The Witches of Dark Root: Daughters of Dark Root: Book One (The Daughters of Dark Root) (13 page)

A light of recognition hit my brain.

Shane Doler. The dorky kid who used to go frog-hunting with Eve.

I recalled how Eve had gotten him to kiss one of those frogs once, claiming that if he did, it would turn into a beautiful princess. It didn’t, of course. Just because Eve practiced magick didn’t mean she was any good at it.
 

After that event, I had nicknamed him Frog Frencher. I smiled at the memory, even though it hurt. “Yes, I remember you. Sorry about the nickname.”

He laughed, bobbing his head. “I had it coming. Who kisses a frog?” He shook his head, and his brown hair shook with him. He had filled out since I had seen him last. He was still thin, but thin in a handsome sort of way.

Not that it mattered. I was done with men. Especially the handsome ones.

“So you work with Uncle Joe now?” I asked, remembering that he was on his way to buy restaurant equipment for his cafe. The headache powder was working and I could feel my temples relaxing. I took a deep, slow breath and let my shoulders settle, too.
 

“Well, after Uncle Joe passed, I...”

“What?” I stopped him. “Uncle Joe is dead? How? When?” I shook my head in disbelief.
 

Uncle Joe had been such a huge part of our childhood. After Mama closed her shop each night, we’d wander over to the cafe and he’d serve us a special dinner. Afterwards, he and Mother would talk ‘business’ while we played in the restaurant, hiding under tables and serving phantom customers. At the end of each night, he’d let us pick out one candy from a jar by the register. He had always been kind and patient, even with me.
 

People like kind, Uncle Joe weren’t supposed to die. They were supposed to live on forever.

This day was only getting worse.

“Sorry, I thought you had heard.” Shane took a sip of his coke, then passed it to me. I declined. “He died three years ago. Heart attack. People from all over came to say goodbye. Boy, I tell you, my Uncle Joe had some interesting friends.” He chuckled softly at the memory and took another sip of his drink. “He was very popular.”

“Yeah, he was very loved. I just can’t believe he’s gone.” I could feel myself tearing up but I gritted my teeth and willed the feeling away. I had done enough crying lately.

We continued to jounce along in his pickup truck.

Shane talked enthusiastically about how he had taken over his uncle’s cafe and was working it himself, but I was mostly tuning him out. The news about Uncle Joe, coupled with rest of this day, was too much. Going home seemed more depressing than ever.

“We’re making good time,” Shane said, glancing at the clock, but his voice sounded uncertain. “I’ve never driven this route this late at night, or this time of year.”
 

There was only one road that led to Dark Root, he said, so we couldn’t be lost, but we could be...absorbed? A small, wild creature with red eyes darted out from the wilderness trees and was caught it in our headlights.

Shane slammed on the breaks, throwing us forward, and the animal scurried away unhurt.

“You’re going to kill us,” I said, the pain in my head returning.
 

“Did you want me to hit that raccoon instead?”

“No,” I admitted, wriggling my legs, which were beginning to stiffen. “But now I have to pee.”

Shane pulled to the side of the road and motioned towards the woods around us.

Reluctantly, I left the vehicle in search of a bush. Peeing in the woods wasn’t new to me, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant. Especially in the dark. When I returned, I fished around in my suitcase in the backseat, adding clothes to keep back the chill, while he politely shielded his eyes.

“Interesting outfit,” Shane grinned, as he noticed my new ensemble, a tank top over three long-sleeved shirts, a skirt so long it covered my feet, and checkered socks.

“Just drive,” I said.

He complied.

“Dark Root, Oregon. The most magical town in the Pacific Northwest...” Shane recited the town’s slogan after a long silence. “Bet you are excited to get back.”

I was leaned over the seat, rummaging through my open bag in the back of the cab.
 

It was less full now that I was wearing half my wardrobe. Finally, I found my package of Oreos and pulled them into the front. I hadn’t eaten since morning and my stomach was not happy. Once I had scarfed down a half-dozen cookies, I responded to him.

“First of all,” I said. “Towns can’t be magical. Secondly, you are terrible at small talk. Thirdly, I’m not staying in Dark Root. It’s just a stop until I figure things out.”

“How can you say towns aren’t magical? You of all people should believe in magic, considering your upbringing.”

I snorted. “Why? Just because I am a supposed descendant of Juliana Benbridge, our town’s first witch?”

“Well, yes.”

“It’s just lore. And lore isn’t necessarily true,” I said, offering him a cookie which he took. “Especially when a town’s economy is based on it. Lore is used to sell postcards.”
 

“Well then, Dark Root needs a new slogan,” he laughed.

