The Magick of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root) Read Online Free

won’t have any skinny babies in my house!”
    It was futile to argue with Aunt Dora, so I obliged, taking small bites and sipping on my tea. I had to admit that it felt nice to be taken care of, even if it was under duress.
    “Aunt Dora,” I said, while she rinsed off a spoon in the sink. “Do you think I’ll make a good mother?”
    She quit her task and turned in my direction, her eyes narrowed and sharp.  
    Leaning back against the counter she said, “Maggie, I love ya with all my heart. Ya know that, right?” She reached behind her, pulling a dish towel from the bar on the oven door.
    “Yes. I know,” I said, immediately regretting my question. “And you don’t have to answer.”
    She lifted a hand to halt me, the towel dangling from her fingers. “Remember when ya were kids? Ya and yer sisters had been given homework by yer Uncle Joe ta grow plants.”
    I pressed my lips together, nodding.
    I was seven and Uncle Joe had given us each a flower and a week to nurture them. Seven days later we returned with our assignments. Merry’s flower had doubled in size, each petal soft and perfect. Eve’s flower had transformed from a dullish gray to a vibrant pink with a scent so heavy you could smell it across the room. Even Ruth Anne’s flower seemed to be thriving, and she didn’t even believe in magick.  
    In stark contrast, my own flower had actually shrunk, receding into itself like it was trying to hide from me in its pot.  
    I’d handed it to Uncle Joe as Eve shot me a smug look.  
    “I tried,” I explained to him, looking down at my feet. “I used all my powers.”
    “Not everything boils down to magick,” he said, examining the plant. “Some things just require love and common sense.”  
    He then handed the plant to Merry who cupped it in her dainty hands, closed her eyes, and blew on it like a birthday candle. She set the pot in a windowsill and within hours the flower perked up. Under Merry’s care, it survived and outlived them all.  
    “Ya have come a long way since then,” Aunt Dora said, her eyes still slits. “But we’re still not sure what yer powers are, only that they are strong. Some say yer father had the deathtouch . Maybe ya do, too.”
    My eyes widened and my hands shot to my abdomen. “The deathtouch ? What’s the deathtouch and why hasn’t anyone told me about it before?”
    She tossed the cloth in the sink and shrugged. “It is as it sounds. Point is, use that noggin of yers girl. Got it?”
    I looked down, afraid to meet her eyes as I asked the next question. “Is there anything we can do…about my situation? I wasn’t prepared for being a mother, and now, thinking I might do something horrible to the kid…”  
    Aunt Dora’s eyes flashed, her jaw firm as she spoke. “Maggie, ya made yer bed, so ta speak. Now it’s time ta lie in it.” She straightened her back, and though hardly five-feet-tall, she stood like a giant.
    “I just meant…” I started to explain.
    “I know what ya meant! Ya see a doctor if ya want that. Ya don’t ask me!”  
    “No, no.” I tried again. “I could never do… that . But isn’t there a spell that can make things just…I don’t know, go away?”
    “What yer talking about, Maggie, is banishment. One o’ the dark arts like demonology, summoning, and necromancy. Ya don’ want ta start down that road. One bad apple in the family is all we can take.”
    The bad apple was my father, Armand, who had left The Council because he wanted to use the group’s collective powers to summon and control demons.  
    “I’m not like my father. You know that.”
    She studied me quietly.
    “What about turning back time, then?” I continued. “Can we do that?”
    Aunt Dora cocked her head, placing a finger in the small dent of her chin. “Even the strongest witch is no match fer time.” Her eyes softened and her shoulders followed. “An’ if ya could, ya’d undo all that’s been done. Would ya really want that?”  
    I shook