Gran cleared her throat. “The important thing to remember is Guinevere will appear as the woman behind the man. She was Napoleon’s Josephine, Hitler’s Eva Braun. That fae bitch is unleashed each time the Morrigan passes and it’s up to the new Morrigan to return her to the Fairy Realm.”
“Eva Braun was a fae?”
Gran nodded. “You thought Hitler was a bastard? You shoulda heard your great grandma talk about Eva. Guinevere hid from her for decades and built her power base, finding and grooming old Adolf. Had the whole world at war before she showed her face.”
There was so much to take in Maggie’s head spun. “So, if the aspects pass to me, I’ll have some time before this Guinevere appears?”
Morgan shook her head. “Not always. She looks for the best situation. Somehow she knows everything that’s going on in our world from the moment she enters and finds one man or situation that can tip the balance in her direction. Guinevere struck two weeks after my Gran’s death, seducing some South American dictator. My mother barely avoided World War Three.”
Tears glistened in Gran’s eyes. “But the witch hid out for years after my mom’s death. She plotted and planned and managed to kill your mother and father before I could find her.” She patted the notebook. “Read this, and keep your eyes open over the next few weeks. But not right now.”
Maggie’s head whirled. She hadn’t had that much whiskey. What was going on?
Morgan had Gran’s cagy grin plastered across her face. She was waving her hand in the air, twirling her fingers. “There’s no need for you to see us pass. It would only bring you more pain. We won’t be here when you wake. Farewell.”
Chapter 3
Maggie woke to the warmth of the morning sun radiating through the open kitchen window. The beam, where it struck the kitchen table, winked off two empty glasses and a whiskey bottle with less than an inch of liquid in the bottom. She cradled her own drinking glass in her arms. It still contained a swallow.
Blinking sleep away, she pulled her head off the table. No headache. No hangover. It hadn’t been the drink that put her to sleep.
“Gran?”
Please let her still be here.
“She’s gone.” The voice came from behind. Familiar, yet not. “She enchanted you to sleep, then faded away I guess.”
“Who?” Maggie spun to see . . . herself . . . coming out of Gran’s bedroom carrying the triptych and sword.
“I guess you can call me Morgana.” The other Maggie placed the triptych on the table and opened it up to display the three pictures. “I think you slept a bit longer because you were the aspect already inside us, so you got the full dose of Gran’s enchantment.”
A raven flew in the window and morphed into another image of herself. “This is amazin’. Flyin’ without a jet. Begorrah, it’s so awesome up there.” Other-other Maggie was beaming. “Oh, hi me. You’re up.”
“So, you would be Morgan?” It had happened. The Morrigan had passed to her.
“Right, which makes you Morgause, the healer.” Morgan grabbed up the notebook from where it lay next to one of the easy chairs in the living space. “We’ve been up a few hours and took some time to do a little reading of Gran’s notes.”
So she wasn’t Maggie right now. She was Morgause, the healer aspect of the Morrigan. Still, she felt like Maggie. She had all of Maggie’s memories. It didn’t feel like anything was missing.
She held out her hand for the notebook. “I suppose I have a little catching up to do.”
Morgan looked at Morgana, and they both nodded in tandem. “We wanted to test this anyway.”
As they closed in on her, Morgan added, “According to Gran’s notes, this will be a lot easier than you rereading everything we’ve already read.”
The other two aspects simply walked into her, and they all merged into one being.
~ ~ ~
She was Maggie again.
Memories bombarded her. She’d awoken earlier to find her other self still sleeping at the table. Then she’d spotted another her standing beside her just as confused. And she saw the scene from both perspectives. She remembered soaring above the clouds as a raven. She remembered reading the passage where Gran wrote: all three memories remain separate until they merge back into one body.
She’d been three separate people, each working independently, yet they were all her. And once merged together, she retained what each of them had done. Each of her had done?
This would take a bit of getting used to.
Maggie picked up her whiskey glass and eyed the last gulp. “Malted barley, grains . . . a lot like cereal.”
She threw back the last swallow. “Whiskey, it’s what’s for breakfast.”
~ ~ ~
Paul locked the wheels on his wheelchair, flipped up the footrests, and pushed himself to his feet. His shaky legs had him teetering, but he brushed aside the cane Shade offered him. “I can stand.” It was more bluster than confidence, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Shade.
He hated being so weak, so out of control.
Shade had the cowl and goggles on his costume pulled back, so Paul saw him raise his eyebrow. “But can you walk?”
He managed two stuttering steps before his head started whirling. Damn it, this sucked.
Shade caught him as he slumped toward the floor. “Heather said you were rushing it. Take a couple more days. You’ve earned it. Technically you’re still on leave anyway. Relax.”
He set Paul in the wheelchair, and pushed the cane into his hands. “Aaron’s orders are to not let you into your office until you’re fully recovered. And mister, you failed that test.”
Paul ground his teeth. “Meanwhile, the security of this base has been compromised. Security I’m responsible for.”
