Read Online The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4) by April Aasheim - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: April Aasheim
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his altar.
“Sarah, look!” I pointed towards the blinding blue light. “You need to go inside. Jackson will meet you there.”
The ghost shook her head and raised a finger towards the altar.
“Not that light.” I slowly moved my wand, hoping her eyes would follow, but her gaze never left the flame.
I turned to Jackson. “She can't see her path forward with your flame still burning. That's why she's never found peace. You have been keeping her here.”
He looked at his stone circle and lowered his hands. The flame doused.
His wife tottered, her expression distraught.
“Stop, Sarah!” I commanded. This time, she turned to me, finally hearing my words without the distraction of the shrine. I took her hand again, and she wrapped her fingers around mine. We had bridged the gap between planes. “Here,” I said, leading her over. “It's time. Jackson and your child will meet. Everything will be okay.”
It might have been a lie. I wasn't certain if her child awaited her, but I had hope.
She stood before the blue portal, looking around the room that Jackson had built for her, a replica of the place where they'd once been happy. Then she smiled, tightly but bravely, and stepped forward. I released her hand and watched as she was swallowed by the light.
Jackson took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he exhaled.
“This is your second chance,” I said wistfully. “You get to be with the woman you loved. Take care of her.”
He bobbed his head slowly, then stepped into the light and vanished.
The room stayed bright, long after the light source itself disappeared. I could have followed, I realized.
Maybe Shane is in there, waiting for me?
I remembered the man in the cowboy hat running alongside my sled. Maybe I was tying Shane to this plane, just as Jackson had tied Sarah?
Would I want that?
The terrible truth was, part of me actually did want that very thing.
A beam of yellow light cut the center of the room, and Ruth Anne appeared in the doorway. “All set up downstairs. Lots of activity but nothing concrete.” She looked around the room. The stone circle, the flame, and the blue light were gone. “How's it up here, Maggie?”
“Quiet,” I replied, with a bored shrug. “Not a spirit is stirring, not even a ghost-mouse.”
Ruth Anne sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if spirits don't want to be found.” Her flashlight canvassed the room once again, falling on the area where Jackson had first appeared. She walked over and bent down. “Hmm, an old cigar. It looks ancient.”
“Just another piece of trash left by squatters,” I said, joining her.
“Yeah, I suppose. This one’s so old and brittle it’s almost falling apart. How weird.'” She pulled a plastic baggie from her pocket and placed it inside. Then, sniffing the air, asked, “Do you smell smoke?”
“I don't smell anything,” I lied as we left the room.
SIX
It’s My Party
THE DAYS FOLLOWING my trip to Sycamore Manor were reflective ones. My powers were changing and the boundaries separating my world from the veil had thinned. I also realized how vulnerable I was outside of Dark Root.
I didn't have long to dwell on this. By the weekend I was sick again.
The fever returned, tightening its grip on me. I wavered between hot and cold, blankets and ice packs, delirium and sanity. My stomach turned at the mention of food and I found myself getting drowsy even after a nap.
And Montana outright refused to nurse.
Jillian thought I'd be strong enough to fight off the curse once he was born. Jillian was wrong.
I didn't speak about my condition. Why should I worry the others? Instead, my fear came out sideways––yelling at Merry for running the air conditioner with the windows open, or bickering with Ruth Anne whenever she quoted a “fact.” Eve stayed mostly away from me, claiming she had to work the magick shop or help Aunt Dora with her garden. They chalked my moods up to new motherhood but their patience was wearing thin.
It was
“Sarah, look!” I pointed towards the blinding blue light. “You need to go inside. Jackson will meet you there.”
The ghost shook her head and raised a finger towards the altar.
“Not that light.” I slowly moved my wand, hoping her eyes would follow, but her gaze never left the flame.
I turned to Jackson. “She can't see her path forward with your flame still burning. That's why she's never found peace. You have been keeping her here.”
He looked at his stone circle and lowered his hands. The flame doused.
His wife tottered, her expression distraught.
“Stop, Sarah!” I commanded. This time, she turned to me, finally hearing my words without the distraction of the shrine. I took her hand again, and she wrapped her fingers around mine. We had bridged the gap between planes. “Here,” I said, leading her over. “It's time. Jackson and your child will meet. Everything will be okay.”
It might have been a lie. I wasn't certain if her child awaited her, but I had hope.
She stood before the blue portal, looking around the room that Jackson had built for her, a replica of the place where they'd once been happy. Then she smiled, tightly but bravely, and stepped forward. I released her hand and watched as she was swallowed by the light.
Jackson took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he exhaled.
“This is your second chance,” I said wistfully. “You get to be with the woman you loved. Take care of her.”
He bobbed his head slowly, then stepped into the light and vanished.
The room stayed bright, long after the light source itself disappeared. I could have followed, I realized.
Maybe Shane is in there, waiting for me?
I remembered the man in the cowboy hat running alongside my sled. Maybe I was tying Shane to this plane, just as Jackson had tied Sarah?
Would I want that?
The terrible truth was, part of me actually did want that very thing.
A beam of yellow light cut the center of the room, and Ruth Anne appeared in the doorway. “All set up downstairs. Lots of activity but nothing concrete.” She looked around the room. The stone circle, the flame, and the blue light were gone. “How's it up here, Maggie?”
“Quiet,” I replied, with a bored shrug. “Not a spirit is stirring, not even a ghost-mouse.”
Ruth Anne sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if spirits don't want to be found.” Her flashlight canvassed the room once again, falling on the area where Jackson had first appeared. She walked over and bent down. “Hmm, an old cigar. It looks ancient.”
“Just another piece of trash left by squatters,” I said, joining her.
“Yeah, I suppose. This one’s so old and brittle it’s almost falling apart. How weird.'” She pulled a plastic baggie from her pocket and placed it inside. Then, sniffing the air, asked, “Do you smell smoke?”
“I don't smell anything,” I lied as we left the room.
SIX
It’s My Party
THE DAYS FOLLOWING my trip to Sycamore Manor were reflective ones. My powers were changing and the boundaries separating my world from the veil had thinned. I also realized how vulnerable I was outside of Dark Root.
I didn't have long to dwell on this. By the weekend I was sick again.
The fever returned, tightening its grip on me. I wavered between hot and cold, blankets and ice packs, delirium and sanity. My stomach turned at the mention of food and I found myself getting drowsy even after a nap.
And Montana outright refused to nurse.
Jillian thought I'd be strong enough to fight off the curse once he was born. Jillian was wrong.
I didn't speak about my condition. Why should I worry the others? Instead, my fear came out sideways––yelling at Merry for running the air conditioner with the windows open, or bickering with Ruth Anne whenever she quoted a “fact.” Eve stayed mostly away from me, claiming she had to work the magick shop or help Aunt Dora with her garden. They chalked my moods up to new motherhood but their patience was wearing thin.
It was
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