The Magick of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root) (16 page)

Two men finished up their game of pool. The shorter man peeled five bills from a money clip and handed them to his acquaintance.

My heart raced with excitement. I reached for Eve and squeezed her hand.

“Ouch,” she said, pulling away from me. “What was that for?”

I nudged my chin at the scene. She nodded slowly.

Maybe there was a way to make money in a small town like Dark Root, after all.

Eight

BUILDING A MYSTERY

“Gather close girls. Hurry!”

Aunt Dora stood on the back porch wearing nothing but her nightdress and house slippers to guard against the cruel November winds. Her cotton dress flapped about her like a broken-winged bird but she paid it no heed as she wrestled with a mason jar, working the lid like an expert safe cracker.
 

She sniffed the air and with flaring nostrils announced, “I can smell Larinda on the wind. Like sour milk.”
 

“But the moon isn’t right,” I said.
 

The protection spell Aunt Dora intended to invoke, a spell meant to keep Larinda off of our property, was meant to be cast during a waxing moon, which was still days away.

 
“Fer someone who doesn’t work the craft, ya sure seem ta know a lot.” She looked up, watching the twilight sun disappear behind the western tree line. “The spell won’t be as strong, but it will put a dent in her powers, that's fer sure.”
 

Merry wiped her hands on her teal wool sweater, and pushed her hair out of her face. Her lips were full and red, the result of wind and dirt that lashed at our faces. Her eyes were intent as she took mental notes, her head cocked as she strained to listen to Aunt Dora’s directions muddled by the howling gales. “Show us how to do it, Aunt Dora, and we will take care of Sister House next.”

“Aye,” Aunt Dora pulled a bitter smelling powder from the mason jar. “Put this on yer wands.”
 

My sisters slathered their wands. June Bug held up a pretend wand she had crafted herself and Aunt Dora added a bit of salve to it, as well. Seeing me empty-handed, Eve tried to kick a stick in my direction, but not before being caught by my all-seeing aunt.

“Still haven’t chosen yers, I see.”

“No,” I said, looking down.

“Magic flows through ya more easily than the rest. But, if someone were ta ask me who the most promising o’ the bunch was now, I wouldn’t say ya. I’d say Merry. Ya could take a lesson from her.” Merry’s face flushed and she lowered her eyes, pretending not to hear.
 

Aunt Dora grabbed both my hands and wiped the powder across my palms. “One o’ the reasons we have wands is so we don’t have to put this on our bodies. Smells awful and takes hours ta wash off.”

“Great,” I said, as June Bug held her nose. “What’s in this stuff?”

“Mandrake root, o’ course, an’ garlic, sage, beetle antenna…”

“What?” June Bug’s mouth opened with disgust.
 

“Sorry love. That’s the recipe.”

Merry patted the top of June Bug’s pink beanie with her gloved hand.

“Follow me.” We filed into a line behind my aunt, marching around the house in a giant, crooked circle. Aunt Dora chanted as she went.

“What’s she saying?” June Bug asked.

 
“I think it’s Hopi,” Ruth Anne said. “She’s asking for protection for the house and its inhabitants.

“I didn’t know you spoke Hopi,” I said, trying to match Aunt Dora’s foot patterns as we completed our second revolution.
 

As we chanted and danced about our house I was reminded of the image of Max in
Where the Wild Things Are
as he participated in the wild rumpus.

“I
don’t
speak Hopi.” Ruth Anne held up her wand and gazed at it with knitted brows.

“’Tis done,” Aunt Dora announced, coming to a stop in front of the back door as we completed the third circle. “We’ll do the full ritual during the Solstice. This should hopefully keep her out till then.” She leaned forward on her cane. “Doesn't mean we are safe yet. Watch yerselves. She’s tricky.”

Aunt Dora returned to the house, the wind slamming the back door behind her.
 

“Well, that was fun,” Eve said. She pulled bits of leaves out of her hair. “Why does witchcraft have to be so dirty? And take so long?”

“When I take over,” I said. “The first order of business will be to banish the three R’s: Rituals, Rules, and Red Tape.”

“Leave it to Maggie to half-ass witchcraft,” Ruth Anne said, holding out her wand like a sword. The rising moon cast a mischievous glint in her eye.
 

Merry responded by holding out her own branch and the two engaged in a mock duel. I joined them, using my smudged finger. Only Eve held back.

“Afraid Eve?” I asked, clucking at her like a chicken.
 

She rolled her eyes. “I just don’t want to get too close to you. You stink.”

With my attention diverted, Merry went in for a killing blow. I crumbled to the ground in mock death.
 

