“Jeez.” The teen that’d been sent after them rolled his eyes and stood. “And I’m … Kelile. Manannan. King,” he said, animating his words and bobbing his head. “That’s my roommate, Sir Lance Reynard.” He chuckled. “And I don’t know the rest of these people.” While giving a dismissive flip of his left hand, he sat in his chair again.
“Are you making fun of me?” Morrigan said.
“No, not me, your royal highness.”
“For your information, my name does mean ‘great queen’ in Gaelic.” Morrigan wrinkled her nose. “But, someone like you wouldn’t know that, would you.”
“More like prissy queen.”
Aishling positioned herself next to him, blocking his view. “Morrigan, this is Keri. Donny. Betty. Lucy. John. Mitch. Bill. And Michelle.” With her left hand, she had directed Morrigan’s attention to each one as she said their names. Skipping over Lance, she looked at Kelile. “Of course, you already know who the rude, smart-mouth is.”
“Oho! You got some spunk in your trunk, girl.” Kelile motioned for her to sit next to him.
Morrigan plopped next to Lance, leaving her no choice. She sank into the chair.
As the others began serving themselves, Kelile whispered, “You know I’m right about her.”
“No, I don’t.”
“She’s trouble.”
“If you feel that way, then stay away from her.”
“I like trouble.”
“Oh?”
“I’m just messin’ with ya, girl.” He picked up a serving bowl of mashed potatoes and lopped a spoonful on his plate. When he passed the bowl to her, he winked.
She caught Lance staring at her when she passed the bowl to Morrigan. Another wave of déjà vu stunned her. She almost dropped the bowl. What was going on? First Morrigan, then Kelile, and now Lance.
While they ate dinner, Kelile told her he wasn’t an orphan, but had been sent to Herald Home at the request of his stepfather.
“Can he do that?” she asked.
“He did. He thinks this place is gonna straighten me out. Huh. The only thing that will straighten me out is gettin’ Mom and the twins away from his sorry ass. This place is a joke. I’ll be gettin’ myself outta here soon, you watch.” He winked again.
After dinner and kitchen duty, Aishling and Morrigan sat on their beds, talking.
“You should have seen the look on that black guy’s face when you called him ‘rude smart-mouth.’ How funny. I thought he would slap you or something. I can’t believe he actually talked to you the whole time.” Morrigan leaned against her headboard and sighed. “Lance is so cute. He’ll be fourteen in June. He seems older. I guess because he’s quiet and serious, like you. Doesn’t he have dreamy brown eyes? And his—”
Aishling hadn’t noticed his eyes before tonight. She hadn’t paid attention to him when he first arrived a couple of days ago. Nor had she paid attention to Kelile when he came last week.
“Hello, Earth to Aishling. Did you hear anything I said?”
She flinched. “I’m sorry.”
“I swear. You’re like a wild horse. You’re so skittish. Are you having a vision right now? You’ve got such a faraway look in your eyes.”
“No. Just thinking.”
“Aishling. That’s a Gaelic name.”
“How did you know that?”
“Tell me what your name means.”
“It means dream or dreamer.” She sighed, and her thoughts wandered again.
“What’s the matter?”
“I just remembered something, that’s all.”
“Tell me.”
Aishling leaned over the edge of the bed and stared at her sneakers. “Ma used to call me her raven dreamer.”
“Raven?” Morrigan sat up, her eyebrows arched.
“My middle name is Bran which means—”
“Raven,” they both said.
“But Bran is a boy’s name.” Morrigan gawked. “Why would your mother pick that?”
“She used part of my grandmother’s first name, Branwen.”
“So did mine. My grandmother’s first name was Shae. But, your mother didn’t use the whole name. Why?”
Aishling shook her head, unable to answer.
“So, do you have the gift of prophetic dreaming?”
“Yes—I mean I used to. How did you know?”
Morrigan leaned against her headboard again. “Why are you here?”
