A Grave Inheritance

by Kari Edgren

  “Good,” Cate and I replied together.

  I watched in anxious silence as Tom took Nora’s lantern, and the wall panel swung into place. Settling back into the chair, I pressed a hand over my eyes. “Why did you keep me from going?”

  “Tom and Justine can see to Nora, and we have more to discuss.”

  “What if Nora is ill?” My stomach tightened into a mass of queasy knots from the idea of Nora being infected with the pox, or whatever nasty disease the wretch decided to pass along today. “Can they heal her?”

  “Not exactly.”

  My eyes popped open, and I twisted around so quickly a nerve jumped in my neck. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly.’ What are their gifts?” Please don’t say agriculture. The last thing Nora needed was a strawberry if she were at death’s door.

  “Tom has the gift of metal working and Justine has the gift of poetry and song.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Hysterics pushed against Cate’s calming influence. “They can do nothing to help if she’s dying!”

  I started to stand again when a gentle flood of warmth passed through my shoulder. The hysterics faded at once, and I settled back like a docile lamb.

  Nora will be fine. There’s no need to leave. These thoughts swam through my head. They felt comfortable, true even, despite my previous fears.

  “You did that thing again, didn’t you?”

  Cate’s hand stayed on my shoulder, and another warm trickle spread through me. “I need you to be rational and not go running off in search of trouble. If Deri wanted Nora dead, she would have done it by now, and there would be little you could do to stop her.”

  Everything she said sounded so reasonable, as though the words had been plucked from my very thoughts.

  “Get out of my head.” I shifted to the side, and managed to pull free of her grasp. Seeing her small hand on the chair back, I was struck by a similarity from another encounter. “You did the same thing to the king when he threatened to indenture me and make me his mistress.”

  Cate ran her fingers over the upholstery. “I calmed his emotions and helped him to see reason. Otherwise, there was no telling what he might have done in a fit of passion.” A cynical smile tugged at her mouth. “Over the years, I have learned that it is often easier to prevent a mistake than to undo one.”

  “And you did it to me the night I was attacked by the hound.”

  “Time was short. I needed you to see the danger lurking in the forest so you would get into the carriage.”

  I crossed my arms in a show of annoyance, not sure how I felt about this skill of persuasion, regardless of the irrefutable benefits. Thanks to Justine Rose, my world had been rocked to its foundation, yet here I sat in a state of absolute calm, accepting certain truths in a matter of seconds rather than the weeks or months it would have otherwise taken.

  Cate released a slow breath, then walked the short distance to the bed. Sitting down, she folded her hands demurely in her lap. “If I’m not mistaken, you have some questions for me.”

  Some questions! I almost laughed aloud from the understatement. After everything Justine had said, I doubted enough answers existed to satisfy what I needed to know.

  Even so, one curiosity burned hotter than the rest. “How old are you?” I asked. “And don’t you dare claim five and twenty. I shan’t fall for that again no matter what’s recorded in the family bible.” Five and twenty plus another hundred more like it.

  Cate didn’t bat an eye. “The best I can determine, I was born around 150 AD in what is now known as the county Dublin. I’ve lost track of the exact number of years, but you are welcome to do the math. I came to London in 218 AD, as I’m sure you saw from the inscription on the altar in All Hallows.”

  “Caitria Ni Brid,” I said softly, recalling the name inscribed above the date.

  “That was my first name, though no one but Tom has used it for over a thousand years. We met in London in 487 AD, shortly after he left Ireland. He was born during the time of St. Patrick, so that would put him in the early to mid-fifth century.”

  I swallowed hard. Cate was over fifteen hundred years old, and Tom just a few hundred years younger.

  Based on the laws binding our kind, such longevity should have been impossible. “You’ve learned to heal yourself, haven’t you?” I looked at her expectantly, knowing it was the only explanation.

  “To a point,” she said. “Extending life, though, didn’t come until much later, and not without Brigid’s consent.”