Shaking his head, Shade narrowed his gaze at him. “Security I’m now responsible for. Aaron put me in charge until Heather clears you for duty. Get healthy first, then you can get back to work. For now, rest, eat, and get better.”
“At least brief me.” They weren’t telling him anything. Some kind of spaceship in a secret, underground bunker below the base no one knew about? Well, somebody had to know about it.
“Aaron has the pencil-pushers in Washington digging up the old files on this place, and I’ve got a friend coming in who worked here in the eighties. He won’t arrive for a few more days, and nothing’s going to happen to the ship and lab until we know more, so you have time to recuperate. If you’re good, and Heather clears you, I’ll bring you up to speed and have you sit in on that meeting.” Shade turned to leave. “So be good.”
Oh, no. Not so fast. “If you don’t have the files yet, how do you know that’s an alien spacecraft and not some secret government project?”
Shade sighed. “I wish Chris hadn’t mentioned that. You need your rest.”
“I need to know. The anxiety is not good for my delicate condition. And I’ll rest so much easier if I know what’s going on.” Two could play at that game.
Shade chuckled. “I doubt that, but you’re not letting me leave until I spill, right?”
Paul shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one with superpowers. You can leave anytime you want. But then I’d have to wheel this damned chair to the elevator and find out for myself what’s going on.”
“Ugh, Heather’s going to kill me. She wants you to rest. She still hasn’t figured out how your wound closed, but you lost a lot of blood before it did.”
Paul held up his hands. “I’ll rest. I’ll sleep.” A short nap anyway. Trying to walk had worn him out. “I promise.”
“Okay, but remember, you asked for it.” Shade’s hedging was out of character for the usually straight-forward agent. “Along with the ship, we found four bodies, preserved in formaldehyde.”
“Bodies?”
; “Yeah. Humanoid, but like nothing from this world. Gray scaly hides, long claw-like fingers, tentacles hanging from their chins like beards. Strange creatures. Oh yeah, and each of the vats are labeled, Space Alien #1, Space Alien #2 . . . you get the picture?”
“Christ!”
Shade nodded. “That’s pretty much all we have right now, so climb back in bed. I’ll send Heather in with something to help you sleep.”
Yeah, he was definitely going to need that.
~ ~ ~
I’m so proud of what you’re doing with that Xi Force. And if the Morrigan transfers to you, they’ll most certainly want you to be even more a part of the team. Just make sure your costume is GREEN. Éirinn go Brách.
“Ireland forever.” Maggie chuckled as she read Gran’s words in the notebook.
From the start, the Morrigan had been the protector of Ireland, but almost two-hundred years ago her ancestors realized that often protecting Ireland meant protecting the world. Especially during World War II.
After the Morrigan defeated Eva Braun and helped the allies win the war, she’d become an international agent. During Gran’s tenure, she’d often sent two-thirds of herself abroad, while leaving behind a single aspect to care for Maggie and keep up pretenses at home. The aspects could stay disconnected for up to a week before being drawn back together, which also sometimes saved money on return air fare, as Morgause tended to be the aspect they all got pulled into.
No wonder the woman had always seemed to be able to do the work of three. She was three people . . . at least, whenever she wanted to be.
Chapter 4
The mossy dampness of the deep forest filled Maggie’s senses. A skylark trilled in the trees overhead. She stepped over the rotting husk of a fallen tree, then pushed aside a curtain of vines to reveal a clearing in the dense foliage. Sunlight streamed through the break in the forest canopy, brightly illuminating a thick carpet of emerald-green grasses. Blinking away tears, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness.
“Donavan?” Would he hear her call?
She’d visited here with Gran once before, right after she’d come to live in Ireland, after her parents died. She’d been eight years old, but the memory was still sharp.
Donavan had been waiting here for them. But certainly the man didn’t live here. There wasn’t a house or any other structure for miles. Why had Gran’s notebook directed her to come here once again to meet him?
How would he know she was here?
Still, this was one of Gran’s last requests. Maggie needed to honor it.
Her gaze was drawn to the perfect circle of mushrooms in the center of the clearing. A fairy ring. Said to be a link to the Realm of the Fae.
Silly superstition . . . or was it? Hadn’t Gran said Guinevere was a fae?
“Donavan?” she called again, but other than the distant caw of a crow, there was no reply.
The mushrooms in the ring were huge, the largest Maggie had ever seen. Way beyond what natural growth should have allowed. Then again, there was nothing natural about this glade. Maggie would have felt the magic in the air here even without the enhanced mystical detection of her new Morgan aspect.
Who was Donavan? And what was his connection to this place?
According to Gran’s notes, this is the location where Guinevere would reenter the world. She hadn’t said exactly where Guinevere would be coming from, at least in the little bit of the notebook Maggie had had time to read.
So much she needed to learn, but this had been right on the second page, and marked urgent. Come here and find Donavan.
Maggie was still wrapping her head around all this magic stuff.
Thank goodness she’d had some exposure to El Brujo or she’d be completely freaked out. He’d probably understand everything, but by the time she even thought to call him, she’d been deep in the forest and out of cell reception service.
