Read Online The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4) by April Aasheim - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: April Aasheim
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on my third ice bath of the day that Merry got suspicious. “You okay?” Merry asked, knocking on the bathroom door.
“Cramps!” I called back.
A long disbelieving pause followed. Merry's footsteps scurried down the hallway.
I dried myself off and turned on the faucet, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I was too thin. Too pale. My normally unruly red hair hung limp around my face. And my aura had developed a muddy brown tinge.
The curse was winning.
I'd tried everything to combat it alone. Magick. Spells. Health food. Walking. Nature. Talismans. Fetishes. Tea. Rabbit’s feet and four leaf clovers. Nothing held back the sickness or restored my health permanently. It came in waves, leaving me feeling fine one moment and near collapse the next.
When I finally exited the bathroom, silence waited for me as I descended the stairs. I pulled on a bright smile before joining Eve and Merry in the living room.
“Uh-oh?” Eve said when she saw me. “Maggie’s angry.”
They both studied me from the couch.
“I'm not angry,” I said, lengthening my smile. I walked with as much poise as I could summon towards the kitchen, keeping my shoulders straight and my chin raised like Mother taught us when we were girls. My sisters followed me, concern in their eyes. I opened the pantry and sighed. “Darn. We're out of baby food again.”
“Darn?” Eve repeated, crossing her arms. “You don't say darn, not even when referring to socks.”
“It's upsetting,” I said, calmly rummaging through the next cupboard.
Eve glanced in the pantry and shrugged. “Maggie, there's this thing called a grocery store where you can buy more baby food.”
“That's not the point, Eve.” I grabbed the counter for support as another bout of dizziness took hold. “Michael used all the peas again and should have gotten more. Is that the next thing on his daddy bucket list, to grow and strain his own peas for our baby?”
Eve pursed her lips and tilted her head. A cascade of smooth black hair shimmered across her shoulders. “You're not really mad about the missing peas, are you?”
“Of course, it's about the peas!” I opened the refrigerator and slammed it shut. “What kind of father forgets to buy peas?”
“The worst possible father ever,” Eve answered. “We should get rid of him. I found a new spell that can switch his body with a mule’s, but we'll need to gather a few things.”
“Shhh, Evie,” Merry gently reprimanded her. “Maggie, we have jarred peas from the garden. I can put them in the blender. I can even add a little something extra to help him sleep better. There's this plant that only grows...”
“No!” I slapped my palm into the counter, feeling the sting. “No home jarred peas. And no 'little somethings.' Got it?”
Merry put her clenched hands on her hips, her blue eyes penetrating mine. “You don't want me preparing Montana's food now? Why?”
“Yeah, Maggie,” Eve echoed, opening a sack of rice cakes. “What gives?”
“From now on, I'm the only one who is going to give him his food.” My breasts prickled and almost instantly my shirt was soaked. “See? This is why my son won't take my milk anymore! It’s probably because you two are sneaking him canned peas when I'm not around or giving him sleeping powder so he naps through dinnertime.”
I leaned forward, dunking my face beneath the running kitchen faucet while the others gawked behind me.
“You’re pale,” Merry observed, handing me a towel. “As white as a ghost. I think you're overtired.”
Overtired: a term she used when June Bug got cranky.
“I think you're right, Merry. I am tired. I'm tired of...” I looked around the outdated kitchen, with its outdated wallpaper and appliances that hardly worked, its collection of freakish knickknacks on shelves and rails and crammed wherever else they would fit. We were living in a museum. I opened my arms to showcase the worn room. “Aren't you tired of all of this?”
“No
“Cramps!” I called back.
A long disbelieving pause followed. Merry's footsteps scurried down the hallway.
I dried myself off and turned on the faucet, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I was too thin. Too pale. My normally unruly red hair hung limp around my face. And my aura had developed a muddy brown tinge.
The curse was winning.
I'd tried everything to combat it alone. Magick. Spells. Health food. Walking. Nature. Talismans. Fetishes. Tea. Rabbit’s feet and four leaf clovers. Nothing held back the sickness or restored my health permanently. It came in waves, leaving me feeling fine one moment and near collapse the next.
When I finally exited the bathroom, silence waited for me as I descended the stairs. I pulled on a bright smile before joining Eve and Merry in the living room.
“Uh-oh?” Eve said when she saw me. “Maggie’s angry.”
They both studied me from the couch.
“I'm not angry,” I said, lengthening my smile. I walked with as much poise as I could summon towards the kitchen, keeping my shoulders straight and my chin raised like Mother taught us when we were girls. My sisters followed me, concern in their eyes. I opened the pantry and sighed. “Darn. We're out of baby food again.”
“Darn?” Eve repeated, crossing her arms. “You don't say darn, not even when referring to socks.”
“It's upsetting,” I said, calmly rummaging through the next cupboard.
Eve glanced in the pantry and shrugged. “Maggie, there's this thing called a grocery store where you can buy more baby food.”
“That's not the point, Eve.” I grabbed the counter for support as another bout of dizziness took hold. “Michael used all the peas again and should have gotten more. Is that the next thing on his daddy bucket list, to grow and strain his own peas for our baby?”
Eve pursed her lips and tilted her head. A cascade of smooth black hair shimmered across her shoulders. “You're not really mad about the missing peas, are you?”
“Of course, it's about the peas!” I opened the refrigerator and slammed it shut. “What kind of father forgets to buy peas?”
“The worst possible father ever,” Eve answered. “We should get rid of him. I found a new spell that can switch his body with a mule’s, but we'll need to gather a few things.”
“Shhh, Evie,” Merry gently reprimanded her. “Maggie, we have jarred peas from the garden. I can put them in the blender. I can even add a little something extra to help him sleep better. There's this plant that only grows...”
“No!” I slapped my palm into the counter, feeling the sting. “No home jarred peas. And no 'little somethings.' Got it?”
Merry put her clenched hands on her hips, her blue eyes penetrating mine. “You don't want me preparing Montana's food now? Why?”
“Yeah, Maggie,” Eve echoed, opening a sack of rice cakes. “What gives?”
“From now on, I'm the only one who is going to give him his food.” My breasts prickled and almost instantly my shirt was soaked. “See? This is why my son won't take my milk anymore! It’s probably because you two are sneaking him canned peas when I'm not around or giving him sleeping powder so he naps through dinnertime.”
I leaned forward, dunking my face beneath the running kitchen faucet while the others gawked behind me.
“You’re pale,” Merry observed, handing me a towel. “As white as a ghost. I think you're overtired.”
Overtired: a term she used when June Bug got cranky.
“I think you're right, Merry. I am tired. I'm tired of...” I looked around the outdated kitchen, with its outdated wallpaper and appliances that hardly worked, its collection of freakish knickknacks on shelves and rails and crammed wherever else they would fit. We were living in a museum. I opened my arms to showcase the worn room. “Aren't you tired of all of this?”
“No
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