  “Did she make you immortal?”

  “That all depends on your definition of the word. If you mean the ability to hold death at bay indefinitely, then yes, I am immortal. However, that does not imply that I am indestructible. I can still die like any person, it’s just much harder to kill me. Beheading would do the job. Possibly drowning or being burned at the stake.”

  “So anything you can’t heal quickly enough to sustain life.”

  “More or less, though you’d be amazed what I’ve been able to survive. Humans can have a tendency toward violence when confronted with something different or unexplained.” She paused for a moment, folding and unfolding her hands in thought. “I assume your mother told you that the goddess born did not always have to live in secret.”

  I nodded, having been well versed on this part of our history.

  “Well, I was fortunate to be born during such a time, into a tribe where each person could trace a bloodline directly to Brigid. Our gifts were commonly known, and commonly shared, which allowed us to live in near utopian conditions. With the power to heal and grow food, no one had to suffer heedlessly from sickness or hunger. Traders traveled hundreds of miles to obtain goods forged by our craftsmen and blacksmiths.” A hint of the usual spark returned to her eyes. “And above all, we had the gift of poetry and song.”

  My mouth tightened from the not so subtle reminder of Justine.

  “You have been acquainted with so few of our kind,” Cate said, “you may not know that we are all born with varying degrees of power.”

  Until coming to London, I had known only three other goddess born, and the differences between us had been significant. “My mother’s power far exceeded both my father’s and brother’s. And she said I had been born with a gift that exceeded her own.”

  “So it was for me as well. Even amongst an entire tribe of goddess born, such a power as mine had never been known. While still a child, I surpassed every healer in the village, and against tradition, the elders named me a full shaman long before I had reached womanhood. My parents were pleased by these abilities, but it was my grandmother who encouraged me to explore the full extent of my power. We used to go into the woods together for hours on end to test the boundaries, and soon discovered that I could indeed heal myself.”

  “Is this when you learned to pass your thoughts onto others?” As a recent recipient of her skill, I should have sounded more offended. Instead, I heard an underlying excitement that belied an aspiration I had yet to admit.

  She nodded slightly. “Though not at first. My grandmother knew I could feel others’ emotions whenever I healed, so she took it into her head that I should be able to hone this skill into reading their actual thoughts.”

  Excitement jumped inside me. “Can you?” I asked, making no attempt to mask my true feelings.

  A smile touched her lips, and she gave me such a look, it seemed she could read my mind from ten paces away. “Yes, I can, and that ability alone has saved my life countless times over the years. It’s hard to be taken unaware when you know a person’s true intentions.”

  Warm tingles ran under my skin, right up to my crown. Saints above! How often had I wished for that skill? Yet, all this time it had never occurred to me to push the boundaries as Cate had done. “Did you learn to do anything else?”

  She didn’t answer
at once, but let her gaze drift to the window where the rain pinged against the panes. The extended silence spurred my impatience, and I soon started to worry at one of my rings.

  After a moment, she turned back to me. “I will show you something else that I discovered long after my grandmother’s death, but you must promise to stay calm.”

  My fingers froze in mid-motion. “Does it involve the inside of my head?”

  Cate laughed. “No, my dear, this particular trick involves only me.” Unfolding her hands, she placed one on either side of the bed. “Prepare yourself. I’ve been told the first time can be quite a shock.”

  Anticipation thumped in my chest. Unsure what to expect, I followed her lead, bracing a hand on either side of the cushion. Then I leaned forward to have a better look. “I’m ready.”

  She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. I stared at her face, and for half a heartbeat, saw nothing more than the shadows cast by the diminishing daylight. In another heartbeat, the shadows appeared darker against her fair complexion. I gasped, a hand pressed to my mouth, as deep creases stretched across her forehead and cheeks. The once firm skin grew puffy and sagged at the jowls. When her shoulders slumped forward, I noticed the rich auburn curls had turned white as snow.

