by Renée Jaggér
Gone. Just like that. They would become nothing but ash.
The smoke billowed up, and she flew higher so as not to breathe it. The wolf bounded below her, snarling and pouncing. The sounds of Germany’s attack reached Mary’s crow ears.
She flew on and soon approached a wide plain where only dry grass and cold mud could be seen. A tree bent in the wind. It looked as weary as she and the soldiers fighting below felt. No Man’s Land, she thought as she drifted lower. She landed softly on the cold ground and looked around. No one. Nothing. A gunshot sounded. She jerked and saw a man in the distance go down with a cry. Blood spurted out of his leg where he had been shot.
Mary flew up again but could not see who had fired. She flapped toward the fallen soldier. She landed beside him and took one look at his ash-blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, and the Iron Cross on his uniform. German.
Rage simmered within her.
The bullet had injured him, but if he was able to drag himself back to his comrades without being detected and shot again, he would live. She had seen such wounds before. It could be treated. I don’t want it to be treated.
She cawed once before she lowered her beak over his eyes.
His screams filled the empty plain.
She thought about the burning village and the children who had screamed until the flames consumed them. This soldier deserved a worse death than what she was giving him.
December 25th, 1916
The battle had ended seven days ago.
Mary stood in what had been No Man’s Land just weeks ago. The region between where the two armies had stood, where neither had taken the land, was where she sank to her knees. The ground was hard and cold. Blood had soaked this earth over and over. Some had fled into this open space, only to be shot down on sight.
A chill ran up her spine and down her arms.
I can’t keep doing this.
She breathed in. She breathed out. In again. Out again.
Her body shuddered, and a tear drifted down her cheek.
The last Sundering had killed her cousin. The pain that had lanced through her had been too much. Mary knew it would hurt, but... I’m not ready to die, she thought.
Something wet touched her bare arm. She turned to find the enormous black wolf at her side. He whined, and she stroked his fur. “I have to stay alive,” she told the wolf. “For her, whoever that might be.” Mary knew she would never have a daughter of her own, but there would be other family, other women to whom she could pass this on. I won’t die yet, she thought, because I am going to keep the power but give up the wisdom and the strength. It is time for three to have this power once more.
Perhaps the gods were on her side. Perhaps they had come to help after all. Far away on the plain, two figures emerged from the mist. Mary rose on shaking legs and prepared to meet them.
January 27th, 1992
The goats bleated from the other side of the cottage. The soft wind rustled the leaves above her.
Mary wiped her dirt-covered gloves on her trousers and left the garden. She peered down the hill. A crow sat there with a piece of paper in its beak. Since she never went to the post office, she and her only correspondent had gotten clever about how they reached one another.
Why can’t you come up here? she asked the crow silently. The crow did not move, so with a sigh, Mary made her way down the hill on the narrow path. The crow remained still as she took the letter from its beak. She smiled. It smelled just like her: lavender and peaches.
I’ve missed you so much, Hellen, she thought. She opened the letter.
Dearest Aunt Mary,
I have the most wonderful news! Just two days ago, on January 25th, my baby girl came into the world. She arrived healthy and beautiful. I cannot wait to bring her up to meet you. We have named her Angelica. It is a Greek name that means angelic or messenger of God. She is my little angel. Her older brother is a tad jealous of all the attention we give her, but he gives her loving looks when he does not think we are watching. I think, once she has grown a little, they will be the best of friends. I hope all is well with you.
All my love,
Hellen
As Mary finished the letter, a tear drifted down her cheek. She wiped it away. I cannot wait to meet your daughter, she thought as if Hellen could hear her. Your daughter and our future.
Chapter Fifteen
“Avarice is a deadly sin.”
—Saint Patrick of Ireland
“Simon wants you in his office when you have a break,” Meg told me the next morning after I had answered two calls.
