Completely Folk'd
Page 29
Luke’s little head bobbed up and down, once. Then, too low for Mummy and Daddy to hear, he gurgled, ‘Uck meee!’
It could have just been random baby noises, and not some vestige of his adult self, some spark of intelligence and destiny pinging around in there behind those tiny, mad, baby eyes.
It probably was. Almost certainly.
When Ellie and he finally separated, Danny pressed against her and asked her in a low, seductive voice what they should do now. With a smile that ran a shiver up his spine, she bit her lip and huskily replied that Luke was still awake, but that there was something that he could do in the meantime …
*
A rumbling sound began to build, from distant murmur to thundering rattle. With a whip-crack, a bolt was drawn back. Several groaning creaks signified the stop-start opening of a reluctant door.
Danny Morrigan, creator of universes, slayer of witch-goddesses, saviour of a nation, reversed into the back alley, dragging the wheelie bin behind him. As it rocked dangerously from side to side while Ellie watched smugly from the kitchen, Danny raised a middle finger in salute to his future wife. She blew him a kiss.
It was almost midnight, but the skies above blazed with light from over two hundred miniature suns. The alley, once a scene of darkness and squat shapes promising scuttling terrors, was brightly lit. For one absurd moment, Danny wanted to burst into song. His baby boy was back. His girlfriend – no, his fiancée – was the most amazing woman on the planet. The air was warm. Myths and legends were real. The world was full of magic–
‘Would you ever fuck the fuck away off bringin’ that cunting bin out!’ a voice cried out. Danny looked up to see the Fat Controller screaming at him from his back window. ‘Fuckin’ big rattlin’ bastard! How am I s’posed to fuckin’ sleep, eh? Them bastardin’ things in the fuckin’ sky?’
‘Fuckin’ blackout curtains my hole!’ another voice drifted from a few doors down. ‘Fuckin’ twelve quid down the chute!’
‘I LOVE THIS TOWN!’ Danny cried out, and then bolted for his back door as large objects began to rain down on him.
The Future
The child awoke, her mother and father beside her. She reached for them and they placed a hand each upon her shoulders, calming her as the Origin slowly unwound from her cerebral cortex.
‘Welcome back, smelly head,’ Steve said softly.
‘You’re a smelly head,’ she told him, and stuck her tongue out. Clearing her head with a quick shake, she sat up, propping her pillows behind her. Her parents seemed to sense she needed time to process, time to breathe.
‘Danny did it,’ she said. ‘He and Dother. They worked together.’
‘Yes,’ Maggie nodded. ‘At the start it was just phone calls and video, but eventually they were able to open portals between Ireland Above and Ireland Below.’
The child made a face. ‘Pffffew, “Ireland Below”. I hate that name. When did they change it?’
‘To Ériu? Not long after you were born.’
‘Ériu. I used to love that name,’ the child said. ‘Now I’m not so sure,’ and she could see her mummy and daddy trying not to laugh at this.
‘It was his idea.’
‘Uncle Danny?’
‘Mmm. He seemed to think it was something she would have wanted.’
‘The Morrigan,’ the child said.
‘Yes. Personally I think he just didn’t want his name attached to it in case it was shit …’ she added, somewhat under her breath.
‘And after the portals, that’s when people started to flip?’
‘They realised they didn’t need portals to step through. They could just will themselves to move from one world to the other. Even the ones left behind originally.’
‘Like you and Daddy?’
‘Like me and Daddy.’
‘But not the wolves?’
‘No, not the wolves. They couldn’t take the sunlight. But they didn’t mind. Ériu was theirs, for them and their children …’ and the mother’s voice was weary in a bemused way. ‘Their many, many, many children.’
‘Like Rascal and Bosco?’ the child said. Maggie harrumphed indignantly.
‘Yes, like them two wee …’ she said, remembering the state of her living room rug after it had been pissed on and mated with last time they’d cub-sat. ‘Like them, yes.’
‘They did a wee-wee on our rug didn’t they, Mummy?’ the child said earnestly.
‘Yes, love. Yes they did.’
The child giggled, but not for as long or as hard as once she might have. There were other questions to ask. ‘Mummy, I saw you tell Daddy you couldn’t ever have babies,’ she said.
The room temperature plummeted as Steve panicked. The child sighed, and raised it back up herself, casting him the sort of look only little girls can truly master.
Steve grimaced. ‘Sorry.’
‘I’m sorry, love,’ said Maggie. ‘It’s part of the Origin. That’s why we weren’t sure if you were old enough.’
‘So if you couldn’t have babies, where did I come from?’ the child asked.