The question hit Aishling with the force of a baseball bat. She gasped for air and massaged her arms. “I was brought here after the fire, when Ma vanished.”
“She vanished? Oh, I thought …”
Trying to ease the painful clawing inside, Aishling hugged herself and changed the focus. “Why are you here?”
Morrigan closed her eyes and lowered her head. She answered barely above a whisper, “My mother died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I hate having to come here.” Morrigan scowled and got off her bed, moving to her desk. She picked up a tan book and turned on her desk lamp. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m going to write in my diary. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” Aishling hesitated, then, “I hope you don’t want to change rooms.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.” Aishling stared at her backpack. Her new diary was under there. “Morrigan, I feel like I already know you.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.”
“It’s true,” she whispered. After sitting a moment longer, she retrieved her diary and finished the entry she had begun earlier.
*******
I had two memories of her today! I even saw her face!!! At least I’m starting to remember more and more. It’s weird, but I feel like I’m just waking up, like I’m not a zombie anymore. Have I been asleep all this time?
I got a new roommate today. I think we’re going to be friends. I don’t scare her. She even knows about Gaelic names and dreaming. I hope she doesn’t change her mind if she finds out the truth about me and Ma. Though I don’t remember, I must have dreamed about this day before because I feel like I already know Morrigan … and Lance … and Kelile, too.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I guess I’ll be 13. But who cares?
*******
3
Saturday, March 9
“Today’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Morrigan fisted her hands on her hips.
Why did I say that? “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Anyway, I don’t tell people around here about it anymore. Besides, I just met you yesterday.”
“That’s true. Why don’t you tell anyone about your birthday?”
Aishling stared at the dust cloth in her hand, mad at herself and her big mouth. She wasn’t ready to tell Morrigan her secret yet. Now, she’d have to be careful what she says. She forced herself to look at Morrigan again and smile. “People here don’t like how Ma and I celebrate birthdays, that’s all. It’s no big deal.”
After tucking the bedspread around her pillow, Morrigan sat on her bed. “What did you and your mother do?”
She turned away from Morrigan and rolled her eyes. Honesty would be more difficult today than yesterday since she wanted Morrigan to like her now. How could she explain without giving her secret away? For one thing, she couldn’t say that word. While removing the clock from her desk, she summoned her courage. “You know how you and I both have Gaelic names? Well, Ma and I do things like—” she lifted her lamp “—like the old forest Celts, or Druids.” She made a hard swipe over her desk and set the lamp down. “When we celebrated my birthday, we did a ceremony thanking Mother Goddess for her blessings.” She set her clock back down before turning around to see Morrigan’s reaction.
Morrigan grinned. “You and your mother are Celtic witches.” She hopped off her bed, patting her hands together.
“How did you know that?”
“Because, silly, my mother and I are too.” Morrigan bounced on her toes.
“What?”
“Yes! Se
e, I told you we had some things in common. Now, tell me. What else did you do?”
A throaty laugh emerged from Aishling before the rush of words. “We would make a gift bag filled with cookies for the Sidhe and dance around singing happy day to them and happy birthday to me. Ma always had me chant my wish and blow it into the gift bag. Then, hopefully, the Sidhe would help make the wish come true.”
Her babbling stopped when she remembered the last time she had celebrated her birthday with Ma. She hadn’t thought of it since last year when she’d gotten into trouble. “Morrigan, I miss her so much. Sometimes I can’t stand the pain I get right here.” She grabbed at her chest and hunched over. “I don’t understand why she disappeared. Why won’t she come for me?”
“Don’t think about her. That’s the only way you can deal with it.”
“But how can I not, especially when I think about … before?”
Morrigan sat on her bed again, staring at the floor. Moments later, her head jerked up. “Let’s do it. We’ll bake cookies and make a faery pouch.” She stood and paced.
“What? They’ll get mad and punish us.”