I was sitting in the lounge with one of Douglas’ journals on my lap. At first, I wanted to groan. What did he need now that had to interrupt my reading? I was turning anti-social because of this. Then, remembering the purpose of yesterday’s shopping trip, I remembered I had to talk to him too. I thanked Meg and headed to the office, dragging myself out of the lounge, heavy with fatigue. I had worked the night shift, gotten two hours of sleep in the lounge instead of at home, and then gone right back to work.
I knocked once on Simon’s office door before letting myself in. He greeted me with a smile and saw my tired expression. “I made coffee.”
“Those are the three magic words.” I smiled at him in return. He set the steaming mug in front of the seat on the visitor’s side of the desk. I slipped into the plush leather chair and wrapped my hands around the warm cup. I almost moaned with relief as the coffee touched my tongue. It scalded me, but I didn’t care.
Simon watched me and grinned. “I got you something.” He rummaged in his desk drawer for a moment before pulling out a bag.
My eyes widened. “Coffee from Haiti?”
He beamed. “I thought it would be a suitable gift to thank you for all your hard work while also doing something to support their economy, even if it is only a little bit.”
My heart spasmed with gratitude as Simon handed the bag to me. I grinned. “You’re the best.” Was that a blush I just saw on his face? Simon’s cheeks were slightly flushed. He folded his hands together. “Is this why you wanted to see me?” I asked as it seemed he didn’t have anything else to say.
Simon nodded. “I just wanted to thank you, that was all.” His eyes then drifted to my lap, where I had laid Douglas’ journal. I hadn’t thought to put it down before coming here. Hell, I even read it in the bathroom. It was almost embarrassing how much I was attached to it. Simon’s brows rose. “Reading material?”
“Research from a friend for my group,” I told him. My statement was mostly true. Even with the gift of coffee and the shared memories we had from Haiti, I decided it wasn’t a good idea to tell my temporary boss about my newfound goddess destiny. He’ll think I’m weird. I wanted to kick myself for having such a childish thought. I sounded like I was in middle school. Being thought of as “weird” should be the least of my worries.
I didn’t wait for Simon to respond. “I wanted to ask you something, actually.”
“What’s that?”
“I would like to go with you next time you have a meeting with Samuel McAlpine. I would like to ask him what he thinks about my group. With it growing so much, I believe it warrants some attention. I’m not looking for funding, but perhaps a boost in recognition? If he could endorse it in verbal or written form without money, I think it could go a long way.” And I want to see why the hell he’s causing harm in our city, I thought. He won’t like it since my group is set to stop what he’s already causing. I was looking forward to getting a reaction out of the money man.
Hesitancy passed through his expression. “I would love to have you along, Ang, but—”
But what? I know I’m just an EMT, but I’m doing good things.
“You have a tendency to get riled up around people who are too greedy for their own good. I don’t like McAlpine very much, and I know you’ll dislike him even more, but we need him.” Simon grinned. “I don’t need to have someone blow up at him in a meeting.”
“Blow up?” I countere
d, but Simon was right. At this moment, he reminded me of my brother, who had always told me to shut the hell up and calm down. The memory sent a pang through my heart.
Simon didn’t back down. “You are a spitfire.”
I grinned. He wasn’t wrong.
He leaned back, eyes twinkling. “Remember in Haiti when you went after that street-tough bully?”
“Sure do. He was taking people’s medicine and selling it.” Anger simmered within me at the memory. I had chased him down and tackled him into the mud. I hadn’t any goddess power ten years ago, but my indignation had been enough.
Simon laughed. “I told myself not to get on your bad side.”
I leaned back. “I think you should have someone like that girl you were with in Haiti by your side when you meet with Mr. CEO again.”
Simon grinned. “I’d love a bodyguard, but I’m walking a tightrope.”
“You were never one for balance,” I told him.
Simon’s lips quirked. “You don’t have to remind me.”
“Please, just one meeting. I’ll keep my mouth shut. I just want to see what’s going on.”
