The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4) (11 page)

Strolling around the property with my arms stretched wide, I embraced the sunshine and luxuriated in a new sense of freedom. “There's enough magic in the world without witches,” I said, performing a quick and klutzy spin which sent Montana into a fit of gasps and giggles.

We passed the iron fence enclosing the garden. “You'll play here, one day,” I said, as we pushed through the rusty black gate. “When mommy's all better and not sweating like a cactus rancher, we'll come out here all the time.”

We reached the stone bench and I removed him from his kangaroo pouch. A book lay open on the bench, the cover depicting a half-naked man with a full moon rising above him. One of Merry's romance novels. She’d been devouring them lately, outnumbering even Ruth Anne in her trips to the bookstore. I cast one quick glance at the shirtless model before pulling my gaze away. It was the closest thing I'd had to adult male contact in ages.

“Mommy's a strong, independent woman. Mommy doesn't need a man.” I held my son out so that we faced each other. He cooed, stretching his flailing arms to grab my hair.

“How can someone so dorky-looking be so cute?” I asked.

You're such a dork, Shane.

I had said that so many times, it became a term of endearment.

I sighed deeply, shaking the thought away, and wandered to the swing set. I put Montana on my lap and we swayed, just enough to feel the air touch our cheeks. I was lost in memories of Shane, while my baby daydreamed about his last meal or his next. A rustling sound startled us and I quickly stood up.

Something was rambling in the woods, very close by.

Rabbits? Squirrels? Bears?

Ghosts?

“It's difficult for spirits to make noise,” I assured Montana, whose eyes followed the tree line to Juliana's headstone at the edge of the clearing. His small head craned forward as he balled up his tiny fists.

The rustling continued, followed by the sound of twigs snapping. And then all noise abruptly stopped. “It's just a bird or a snake” I whispered, tightening my hold on my son. I moved in the direction of the noise, as quietly as I could.

We stopped at the far edge of the garden along the iron fence. Juliana's headstone lay in quiet contemplation before us. There was nothing unusual or unsettling about it. In fact, the area emanated a sense of tranquility.

I hadn't seen Juliana's spirit since our last encounter at Dip Stix, before giving birth. Maybe showing me Shane's marriage certificate had finally brought her peace.

But why?

Because she disliked men? It was rumored that her husband died under suspicious circumstances shortly after being caught with another woman. Was my dead grandmother a vigilante spirit who spent her eternity calling out two-timing men?

My chest constricted. “Ghosts only have limited power,” I assured myself.

Except when ghosts return for a specific reason.

I couldn't think about that now. I was starting a new life, sans ghosts and magick. “We are only going to look ahead. We can't look back. It's not good for anyone.”

I returned my gaze to Juliana's tombstone, daring her to rise again.

“Maggie!”

I jumped.

The gate creaked opened behind me and limped shut. Merry appeared, looking radiant in a starched blue sundress and a touch of gloss on her lips. “Gorgeous day,” she acknowledged, joining us. “Whatcha doing?”

“Trying to find my inner peace.”

“Any luck?”

“I'm not sure I ever had any to find.”

Montana reached for his aunt. She gently squeezed his cheek and lifted him from my arms. “The garden is nice,” she said, bouncing my son on her hip. “But I know a place where you can find inner peace... if you're game.”

“You don't mean...?” My eyes widened with hope.

“Yes. I'm inviting you to my hideaway. The perfect place to break curfews and curses.”

“Sounds like my kind of establishment.”

I held on to that moment, knowing it might not come again. Merry was inviting me to her hideaway. Previously, only June Bug had been invited to go before, and possibly Mother in her final days.

Now it was my turn.

“Thank you, Merry.” I smiled as I watched her cover my son's face in kisses. “This means more to me than you know.”

MERRY UNFOLDED A checkered picnic blanket in the small glen. She'd been coming here since girlhood, a small forest juncture where the trees were thick-bodied and welcoming, as if they'd once housed elves. Merry was the shortest of us all, with an upturned nose, plump cheeks, and slightly pointed ears. Even though she was slim, her features were princess soft. She seemed perfectly suited to this fairy tale setting.

She hummed as she draped the blanket over the dewy grass. Several magpies gathered nearby, hoping for food, but we were otherwise alone.

“So this is it,” I said, setting Montana on the blanket. Laying on his stomach, he squealed at the birds, desperately trying to grab them as they hopped nearby. I gave him a rattle and the birds were quickly forgotten.

“Yes. This is where I center myself.”

Merry slunk out of her sundress, revealing a pair of short shorts and a tank top. She secured her hair into an elastic band on the top of her head. Barefooted, she inhaled and stretched. With surprising grace, she swept her arms overhead and bent at the waist, walking her hands forward on the ground.

“Yoga is your secret?” I asked, having seen the position before. It was called a dirty dog, or something similar.

“Partly. I start my mornings with meditation and yoga. It helps to clear the cobwebs.”