“Oh, silly Aish, we won’t tell them what we’re actually doing. I’ll ask Mrs. Sloan if I can make cookies for your birthday. Then, I’ll tell her I want to make a birthday gift for you and ask for some material and ribbons.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry.” Morrigan stopped pacing. “Did you notice I called you Aish? That’ll be my name for you. Only I can call you that. And, you can call me Morri. Only you can call me that.”
*******
March 9
I had a nice birthday all because of Morri! She can get anybody to do anything. Mrs. Sloan even baked the cookies and helped her make the faery pouch. Of course, she didn’t know what the pouch was.
We snuck to the river where I had found a hawthorn tree like the one at home. I had remembered Ma telling me that hawthorns guard the entrance to the faery realms. We sang to the Sidhe, and I asked them to help Ma find me. Then we hid the pouch in a crevice of the tree. I hope the Sidhe do help Ma.
We had just finished when Kelile and Lance showed up. Morri was so mean to Kelile. But, he doesn’t seem to care. When he called her “prissy queen” again, she called him “slave boy.” I thought he would get mad, but he just laughed. It’s like the four of us have known each other for a long time.
I got to talk to Lance, alone. Morri and Kelile were fussing at each other, and Lance was standing by the hawthorn tree. I didn’t want him to see the faery pouch, so I went over to him. His eyes are so different, so beautiful. They change colors in the light, sometimes green, sometimes golden-brown, sometimes both. He probably thought I was a dope. I wish … no. Morri has a crush on him. I think he likes her too. Oh well.
I almost forgot. I remembered part of my dream last night. I finally remembered part of a dream! It was weird though. In the dream, Morri had a pet raven. She was talking nicely to it; but at the same time, she was pulling a plastic bag over it. It kept cawing for help and gasping for air. Then I woke up. I haven’t figured out what the dream means. But, at least I remembered some of it. Am I getting my gift back? I hope so. If I do, maybe I could use my dreams to find Ma!
*******
4
Sunday, March 10
“I don’t want to go to their stupid ol’ church.” Morrigan shook her head and frowned.
“You have to, Morri. They’ll get mean if you don’t.”
“I’m not supposed to have to do this.” She stared at her arms folded across her chest.
“What?”
Morrigan shook her head again.
Aishling shrugged and left the room, heading for Herald Home’s small, country church. She didn’t like going, either. The preacher often glared at her. Why didn’t he like her? She had never done anything wrong to him.
Morrigan grabbed her arm from behind. “I’m coming, Aish. But, they’re not telling me what to believe.”
They sat behind Lance and Kelile. As always, Aishling wished she could fade into the pew. Again and again, she shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable. And when Morrigan began tapping her foot, Aishling became even more nervous. She had to sit on her hands to keep them still. The tapping grew louder. What was Morri doing?
Lance turned around and frowned at her.
I’m not doing it, she tried telling him with her eyes.
Preacher Collins stopped talking. His cutting blue eyes landed on her. Aishling squirmed under his menacing stare. Had he sprouted three feet taller? She shivered. Now, others were looking at her. Drat!
The preacher huffed and blew out a burst of air. “Miss O’Brian, I will not have you disrupting the sanctity of this church. If you cannot keep quiet, you will come up here and stand next to me.” He arched his eyebrows, almost off his forehead.
Of course, she couldn’t say her new best friend was doing it. “Yes sir,” she answered—her voice hoarse. She ducked her head and lightly pinched Morrigan’s hand. “Please stop,” she whispered through barely moving lips.
Morrigan looked straight ahead, not reacting to the plea. Yet, to Aishling’s relief, she did stop tapping her foot.
Preacher Collins continued his sermon. His words swirled around her mind, echoing as if she were in a barrel. It wasn’t until she noticed him glaring at her again that she paid attention to what he was saying.
“Satan hides in certain types of soulless people, using them to do his evil deeds.”