A bare, humanlike footprint clearly displayed in the crushed ruination of one of the mushrooms. A shiver coursed up her spine as she followed the faint imprints on the grass to the clearing’s edge and into the forest. It felt like she was walking on a grave.
Movement from her right caused Maggie to jump.
“I knew you would come.” The low, masculine voice held a note of sadness. “I shall miss your grandmother very deeply. She was a brave, wonderful woman. Ireland will never know the debt it owes her.”
Shoulder-length black hair framed a face with angular features. Piercing gray eyes widened as he gazed at her.
“Donavan.” The man hadn’t changed a lick in almost twenty years.
“Maggie. You’ve grown up so beautiful, but that’s not a surprise. The blood of a goddess flows through your veins.” He raised an eyebrow and added, “And the blood of the fae as well.”
The Morgan aspect pushed to the front of her mind, noting the powerful golden aura around the man. With a flicker his form changed momentarily to something ethereal, as if made of pure light. Then he was Donavan again.
The back of her neck tingled. “What are you?”
A smile played across his lips. He held out his hand, palm up. “If you would find out, take my hand.”
~ ~ ~
Dr. Logan still wanted Paul resting in bed, and she’d had Xi Force checking up on him, and sending him back to bed if he strayed too far from the medical unit. Pike’s Rangers had all been reassigned to Shade while Paul convalesced, with strict orders not to do anything that might tire him.
However, Kirk Peters was out of the loop when he stopped by Paul’s room to chat.
“Anything I can get or do for you, Paul?” Kirk asked, and Paul saw his chance.
“I’m supposed to check out that spacecraft, but I hate to bother Shade,” Paul said. “Do you think you could help me get down there?”
He wasn’t necessarily lying. He was supposed to check out the ship and the chamber below, after he was feeling up to it. And, at least in that moment, he did feel up to it.
“Are you kidding?” Kirk’s smile broadened. “I’ve been dying for a chance to see that ship. All that cool technology. I’ve got all the time you need.”
Kirk, the Cray computer specialist, was one of the unsung heroes of Xi Force. Sitting at his control center, he monitored the mountain’s security, fed information and programs to Z-Bot and Shade’s internal computers, and handled communications while the team was in the field. And the guy crushed at Fortnite.
Rolling Paul in his wheelchair to the elevator, Kirk hit the button for the basement level. “I don’t think you can get to your room yet without going the long way round. The collapse took out the whole hallway.”
Paul clutched his cane. “Yeah, I don’t need to get to my room. Take me to the collapse.”
The rangers guarding the collapsed hallway, eyed them suspiciously, but Paul was their superior, and these were some of his newer recruits, so bluffing his way past was a breeze. Under any other circumstances, he’d have been here long ago.
Paul hobbled down the rocky decline created by the cave in. It would have been a challenge in any case, but in his weakened condition each step was agony. He had one arm slung around Kirk’s shoulder and stabilized himself with the cane in his other hand.
He was surprised at Kirk’s strength and stability. For a computer geek, who spent most of his day in front of a terminal, Kirk was in pretty good shape.
“Thanks for the support, Kirk. I wouldn’t be able to do this without your help.” Yes he’d seen pictures and heard accounts, but he still needed to check out that ship and those aliens close up. He also wanted to start the process of figuring out how this chamber could have remained hidden from him all these months.
He paused as the wing of the craft came into view. The dark stain by that sharp projectile. That’s where I died.
He remembered being pulled back, away from the ball of light that beckoned him into the afterlife. His first sight after, was Maggie’s gorgeous green eyes.
God, Maggie. He should have been with her. She shouldn’t have to face her grandmother’s funeral all alone.
The ship was the weirdest thing he’d ever seen. Gunmetal gray with blue and green blinking lights. Huge, oval thrusters on the ends of short wings. The body was boxy with lots of strange angles.
They reached the bottom of the rubble pile. A vast chamber spread out before them, probably a hundred feet on each side and easily thirty feet high. The ceiling had collapsed along one wall, and while some of the concrete had obviously hit the space craft, it appeared completely undamaged. What was this thing made of?
Ancient computer systems lined one wall of the room, the kind with big reels of magnetic tape on the front of upright cabinets. Granite counters with lab equipment, test tubes and beakers, dotted the workspace, as well as what appeared to be a medical bay.
Dust coated everything in a thick layer. Footprints on the floor revealed recent activity in the chamber. He knew Shade, Z-Bot, and some of the others had been down here investigating. A job that should have been his. A job he was about to take back.
A huge overhead door in the far wall explained how the ship had gotten into the room, but what lay beyond the closed door? Weren’t they underground? More mysteries to solve.
But first, the space craft.
A ramp extended from the side of the ship, from what looked to be a closed hatch.
Kirk stood in front of the hatch, running his hand over the surface. “Do you think it would be okay to go inside? I’d love a look at the controls.”
“Sure.” Paul nodded. “If you can figure out how to open the door.” Kirk would have been the logical choice to examine the craft and its technology anyway. One of the first Paul would have called in if he was in charge of the investigation like he should have been.
Triptych Page 3