“You come out here to practice? When?”

“Before the sun rises.” She gave me a wry smile as she continued her set. Her fluidity and agility amazed me. She finished several rotations, her cheeks flushed and her brow wet. “What do you think?” she asked, facing me.

“You make it look easy. But what does it do?”

“Yoga connects my mind to my body.”

“But I want to get out of my mind and my body.”

Merry laughed, then repeated her
vinyasanas
, stopping now and again to comment on a particular pose. “Your turn,” she instructed, at last.

I followed her lead until she had me standing on one leg with my hands pressed together overhead. I stumbled, nearly tripping over Montana. He laughed, thinking my performance was solely for his entertainment.

“I don't think I'm built for yoga,” I said, reclaiming my balance.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “We can try karate.”

“Is Michael your teacher?”

“Sensei,”
she corrected, getting into a wide fighting stance, her fists raised up protectively. She demonstrated a quick series of kicks and punches. Forward and back, she lunged and retreated, chopping and blocking until she exhausted herself.

“More your speed?” she asked, drying her face with her hands.

“You think that will help my stress?”

“It might.” She smiled. “I imagine I'm punching Frank.” She took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose. “I could never really hurt anyone, though.”

“What if someone tried to hurt June Bug?”

Her hands reformed into fists. “Harming someone is never good karma, Maggie, but if someone tried to hurt June Bug...” Her eyes flickered red.

Suddenly I was afraid to be on Merry's bad side. “You wouldn't have to compromise your beliefs. If anyone harms June Bug, I'll take care of them myself.”

Her face softened and her fists relaxed. “I know you would.”

“Ooh!” Montana cooed.

His head warbled as he reached one hand out, balancing on the other. A dazzling rainbow arched in the distance above the trees.

“Your first rainbow!” I exclaimed. Merry and I stared ahead, viewing the phenomenon through his eyes. By doing this, it was new to us again, too.

“It's the first rainbow I've seen in a long time.” Merry scratched her head. “And there hasn't been rain in over a week.”

The arc faded, leaving only the blue sky in its wake. Once gone, Montana's head hit the blanket and he fell asleep.

“For a moment, I think I actually found my inner peace,” I said.

Merry smiled. “Let's capitalize on the feeling. Join me.”

She sat cross-legged at the edge of the blanket and I sat opposite her, our knees nearly touching. She closed her eyes and rested her hands on her knees, palms up, curling her thumbs to her middle fingers. Her breathing slowed, her chest rising and falling in deliberate waves. A halo of light surrounded her.

I breathed too, mirroring my sister. After several minutes, calmness took hold. I became aware of the smells first––wet summer grass, tree sap, and lemons. Then, the physical sensations––the warm sun, the cool air, the ground beneath me.

The world was alive and so was I. We were part of the same chain.

When I looked again, I spied a white butterfly. It hovered beside Merry before landing gently on her shoulder. Its wings opened and closed with each of her breaths.

“Merry,” I dared whisper. “There's a butterfly on your shoulder.”

“Hmmm?” She opened her eyes with a smile. She lifted her finger and the butterfly fluttered on to it. “Did Ruth Anne ever tell you the legend of the rainbow?”

“No.”

“Some cultures believe that when a rainbow dissolves, it breaks into a million pieces, and the pieces become colorful butterflies that float away.” She lifted her hand slowly to gaze at her new friend. “White butterflies are among the rarest. When one finds you, it brings peace and protection. A good sign, I think. Make a wish Maggie.”

“What?”

“The legend says that if you make a wish on a rainbow butterfly, it will carry your hopes with it on the winds.”

I pressed my lips together. “I wish for strength,” I said. I was embarrassed by my confession, but if it made even the smallest difference in keeping me and my son safe, it was worth it. Once spoken, the butterfly sailed off into the meadow before disappearing altogether.

“Oh, Lion, you've always had the strength.” Merry cocked her head, grinning.

I tucked my wild mane behind my ears and smiled back sheepishly. “I want to call butterflies, too,” I admitted. A renewed strength budded within me, a strength that I realized only came through stillness. “Please, show me what to do.”

“You're already doing it,” Merry said.

“But I need more instruction. Why did you curl your hands like that?”

“To center. It's all about letting everything go and breathing. It's that simple.”

I did as she instructed, trying to shut out my thoughts, but my mind refused to quiet. Instead, it called up images of my father beckoning to me from a fiery door, of Juliana clutching her neck, and of Shane's truck going over the edge. I kept breathing. The next image was of me hunched over the bathroom sink, splashing water on my fevered face. “I can't.”

“Imagine a sphere of white light around you,” Merry said. “The light is warm and wraps you in a bubble.”

I kept breathing, focusing on Merry’s words.

After a time, I saw it in my mind. A light centered on my heart, spreading outward from my body until it filled the glen. “It's so beautiful.” I feared that when I opened my eyes, it would all go away. “Where did it come from?”