Birth of a Goddess (Reincarnation of the Morrigan Book 1)

by Renée Jaggér

  Mary had been in the hotel for a month and had very much made it her own space. Photographs were strung across the walls. Some she had taken herself, while others she had cut out of newspapers. Memories to carry with me, she thought. She knew she would be living for many more years, so she’d wanted to bring them with her.

  Wilson stared at his surroundings with confusion but did not ask any questions. Mary lifted her camera. “Can I take a picture of you?”

  Wilson’s eyes widened, and he gave a nervous laugh. “I suppose. If you must.”

  She took one of him standing in her hotel room. “Thanks.”

  He scratched his head. “We could ask one of the hotel staff to take one of us together.” His expression was sheepish.

  Mary hesitated for a brief moment before nodding. “I would like that.”

  After having their picture taken together, Mary pulled a bottle out of her wine stash and poured Wilson a glass. He laughed. “I’ve never been treated so well by a lady.”

  She grinned and raised her glass. “To our sorrows nearly being over.”

  Wilson clinked his glass to hers and drank. Mary emptied hers in one draught and poured another glass. Tonight seems like a good night to get drunk, she thought. She knew what would happen in the morning, but she would delay the arrival of that deep, aching pain as long as she could.

  She sat on the end of her bed. Wilson sat beside her. She closed her eyes and allowed his sweet scent to wash over her. I wish this was our first date and I could see you again and again, she thought. She struggled against tears, then opened her eyes and blinked so he could not see them gathered there. I wish you liked me for me and not because my power makes you like me.

  She fidgeted with her dress. She had picked out her favorite one. Wilson’s warm hand brushed hers, and she allowed him to hold it. His warmth spread through her. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a soft voice.

  Mary turned slightly but did not meet his gaze. “I just wish the world wasn’t so broken right now, and I didn’t feel like I had to fix it.”

  Wilson gave her what he meant to be a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to fix the world, Mary.”

  If only you knew, she thought. If only he knew about all the wars she had seen. She squeezed his hand. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

  Wilson leaned closer and brushed his nose over her shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be over.” He lifted his head and grinned. “We haven't played cards yet.”

  Dear Wilson,

  You are delightful, and I enjoyed every moment. I have to go. I am sorry.

  Mary folded the note and slipped it under the lamp so he would find it when he awoke. With quiet movements, she dressed and gathered her things. She removed the photographs on the wall in silence. Wilson lay in her bed, tangled in the sheets. His sleep was peaceful, his breathing even. The soft sunrise peeked through the drawn curtains. Mary had known this would happen when she’d tumbled onto the bed with him just hours ago.

  She swallowed hard, tears gathering in her eyes again. Her heart ached. She watched him for a long moment, then turned and left the room, suitcase in hand.

  Once she had left the hotel, she stood on the street and traced her fingers over the film canister from her camera, which contained the photograph of the two of them the hotel man had taken the night before. You liked me because I have ancient magic within me, she thought, but I liked you for you. I’ll remember you forever, Wilson Thompson.

  Mary turned down the street, leaving the hotel behind forever.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “The furies and the monsters and hags of doom cried aloud so that their voices were heard in the rocks and waterfalls and in the hollows of the earth. It was like the fearful agonizing cry on the last dreadful day when the human race would part from all in this world.”

  —From the First Battle of Magh Tyregh

  It seemed my university days were about to serve me well.

  I was not a very sentimental person, but I kept a small trunk of memorabilia in the back of a closet. There you are, I thought with triumph as I withdrew a bright red wig. It had once been part of a Halloween costume, and I was going to play dress-up again tonight.

  I turned to Douglas, and his appraising eye landed on my wig. “What?” I demanded.

  He shrugged, and a grin pulled at his lips. “Nothing.” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

  “You know, I never dressed up for Halloween as a goblin overlord before,” I told him as I slipped the wig on and began inserting the dozen bobby pins I had set out on my dresser.

