by Renée Jaggér
77 York Road CHESTER CH92 9PD
Douglas frowned. I waited as he typed it in. I had looked it up after cleaning my wounds but had only found an office building. “Do you know who owns the building?” Douglas asked.
I shook my head.
“A Samuel McAlpine. Have you heard of him?” I started, my eyes widening. Douglas noticed my look of alarm. “Well?”
I gulped. “I work for a hospital, as you know. I’m an EMT, and of late, the hospital has been receiving funding from local businesses to help with pandemic relief. Mr. McAlpine is head of that funding.”
Douglas swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. Fear flickered into his eyes. “Obviously, there is some connection between Mr. McAlpine’s office and the phouka. They could be working for him. It’s possible since redcaps, like many supernatural creatures, can shapeshift. Redcaps, unlike phouka, can hold a human form for a long time.”
I nodded. This might be the perfect opportunity. “I work for the hospital Mr. McAlpine funds. Therefore, I have a reason to go see him. How will I be able to tell if he is one?”
“Redcaps always have a red object in plain view, though it is usually something odd. A redcap could have a red car but many people have red cars. Look for anything abnormal or strange.” I was surprised by how calmly Douglas spoke, and he seemed to notice. He released a deep sigh. “Be careful, Angelica. They’re not creatures to be trifled with.”
Douglas fidgeted and looked like he wanted to say something else. Finally, he did. “Wh-what are you?”
I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know, but after I find Mr. McAlpine, I would love to tell you more.” To myself, I added, I need to know I can trust you and that you’re right about this.
Douglas scratched his head. “Very well. Please tell me when you are going and when you’ve come back.” Concern filled his expression, and my heart warmed. I was warming up to the cranky old man.
I gave him a knowing smile. “Thanks for all your help so far, Velez.”
“Anything for you, Morgan.” A smirk pulled at his lips as he responded to me using his last name. “Morgan’s Murder,” he murmured. “I’ve been getting familiar with your website and group page. I like what I see.”
“Good,” I told him. “Change needs to happen.” If a redcap goblin was head of funding for the hospital, what kind of danger were we in? What the hell did he want?
I wanted more than anything to call Simon and ask more about Mr. McAlpine, but I had to wait until I went back to work.
“I have one more thing,” I told Douglas. “I looked for people with red eyes that turned to gold, but the two phouka I found had normal human-colored eyes that turned gold.”
Douglas nodded. “Some phouka aren’t capable of shifting into a human form. Some can’t change their eye color. That means the two you came across knew what they were doing and might have had more power than the ones you met before that.”
I nodded. “Thanks. That helps.” I groaned internally. The signs that identified the goblin creatures were decreasing. I didn’t want to have to go by the sound of their laugh alone. I told Douglas goodbye and logged off the meeting.
I had to rest, then I would get to work again.
Chapter Fourteen
“‘We will do everything that we have vowed, make offerings to the queen of heaven and pour out drink offerings to her, as we did, both we and our fathers, our kings and our officials, in the cities of Judah and in the streets of Jerusalem. For then we had plenty of food, and prospered, and saw no disaster. But since we left off making offerings to the queen of heaven and pouring out drink offerings to her, we have lacked everything and have been consumed by the sword and by famine.’
And the women said, ‘When we made offerings to the queen of heaven and poured out drink offerings for her, was it without our husbands' approval that we made cakes for her bearing her image and poured out drink offerings for her?’”
—The Book of Jeremiah, Passage XLIV
I didn’t get quite enough sleep the night before going back to work. Hunting down mythical creatures in your area and finding out they serve a higher, more dangerous, and more powerful being doesn’t put one at ease. My wounds didn’t cause me much pain until I got up the next morning and tried to move like normal.
Brush it off, I told myself. People needed me, and I needed to be back at work.
As soon as I got in, I was put on call, and the calls didn’t end for a few hours. I learned that work would be heavier this week because other people were being given recuperative leave as well. To my surprise, I was able to stay focused during my work despite the pile of Douglas’ research awaiting me when I got off.
At last, I had a break between calls and hid myself away to start reading again. Fortunately for me, I didn’t have to help in the wards.
With my research on phouka completed, I dived into learning about druids. As I opened the section Douglas had written, I felt chills gathering on my skin. “What are you reading there?” a voice asked.
I glanced up to find Paul on the other side of the lounge with a half-eaten apple in hand.
I tried to give him a distracting smile. “Some research from a friend.”
His brows rose, and as he approached me, I closed the book. I wasn’t keen on sharing my new avid interest in mythological creatures, much less my sudden belief in their existence.
Paul wiggled his eyebrows. “For your group, Crow Lady?”
I grinned. “Something like that.”
Without invitation, he plopped down beside me and munched on his apple. I’ve always been annoyed by others chewing while close to me, but I refrained from snapping at him. I distracted myself with my own thoughts and hoped he wouldn’t turn chatty. Paul would be taking leave starting tomorrow anyway.
