The Magick of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root) (46 page)

 
I held out my hands in warning. “We didn’t have a deal, Larinda. You and your rat-daughter need to leave.”

“She doesn’t need your permission,” Leah said.

“You’re not illusion this time,” I said to her. “Your momma finally let you out to play?”

I returned my attention to Larinda. “This is our forest. You have no power here.”

“That may be true,” Larinda answered. “But until the winter solstice, Leah still has free reign of this land.”

“That will be remedied tonight.”

 
“Precisely why we move today.” Larinda stroked the back of Leah’s short hair, kneading it like a cat’s paws.
 

“Maggie, don’t speak to her,” Shane said, stepping between myself and the others. “She wants you to play her games.”

“You may have gotten the Circle but the wand is mine,” Leah spat, jutting her long chin out.
 

Her beady eyes flickered from myself to Shane. She removed a knife from the back pocket of her jeans, and raised it in a threatening manner.
 

“When I’m done taking the wand, I’ll show you what it’s like to be cut.”

“Make mommy proud,” Larinda said, waving her hand over the top of her daughter’s head. With that, Leah ran forward, racing towards the river where Shane had proclaimed the tree to be.
 

I pulled a vial from my bag and sprayed white powder in Larinda’s direction––salts taken from Aunt Dora’s cupboards that morning. She hissed and retreated back a long step.
 

“Watch her,” I instructed Shane, pushing the vial of remaining salt into his hand. “If she tries to cross into the glen, douse her with this.”

I pulled the knife I had carried with me since looking for the tree from my bag as well, and raced after Leah.
 

“Maggie!” Shane called, as I charged forward. “Wait! It’s not what you…”

 
His words were lost to the wind as I sped forward.
 

Leah was light and nimble and had gotten a good head start, but I was stronger and had been a runner in my youth. I pumped my arms and lengthened my stride, panting as I worked to overtake her. Soon, we were neck and neck. I rammed into her side, hoping to knock her down.
 

She stumbled but did not fall.

“Let me cut my wand,” I said, gasping for breath. “Then I will help you.”

“You’ve made a fool of me once, it won’t happen again.”
 

She sped up and I matched her, though my lungs burned and my stomach cramped.

“I need this to save my mother,” I said. “Leah, please!”

“What do I care of the old witch? You’ve had your chance, now you’ll come begging to me.”

I wheezed, feeling like my lungs were going to explode. The pregnancy had weakened me, but I couldn’t let her win. If she were to swipe so much as a twig from The Lightning Willow, there was no hope that I would get my wand.

My mind filled with the image of my mother, holding her grandchild––my baby.
 

I lowered my head and plowed forward, passing Leah. I lifted my knife, ready to slice into the air. The tree had many branches; I just needed one.

From my left, Leo appeared, charging out of the woods a dozen yards away. I jerked my head back. Larinda was still caged behind Shane but her arm was lifted, a finger pointed in the air, directing the flight of a large, black bird that sailed over the water.

“Leo! Stop!” I yelled, as the sound of Leah’s footsteps grew closer.

“Birdie!” he said, racing towards the icy river ahead.
 

“No, Leo, no!” I changed direction. Leah let out a triumphant “whoop!” as she motored forward.
 

Leo outstretched his arms, ready to plow into the waters to get the bird. I lunged at him, grabbing the back of his shirt, pulling us both to the ground. He rolled backwards, landing on my leg. A searing pain shot through my body and I cried out in agony.
 

Helplessly, we watched as Leah reached the spot where the Lightning Willow must be.

She spun left, then right, swinging her knife wildly in the air.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Leah chanted like a madwoman, flailing her weapon at the empty space. In her single-minded delirium, she lost track of her precarious position and stumbled, one leg twisting over the other as she slid down the muddy slope and into the river.

“Leah!?” I raised myself to hands and knees, watching her head bob up and down as she was carried downstream, disappearing around the bend.

Behind me, Larinda screamed. I turned in time to see her dissolve into the mist.

As suddenly as they had come, they were gone.

Shane crouched down on the knoll and scooped up a handful of dirt. He sifted it through his fingers, then wiped his hands on his jeans.
 

Behind him, Leo sat cross-legged in the field, looking for bugs.

“There’s no tree here, is there?” I asked, my heart sinking.

He stood and shook his head. “There hasn't been a tree here in twenty years, Mags.”

