’t sure if they were there to see me off, or to witness a final confrontation between me and Michael. I hugged a few, the long-term members I had practically grown up with, and nodded at the others. I didn’t cry, even as the goodbyes wrenched at my heart.

They would never see me cry.

Leah stood on the second floor, looking over the railing like she was bidding bon voyage on a cruise ship. It took every ounce of willpower I could muster to keep from willing that banister to break. Having Michael would be punishment enough. Let them burn.

I took a last glance at the place I had come to call home and said a silent goodbye. I wasn’t sure what waited for me out there, but there was nothing left for me here.

Jason grabbed my bag, placed it in the back of the van, and opened the passenger door to let me know the time had come. I closed the door to Woodhaven and slid into the passenger seat.

I could feel Michael’s energy emanating from my seat and I almost asked Jason if I could drive instead, but I changed my mind. Though I hated Michael now, there were memories of love intermingled in that energy, and for some odd reason I felt it was important to hold onto that, too. I was full of bad at the moment, and an ounce of good, even if it no longer existed, was my only salvation. I might be grasping at dead straws, but it was all I had.
 

I removed the crystal from my pocket and placed it around my neck, tucking it inside my shirt. We pulled out of the driveway.

I could see Michael’s silhouette in our bedroom window.

He caught me looking and moved away.

“You’re going to love again,” Jason said as he drove, never taking his eyes off the road. “I promise.”

“I can’t. I won’t go through this again. Ever.”

Jason removed one hand from the wheel and touched my arm reassuringly. I smiled, pulling my lips into an expression they hadn’t experienced in days. But in that smile, I felt a ray of hope. Not for love, but for my life.

“Where will you go?” he asked, Woodhaven becoming a speck behind us.

“I guess I’m going home for now.” It was a temporary stop, but the only place I could think of at the moment. And Merry was there. My beloved Merry had come home, too. Surely, I could handle Dark Root for a few days, just until my head cleared.

I had never seen a bus station. Not up close, anyway.