The Curse Of Dark Root: Part One Part 29

"Not me." Ruth Anne moved to the window, tugging at the corners in hopes of sliding it open. All the while, my wand's manic glow continued its steady hum.

"Merry has a key." I pulled out my phone to call her. With any luck she was still nearby. As I dialed, the phone buzzed in my hand and Shane Doler's name flashed across the screen.

I dropped the wand without a further thought and quickly answered the phone. "h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo, Shane?"

"Maggie." It was almost a whisper and I couldn't be sure it was his voice.

"Shane? Is that you? Where are you?" Another whisper, this one, indecipherable, followed by a series of beeps and whistles, and then a long line of static. "Shane! Shane!" I pushed my ear to the receiver and hit the speaker b.u.t.ton. There was another beep amid the static, before dying altogether.

I called him back. No answer. I tried again. And again.

My calls went straight to voice mail.

"Let me try on mine." Eve pulled out her phone. "No luck," she shook her head. "Sorry, Maggie."

I gave up trying to call, and texted him in all capital letters. "PLEASE CALL!!!"

We huddled around my cell like it were the last ember in a dying camp fire. Ten minutes later, and still no response.

"This isn't good," Ruth Anne said, as she retrieved my lifeless wand from the ground. I tapped it against the palm of my hand but the end no longer glowed. Ruth Anne's beeper had quieted too.

"The spirit activity has stopped," I said. "This can't be good. Ah, h.e.l.l!"

"Why do you keep saying that?" Ruth Anne asked.

"Saying what?"

"Ah, h.e.l.l." She ran her hands through her mop of hair, mussing it even more than usual.

"I don't know," I lied. "Haven't I always said it?"

"No, Maggie," Eve said. "You never used to say that. This is new."

TWENTY-SEVEN.

Somebody to Love We would have to wait until the following evening to gather Shane's things, when Eve had her key. We would perform the ritual at dusk, using the moon to aid us.

It was a risky spell, requiring tons of protective energy, and Ruth Anne promised to spend the evening researching the precautions we needed to take. For some reason, this particular ritual made normally easygoing Ruth Anne angsty, and she insisted we do it right, lest we "summon s.h.i.+t that shouldn't be summoned."

Quietly, the three of us trudged home, not speaking of the spirit activity around Dip Stix or the mysterious call from Shane. But our nerves were frazzled, and we jumped when an owl hooted at us from atop a tree branch.

From time to time, I took a rea.s.suring glance at the ring on my hand. It was real. That meant Shane was still out there and okay. I had to believe that.

Once at Sister House, Ruth Anne and I collapsed onto the couch. Eve went upstairs to call Paul and Nova. Merry was still away, presumably with Michael. The house, usually abuzz with activity, was as quiet as a Sunday morning.

"TV?" I asked Ruth Anne.

"Always."

We settled on a black and white Frankenstein movie and tore open a bag of kettle corn Ruth Anne had purchased in town. I took one bite and was struck by the memory of Shane and I, eating kettle corn on a bench, just before he told me the news that he was leaving.

"I'm sure it's not Shane," Ruth Anne said, interrupting my thoughts.

"What's not Shane?"

"The spirit activity we detected at Dip Stix. I'm sure Shane's not haunting his own cafe."

"Thanks, Ruth Anne. I hadn't even thought of that. Now it's in my head."

"Like I said," she replied, licking the tips of her fingers. "I'm sure it's not Shane."

"But, how do you know?"

She bridged her fingers together, her index fingers forming a point. "When you lose someone you love, you feel it...in your stomach, in your throat, in your chest." She thumped her heart and swallowed loud enough for me to hear. "You don't feel any of that, do you?"

"No, I guess I don't. It's more of an uneasy feeling. But it's still horrible not knowing for sure." Ruth Anne was staring straight ahead, lost in her own thoughts, and I asked, "You've lost someone, haven't you?"

Her nod was slow and cautious, like a drawbridge lowering only after careful deliberation. Her eyes moistened and she removed her gla.s.ses, then squeezed them shut.

"Ruth Anne?"

She swallowed again as her fingers clawed at the hem of her baggy s.h.i.+rt. With a defeated shrug and a quick swipe of her forehead, she regained her composure and answered me. "Yes, Maggie. I loved and lost. And when she was gone, I felt it everywhere in my body. No one had to tell me what had happened."

"She?" I was caught off guard by the news, every aspect of it.

"Yes, I said she. I loved her and she loved me and things were great. But in the blink of an eye, everything changed."

"What happened?"

Ruth Anne shoved the heels of her hands into her eyes, rubbing them, holding back the tears. "She died. In a fire. I was there and there was nothing I could do to save her. That was one of the reasons I didn't come back sooner. I needed time."

"Oh, Ruth Anne. I'm so sorry. Here I am wallowing in my own self-pity and..."

"And nothing! That was years ago and I'm fine now." She turned, staring at me directly. "Merry and Eve aren't aware of this and I'd prefer to keep it quiet for now. The only reason I told you is because I wanted you to know that I felt it the second she was gone. It was like half my soul emptied out. And if anything happened to Shane, you would know it too. When that cord is severed, you feel like a puppet who's lost her strings." She put her gla.s.ses back on and forced a smile. "And if you tell anyone what I said, I'll never share my kettle corn again. Got it?"

"Got it."

I took another handful, mulling over what she had told me. My seemingly carefree sister had once loved a womanand had tragically lost her. We all had secrets, carrying them around like heavy stones. Sometimes, telling just one person lightened the load.

I took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

"Well, f.u.c.k," she said. "Now I'm depressed. Way to go, Maggie."

