The Morrigan: Damaged Deities (44 page)

Sighing, Morrie turned and headed downstairs to face the group of women.

They were all placed in various positions around the study in the low lamplight, eyeing each other; all suspicious.  A group of supernatural and ethereal females caught in the silent power plays women seemed to always subject themselves to. 

Kade’s nurse sat on the sofa without her wrinkled glamour as she clutched a canvas tote bag to her chest.  Her companion from the cottage was with her. 

Both looked like they had stepped out of the black and white photos the Seer had amassed throughout her home.

To Morrie’s surprise, Kade’s mother was with them, the third occupant of the sofa.  What had been hidden from her in the restaurant was clear as day in the study.  Kade had himself a succubus for a mother.

Interesting
.

Kamden leaned against a table, hunched over and looking confused and annoyed.  At some point, she would have to sit down with him and explain everything. 

Give him his money back, even if she did technically catch his damn horse.

As soon as she entered the room, Morrie spied her sisters.  Bev hopped up and threw her arms around her, planting a loud smacking kiss on her cheek.

“Hmm,” Bev purred. “You smell delicious.  Sounds like you’ve been making up for lost time.”

Leveling a warning glare on her sister, Morrie said, “We’ll talk later.” 

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Morrie glanced over at her other sister, Macy, and nodded. “Macha.”

“Morrigan,” Macy returned like a cold statue in the corner. 

She was being rude to the others in the room, but Morrie didn’t feel like playing hostess or social butterfly.  She was still tormented by the moments that had passed between her and Kade. 

Part of her wanted to forget about their past and curl up with him.  But seeing him again, being in his bed, had the goddess conflicted.  He was still so much her Celt warrior, but so much the modern man Morrie had found herself falling for. 

Was she in love with the man or the memory? 

And speaking of memories, his betrayal still haunted her.

  He could hold her tryst with Dagda against her, but that didn’t make him any less guilty.  The fact that he acted like he’d done nothing wrong infuriated her even more.

She was in a bit of a pickle. 

The room was full of supernaturals, confirming Morrie and Bev’s suspicions.  There was no telling how many were out there, mingling among the unsuspecting humans. 

Morrie turned to the Seer.

“Kade said you wanted to speak with me.”

“Aye,” Nan rose and looked about the room. “Might we speak in the hall?”

Morrie smiled at Bev and squeezed her hands before nodding and ducking out into the dark hallway. 

The corridor was cold at the late hour and though it was well past Lorna’s bedtime, the lights should have at least felt warm from having been on all day.

“What is you want, Seer?” Morrie crossed her arms to warm herself and turned as the legend joined her in the dark.

“I knew you for a brief time,” Nan began, standing across from her.  She took on a sort of faraway, pensive expression, her voice like that of a narrator. “Long ago, I knew you in your old form.  I was among the last of the druid dancers that performed the seasonal rituals.  I would watch you pass from the ether into our world, taking on your form of a great warrior goddess with flaming red hair and large, brilliant wings.”

“Where are you going with this, Seer?” Morrie frowned at the woman.  She returned it with a smile.

“You and he are so alike.  Both so impatient.  No wonder you two war with each other; neither of you pauses long enough to think first.”

Morrie felt the anger flash in her eyes. “Careful where you tread, little legend.  You grow dangerously close to blasphemy.” 

There was no need to hide her true nature anymore and she was still a goddess.  One that demanded respect.

A moment of fear flickered across the woman’s face, but she kept control of her emotions well.

“I didn’t intend to offend.  I wanted to share with you what I know.  What I think you should know.  I met Kade when he was a lad and in him, I could see the Celtic warrior.  I knew within him dwelled the hero, Cú Chulainn.  I never shared with him this knowledge, I watched as he kept his true nature hidden to all around him.  But I knew he was tortured, I knew he tended a wound deeper than what took his life.  A heartbreak that followed him into this life.  And so I set about to help him.”

“Make him forget?”

Shit, Morrie sounded like a jealous lover.

Nan only smiled.  “Nay.  I wanted to only know what caused his sorrow in the first place.  As you know, there are many books and stories written about yourself and Chulainn, your history is entwined like rope.  But what followed his death were truly just myths, tales made up to cast his shadow long and wide over Alban and Britain.  All were false, save one.  One single book kept by the druids.  A record of events detailing every deed and dealing of man, legend and god of that time.”

Dropping her arms, Morrie straightened.  The Seer had her attention.

“Go on.”

“It took me a very long time to find it,” Nan reached back and dug into the tote bag she had hanging on her shoulder.  She pulled out a small, leather bound book, its pages yellow and brittle. She held it out to Morrie. “I trust ye know the old language it’s written in?”

Frowning, Morrie nodded and took the book without a word. 

It was written in the first tongue of Britain, used by the people modern historians referred to as the Beaker People. 

Morrie hadn’t seen it written in…well, in ages. 

Careful of the book’s delicate state, she opened the cover slowly, its spine creaking like an old man standing up.

“The page I have marked…,” Nan pointed to a red ribbon tucked in between the pages toward the back of the book. “If you’ll read that part…”

Glancing up at Nan with doubt, Morrie bit her lower lip and turned to the page. 