I need to find something to wear if I’m going to go talk to McAlpine, I told myself. After I talked to Simon about it and found out if it was even possible to get a meeting. Hopefully, he could fit me into his schedule, which was presently filled with wreaking havoc on the whole damn city.
I glanced down at my EMT uniform, which was hardly suitable for a business meeting mixed with sleuthing. Looks like it’s time for some shopping, I thought after realizing my wardrobe at home had nothing but work and outdoor clothes, sweatpants, and old t-shirts. I knew the exact person to call.
I opened the door of my flat to greet the woman before she could even knock.
“Hello, Mum.” I couldn’t control myself. I flung my arms around her and she squealed.
Eight months. It had been eight months since I had seen her last, and even now it was risky being around her given my job, but we deserved time together. We deserved something more than the occasional phone conversation. My mother had kept herself in quarantine to see me in person.
She pulled away long enough to give me a broad smile before squealing again and pulling me into another suffocating hug. “All right, that’s good,” I managed before all my breath left my body.
“Where are we going today, my dear?” she asked. Quickly, I closed my flat door and pushed into the hallway so she would not see the piles of journals on my sofa and the disarray my living room had fallen into over the past couple of days.
“Shopping,” I told her. “I have an important meeting with a man who provides funds for the hospital.”
Mother clapped her hands. “When, my dear? That sounds so official!”
Not official since I still had no clue if he would even meet with me. “I don’t know yet, but I don’t have anything proper—”
“To wear, yes,” Mother finished as she looked me over. “You look nice, my dear. You always have, and I know you have no problem with improving your appearance when necessary, but…”
I rolled my eyes but grinned. “It’s overwhelming, Mum.” What I didn’t add was that the overwhelming part came from growing up with a mother whose fashion sense ruled her life. My mother was a semi-professional fashionista. Alt
hough it had never been her job, she acted like it was. I chose to laugh about it and swung my arm over her shoulder. “Where should we go, Mum?”
My question excited her, so I let her drive us to a nicer part of the city where the shops were more likely to still be in business. As long as we stayed away from other people, we’d be fine.
My mother wore a simple black dress today, with a pearl necklace, dangling crystal earrings, and black pumps. Her makeup was perfect, and she looked like she could take on the world if it weren’t for her small stature. I reaffirmed to myself that I had gotten my height from my father.
I let my mother choose the shops since I didn’t even know where to begin. She waved her hands as if to gesture at everything available to me. “You just need to...dress up sometimes, my dear.”
I didn’t let my body stiffen. There were too many options in front of me, and we hadn’t even begun. “Let’s keep this on a budget.” Mother waved a dismissive hand. I had asked her to help, I reminded myself, so I had to let her do her thing.
Mother began flitting around as if her entire life had led to this point. I couldn’t help but grin as I followed her. I soon had a pile of clothes in my arms, and since the changing rooms were not open to the public, I was going to have to go through each item and guess what would fit.
My mother addressed me in a fussy tone as she fished through the pile. “You’re just so practical, my dear, and you don’t allow enough fun into your life.”
I gave her a rueful grin. “You didn’t say that like it was a compliment, but I’m going to choose to take it as one.”
Mother tried to give me an appraising look, but she failed, and a smile appeared. “I miss you so, my dear. How has work been since you’ve gone back?”
“Good, good.” I was able to get the first half of this day off but would have to work the night shift. Not that I minded. Hopefully, the night shift meant fewer calls and more time to read.
Two hours later, with too many bags in hand, I suggested we find somewhere to eat. My mother knew of a café nearby we would both enjoy. Time to start talking about things that matter. I had enjoyed the shopping part, to my surprise, but there had been another reason for getting together with my mother. I still had questions.
To my delight, the café served excellent coffee. After allowing myself to savor the beverage, I finally asked my mother the question that had been on my mind since inviting her to meet with me. “Why didn’t you tell me about Gran?”
Mother’s expression grew somber, and she placed her teacup on the table with a soft clink. “To be honest with you, my dear, I didn’t tell you because I refused to learn much about it myself. I was selfish. I wanted a safe and normal life for my children and me. Well, as normal as possible, anyway.” She gave me a sad smile before reaching over and taking my hand. “After your brother died, I came to terms with my choice. I do not regret the time I spent with him or you. I do not regret choosing you two over that destiny.”
I nodded and laid my other hand over hers. “You’re not selfish for wanting a normal life.” I suppressed my tears. Watching my mother cry always got to me, and an ache bloomed in my chest at the thought of my brother. I gave her a weak smile. “No one thinks you’re selfish.”
“Sometimes I wonder if Gran does.”
“Gran knows what you would have had to sacrifice to take on her role,” I told her in a firm tone. “She doesn’t blame you, and neither do I.” I paused, allowing my mother a moment before adding, “You never asked questions because you were afraid of what?”
“Guilt. I was afraid of feeling guilty for not choosing it if I knew more.”
I nodded, understanding. Guilt had followed me around since my brother’s death and through every day at work. Anytime anyone died, or we arrived too late, or couldn’t find room for someone, it loomed large and heavy. Guilt was worse than humiliation or failure. I couldn’t stand it. I gulped as something came to mind. “Did I make it worse by going to Haiti?” I wondered if I had thwarted my mother’s sense of normalcy by throwing myself into danger.