“Among other things,” I said.

Shane flipped on the radio, settling on one of those sad, storytelling songs on the country station. It was sappy in all the wrong ways.

“No one has ever proved that magic exists,” I argued, realizing I could have let it drop and wondering why I didn’t.

“No one has disproved it either. And...” he added thoughtfully. “Sometimes people
want
to believe. Nothing wrong with that. Makes life more interesting.”

“Doesn’t mean they should.” I thought of Michael, staring absently out the window, wondering why Woodhaven was failing. “When you get too locked into a set of beliefs, you can’t see anything else.”
 

I blew on the window, watching the fog cover it. I began to etch out my name, or at least the first few letters. The fog had lifted before I could write the letter ‘g.’

“No magic, huh?” He opened his console and handed me my cell phone. “Well, how do you explain the fact that your phone called me, even though you had dropped it in the parking lot? Had I not gotten the call and heard you scream, well...” Shane scratched his head and blinked his eyes.

Was that how he had known I was in trouble? I had never asked.
 

“I had just programmed in your phone number,” I replied, trying to come up with a logical answer. “When it hit the ground, it dialed you. Lucky coincidence on my part.”

“Uncle Joe used to say there are no coincidences. He said there are forces in the world at work, whether we see them or not.”

“That’s the problem with coincidences,” I said. “You can never prove them.”

“You’re jaded, Maggie. I’m not sure why, but it’s kind of sad. I hope Eve hasn’t become jaded, too.”

Hearing him speak Eve’s name darkened my mood. I turned the radio dial away from his hillbilly crying music. I found a station playing Metallica and I blasted it, mostly because I thought it would annoy him.

Instead, he started banging his head to the beat.

“I’m going to sleep,” I said, closing my eyes.

Surprisingly, he kept the radio on the heavy metal station. We listened to songs from Van Halen and Motley Crew. Then ‘For Those About to Rock I Salute You’ came on. My eyes flipped open. Shane was drumming his fingers against the wheel.

“Please, turn this off,” I said. But he didn’t hear me. I sat up and repeated my request, this time louder. “Please, turn this off.”

He gave me a curious look. “You picked the station.”

“Turn this off now!”

Pop!

A spark shot from the radio and then it went quiet. Shane did a double take as he fiddled with the knobs. Nothing came on, not even static.

“You did this?” he asked, his face a mixture of fear and incredulousness.

I didn’t respond.

“You
did
this,” he repeated, a smile spreading across his face. “Maggie. What they say is true. You are––”

“Careful,” I said, looking at him out of the corner of my eye.

“...Special,” he concluded, shaking his head in disbelief. “I always knew Eve had ‘something,’ but it was never tangible. But this. I can’t believe it.”

“Coincidence.”
 

“Yeah, right.” He thought for a moment, scratching his head. “I’ve read about this on the internet. Electro-kinesis. You manipulate the energy of electrical devices like the radio and cell phone. It’s a pretty rare gift...”

“The internet? Oh, then it has be true,” I said dryly, pretending to bite on my nails.

I was angry at him, but I wasn’t sure why. His references to Eve? His talk of Dark Root? His insistence that I was...
something?
And why was he so excited about me being special? Was he like Michael? Hoping to use my so-called powers for his own gain?

“I may be able to turn a radio off, or pop a light bulb once in a while,” I snapped, my anger growing. “But I have no control over these things, they just happen. And maybe they really are all just coincidences. So no, Shane, I am not a
witch,
if that is the burning question you are dying to ask me...”

“I never called you a witch.” He turned, giving me his full attention.

“Wilder, then.”

He looked sorry for me and went to squeeze my hand, but I pulled back. No, he hadn’t called me either of those things, but the words
wilder
and
witch
were my labels back in Dark Root. Labels I had tried to leave behind.

“I’m sorry,” he said, staring back at the dark road before us. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

I took a deep breath and nodded, accepting his apology. I knew I was being overly sensitive.

We had escaped the darkness of the forest, and had come to a large area where most of the trees had been cleared. Shane turned off his high-beams and we picked up our pace. Neither of us spoke, and with the radio off, the silence was painful.

Finally, our headlights caught a sign.

Welcome to Dark Root. Where Every Day Is Halloween.

Shane lifted his chin and hit the gas, ready to unload his troublesome cargo.

“Where we headed to?” Shane asked, as we drove down the back roads of Dark Root towards the downtown proper. He had a weariness to his voice, and I could tell he wanted to get home himself. We passed houses I recognized from my childhood, large Victorian structures, many dark and boarded over. Had they been that way before I left? Or had I been only one of many people who had fled the town?