Simon sighed and considered my plea. He considered it for so long that I could have finished my coffee in the time it took him. “It might help if you came along, actually. Your following is growing. McAlpine might consider you competition for whatever reason, but he also might listen to you about certain things we need for the hospital.”
He had no idea, I thought. Aloud, I asked, “So, I can go?”
Simon chuckled. “I’m going tomorrow. You should take the rest of the day off and sleep. That way, you’ll be refreshed when we get there.”
I almost bounced out of my seat. “Thank you, Simon. I can’t wait.” Part of me wished we didn’t have to wait until the next day because of the message I had sent with the phouka.
I rose, ready to leave. As I approached the door, a thought struck me, and I turned around. “You know, you helped me a lot in Haiti.” I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “I couldn’t have done what I did there without you.”
Simon dragged a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Ang. Maybe so. I was a younger and braver man then. Now I feel kind of beaten down.”
I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. Being a health care leader during a worldwide pandemic was more like sailing a ship through a terrible storm than an adventure. “You’re braver than you know, and I respect you for it. It takes courage to come in to work every day, knowing what might be waiting for you.”
Simon tilted his head to observe me, then spoke to me in a soft, wistful voice. “I feel more like the man I was in Haiti with you around.” He gave her a gentle smile. “I hope to feel like that man tomorrow when we meet with McAlpine.”
I nodded, wishing we could change the subject. It had gotten too serious too quickly. How much of his reaction to me is just my new power? I wondered. Simon looked at me with a tenderness I wished I had seen more of, but I didn’t want the Way of Kings to be the reason for it.
“What time tomorrow?” I asked.
“Two o’clock.”
“See you then.” I waved and left, thankful I could go home and rest.
I drummed my fingers on my lap as we waited.
Simon’s left leg bounced up and down. I’ll turn into a spitfire just waiting here, I thought. We had arrived at 2 p.m. as we were told. Now it was 2:45. Simon checked his watch again. What the hell is taking him so long? I glanced at McAlpine’s secretary, who was typing on her keyboard and not paying us any attention.
Simon cleared his throat and addressed the woman. “Is he in another meeting?”
The woman looked at him over her glasses and sighed. “Mr. McAlpine is a very busy man. Perhaps if you—”
I stood, and her words faltered. Simon’s hand found my arm, and he pulled me down. “Tightrope, remember?” he whispered.
I clamped my mouth shut. I had made him a promise, and I needed to keep it for the hospital’s sake and my own. I continued to drum my fingers on my leg. A minute later, the enormous glass office doors to the right of the secretary’s desk opened, and a man just shorter than I but built like an athlete stepped out. His progress toward us was brisk. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he walked with the swagger of a tiger.
I stood, finding myself irritated even before he opened his mouth. Samuel McAlpine stepped up to Simon first and extended his hand. He spoke in a bored tone. “Mr. Lorne, hello.”
Simon shook his hand. “Thank you for meeting with me. This is—”
McAlpine interrupted him as he turned to me. His eyes brightened. “Your assistant?” He extended his hand to me.
I took it with much reluctance. Just a concerned citizen and hardly anyone’s assistant, I thought.
Simon’s mouth opened to answer, but McAlpine was fascinated by me. He surveyed me with a long, roving look. I stiffened but took the opportunity to observe him as well. His brown hair was combed back and shining. He likes his hair gel, I thought. His black suit was pressed, and his tie looked immaculate. Around his neck was a silver chain to which was attached a charm.
A tree, I mused. Its branches spread out. I had no doubt the silver was real. In one ear, he wore an earring, a dangling set of whorls. Very Celtic, I thought. I must have been giving Mr. Money Man a hard stare because he looked away with haste. He cleared his throat. “Shall we?” He motioned toward his office.
We followed him inside, where I found dark-wood-paneled walls lined with relics and paintings. Iron bowls with ancient-looking figures carved into them sat on stands protected by glass about the room. A stuffed crow sat on another stand, and I stiffened when I saw it.