Mother thought for some time before responding. “No, you did not make it worse, though I did pray for you every night while you were gone.” She shrugged. “Haiti wasn’t the first time you threw yourself into danger.” She laughed and wiped away a tear. “I just hoped you would grow out of it and settle down, but I see now it was preparing you for your life at this moment. I wish I had learned more for your sake.” She squeezed my hand.
I watched as she sipped her tea. When she set it down again, she said, “When we spoke a couple of weeks ago, I realized how selfish I was being and decided it was time for the truth, so I sent you to Gran. Can you ever forgive me for keeping it from you for so long?”
“Of course I forgive you.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “We have to stick together.” I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. With my brother gone and my father out of the picture, she was my closest ally.
I’m so glad to have found Gran and Douglas too, I thought to myself. I chuckled. What a crew I had: my fashionista mother, my old-as-dirt goddess grandmother or aunt or whatever she was, and a cranky old man who used to be a bestselling author. I felt a fondness for them all.
“I am so proud of the woman you have become,” Mother said, stirring more sugar into her tea. She always put an obscene amount of sugar into anything she drank.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, Mum.” I gave her a wink to lighten the mood. I was disappointed she didn’t have any information to share with me regarding the Morrigan, but I was warmed by our conversation.
She waved a dismissive hand. “I didn't grow up and become a hero. You did, even before taking on the role of a goddess.”
I blew out a breath, leaned back, and crossed my arms. “I’ve only just begun. I feel as though there is a very long road ahead of me.”
“Take your time, sweetie. Learn as you go. I'm done telling you to be careful or safe. Just come back to me in one piece." She took my hand again. "And hit 'em where it hurts, darling."
Mary Anne Ghen
February 11th, 1916
Mary Anne Ghen scanned the yellowed and wrinkled parchment before her.
Long ago, the Dark Queen, who called herself the Queen of Heaven, was bound by the gods and had her power stripped from her. In an effort to stop the Morrigan from attaining such disastrous power again, the gods gave her power to three separate women. By doing so, they finally admitted that the best job had been done by Sun, Moon, and Stars. They vowed to watch over the Morrigan and be her ally instead of her enemy.
Mary scratched her head, brow wrinkling. Well, we sure as hell aren’t friends with the gods. What did they mean by allies? The First World War had been going on for more than two years, and she’d had no sign of any gods helping her. She crossed her arms and straightened. The interior of the tent was dim, lit only by one candle that flickered over the maps and notes spread out on the table.
Mary heard the rustling of the tent being opened, then a man entered. She looked up. “General Pétain. What can I do for you?”
She watched him gulp. It was seldom that fear crossed the general’s face. His expression steeled as he said in his thick French accent, “One of our airmen has discovered a build-up of German troops on the Meuse.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “Which bank?”
“Right.”
“When?”
“Not more than an hour ago. We need to move to Verdun.”
Mary nodded. “I know.” She loosed a deep sigh. Britain was stronger than France. That was why Germany was here. We’ll fight them. They won’t win. They can’t. She found that her fists were clenched at her sides. She looked up, finding Pétain’s expression hard and his eyes narrowed. He looked at the wrinkled parchment before her.
He switched to French. “Qu'est-ce que c'est?”
Mary folded it and shoved it into her pocket without telling him what it was. She knew the men had started noticing things. The wolf tha
t was always by her side. The crows that alighted on her shoulders. She was more than influence, more than wit and wisdom, more than strength. She was all of it at once.
She thought back to the words she had just read. The gods had given the power to three women, yet she stood here alone, burdened and without help. All Her power lies within me, she thought. She knew how the men sitting in trenches all day felt, risking being blown to bits when they emerged. She wasn’t on the front lines. They reported to her, but now that their enemy had been found, they had to move.
I have to move.
She did not have to answer the general's question. He was moving on. “We need you out there.”
Mary nodded. They had seen her power. Her strength and her speed could not be missed. The men had been too wearied by the ongoing war to question where it came from, and they were all-too-eager to follow her lead. The Way of Kings sustains me, Mary thought, recalling an excerpt from The Ancient Book of Morrigan.
She swallowed hard, remembering the last woman who had been severed from her power and died afterward. The pain had been too much for her body to bear, and in that instance, they had not done it slowly so as to prevent the trauma because the woman was going mad. When had the power returned to one woman instead of three? Mary often wondered. Where are the other two? Why do I have to do this alone?
No answer came. All she had were the scraps of the Morrigan’s memory given to her by her older cousin, who had died in the Sundering. “Do not fail me;” Those had been her last words.
Mary looked at General Pétain. “Let’s move.”
March 4th, 1916
The village below her was on fire.
Mary glided closer before flapping once more and cawing. Just hours ago, the Germans had captured the village. From her vantage point above, she saw that it could not be saved. Douaumont would not be rebuilt. Her heart thundered, and sorrow churned within her. All those people...