"That's me. Little Maggie Suns.h.i.+ne."

"Well, stop it." She threw a piece of popcorn at my face, which I nimbly caught in my mouth. "Impressive," she said, patting my head. Then her brows lowered and she looked me up and down. "You feel warm. Like really warm. You okay?"

I touched my face. It was damp and sticky, as if I had just gotten out of the sauna. "I feel fine," I said, checking my cheeks. "It must have been the walk home. This extra weight makes everything more difficult."

Even as the words came out, I realized I was lying. I had been feeling the fever coming on since we closed Mother's store, but I was so preoccupied with contacting Shane, and then distracted by the call and the spirit activity at Dip Stix, I had nearly forgotten that I was ill. But I was worse now than I'd been earlier. My head was starting to throb and my vision was blurred. It was getting harder to catch my breath.

"You're turning green," Ruth Anne commented with a suspicious look in her eye.

"I'm pregnant."

"Right," she said. "Or cursed."

Our eyes met, both registering the same thought at the same time. We were still no closer to figuring out who or what had cursed me than when I returned from the Netherworld, over two weeks ago.

"I'll have Eve make some tea." Ruth Anne leapt from the couch. "It won't be as good as Merry's, but it should help."

"Isn't there such thing as a Healing Latte?" I teased. "I've had about all the tea I can stomach for the time being."

"I'll see what we can do."

I made up my bed on the couch while my sisters bustled around the kitchen like two old women, arguing over ingredients and brewing times. A cup crashed, shattering on the floor and I heard words coming out of Eve that didn't fit her pretty face. I smiled as I listened to the two of them, reminded of the days when Aunt Dora and Sasha used to bicker in the same way.

Sisters, I thought.

Only...

Aunt Dora wasn't Mother's real sister. And that meant she wasn't our real aunt.

It was silly, I knew, but once again I felt betrayed by the discovery. The woman who had practically raised us was no more related to me than to the potted plants on the wraparound porch.

I flung a throw pillow onto the sofa as I tried to will the thought away. Merry was right. Blood wasn't what made us family.

Even so, I didn't like that this had been kept from us.

Eve appeared with a tray in her hands, balancing three white cups and a teapot. Ruth Anne followed, carrying two giant mugs emblazoned with the words The Grateful Dead Tour 1973 in a flowery font.

"Sorry," Ruth Anne shrugged. "The latte didn't pan out. But guess what? We have tea!"

"Ugh."

Eve sat the tray in front of me. When she spoke, there was a stiffness in her voice. "I talked to Merry. She's spending the night at Harvest Home. Says she's doing a sunrise meditation thing with Michael, followed by morning yoga. Gag."

"I second that gag," Ruth Anne said, pulling half-broken Oreos out of one of the mugs and pa.s.sing them around. "You should have told her to get her b.u.t.t over here. Maggie needs her."

"No, I'm fine," I lied, to keep my sisters from further worrying. In the time they were making tea parts of me had grown even hotter, while other parts were so cold I had to bury them under layers of blankets. My hands shook and my heart was beating loud enough to vibrate in my ears. "A little Oreo therapy is all I need," I said, mustering a smile.

I must have looked awful because they pa.s.sed a concerned glance between them.

With a shrug, Ruth Anne turned off the lights and we huddled together, watching the rest of Frankenstein. An hour later our eyelids were drooping, though no one made a move to go to bed. Around midnight, I finally insisted we all get some sleep.

"Fine," Eve said. "But I'm staying here at Sister House. I can't handle another minute of listening to Michael and Merry ramble on about organic foods and sun salutations."

With that, she cleared the tea and marched upstairs, presumably to sleep in Merry's bed during her absence.

"I'll camp out on the living room floor, if that's alright?" Ruth Anne said. "It's good for my back." Without waiting for a response, she jogged upstairs and returned with a sleeping bag and two lumpy pillows.

"Thank you," I said. "I didn't want to be alone."

"Don't thank me yet. In case you've forgotten, I snore."

I smiled. "I haven't forgotten."

I settled into my sofa bed, rolled on to my side, and stuffed my face between two couch cus.h.i.+ons, hoping to regulate my breathing so that it was slow and steady enough to fool Ruth Anne into thinking I had fallen asleep. It must have worked because within minutes she was snoring loud enough to keep the ghosts away.

I floundered onto my back, staring at the high ceiling and the shadows cast by the rays of moonlight seeping through the crack between the drapes.

Even with Eve's tea, my fever had worsened. I was drenched in my own sweat. The shadows took form, parading across the ceiling like circus animals under a big top.

Whatever evil spell had taken hold of me was tightening its grip. I was tired and wanted to give in to it, to go back to the Netherworld where I could rest.

But I couldn't give up. It wasn't just my own life that needed saving. I would get through this and when I found out who was responsible...

Thunder cracked outside, followed by a bolt of silver lightning.

But there was no rain. In that moment, I understood that the thunder and lightning had been manifested by my unchecked emotions.

I tossed and turned for nearly an hour, attempting to tune into Shane. I sent energy out to him but received nothing in return.

Eventually, I searched my tote bag, pulling out the remaining globes. I found the next gla.s.s ball in the sequence and held it in my hand, lifting it to the moonlight.

"Ah, h.e.l.l," I muttered, then caught myself. Was I turning into my father because I had gotten to know him through these memory dreams? Or was I already similar to him to begin with?

I shook the globe and watched the glitter dust fall.

November, 1975.

The image of Sister House appeared, and the crystal band around my wrist flickered and warmed, as if in approval.

Before I could wonder about the bracelet, I was asleep.

TWENTY-EIGHT.