  Douglas grunted. “I have.”

  I turned, eyes wide, and tried not to laugh.

  He shrugged. “I was a kid. Everyone thought I was weird.”

  I didn’t suppress my laugh this time. “How old were you?”

  Douglas’ cheeks flushed crimson. “We should go now, Morgan. It’s dark out.”

  “Come on,” I teased. This was too much fun for me not to know. “Just answer. How old were you?”

  Douglas didn’t look me in the eye as he murmured, “Seventeen.”

  A chuckle escaped me. I imagined seeing seventeen-year-old Douglas at a raunchy high school Halloween party dressed as a big, bad beast. Douglas did not find it amusing in the least.

  After I selected something to wear that was both flashy and practical, he sat me down. Like a child on their first day of school, I thought. I was grateful, however, for how thoroughly he was thinking through all of this. “Let’s review the plan,” he said.

  “We go to Stilettos nightclub, but I go in alone,” I began.

  Douglas frowned, looking the part of a concerned uncle.

  “I catch the eye of some phouka and go outside into the alley. They follow me, I get jumped, and then…what?”

  The concern in his expression had grown. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to allow them to kidnap you.”

  I flashed my accomplice a smile. “That’s why you’ll be across the street keeping watch and will drive after me when they throw me into their dingy old van.”

  Douglas did not seem convinced. He frowned. “Not all goblins are kidnappers.”

  “Well, I'm hoping these ones are.”

  “Are you swaying me with your influence right now?”

  I shrugged. “It’s out of my control, remember? I don’t think it’s working too well since you clearly have something up your ass.”

  Douglas glared at me. “You’re taking this too lightly.”

  Perhaps he was right. I was about to willingly walk into a possible kidnapping situation with an ending I could not predict. Humor, however, was my go-to for staying sane, at least for the time being. “You said just a minute ago that we should leave, Velez.”

  “Okay, Morgan.” He rose, saying my last name in a mocking tone. As we exited my flat, he muttered under his breath, “Let’s see where Crow Lady strikes tonight!”

  I laughed. “I think you’re just jealous of my superpowers.”

  “You don’t know anything about your superpowers yet,” he returned. His voice was devoid of amusement, and mine faded as well. He was right. It seemed that only experience was going to remedy my ignorance.

  Stilettos Nightclub was my least favorite place in town, but I entered as if I owned the place. My heeled boots clicked authoritatively on the floor, and the bell on the door dinged behind me. The place was packed. And this is the reason we’re still fighting a worldwide disease, I thought. I had to remind myself that I was here tonight as the Morrigan on a mission, not as an EMT.

  Music was thumping from some far-off corner. The interior was foggy, and I noticed that many of the patrons were smoking. I had come without my mask to fit in, and I felt naked without it. Don’t tell my boss. I thought about Simon and how I had left him at the hospital with no explanation for my panic and hadn’t been back since.

  Douglas was across the street, but the earpiece hidden beneath my wig gave me access to him. He would hear everything that hap
pened. If things got bad, he’d call the police since there was no way in hell he was going to be able to rescue me on his own.

  Good thing I didn’t plan on needing to be rescued.

  I forgot about Douglas as I felt eyes following me, accompanied by sly yellow smiles. I sauntered up to the bar and plopped into a seat. Might as well order something while I waited. I wasn’t looking for anyone to buy me a drink, but I was looking to be noticed. My red wig, however, was giving some people the wrong impression.

  The man behind the bar wasn’t the one I had seen the other day. He was a tall person with a thin frame. His beady black eyes were set close together, and his skin was as pale as the moon. He wore a black turtleneck and a decadent watch. He looked like the opposite kind of person from those who frequented this place. He crossed his arms after pouring my drink.

  “You know, Shareen is in the back. She a friend of yours?”

  Shareen must be the stripper, I thought, and from the number of people in the club tonight, she’d be making good money.

  I smiled coyly. “That’s no concern of yours.”

