The Magick of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root) (9 page)

At last, we came to the unremarkable door that led to Mother’s bedroom.
 

Paul turned the knob and Mother’s hand shot out, grabbing hold of his wrist.
 

“No men!” she hissed, her sharp blue eyes unblinking. Merry and Eve protested on his behalf, but she held her position. “I said no men! They can’t be trusted.”
 

Paul’s phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. Looking at the screen, he frowned.
 

“It’s okay,” he said, backing anyway. “I have to take this anyway.”

“Who’s calling?” Eve demanded, but Paul had already bounded down the stairs. “He’s been acting really weird lately,” she said, her eyes on him as Merry opened the bedroom door.

Stepping inside Mother’s room was like falling down a genie’s bottle: Rose and honey toned trinkets and bobbles winked at us from every direction. A burgundy canopy floated above the antique four-post bed, and thick billows of jasmine incense rose up from all four corners of the room.
 

“I feel like someone’s going to sell us a magic lamp,” Ruth Anne said, rubbing her hands expectantly.

Mother coughed loudly then clutched a bedpost for support. “Eve, roll that up please,” she said, pointing to an emerald and ruby-colored Persian rug that covered the large expanse of floor between her bed and the east window.
 

Eve complied and we all gasped as a white shape was revealed beneath the carpet: a five-pronged star within a circle.

“A pentagram!” June Bug called out.

“That’s right, honey,” Merry said, taking her daughter’s hand and leading her to a spoke. Without having to be told the rest of us seated ourselves on the remaining points as Mother entered the star’s center.

“Now girls,” Mother began in a raspy voice. “I’ve waited many years to see you all here. Time is short and I would have waited until I was in better health, but I’m afraid that day may not come.”

“Mama, of course…” Merry began, but Miss Sasha stopped her with a stern look.

“I’m an old woman, Merry, and nothing can change that.” She looked at us each in turn then cleared her throat. “Today, you take your oaths.”
 

With the aid of her cane she hobbled to an unremarkable oil painting on the wall behind me, a portrait of a young man and woman riding horses in the forest. She removed the painting from the wall and set it gingerly on a chest beneath it. Next, she moved her hands across the wall until she discovered a knot in the plaster, a small white nodule completely invisible unless you happened to be looking for it.
 

In a wink she pressed her palm into the knot, and a panel slid open, revealing a small alcove.

“I’ll be damned,” Ruth Anne said, removing her glasses and peering at the wall.

“Not on my watch,” Mother said.

“Is that a secret passage?” June Bug asked, rising to get a better view before being pulled back to her seat by Merry.

“No, dear, it’s much too small to be a secret passage, but there are many secrets in this house, and in Dark Root. Some I will show you. Some you will find out on your own.”
 

She reached inside and withdrew a brown leather pouch with a drawstring tie. She studied it a moment, as if to re-familiarize herself with it, and with slow and precise steps returned to the pentagram. Merry went to assist her, but Mother shook her head, then gradually lowered herself to a seated position. She thrust her legs out before her and rested the cane across her lap.
 

“Maggie,” she called, sliding the pouch to me. “Will you remove the items inside, please?”

The pouch was brittle and cracked. I reached inside and removed the first item: a scroll made of parchment.
 

“Should I open it?” I asked, my fingers tracing the wax stamp in the shape of a tree that sealed it shut.
 

Mother shook her head.
 

I set the scroll aside and removed a sleek, black vial filled with liquid.

Finally, I pulled out the final item, a silver needle as long as my palm. I lifted it carefully, avoiding its sharp end. Eve, who knew my fear of needles, shot me a look as I handed everything back to my mother.

“We will make a blood pact,” Mother said.
 

A blood pact involved pricking your finger and then pressing your open wound to another’s. It was an ancient practice, a ceremony performed to bind people together as family.

“But we are already family,” I objected as I stared into the eye of the needle.

Mother gave me a wan smile. “This is the way it’s always been done. We do not trifle with tradition.”
 

She pricked her index finger and a drop of blood appeared on its tip.

She motioned for June Bug and my niece showed no fear as Mother lanced her skin. June Bug then took the needle to Merry and the two joined their wounds together. Merry did the same to Ruth Anne, then Ruth Anne to Eve.
 

At last, Eve knelt before me.

My hands trembled. I hated needles. I could hardly be in the same room with one. Needles symbolized all that was wrong in the world: pain, illness, endings, death. I reached for it, but couldn’t bring myself to take it.

“I can do it for you,” Eve whispered, taking my hand and turning it palm up. “It won’t hurt. I promise.”

