The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4) by April Aasheim Page A
Authors: April Aasheim
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ruffling my nightgown. The feint smell of chocolate and roses did indeed hang in the air.
I scanned the yard, searching for signs of the dead. Cupping my hands, I called out, “If anyone has unfinished business with me, I'm here! Bring back my son now!”
Ruth Anne and Merry joined me, wrapping their arms around me and pulling me back inside. “I looked everywhere upstairs.” Merry reported, her voice shaking. “Even the nursery.”
The nursery.
We had removed a demon from that room, but perhaps my father's portal hadn't been properly sealed. Maybe Montana had been sucked inside. I freed myself from my sister’s arms. If the portal took my baby, it would have to take me, too.
I raced up the stairs, two and three at a time. The lights in the wall sconces burst behind me, raining tiny shards of glass in my wake.
“Montana?” I whispered, entering the dark nursery where the demon Gahabrien once dwelled.
The room was dark and cool. There was a gap between the drapes, creating enough light to see the books and toys; some were new, some left over from our childhood. A porcelain clown doll taunted me from a high shelf, smiling as if he knew a secret.
I pulled open the curtains and searched the room. Then, I fearfully turned my eyes to the closet door. Long ago, Larinda and Armand opened a vortex inside to travel between planes. I recalled the globe memories of my father speaking of time travel, dark tunnels, and even darker endeavors.
The energy surrounding the closet came alive. It was almost palpable, and whether it was the door that throbbed or my heart, I couldn't tell. The image of Armand––standing inside a doorway, holding a feather balanced against a human heart––returned to me.
“Daddy, you son of a bitch,” I said, turning the knob. “If you’re responsible for this, not even the Netherworld will be able to hide you from me.”
A blast of foul air jetted out from the closet, staggering me backwards. I covered my nose with my arm and stepped inside. I didn't turn on the light. Spirits always preferred the darkness.
It was a small closet, though it rapidly expanded outwards around me. I found myself standing in the middle of an endless dark void. I recognized this place. The curse had taken me here, trapping me between realms, and now my child had brought me back.
Small points of glittering light blinked from all directions, like exits on a freeway, competing for my attention. I understood that each light led to another tunnel, each containing another thousand tunnels. If I took the wrong one, I might be trapped forever.
“Montana!” I called into the nothingness, my breath rolling out like fog.
One light flickered in response, broadening to the size of my hand. I went to it, sensing the eyes of the dead on me as I passed by. I heard their whispers, their laughs, and their moans.
As at Sycamore Manor, the light became its own door, now large enough to step through.
Was Montana inside?
I reached my arm in. It was colder than anything I could imagine, as if reaching into liquid ice.
“Montana?”
Inside, a baby cooed. Its coo turned into a cry.
I stepped through the portal with one foot. Glacially cold air stabbed my leg, snaking up my body, edging its way into my heart.
“Maggie! Stop!”
A firm hand grabbed me, yanking me back into this world. Ruth Anne.
“Montana's in there,” I said, fighting her off. “We never fully sealed the portal.”
“No, Maggie.” Ruth Anne shook her head. “We found him. Merry’s got him.”
I didn't wait for an explanation. I sprinted past her, down the stairs, and into the living room. Near the window, Merry held my son, stroking his hair as he rooted against her shoulder.
“My baby!”
“He's hungry,” Merry said. “I'll make him a bottle.”
She handed him over. He looked into my eyes and yawned. I resisted the urge to squeeze him, fearing I’d break him with the intensity of my relief. “Merry, thank you. Where was he?”
Merry
I scanned the yard, searching for signs of the dead. Cupping my hands, I called out, “If anyone has unfinished business with me, I'm here! Bring back my son now!”
Ruth Anne and Merry joined me, wrapping their arms around me and pulling me back inside. “I looked everywhere upstairs.” Merry reported, her voice shaking. “Even the nursery.”
The nursery.
We had removed a demon from that room, but perhaps my father's portal hadn't been properly sealed. Maybe Montana had been sucked inside. I freed myself from my sister’s arms. If the portal took my baby, it would have to take me, too.
I raced up the stairs, two and three at a time. The lights in the wall sconces burst behind me, raining tiny shards of glass in my wake.
“Montana?” I whispered, entering the dark nursery where the demon Gahabrien once dwelled.
The room was dark and cool. There was a gap between the drapes, creating enough light to see the books and toys; some were new, some left over from our childhood. A porcelain clown doll taunted me from a high shelf, smiling as if he knew a secret.
I pulled open the curtains and searched the room. Then, I fearfully turned my eyes to the closet door. Long ago, Larinda and Armand opened a vortex inside to travel between planes. I recalled the globe memories of my father speaking of time travel, dark tunnels, and even darker endeavors.
The energy surrounding the closet came alive. It was almost palpable, and whether it was the door that throbbed or my heart, I couldn't tell. The image of Armand––standing inside a doorway, holding a feather balanced against a human heart––returned to me.
“Daddy, you son of a bitch,” I said, turning the knob. “If you’re responsible for this, not even the Netherworld will be able to hide you from me.”
A blast of foul air jetted out from the closet, staggering me backwards. I covered my nose with my arm and stepped inside. I didn't turn on the light. Spirits always preferred the darkness.
It was a small closet, though it rapidly expanded outwards around me. I found myself standing in the middle of an endless dark void. I recognized this place. The curse had taken me here, trapping me between realms, and now my child had brought me back.
Small points of glittering light blinked from all directions, like exits on a freeway, competing for my attention. I understood that each light led to another tunnel, each containing another thousand tunnels. If I took the wrong one, I might be trapped forever.
“Montana!” I called into the nothingness, my breath rolling out like fog.
One light flickered in response, broadening to the size of my hand. I went to it, sensing the eyes of the dead on me as I passed by. I heard their whispers, their laughs, and their moans.
As at Sycamore Manor, the light became its own door, now large enough to step through.
Was Montana inside?
I reached my arm in. It was colder than anything I could imagine, as if reaching into liquid ice.
“Montana?”
Inside, a baby cooed. Its coo turned into a cry.
I stepped through the portal with one foot. Glacially cold air stabbed my leg, snaking up my body, edging its way into my heart.
“Maggie! Stop!”
A firm hand grabbed me, yanking me back into this world. Ruth Anne.
“Montana's in there,” I said, fighting her off. “We never fully sealed the portal.”
“No, Maggie.” Ruth Anne shook her head. “We found him. Merry’s got him.”
I didn't wait for an explanation. I sprinted past her, down the stairs, and into the living room. Near the window, Merry held my son, stroking his hair as he rooted against her shoulder.
“My baby!”
“He's hungry,” Merry said. “I'll make him a bottle.”
She handed him over. He looked into my eyes and yawned. I resisted the urge to squeeze him, fearing I’d break him with the intensity of my relief. “Merry, thank you. Where was he?”
Merry
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