  The barman frowned for a second, but then a slow, wicked smile touched his lips. He leaned forward, and I could feel his breath on my face. He smelled much nicer than anyone else in the club, but I still stiffened the closer he got to me. “Say, we could use you too.” His small eyes raked over me. “The boys like Shareen and all, don’t get me wrong, but she’s here every damned night. They need someone new. Someone fresh.”

  I leaned back, maintaining my coy smile. I wasn’t trying to be new or fresh for any reason. Like hell was I going to get up in front of these men and show them anything. “I’m new to the area. I’m checking places out.” I finished my lie by dumping my drink into my mouth. I wasn’t one for drinking at night, especially with work the next day, but having some liquid courage in my veins before finding the redcap sounded like a good idea. Or maybe not. This would be my only drink. I had to keep my senses.

  Static sounded in my ear, followed by Douglas’ low voice. “Let’s not flirt anymore. There are eyes on you. I’m sure at least one of them is a phouka.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes and maybe throw a playful middle finger toward the window through which he could see me, but I restrained myself. I’ve got this. Let me work, I thought.

  “Say, you have anything I can smoke? I forgot mine,” I asked the barman.

  His brows rose as if to ask, “Are you serious?” but my smile seemed to convince him otherwise. And the Way of Kings, I thought. My influence on this man was working. He wasn’t who I was looking for, but he could help me to the next step. He fished in his pocket and handed me a cigarette. I wasn’t one for smoking either, but it would help with my act.

  I rose from the stool. “Thanks, you’re the best.” Douglas chuckled into my earpiece. He wasn’t the best, but I was enjoying my act.

  The barman’s smile grew wider, and a predatory look came into his eyes. “You can smoke in here, you know.”

  I shrugged. “I prefer to smoke outside.” I fanned myself with my hand. “Besides, it’s too warm in here. Tell Shareen I said hi.”

  I turned, feeling his eyes boring into me, and exited the nightclub through the side door before he could say, “Tell Shareen yourself.”

  I stepped into the alley. Everything was going to plan so far. I was inside long enough to draw the proper attention. I almost laughed at myself. Who the hell was I that I was walking into an alley on purpose to get attacked? Maybe a smoke would be nice. Before I could even think about lighting the cigarette, the side door I had come through opened, and three figures stumbled out.

  In unison, they whipped their heads down one end of the alley and then the other. Each pair of eyes landed on me at the same time. Each pair of eyes blazed red. I crossed my arms. “Good of you to join me.” I smirked. Perhaps red eyes meant they had less power. I remembered what Douglas had told me about some of them not being able to hold a fully human form.

  One of the three stepped toward me, smile on his lips. He cackled. “Hello, little witch. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “You know I’m not a witch,” I remarked, examining my fingernails and showing no trace of fear. Although I was able to keep up my act, I was a little worried. I hadn’t seen a single crow since I’d left my flat. They should have gathered. I guess I’m on my own this time.

  I added. “Spells aren’t really my thing, and I don’t need a wand to get what I want.”

  The three of them sauntered closer, their eyes predatory. I stood my ground. One of them snarled at me. “You killed our mates.”

  I shrugged. “And I left one alive. Did your boss get my message?”

  That set them off. These were not the clever type of phouka I had encountered in broad daylight. These were animalistic, instinct-bound creatures. Their skin split open, revealing blue and black fur, and their eyes turned gold the next second. Claws tore through their fingertips.

  Before I could reach for my knives, they launched at me. Their snarls filled the air. I felt claws rake across my back, and I uttered a feral scream. That was not in the plan. I pushed them, sending one reeling toward the alley wall, but the other two stayed on me. Don’t use all your strength, I told myself. I needed at least one of these creatures alive.

  I flailed as they attacked but did not feel claws again. My back screamed in pain. I was beginning to regret all this. I wanted to smell burnt hair. I wanted to feel the breath go out of the phouka’s lungs. I wrenched free. They did not pursue.

