by Renée Jaggér
I splashed through a puddle that was a mixture of oil, melted snow, and blood. Fresh blood. The buildings were sprayed with it. The broken concrete was painted with it. The river rushed on, and so did the wind, and so did I.
In a wolf’s body, I realized.
I skidded past protruding barbed wire and ducked into one of the buildings that had not yet collapsed or gone up in flames. Chaos reigned outside. Far-off screams reached my perked ears. I could see them now, women and children in little clothing running as fast as they could. If they weren’t killed by the soldiers, they would soon die from cold and hunger.
Even I, in a wolf’s body, could find little food in this city.
Across from me, at the corner of a building, stood a domesticated dog whose ribs showed distinctly.
Time to go, I told myself. I had ducked into the building to escape the soldiers who had chased me. Why they thought going after a wolf was important to their fight, I did not know. Eyeing the dog once more, I realized something about myself. I towered over it.
I was no ordinary-sized wolf. The dog did not seem to fear me. I doubted it feared anything anymore. It was almost dead. The winter would kill it in no time. It would kill me too if I didn’t get the hell out.
I left the building, knowing that it too would soon collapse.
Night had arrived, making the icy streets harder to traverse for any human, but I was a wolf. The moon shone overhead, granting its guidance to me as I made my way around rubble and through a tunnel. The tremendous crash of a warehouse facility imploding came from nearby. I shuddered and kept running.
My muscles began to burn, but I savored the feeling. I was powerful enough to do this. I was strong enough to finish. The man, my enemy, had said, “I could storm the heavens.”
I will storm the heavens. I know things he never will.
I bounded out of the tunnel, thankful to find a dry part of the street where my paws didn’t slide across the ice. Don’t lose yourself in it, I told myself. Don’t lose who you are to your power. Even after I was finished here, there would be more to do.
I realized I was in the middle of the enemy division. A gun fired from a window in a building high above me was followed by another, and another, and...
“Bei Gott, ein wolf!” someone called. “By God, a wolf!”
I did not turn to see what enemy soldier was holding his weapon up. I bounded forward, snarling. My fur bristled. Just some yards off, a man stood surrounded by officers. He had a flag raised high in his hand. He shouted orders, and his men ran in all directions.
I leapt onto a protruding piece of rubble that might have once been a balcony overlooking the now-destroyed street. He turned as I launched my attack. His scream was the most delightful sound I had ever heard, and my teeth found his flesh. Blood filled my mouth. The metallic tang of it was sweet.
Cries sounded, and they weren’t because of gunfire. The commander lay dead beneath me. I looked at the moon, threw my head back, and howled deep and long.
I sprang up, expecting to see a city on fire and snow falling. Instead, my body shook, and I saw gently-moving curtains and a shadowy figure at the end of my bed.
Sweat poured down back, and my heart jolted when the figure moved. My open window had allowed the wind to part my curtain slightly, and a sliver of moonlight revealed the earnest face at the end of my bed.
“Gran,” I murmured, relief spasming through me. I placed my hand over my heart to calm myself. What the hell was she doing in my room? “Was that another true dream? What’s happening to me?”
Gran’s brows furrowed in concern. She leaned forward and placed her hand over mine, and a sense of peace passed through me. I sat on the bed, then leaned against the headboard and took a deep breath. The cool night air brushing through my window touched my skin. The dream had taken me into the center of winter and war, but I reminded myself I was here. I was in a cottage in the woods.
And the wolf...
I had seen a wolf today, then become a wolf in my dream, just like I had seen a crow, then become one.
“An icy street in an industrial city? German soldiers?” Gran asked.
I opened my eyes and nodded. “How did you know?”
“It was the natural next dream. The Battle of Verdun was the longest-fought battle of the First Great War. The Battle of Stalingrad was the longest-fought battle of the Second Great War,” she explained.
I groaned. This was getting worse and worse.
Aloud, I said in a breathless voice, “This time, though—”
“You were a wolf,” Gran finished.
I nodded. How did she know? I remembered what she had said upon my arrival about wolves being everywhere like crows were. I hoped that wasn’t true.
“You were seeing a memory of my past,” Gran explained, her tone forlorn and sad. “Though I was no longer the full Morrigan, the Way of Kings was still upon me, meaning I could still shift and use power. That man I killed was a German officer. He was rallying forces that were going to compel the Soviets to consider peace terms. If that had happened, Germany would have turned all of their attention to the Western front, since they would no longer have been fighting to the East as well.”
I’d never thought I would learn so much history during a break from work. I buried my face in my hands and exhaled. Gran’s warm, comforting palm touched my shoulder. “I know it is much to bear, my dear, but you can see now that without my power, the war might have dragged on much longer. I had to make a choice to sacrifice again, just as you will.”
I looked up to find Gran wearing a tired smile. “Why is this happening to me?”
She didn’t answer directly. “I understand what you feel, my dear. I know you understand sacrifice.”
I nodded and swallowed the lump forming in my throat. I knew much about sacrifice. Haiti, I thought, and the little girl we took to the hospital. “The world isn’t far now from the way it was then, Gran.”