McAlpine directed us to two plush chairs on the visitor side of his massive mahogany desk. He sat on the other side and folded his large, ring-adorned hands together. It would be nice if you offered us coffee or at least tea or water, I thought. Mr. Money Man wasn’t the most hospitable.
I continued to glance around the room, feeling as though the modern décor mixed with what seemed like ancient relics was familiar. Aha, I thought, remembering a file Douglas had sent me that morning with similar images. I had been in a rush to reach the hospital to meet Simon, however, and hadn’t had a chance to look at it closely.
No red anywhere, I mused, feeling something inside me deflate. I couldn’t find any red eyes the other day, and there were no signs here of McAlpine being the redcap. Had the goblin fooled me?
McAlpine gave us each a broad smile. His spirits seemed to have risen. Simon set a briefcase on the desk and removed a file from within it. “I thank you for meeting with us. I have been eager to discuss with you the potential of a higher hiring budget so we can afford to pay more people. Our emergency team is top-notch, but we need more people in patient care so as to achieve faster recovery rates.”
I had to smile at his comment about the emergency team being top-notch. McAlpine, however, did not seem impressed. He took one glance at Simon’s file without reading any of it and said in a dry tone, “You can leave it here. I’ll look at it.”
Simon stiffened, and I did my best to keep my mouth shut. “I came to discuss, not drop off a file and leave.”
I wanted to clap for Simon, but I fixed McAlpine with a cold stare instead. You’re not going to look into it, I thought. You might give it to your secretary, but that’s about it. I leaned forward, bracing myself for his reaction. My turn.
“I haven’t been given the pleasure of introducing myself.” I spoke in a cool tone. “My name is Angelica Morgan, and I am an EMT at the hospital you have so generously funded.” I tapped the file Simon had laid on the desk. “I’m on the front lines, so to speak, so I know how important this is. This is a discussion, not a ‘we’ll think about it’ kind of matter.” I gave him what I hoped was a sweet-looking smile. I felt anything but sweet. I was the kind of sugar that went down nicely but then wreaked havoc on your stomach.
McAlpine’s eyes narrowed. He smirked and drew the file acros
s the desk. “Like I said, I’ll look into it. If you cannot trust the people providing you with funding, then you can be cut off.” His tone was like ice, and I wanted to melt him.
I would have lurched out of my seat and gone off if it weren’t for Simon’s interjection. His expression was earnest. “Please, Mr. McAlpine, this is important.”
I could have sworn a look of rage reached McAlpine’s eyes. I clenched the arms of my seat. The Way of Kings, it seemed, wasn’t going to work on him. If he’s not the redcap, how can he be immune to me? I fought to keep my confusion off my face.
McAlpine leaned back, folded his hands on his stomach, and said, “You should get back to work, Mr. Lorne—”
I cut him off. “It’s Dr. Lorne, actually.” Simon stiffened. I might as well burn the tightrope, I thought. To hell with it.
Mr. Money Man ignored me. “You should get back to work while I address the concerns of the community.”
That’s bullshit! I wanted to shout. He was the one damaging the community and was part of the reason our hospital was overrun.
McAlpine gave Simon a poisonous smile. “Why don’t you leave the young lady with me for a moment, Mr. Lorne? She seems eager to say something.”
I froze. Simon glanced at me and mouthed, “Good luck,” before taking his briefcase and exiting the room.
With Simon out of the room, Mr. Money Man directed all of his attention toward me. His lips parted in a smile that made chills skitter across my arms and legs. I straightened and met his gaze full-on. “Who did you say you were?”
He had heard my name. I did not have to repeat it. “You may have heard of me. I am the head of a new movement called Morgan’s Murder.” I paused to see his reaction. Had he heard of it? McAlpine did not say anything, but recognition entered his eyes for the briefest moment. I gave him a slow smile. “I want to see the community improved, much like you do, but we have to start by helping the hospital provide faster recovery so we can have more room. If you disagree with this, then—”