  Their eyes had gone wide. One of them lifted a shaking finger, pointing at my red wig as if it was the first time they understood what it meant. They glanced at one another, and one of them gulped. The one who had called me a witch looked at me again, his eyes full of rage. “This one’s for the boss.” He snarled, his fangs dripping saliva. His massive chest heaved as his eyes raked over me again.

  Before I could feel triumphant that my plan was working, a black hood was pulled over my head and claws gripped my arms. I continued to flail, if only to pretend I didn’t want to go with them. I heard a van door open, then I was thrown down on what felt like hard plastic. I groaned. The sound of an engine starting reached my ears the next moment. I jolted as the van took off at full speed.

  “I’ve got you, Morgan. I’m following,” Douglas said into my earpiece. “Are you hurt?”

  I tapped my mic twice to indicate I was okay but it was too risky for me to speak to him. Douglas fell silent as the van swerved around the bend.

  I wrenched off the black hood since they had not tied me up. They weren’t very clever. I could have bested them with ease, even without crows or a wolf in the alley with me. Too bad, I thought. The one time it would have been easy was the one time I couldn’t fucking do it.

  The van swerved again, and a car horn honked. I’m going to get my back broken in this van. Whoever was driving was an absolute idiot. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the van came to a screeching halt. The brakes, in desperate need of replacement, filled my ears with a horrendous shriek. I heard the bang of the two front doors closing before the back door of the van was wrenched open and the three creatures stared in at me.

  I squinted against the streetlight just outside the van’s back door. The one who had called me a witch snarled at me. “Where’s your hood?”

  I shrugged. “You didn’t tie me up, you fucking amateur.” The name-calling made him bristle. He launched into the van, grabbed my arm, and pulled me out as if I were weightless. I winced and restrained the cry of pain that rose within me as my knees slammed into the concrete.

  “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. When I was done facing the redcap, I’d break the knees of the creature standing over me. At least he didn’t shove the hood back over my face.

  The other two phouka skittered toward a rundown industrial building. The van was parked in an empty lot. I sat on the ground for a long moment, catching my breath and trying not to think about how scraped up my knees and
back were. The creature standing over me watched the other two phouka until they vanished through a back door into the building.

  Two minutes later, my eyes widened. The door opened, and out poured the two phouka who had gone in—and at least a dozen others.

  “Holy shit,” I gasped. “A whole fucking pack of them.” I knew McAlpine had a pack, but since I had already killed eight of them, I hadn’t expected this many in addition. They were all in their full phouka form, their gold eyes blazing and their expressions starved. They looked at me like I was about to be the best damn meal they had ever had.

  My heart hammered as they poured into the lot and bounded toward me. Fuck, what now? With no redcap in sight and too many phouka to take on, I was trapped.

  Douglas, are you there? I wanted to ask. After the van had swerved so many times, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had seen him following and lost him. The thought put a new fear into me.

  The phouka surrounded me, their snarls and laughs making them sound like a pack of hyenas. I stiffened. The phouka who had called me a witch raised a hand, silencing them. Well, most of them, anyway. They were all up and dancing as if they could not wait to sink their claws and teeth into me.

  I’d fucking kill them all. No way in hell was I going to die encircled by McAlpine’s cronies before I had a chance to take him down. My hands weren’t tied. I could get to my knives and to my feet with ease, but could I move fast enough to overcome all of them? The element of surprise wouldn’t be enough.

  It didn’t seem to matter, though. The phouka standing above me said, “Someone get the master.” His lips split in a wicked smile, revealing his black teeth. I almost vomited. A smell like rotten eggs came from his mouth as he cackled. “Tell the master we have a gift for him.” He looked down at me.

  One of the phouka scampered off, and I was left to keep my cool. So, the redcap is here. That’s good. The problem was to focus on directing my power at him and not be distracted by his cronies. Damn, they sounded and acted like wild animals. They are wild animals, I reminded myself.