The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4) by April Aasheim Read Free Book Online

still couldn’t shake.
    “Thanks for taking me,” I said.
    “It'll be fun, I promise.” She wore a strange new grin and her eyes gleamed wildly. The wind fluffed her short hair around her face, making her look like an excited puffer bird.
    I still had no idea where we were going. I glanced to the empty back seat, wondering how Montana was doing. I'd reluctantly left him in Eve's care, and knowing her, my son would be clean when I returned, but would probably also have a crippling new aversion to germs, large pores, and people who wear socks with sandals.
    “I miss my baby,” I said as we slowed down.
    “If you don't get some adventure in your life, you're going to end up like Aunt Dora.”
    “This whole year has been an adventure,” I reminded her. Still, I tried to imagine myself forty years older, wearing a checkered apron and baking pies. “Aunt Dora's life doesn't seem so bad. She's got her garden and the TV.”
    “And bad knees and bursitis.”
    “That's because she's old, not because she led a boring life. I'll bet she was a wild woman in her day.”
    Ruth Anne, shrugged. “It's hard to say. We don't know much about her history.” She paused, slowly licking lips. “Except that she isn't our biological aunt, but I love her as if she is.”
    I sucked in my breath. Ruth Anne knew about Aunt Dora. It made sense. She probably remembered the Council's final years. What else did she know?
    Before I could quiz her, she slammed on the breaks, launching me violently forward. I lurched against my belt. “What the hell?” I demanded.
    “Sorry 'bout that,” she said, backing the vehicle up. “I was expecting the arrow, but not one so small.”
    “Arrow?” I looked around. There was nothing but trees. “Where?”
    She pulled to the side of the road and motioned to a stumpy pine. A small white arrow had been crudely painted on it, indicating a concealed path into the woods. “Honey, we're home.”
    We climbed out and unloaded several items of gear, which Ruth Anne stuffed inside her backpack. She handed me two bottles of water. “Here, Eeyore, take these.”
    “I wish everyone would stop referencing my sadness,” I said, taking the water. “No one understands.”
    Ruth Anne lowered her eyes and slammed the car door. “Some of us do, Mags. You're not the only who has suffered in life.”
    “I'm sorry,” I said, leaping over a puddle to catch up.
    She followed the path, which led to another arrow, which opened into an even narrower path between a clump of trees. Her hands gripped the straps of her backpack as she expertly dodged the twisted limbs and undergrowth.
    “Hey! Don't ignore me. I said I was sorry.” I grabbed her arm. “You know me––I open my mouth without thinking.”
    “You're right about that.”
    “It's just so hard, Ruth Anne. I've never had to do anything like this. And now I have a baby to take care of––which is great––but all I really want to do is to crawl into a dark cave and burrow there forever.”
    She took off her glasses, her brown eyes misting. “I do know how you feel, but we can't give up. If we want to honor the dead, we need to keep living. If not for ourselves, then for them.”
    I grabbed her and hugged her.
    “It's alright.” She returned her glasses to her face as she pulled away. “I know you didn't mean anything by it. And it's not like I talk about it, much.”
    “Or ever.”
    “Or ever,” she agreed.
    We finished our walk in silence, trekking along the overgrown road, following sporadic arrows like a map through Wonderland. Ruth Anne's back bowed, and it wasn't because of her heavy backpack.
    “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked as our steps aligned, walking on leaves too wet to crunch beneath our feet.
    “You really want to talk about me?” she asked, missing a step and nearly stumbling on a stone.
    “Yes. Please.”
    Ruth Anne wiped her nose with the back of her arm, grumbled about catching a cold. “What do you want to