Ma and I are not evil! I’m tired of you-uns acting like we are. That was it.
Aishling stood. “Don’t you dare say that about my mother! Oh, I know you’re talking about me and her. She’s not evil! She is the most kind and loving person in the world, far more kind and loving than you could ever be.”
“She’ll burn in hell for all eternity if she didn’t renounce Satan before she died. Do you want God to damn your soul, too?”
“My mother is not dead! And she wouldn’t be burning in hell if she was. The Creator does not damn souls. The Creator creates them!” She hyperventilated.
Slobber shot out of Preacher Collins mouth as he howled, “Leave this holy place. Don’t come back until you’ve purged your evil ways and you’re ready to repent for your sins.”
Close to exploding from her one year, four months and now ten days worth of hurt and anger, she pushed out to the aisle. Turning toward the preacher again, she blurted, “You have no right to judge me or my mother. Remember? Jesus said, ‘Judge not—’ ”
“Leave!”
The congregation sat silent as death. Her shoulders hunched over from the weight of all the eyes following her out the door.
Though her heart pounded and she was out of breath, she barreled back to her room.
After she dug her backpack out of the closet, she gathered her clothes, slinging them on the bed. Preacher Collins had delivered the final blow. She would go home. She would find Ma!
So entangled with her thoughts, she flinched when Morrigan entered the room, snickering.
“I’ll say you’re a wild horse. You were spectacular! The preacher was so upset, he dismissed us early.”
Morrigan gasped. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving. I’m going home.”
Return to Beginning
of wretched twists and turns,
5
“Wait!” Morrigan said.
“They act like Ma and I are evil.” Aishling crammed her backpack with clothes. “I’m not taking it anymore. They’ve been that way ever since I got here. They won’t tell me where Ma is. They say she’s dead, but she can’t be. I know there’s something they’re not telling me. They won’t listen to me. They won’t even give back the amulet Ma made for me, or the other things I brought here.” Tears soaked her blouse. “I’ve got to find her. I have to go, Morri.”
“No. Not yet. And, they won’t let you just walk out of here. We need to—”
Kelile cackled as he burst into the room.
“Whoa, you got balls, girl!”
Morrigan lunged at him and pushed him toward the door. “You interrupted our conversation. Leave. Now.”
He flipped away from her. “Don’t you be touchin’ me or tellin’ me what to do. You ain’t my mama, prissy queen.”
“Oh. But. I. Will. Slave boy.”
“You-uns stop.” Aishling dropped to her bed, covering her eyes.
“See what you’ve done. Now, leave.”
Aishling lowered her hands. “It’s okay. He didn’t do anything.”
“What’s going on?” Lance stood in the doorway. He walked over to Aishling and sat next to her. The closeness of his body made her tingle. Her tight muscles relaxed. “Hey, I know you’re mad, but you need to calm down.” He lightly touched her shoulder. “You didn’t do yourself any favors by yelling at the preacher.”
She wiped her eyes and sighed.
Morrigan pointed at Kelile. “I was trying to calm her down when he barged in. I appreciate your help, Lance, but would you all let Aish and I talk. Thank you.”
Kelile brushed past Morrigan and stood over Aishling. He tapped her left hand with his fingertips while eyeing her backpack and scattered clothing. “Girl, don’t you be doin’ anything stupid.” Then, he whispered, “We’ll talk later. Okay?”
She nodded.
“Kelile’s right,” Lance said, standing. “You have to figure out how to get along here.” He lowered his head and looked at the floor. “This is our reality now.” When he looked at Aishling again, his grief-stricken eyes made her heart ache. He followed Kelile out the bedroom door.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Morrigan sat next to her. “You can’t leave yet. What would you do or where would you go? You have to plan.” She thrust backwards on the bed. “You need to apologize to the preacher and get back in good standing.”
Dead Moon Awakens: A tale of Cherokee myth and Celtic magic (Mystic Gates) Page 2