June Bug ran to my rescue on the ground. “She’s right, Aunt Maggie. You do stink. Is it your hands or the sweater? I can’t tell.”
 

Ruth Anne helped me up as Eve stepped forward.
 

“Let’s see if this thing works,” Eve said, tapping me on the shoulder with her wand. Flecks of green silver dust sparked out of the wand, like fireflies searching for home.

“Ooh!” June Bug said clapping.

Even in the dim evening light, I could see that my ivory, alpaca sweater appeared brighter.

June Bug sniffed me again. “You smell better!”

“Guess it works,” Eve said. I inspected my hands. The powder had been erased too. Ruth Anne and Merry’s mouths fell open and we followed Eve, up the back porch steps and into the kitchen, who seemed to take the whole thing in stride.

“What do you think Larinda wants?” I asked, as we gathered in the kitchen with Aunt Dora and prepared for dinner.
 

“Many things,” Aunt Dora responded, stirring a pot as Eve and Merry added chopped vegetables and herbs to a boiling cauldron. Ruth Anne sat at the table with June Bug, helping her sound out the words to a book she was reading.

“What sorts of things?” Merry asked. She had unloosened her hair from its earlier pony tail and it hung down around her shoulders, like strands of fine, ivory ribbon.
 

 
“This house, maybe. It still holds residual magick from the days when the coven used it ta gather. And residual magick is still powerful, if ya know how to use it.” Aunt Dora gave the soup a final stir and tapped the spoon on the side of the pot.

She closed her eyes and thought on the subject some more. “Or yer Circle, Maggie, even though she claims she doesn’t. Or yer mother’s spell book.” Aunt Dora opened her eyes and wiped her hands on her apron. “Or even one of ya girls.”
 

“Well, she can’t have me,” June Bug said, looking up from her book. “I’m staying with Mommy.”

“Don’t worry, hon,” Merry said. “We took care of her and she won’t be back.”

“Don’t go tellin’ her that!” Aunt Dora said “It’s good fer her ta be scared. It’s good fer all of us ta be scared. Fear keeps ya on yer toes.

“Ya teach yer kids not ta talk to strangers, ta look before crossin’ the street. It’s the same thing. And Larinda, in particular, is someone we need ta be afraid of. The only witch capable of matchin’ her was yer mother, and since she went an' got old…”
 

Aunt Dora shook her head, returned to her pot, stirring it unnecessarily fast.
 

“You said Larinda’s specialty is illusion,” I said. “What’s Mother’s?”

Aunt Dora’s eyes narrowed. “Yer mother had the gift of healin’.”

“Like Mommy!” June Bug said, beaming at Merry.

“Yes, like yer mother, but––pardon me, Merry, fer this––much bigger. An’ it wore her out. She had ta stop or she would have ended up like poor Cayce.”

“Cayce?” I asked.
 

Ruth Anne looked up and adjusted her glasses. “Edgar Cayce. A reported psychic in the early- to mid-part of the twentieth century. He predicted lots of things, some of which have come to pass, although there has been no conclusive proof…”

I halted my sister before she spewed out an entire encyclopedia of worthless knowledge. “What does that have to do with Mother?”

Ruth Anne raised an eyebrow. “Like Sasha, he was also a great healer. Could diagnose people’s illness in his sleep. As a result, people came from miles away to get ‘treated.’ Uncle Joe had lots of books on him.” She gave me a smug look then returned to her work with June Bug.

“Aye,” Aunt Dora said. “An’ his compassion took its toll, especially during the war. Drained him of his own life force.” She allowed a heavy, sorrow-filled sigh to escape as she slumped her shoulders forward. “Same thing happened with yer mother, even with the wand. Ya can’t spare one life and not another. Eventually it tapped her out. Power comes at a price.”

It was strange, picturing my mother as compassionate healer and not the flamboyant show-woman of my youth. I tucked my hair behind my ears as I contemplated this.

“Maybe Larinda wants Grandma’s wand,” June Bug said.
 

Aunt Dora shook her head. “A witch only gets one wand and Larinda has hers. Besides, a wand has limited uses, and yer grandma’s was about used up. A good reason not to squander it on useless things.”

“Too bad they don’t have on and off switches,” Eve said, tapping hers into her palm. The ruby gem embedded at the end flickered and glowed with each flip of the wrist. “Or run on batteries.”

“Yeah, you’d never have to do laundry again,” Merry said.

Aunt Dora yanked the wand from Eve. “Stop that! Yer going to use it up before ya even figure it out.”

Nine

KARMA POLICE