  Her eyes popped open, and I started with alarm. “What do you think?” she asked, in a voice so altered I would never have recognized it for her own. “Am I not a sight to behold?”

  My mouth opened and closed like a guppy, while producing nothing more than a series of unintelligible squeaks. Blinking also proved elusive as I stared wide-eyed at the woman who had just aged sixty years in a matter of seconds.

  “Are you all right, Selah? Shall I calm your nerves again?”

  She made to move when I frantically shook my head. Dropping the hand from my mouth, I forced air past the tight knot that had lodged inside my throat. “How...how did you...” The words cut off for more air.

  “It’s easier than it looks once you’ve mastered a few basic skills.”

  Partway between terrified and amazed, I squinted in an attempt to find the young woman beneath all the wrinkles. Nothing looked familiar, except perhaps the spark that remained in her clouded blue eyes.

  “Let me help you,” she said with kind amusement. In a few short seconds, her shoulders straightened and the creases began to fade from her skin. Then the hag disappeared entirely, giving way to the young woman.

  Wonder spread across every inch of my face. “How is that possible?” Even with my gift to heal, such an extreme alteration seemed nothing short of a miracle.

  Cate shifted on the bed, and her bare toes peeked from beneath the silk dressing gown. “Consider it the opposite of what we usually do. Instead of healing the sick, I am corrupting the healthy.”

  The ability to run our power backward and forward ran contrary to all I had been taught. “And that is how you’ve been able to extend life, by continually renewing your body.”

  “I could do nothing on my own other than keep a young visage until the moment I died at the end of a natural life span. No matter the strength of my own power, I am still part human, and for our kind the bands of mortality can only be extended by Brigid’s second gift.”

  The muscles bunched in my forehead. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  Cate sighed and gazed again at the window. “There is so much to tell, I scarce know what to include and what to leave out at the moment.” Her eyes drifted back to me. “Justine did you a great disservice today. Had she not interfered, it would have taken months for me to reveal the whole truth. Then I would have slowly painted a picture for you, one careful stroke at a time. Now, I fear broad strokes are necessary to fill in the events that have brought us together today.”

  I felt an odd twinge of gratitude for Justine. Not that I approved of her motivation or methods, but I preferred to learn the truth quickly rather than be spoon fed for months.

  “A brief telling of my history will answer most of your questions if you’re up to the task.” Concern clouded her face. “Unless you would prefer to wait until your nerves have had adequate time to recover. Heaven knows you’ve received enough shocks for one day. If you’re too tired, nothing is so pressing that cannot wait ’til later.”

  Courtesy of Cate’s earlier intervention, my nerves couldn’t have felt better. And though loath to admit it, Justine had been right—it was high time I cut the lead strings and learned the truth about my family.

  “I would suffer more if you sent me away with so much left untold.”

  “Very well, but let me know if you need to stop.” Her hands rested again in her lap, and she stared at them while gathering her thoughts. “As I mentioned before, Brigid’s power allowed my tribe to live in near perfect conditions. Our only real hardships were natural disasters, such as floods and drought, or the occasional raids from other tribes.

  “This ideal life changed four years after my first marriage, when we were set upon by a vicious enemy new to our small part of the world. Not satisfied with the usual bounty of food and other goods, they destroyed our entire village. Every one of my tribesmen died fighting, as did many of the women and children. When the smoke settled, they rounded up the survivors only to kill those they thought too young or too weak to serve their purposes. Then, while our dead still littered the ground, we were carried captive to the sea.”

  Each word nudged me forward, and I soon found myself perched on the edge of the chair. My ring all but forgotten, I now gripped my knees, riveted by visions from her past.

  “Eighteen of us made this initial trek. Once we arrived at the shore, the men divided us into two groups. They sold half the girls for slaves the first day, then loaded the other half into ships for the treacherous voyage to a land I later learned to be Scotland.” She sighed, and her expression turned contemplative. “During those initial days, I wished for death, and while the other girls prayed for deliverance from the sea, I prayed for the boats to capsize to obtain deliverance from my captors.”