“What? Of course there is. Larinda put a spell on it to keep it hidden. Mother’s dream must have been convoluted. She didn’t remember the exact location.”

Shane looked at me with a mixture of compassion and pity. “Larinda never put a spell on it. That was a lie. Your ma kept the tree hidden from her, then cut it down herself after Eve was born. Well, her and what was left of The Council.”

“But why?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “It doesn't make sense.”

“She was so old, Maggie. She’d lived a long time and had lost the love of her life. Her body hadn’t aged much, but her soul was stretched across time like taffy.” His eyes took in the earth where he stood. “She stopped using the wand on herself to preserve some of its potency. Once she had her daughters, she didn't need to live forever. Her legacy continues through you girls.”

“You got all that from her dream?”

“Yes. And you’ll be happy to know that in her dreams, her mind isn’t convoluted at all. In fact, it’s beautiful in there.”

“But if she destroyed the tree then we can never…” I wanted to cry.
 

All this work, for nothing.

Shane thrust his hands into his pockets and looked towards the sun. The stubble on his face was just beginning to show and his hair was still mussed from wearing his hat. He took a deep breath, as if deciding how much to share with me.

“You brought me out here for a reason. Tell me what you know, please?” I stepped close enough to smell the coffee on his breath. I inched even closer, removing the distance between us. “Tell me, Shane.”

He touched his lips to mine. It was so quick that it hardly even qualified as a kiss, yet I felt my entire body jolted alive.

He pulled away and took my hands. “When Sasha cut down the tree, she began to age rapidly. All those years were catching up to her at once. But your mother’s a smart woman. She saved a cutting from the Lightning Willow and planted it, not telling anyone. A guarantee that a part of that tree would live on.”

“She did? Why?”

“Just in case she needed it. To make sure that she was around long enough to see you all grow up and continue the work she’d began.”

“A cutting,” I said in wonderment. “But where?”

Shane pointed. A few dozen yards away and hidden in a clump of firs, was a beautiful golden willow. It stood twice my height, its boughs glowing like they’d been kissed by a wandering band of angels.

The circle of life continued.
 

I approached it, kneeling before it like an altar. “The Lightning Willow’s daughter,” I said, lost for words of any real meaning.
 

Shane put his hands on my shoulders. “Your tree of life, Maggie. You can take your wand now.”

I stood and lifted my knife. The willow’s limbs quivered delicately, anticipating the slice of my knife. The wind caught my hair, sending it spiraling around me like the rust-colored leaves on Mother’s porch.
 

The flash of sun on steel was almost blinding.
 

It was the day of the winter solstice. I would have my wand this day, as my mother had, in some bygone era before.
 

Twenty-Nine

A LONG DECEMBER

I had stood beneath the moon on the night of the Winter’s Solstice many times in my life––as a child watching Mother and The Council perform their rituals, and as an adult at Woodhaven, missing my family and imagining that they, too, were standing beneath the same moon, missing me.
 

But on this cold December night I stood beneath the moon, not as a girl watching or a woman wondering, but as a witch, claiming my birthright as successor to Miss Sasha Shantay, my mother.

I wasn’t alone.

My sisters gathered with me in the garden.
 

With flowing white robes and unbound hair, we joined hands, a representative from each of the four elements. Ruth Anne as Air: constantly floating and searching, never quite settling. Merry as Earth: solid and stable, nurturing yet firm. Eve as Water: smooth and transparent, yet deep and turbulent. And me as Fire: necessary
and
dangerous, with the ability to grant life
and
death, seeking to be tamed, even as my will ran rampant.

“Got your wands?” I asked.
 

My sisters produced sticks from the deep pockets of their gowns.
 

I glanced behind me at June Bug and Leo huddled on the bench. Mother sat next to them, parked in her wheelchair. June Bug raised her pretend wand and Mother patted her knee approvingly.
 

Leo watched on, a mixture of confusion and anticipation on his broad face.
 

“Good job on the garden, Leo.” I winked at him. He’d spent the afternoon clearing out the weeds and collecting the treasures he’d found there, which he presented to Merry with a bashful smile.

“Did you write the spell?” Eve asked.
 

I reached into my bra and produced a crumpled piece of paper.
 

“You do know that’s why God invented purses, right?” she asked, as I un-crumpled the page.