She nodded. “You must be unified with the other two who make up the Morrigan. Together, you can achieve your destiny and protect those you love.”
I didn’t know if I believed I had a destiny beyond my work in the medical field, but I did know about love. “Protect,” I echoed. “How do I know I can do that?”
Gran’s eyes glazed over, and she squeezed my shoulder. “You’ve been doing it, my dear, since you began your job back here in England. You will be able to do it with more power and effect after being unified with others like you.” She observed me quietly before adding, “This is too much right now. Take your time, and tell me when you are ready.”
Chapter Six
“Peace to sky.
Sky to earth.
Earth under sky, strength in each, a cup full, full of honey, mead in plenty.
Summer in winter, spear over shield, shield over fist.
Fort of spears, a battle-cry, land for sheep, bountiful forests, mountains forever, magic enclosure.
Mast on branches, branches heavy, heavy with fruit, wealth for a son, a gifted son, strong neck of bull, a bull for a poem, a knot on a tree, wood for fire.
Fire from stone.
Stone from earth, wealth from cows, belly of the Brú.
Doe cries from mist, stream of deer after spring, corn in autumn, upheld by peace. Warrior band for the land, prosperous land to the shore.
From wooded headlands, waters rushing, ‘What news have you?’
Peace to the sky, life and land everlasting.
Peace.”
Peached
—A song of Badh, celebrating the victory of Tuatha Dé Danann (Faerie people) in the Second Battle of Mag Tuired, and prophesying a time of peace to come.
I did not know if I would ever be ready. Ready for what? Ready to take on a destiny I never asked for? Some girls wanted to be princesses when they were little. Some apparently wanted to be the goddess of war. I had wanted neither. Most people lived lives they never asked for, I realized.
Had Gran asked to be the Morrigan? Had
she asked to sacrifice her own life and love for the world? Still, she had chosen it, and now she was acting like I had chosen it too. “I need coffee,” I muttered to myself.
Gran was in the garden when I made my way downstairs. After fixing myself a cup of coffee and savoring it to the end, I decided that spending a day in the garden with her would do me some good. It would be fresh air and rest, I told myself, as long as we didn’t start meditating into our goddess states.
I stepped out into the garden, which was enclosed by a stone wall. The wall looked ancient, like the forest I had driven through to get here. A cherry tree grew by the gate, and the fruit dangling from it oozed with ripeness. A small vegetable garden occupied one end, and a weed-infested flowerbed had the other. Gran was bent over the flowerbed, pulling weeds from it and tossing them into a disposable bag.
I slipped on a pair of gloves and joined her. The earth felt cool beneath my bare legs as I folded them under me and leaned over to pull weeds. Gran remained silent, but I caught the smile that lifted the corners of her lips.
As strange as it was here, it was still the most peaceful place I’d ever been. I glanced at Gran, remembering that I had only stayed with her a few times as a child. I felt safe around her, but why had she stayed away from me? Why had she never come to visit?
Aloud, I asked, “How long have you lived here, Gran?”
Gran brushed a string of gray hair away from her dirt-streaked face. “I have lived here since September 16, 1945. I haven’t left since.”
That was the day Japan had surrendered. “Never left? Have you been to Swartshire?”
The vacant shops, restaurants, and other businesses I had passed on my way here made for a small village in the north of England. Gran shook her head but gave no verbal reply.
I sat back to observe her. She seemed determined to look very closely at the weeds she was pulling. I could not resist bringing up what we had spoken about before. “Why not? You’ve said yourself your power causes you to unite and empower people, so why stay away from them?”
Gran finally looked me in the eye. “That’s exactly why I stay away.”
I found her clipped answer jarring compared to the over-explanation she had given about my dream this morning. I wanted her to tell me the truth, all of it, so I pressed further. “What holds you back?”
Gran straightened and sighed as if she were burdened by what weighed her mind. “It is a dangerous gift, my dear, one that could easily be destructive to me and the people around me if not reined in. I have the Way of Kings about me still—that is, the power of the Morrigan, but I no longer have the wisdom or the strength. The Way of Seers left me during the Sundering.”
The Way of Kings. Power. It was beginning to make sense, though I still wanted nothing to do with it.
“I’ve changed the world enough.” Gran’s tone was somber. “Perhaps too much.”
Surely, she didn’t blame herself for the state of the world now. “Why do you want me to awaken the Morrigan in myself if it’s so dangerous?”
Gran looked at me gravely. “The world needs you, my dear, but I do not wish you to do it on your own. You will soon have the power. The Way of Kings will come upon you, but one day, you will need the other two so the Morrigan is complete.” She smiled and took my hands. I could feel their warmth even through our garden gloves. It flooded me and let every fiber of my being find rest. We weren’t meditating or doing yoga, but the way she touched me made me wonder if I was being drugged. Was I imagining all this? Was I really in the North of England visiting my grandmother, or great aunt, or whatever she was? How could her mere touch relax me?
“How am I supposed to find the other two?”
Gran smiled, but once again, she failed to answer directly. “We save the world by working together, not alone.”
The light was blinding.
It was not, as I’d first thought, the light of the sun. It was a single dangling bulb in a narrow, dim hallway where the wallpaper was peeling and there were wooden floorboards missing. I knew this place, and every part of me wanted to get the hell out.