“No.”
 

I lifted my chin. They had all done it, even June Bug. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pierced my right index finger. Blood rose to the tip and it throbbed in pain.
 

Eve quickly grabbed my hand and pressed our fingers together.

“I’d love you even if you weren't my sister,” I whispered to her.

“I doubt that.”

“It is done,” Mother said.
 

Mother unrolled the scroll, holding it up to show us that it was blank. “Eve, can you run a candle across this, please? A red one?”
 

Eve retrieved a candle and we watched as she ran it across the scroll. Wherever the flame touched the parchment, elaborate letters in black ink appeared.
 

“What does it say, Grandma?” June Bug asked, trying to sound out the words.

“That once we sign this document, the pact is sealed.”

“I’ll get a pen,” Eve said.

“No.” Mother pressed her pricked finger to the bottom of the scroll and motioned for us to do the same.
 

One by one we each added our bloody mark.
 

Once done, she rolled up the scroll and uncapped the vial. The sweet smell of frankincense wafted out.
 

Mother dotted our foreheads with the oil saying, “You are all now part of a sisterhood that has been around since the very beginning. Do not take your duties lightly, for much is as stake.” She smeared a final drop of oil across the scroll, once again calling for Eve’s assistance. “A white candle. Lit please.”
 

Eve presented her with the item and Mother raised the scroll overhead, then lowered it into the candle’s blue flame. In seconds it burned to ash.
 

When there was nothing left of it, she closed her eyes.
 

“You okay, Mama?” Merry asked.
 

Mother nodded and opened her eyes.
 

She was no longer the formidable Miss Sasha Shantay, but an old woman who could hardly lift her head.
 

With heavy lids she said, “I’m fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to rest.”

“I’ll stay with you,” I said, helping her to the bed.

“No.” Her voice was firm but weak. “I need to be alone. Go be with your sisters now.”

It was only a few steps to her bed, but every step was painful to watch. My heart was heavy as I left the room.

Time was not only short, I thought. It was also unfair. Time gave us things then took them away. A cruel thief. And there was absolutely nothing we could do about it.

Five

MYSTERIOUS WAYS

Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe

Dark Root, Oregon

November 2013

“So what did you think of Mother’s show yesterday?” Eve asked, as she carefully removed an hourglass wrapped in tissue paper from a cardboard box, placing it on a display shelf next to a dozen others.
 

I shrugged in response, returning to my own work.
 

Eve and I sat on stools sorting inventory in the early morning before the shop opened, sliding our chairs across the floor in small increments to keep pace with the sun shining through the large window. It was rare to have sunshine at this time of year and we relished every moment of it.
 

“Mother does like to put on a show,” I finally answered as I emptied a box and broke it down for recycling.

“It’s a good sign, I guess,” Eve said, polishing a crystal figurine. “Kind of like the old days."

“Better than her lying there, hooked to tubes,” I agreed, remembering how she looked just weeks before.

“Agreed.” Eve stood, surveying her finished display. “Not bad, if I do say so, myself.”

I had to admit that Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe––my mother’s old store and the cornerstone of downtown Dark Root––looked better than ever under my sister’s fashionable eye. A discriminating witch would find everything she needed here, from lava lamps to do-it-yourself potion kits. Eve had stocked and modernized the place, bringing in an eclectic mix of customers from old-school practitioners of the craft to curious hipsters.

I grabbed the stack of cardboard and made my way to the back room.
 

“Wow,” I called out as I ducked beneath the gauzy fabric that separated the two spaces. “You’ve been busy.”

In the old days, we had used this room for storage, coffee breaks, and an occasional tarot card reading. But now it was another aspect of the store, a secret room for those with large pocketbooks or an advanced knowledge of the craft. Every shelf was piled with real parchment, old books, dove’s blood, crystal balls and even Ouija boards.

“I need to put up an ‘Employees Only’ sign,” Eve said, as I returned to the main room with full box of inventory. “To keep the wannabees out of there.”

“Please do. I don’t want to think about what would happen if a Ouija Board got into the wrong hands.”

Eve raked her fingers through her hair. “I just don’t want them messing up my displays. Some of that crap in there is pretty expensive.”

I looked at the clock above the door. “We’d better hurry.”
 

Outside the window, a small crowd of women were gathering. Though most of our sales were made around Halloween, we still drew some customers up through the Christmas season. In January, tourism would come to a grinding halt until summertime.

“They can wait. It’s not like there are any other places to buy this kind of stuff around here.” Eve pressed her lips together and turned to me. “She wants us to come back soon, you know? Maybe today.”