  An odd thought played on the edge of my mind. “Why didn’t you stop them?”

  Cate gave me a queer look. “One woman against more than two score armed men? How do you think me capable of overcoming such odds?”

  It seemed so obvious, I was surprised she hadn’t thought of it herself. “By putting thoughts in the chieftain’s head, telling him to release you and the other captives.”

  She laughed as though I had just made a jest. “Reading thoughts is fairly simple work. But sowing them takes years of experience. At the time of the raid, this skill was so newly acquired, I would have been lucky to plant the mere suggestion of an itch or a dry throat.”

  “Then you should have killed them,” I persisted. “The night Julian kissed me in the garden, you said it was as easy to stop a heart as to heal one. Certainly, Brigid would have understood the necessity of your actions.”

  “Perhaps, except that I had yet to gain access to that side of my power.”

  The muscles tightened further in my forehead. “What do you mean? When I burned Julian, the power just came out of nowhere.”

  “It may have seemed so at the time, but as Brigid’s descendants, our ability to use her power in self-defense can only be woken at the hands of our mortal enemies.”

  A pale, dirty face flashed in my mind. “Cailleach’s wretch must have done it when she grabbed my arm on the docks.”

  Cate studied me for a moment. “Deri didn’t do it.”

  “Then who—”

  “It happened before you set foot in London, on the night Mr. Chubais visited Brighmor. You may recall an intense feeling of anger or hatred. Something stronger than you’d ever felt before or even thought possible.”

  My lips parted in surprise by how accurately she described my emotions. “I was so angry when he laughed at me that I threatened to tear his hea
rt out. At the time, a part of me really thought I could do it.” The savage, lunatic part that had lost all attachment to reality.

  “What seemed a moment of madness was your power awakening. And once the fire’s come out of the box, it never quite goes back, as our friend Julian learned. I can only guess that my youngest daughter, Elizabeth, never came within close enough proximity of Cailleach’s descendants or one of her creatures, otherwise Edgar Sweeney would have died in the river that day instead of her.” Anger tinged Cate’s voice and tight lines pulled at her mouth. “Your grandmother was the strongest of all my children, and would have had sufficient strength to defend herself when Cailleach came calling, as she would have inevitably done. It was that McBres boy who feared the hounds and convinced her to flee to the Colonies rather than stay and fight. If they would have stayed...” Her words trailed off, leaving the silence to fill in what had been left unspoken. If they had stayed, my grandmother and mother would still be alive. And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

  “When did it happen to you?” I asked.

  Cate steepled her fingers, then folded them again in her lap. “When word finally reached Cailleach that some of Brigid’s descendants had left Ireland.”

  “Did she send her hounds after you?” Just the thought of Mr. Chubais made me shiver.

  “That she did, about five years after we were carried into Scotland. When we first arrived in the village, the other women and I were given as slaves to the strongest warriors. I happened to be one of the fortunate ones, for the chieftain took a liking to me, and he had a kind wife. At first she set me to the most remedial tasks, like hauling water and collecting firewood. But it didn’t take long before she discovered my talent for healing.” Cate gave me a wry smile. “Like you, I nearly died for my gift until Brigid found me and opened another passageway into the Otherworld. Once this happened, word of my abilities quickly spread, and for the next three decades I served as the tribe’s shaman.

  “More than anything else, I remember this time for how it altered the course of my life. Prior to captivity, I never gave much thought to how others lived. Most of the tribes in Ireland claimed some level of descent from either Brigid or the other gods and goddesses, so I just assumed everyone lived as we did. Not until my first life came to an end, and I was carried into Scotland, did I understand what it meant to really suffer. Ashamed of my previous ignorance, I swore never again to take my gift for granted.