Steve and Maggie looked at one another for a long time. Eventually it was her daddy who spoke. ‘You were a gift,’ he said. ‘When magic came back, dangerous and wonderful and all that, it made things possible again. All of the love me and your mummy felt for one another, it became a person. It became you.’
‘I was … born?’
Maggie laughed. ‘Yes!’ she said. ‘God, yes, you were born! Thirty-seven hours of agonising labour can attest to that. Back in them days we hadn’t quite figured out magical epidurals.’
The child breathed a sigh of relief. So many other questions swirled around in her head but, to her astonishment, a yawn that could only be described as epic decided to work itself to the surface.
‘God, it’s half past two in the fucking morning!’ Maggie said, no longer caring about watching her language in front of her child. ‘Get to sleep. You’ve had the entire Origin story, young lady, two or three years before you’re supposed to hear it as well. Want to know what happened next? Fuckin’ going to sleep happened next!’
The little girl tutted in disappointment. ‘I need to pee,’ she said instantly.
Maggie frowned for a second. ‘There,’ she said, producing a handful of rose petals from a curled fist, the former contents of her daughter’s bladder.
‘Teach me to do that! Teach me to do that!’
‘Not tonight,’ Steve said gently. He tucked her in securely, took her hand, took her mother’s hand … and flipped.
The light streaming in from outside died as, in a heartbeat, they travelled from Ireland to Ériu, as easily as moving from one idea to the next – because after all, what was Ériu if not an idea of a place?
‘Listen,’ Maggie said, raising a finger. Distantly, a wolf howled in the night. ‘See? Keeping you safe. Keeping us all safe.’
‘I know, Mummy,’ the little girl said. She was fighting sleep now, to her eternal chagrin. She tried to sit up and was gently encouraged to abandon the attempt.
‘So, what did you think of it?’ Steve asked her.
‘Magical,’ she said.
‘Because of all the faeries and the magic? Because of the witch and the wolves?’
She smiled. ‘I’d forgotten about them.’
‘My wee woman,’ her daddy said softly, ‘I am so proud of you. Now come on, time for sleep.’
But their daughter was already gone, sometime between ‘so proud’ and ‘come on’. Not the sleep of the story bubble – true, deep sleep had claimed her. Given all that she had witnessed, it was not outlandish to expect her to sleep for a day or two. Schools were understanding where the Origin was involved.
‘Goodnight, Regan,’ Steve whispered, and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
There were scrabbling noises from the roof above. Maggie opened the bedroom window, leaning out to glance upward. ‘If you have to roost up there could you at least not try to shite all down the fuckin’ window
s!’
They moved into their own bedroom and Steve went to shut the curtains, exchanging a respectful nod with Larka, currently camped out in their front garden, Rascal and Bosco two little shadows curled up beside her. He kissed Maggie. ‘Honour guard all present and correct.’
‘Roof’s covered in crows,’ Maggie said. ‘As per fuckin’ usual.’
They got under the covers together, cuddled, kissed. It hadn’t been easy these past years. Maggie could still remember the feeling of emptiness that had terrified her that first night she and Steve had spent together after the worlds had separated. Despite the magic and the monsters now loose upon the world, real life was never a fairy tale. Sometimes, though, it got close enough not to matter.
‘We’re the parents of the reborn Goddess of War,’ she said. ‘What’s that make us?’
Steve grinned. ‘Haven’t you been listening all this time, love?’ he said. ‘It makes us fuckin’ legends.’
THE END
Acknowledgements
As ever, massive thanks to everyone at Blackstaff, particularly the awesome Michelle and the frankly worryingly (albeit loveably) bonkers Stuart.
This trilogy simply would not have happened without the support and belief of people like Jo Sayer at Last Passage, my gorgeous wife Kath (yup, made an honest woman out of her) and my two boys, Laurence and Adam.
Coming soon, by the way – so Laurence informs me! – is Folk’d Off, the fourth book in the series, written by him. I’ve even read the first few pages, and honestly, there was just something in my eye. Ahem.
Hanging out with Danny and Ellie and Steve has been so much fun and I’m grateful and privileged that others have enjoyed it too.
Also by Laurence Donaghy
Folk’d
The first instalment in the brilliant Folk’d trilogy
eBook
EPUB ISBN 978-0-85640-239-5
KINDLE ISBN 978-0-85640-240-1
Paperback
ISBN 978-0-85640-918-9
www.blackstaffpress.com
Folk’d Up
The second instalment in the exciting Folk’d trilogy
eBook
EPUB ISBN 978-0-85640-543-3
KINDLE ISBN 978-0-85640-555-6
Paperback
ISBN 978-0-85640-922-6
www.blackstaffpress.com