The light turned red and started spinning. A sound accompanied it; the whine of the siren filled my head. I cried out and clamped my hands over my ears.
The light vanished and all was dark, but only for a moment.
Rushing wind surrounded me, biting into my skin. I braced my hands on either side of me, where I could feel damp walls extending in a curve above. A tunnel. I hated tunnels. I hated anything that confined me. My breathing echoed, and I felt as though...
This tunnel went on forever.
Again, the blinding light, this time like the sun in its brilliance. I squinted, and for the briefest instant, saw the sterile white walls. Figures rushed to and fro, shouting. There was urgency here. My heart pounded, but I could not move.
I realized it was the hospital. Before I could take stock of my surroundings, the wind and darkness rushed back in, but this time, I did not return to the tunnel.
The sun was not here, at least not where it penetrated my eyes directly. The clouds gathered overhead were dark, as though they were conspiring against everything below them. A streak of light flashed through them, and thunder answered as though some monster were speaking low and deep.
Rain began to fall, but I could not feel it on my skin. I could only see it as it became a sheet over the dense forest before me. The path soon became muddy, the ruts filling with water at a rapid pace.
Wind and darkness again.
The blinding light and the sirens filled every part of me once more. I cried out, hoping the tunnel would not come next. It didn’t.
First, I heard screams. Cries for help. Next, ruthless shouting. The smashing of glass. A single bullet whined. The sirens again and again. Where the hell was I? Finally, I turned and found a large brick building. From each window peered the face of a child. Their expressions were blank, complexions pale, and although they did not appear to be crying out, I knew those dreadful cries were coming from inside the building.
I decided to move closer and went to sprint toward the building to find I could barely move. The world, the earth, the ground I stood on tilted, and an enormous shudder passed beneath me. I cried out as I slid and slammed into the concrete.
Gritting my teeth, I braced my scraped arms and pushed up, but the faces of the children had disappeared. So had the sirens and the cries for help. Vanished. Snatched away.
No, I thought, panic gripping my body. My heart began to thunder, but I could not move. Far away, a gun went off.
The soft wind brushed debris over the street. It scattered my hair over my face. Finally, I was able to stand, but my body shook as I did so. I glanced down at my fingers, which were trembling. No! I thought again. Quiet had settled over the building and the street. The sirens’ lights were still blinking, but no sound came from them.
No, get them out! my mind screamed, but the words could not leave my throat. Tears were streaming down my face. Get them out. Get them out. Get—
My thoughts were cut off by a deep rumble that sent tremors through every nerve in my body. Then came a laugh, an inhuman sound like nothing I had ever heard. It began in the ground and rose to a cackle in the air. I could feel the air closing in around me, growing warmer until it was difficult to breathe.
At last, I saw it. The laughing monster’s colossal clawed hands wrenched the building apart as if it were tearing a piece of paper down the center. A sob rose in my chest, but it did not escape my mouth. The air grew to an unbearable temperature. My hot tears stung my cheeks.
The creature reached its claw into the building and withdrew hard and glittering objects by the fistful. Gold, I realized, and gems. Where the fuck did those come from?
There were no children. No screams or cries except the ones building within me, as if all of their cries were now in my own body. Even the emergency vehicle and the sirens were gone now. They had vanished, but I had not seen it happen. Why had they left? Where the hell did the
y go?
The laughing creature continued to withdraw gems and gold from the building as if there was a never-ending amount of them in there. Rage simmered within me, but I didn’t know where to direct it.
I closed my eyes, my body shuddering. I had to get them out.
My eyes fluttered open, and I gratefully inhaled the cool night air drifting through my window.
No, not night, I realized. Soft gray light permeated the drawn curtains. I had not slept here without a dream that made me feel...
My thoughts drifted. “Sad” did not seem to be sufficient. At least Gran wasn’t standing by my bed, watching me as her memories tormented my sleep. Which war did I just see? I wondered as I rose with shaking legs. The wooden floors beneath me felt cool to my bare feet, and I welcomed the sensation since my skin was covered with sweat.
That was no battle from recent history, I thought, frowning. That creature wasn't...real. Was it? I shook my head, convinced Gran had slipped something into my tea that first night to make me hallucinate. My dream didn’t make any sense, yet I could not shake the sound of that creature’s laugh.
Get them out.
I got out of my room.
Downstairs, Gran was awake. I was beginning to wonder if she ever slept since I had heard her puttering around deep into the night, and she was awake before me every morning.
“Good morning, dear.” She gave me a welcoming smile and handed me a steaming mug. To my surprise and delight, the smell of coffee rose to greet me.
I scratched my head. “You found my stash?”
Gran grinned. “I know a not-a-tea-drinker when I see one. You must be American!”
Still, she had no right to go through my things. I spoke in a stiff tone. “It wasn’t in America I found out I love coffee.”
Gran’s brows rose.
“Haiti,” I clarified, “about ten years ago. Coffee is vital to their economy. Interesting, since France brought coffee to them originally.” I wasn’t sure why I knew that. Something Simon told me, probably.