Eying its small and faded script, no human would be able to read the text without the aid of their technology and even then, they would most likely not know the language.  Fortunately for Morrie, she was able to use her superhuman senses to make out the words and knew the tongue well. 

Words painful to her heart stood out:  Cú Chulainn.  Emer.  Betrothed. 

With a lump wedging its way in her throat, Morrie didn’t continue.  She didn’t want to relive the day she was told of Chulainn’s marriage to the youngest daughter of Forgall Monach, Emer. 

For a year she had laid with the hero, she had fought by his side in battle and been his companion, his confidante.  She had tricked his enemies and reaped fame on the hero. 

He had asked her to marry him many times, but she had denied him. 

Goddesses didn’t marry. 

But she had thought he would have still committed to her. 

Instead, he sought himself worldly riches and a worldly wife.  And Morrigan was left to honor her duty on Samhain.

Tears welled in Morrie’s eyes.  She blinked them away. 

It was shameful that she reacted this way and blamed it all on her current human state. 

Disgusted with herself and angry at the Seer for conjuring these emotions, Morrie held the book out to her. “I don’t want to see this.”

There was actual sympathy on the Seer’s face and a silent plea as she splayed her hands and pushed the tome back.

“Please, you must continue.  Read all the way to the end of the page.  I assure you, you need to know this.”

Morrie started to shake her head, but felt like a petulant child or worse, a lovesick schoolgirl. 

Steeling some resolve, she inhaled deeply and continued reading.

Her stomach twisted as she recounted the match made between Chulainn and the Irish girl, but then another word shocked her, her eyes stopping on it.

Rescinded.

Suddenly curious, Morrie tilted her head and reread the words. 

The pages told of an agreement made between the Ulster king, Conchobar, and the wealthy landowner, Forgall Monach.  A match between the king’s nephew, Cú Chulainn, and Monach’s daughter, Emer. 

But they had not asked for Cú Chulainn’s consent. 

Knowing of his attachment to the goddess, the king and Monach endeavored to spread the word of Cú Chulainn’s marriage throughout the land, enlisting the help of the Good God, Dagda, with the intention of coercing Cú Chulainn into the marriage through public persuasion. 

When Cú Chulainn discovered the plot, he rescinded the betrothal, his right under Ulster law.  Emer went on to marry another and Cú Chulainn died in battle.

Stricken silent, Morrie looked up at the Seer. 

Blinking, her lips tried to form the question—why?—but the word wouldn’t come.

Nan understood, and answered her anyway.

“Tis a better tale of a hero wedded to an Irish beauty, siring many heirs, than one struck down by jealousy and spite.  And if you speak the lie long enough and loud enough, eventually it becomes the truth.”

There were so many more questions Morrie wanted to ask.  Like, why did Nan come here to tell her all of this?  Why did she seek out this book in the first place?  What future did she see that would bring her to the manor and to Morrie? 

But Morrie could no longer even focus on the Seer, her gaze drifting away.  Focusing sightless beyond the woman and looking to the past.

She had been wrong.

So wrong.

Her face grew cold, she was sure her cheeks were pale.  And in a haze, she handed the book back and slowly turned around. 

Like a ghost caught in a mental maze, Morrie traveled quietly up the stairs.

Her mind had been seized by the truth. 

She had lived under a lie for so long, had set all of her emotions around this betrayal that now it no longer existed, she didn’t know what to feel.  Wasn’t sure what to even think. 

She had believed the lie. 

Dagda had told her of Chulainn’s supposed betrayal and she’d believed him over her own hero.

And that lie had destroyed them both. 

It had sent her back to Dagda to honor their annual tradition.  Their union across the borders of two lands and two worlds had ruined Chulainn’s love for her. 

Had she trusted that the marriage was a lie, she would have never slept with Dagda and maybe Chulainn would not have entered the battle so ill-prepared as he had, barreling headlong into death as though it were preferable to him than life with her.

All this time she had blamed Chulainn and it had been Dagda’s trickery.

The trance only ended when Morrie opened Kade’s bedroom door, seeing him with his arms resting against the fireplace mantel, his head hanging between them as the flames flickered in his dark gaze.

He looked up when she entered and frowned at the expression she wore. 

Leaving the hearth, he took a step towards her.

“What is it?  What did Nan say?”

This was so foreign to Morrie, this feeling of regret. 

Eyes opening wide, she blinked and whispered, “I’ve been such a fool.”

She walked straight into Kade’s arms, resting her hands on his chest as she looked up to him.  He held her in his embrace, his face one of soft confusion and concern.

“I’ve been such a fool…” she repeated before reaching up for his face and bringing his lips down to hers. 

She took his mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss, hoping her lips could convey to him the regret her words could not. 

His arms wrapping like steel bands around her, he held her tight against his body and returned her kiss with matched fire. 

Lifting her up, Kade wrapped her legs around his waist and he took two steps back and sat on the bed. 

Still they kissed, still they spoke with only their tongues and lips and that kiss brought about a change in Morrigan and Chulainn.