by D. S. Murphy
My fist connected with his chin before I knew what I was doing. It made a loud crack, which was followed by a deathly silence. Father Murphy had stopped talking and everyone was watching us with horrified expressions. Trevor smiled wickedly and massaged his jaw. Then he punched me, hard. For a second I thought he’d go right through me, like Sebastian had done to the picnic table, but he wasn’t trying to kill me. He slowed his hand down and still hit with the force of an oncoming car. I went flying backwards, crashing into one of the standing flower arrangements. It hit the ground softly. Me, not so much. I lay on the ground, gasping and clutching my ribs.
“You’re lucky I don’t kill my own kind,” Trevor said, leaning over me. “But you better figure out which side you’re on, and soon. Humans were made to serve us, we are naturally superior in every way.” Then he straightened his tie and brushed off his jacket.
“Forgive me,” he said to the dumbstruck Father Murphy. “Carry on. I’ve always been fond of Deuteronomy 28:25. ‘The LORD shall cause you to be defeated before your enemies; you will go out one way against them, but you will flee seven ways before them, and you will be an example of terror to all the kingdoms of the earth.’”
I pushed myself off the wet soil. I had a smear of mud on my cheek and dirt under my fingernails. Trevor was walking quickly away, and all eyes were on me. The beautiful flower arrangement lay in tatters on the ground. I’d ruined Travis’ funeral. My cheeks burning in shame, I mumbled an apology and walked off towards home, imagining what I’d do to Trevor if only I had a magical spear.
32
I held on tightly to Ethan, my fingers clinging to his flat stomach muscles. I was on the back of his motorcycle, heading to his place for our “date.” My dream of running off under the sea with Sebastian and having a fairy tale romance was gone. All I could see now were the merrow ripping kids to pieces on the beach, and Trevor’s smug smirk after he punched me. I knew Sebastian wouldn’t want me going to Ethan’s alone, but there was so much more at stake than my personal safety.
I’d managed to mostly avoid Patricia and Jackie all day. Though Jackie looked annoyed when I made up another excuse about why I wasn’t ready to talk about what happened at the beach, she was too nice to pressure me into sharing more than I wanted to. At least for now. She probably thought it was too traumatic for me to talk about.
Mr. Halpern was the first teacher who worked the bonfire murders into the class curriculum. According to him, the biggest mass killing in recent history had been the “Loughinisland massacre” in 1994, when a loyalist paramilitary group opened fire in a pub crowded with people watching the World Cup and killed six civilians. Now Portballintrae had its own massacre, with seven deaths, but one that was senseless and apparently without motive. It was causing a localized existential crisis in the community. Some TV pundits were blaming it on immigrants, or satanic rituals. One celebrity interview claimed aliens had done it.
Of course, I knew the truth. These deaths were just the beginning. There was no point in trying to heal or move on. It wasn’t senseless or random. It was the first skirmish in a war with a race humans didn’t even know existed. We needed to arm ourselves, and fast. I hoped Ethan would be able to help me do that.
And even though Ethan could be intense sometimes, I didn’t think he’d hurt me. Not unless he found out what I really was. I felt bad about using Ethan’s interest in me to learn more about the Tuatha Dé, but I was out of options. Someone had to do something to stop the merrow. And it seemed like I was the only person who could.
We zoomed down the narrow road, passing pastures and livestock, before entering a sparse forest. Tall tree trunks made a strobe light of the sun. The rushing wind brought scents of pine. My legs were just going numb from the vibrations of the bike when we pulled into a wide clearing, protected on all sides by cedar trees. The ground was carpeted with bright green moss. In the middle was a two-story, gothic style stone lodge, with ivy creeping up the red bricks of its façade. The building was flanked by two round towers with turrets, but the stones were broken and crumbling. If I’d discovered this place on my own, I would have assumed it was an abandoned relic of former glory, and probably haunted. Ethan brought the motorcycle to a stop and put down the kickstand, then helped me off the bike.
“Home sweet home,” he said, gesturing at the mansion.
“You live here?” I asked.
“What did you expect, a thatched cottage?”
“Yes, actually. Or maybe a log cabin.”
“The Blakes are one of the most powerful families of the Tuatha Dé Danann. At one time, we ruled most of Northern Ireland and people came for miles to pay us tribute—which made us almost obscenely wealthy.” He flashed a sly grin started walking towards the house.
“But that was centuries ago. Now, a place like this costs so much in property taxes we can barely afford to live here. Actually, my parents have a modern house nearby, but I thought this place would impress you more. After Colin died, my father, Paul, had a falling out with his father, Gilroy. He went off to college and met my mom, Kate. She was into healing and herbs, chakras and spirits, but my dad showed her some real magic. My father was the second son—Colin was always the one who was meant to take over the family role and lead the Tuatha Dé.”
“When Colin died, my grandfather tried to toughen my father up quickly, but he didn’t want a leadership role. He married my mother and became an accountant. ‘There’s no income in witchcraft’ he always said when I was growing up. Plus, there isn’t much merrow blood around anymore. All the politics between the families, the feuds and rivalries… he thought it was old-fashioned and barbaric. My mom was the one that convinced him to move back after Gilroy—my grandfather—died. She’d always been interested in the family history. She studied all our books, and learned everything she could from my grandmother. That’s why I thought you should talk to her before, when you were asking about the old stories. But not today. Today I just wanted to show you the house and introduce you to my grandmother, Morgan. She may have some of the answers you’re looking for, though I’m not sure she’ll talk to you.”
He led me up the grand staircase in front of the building and unlocked the heavy oak doors. From inside, I could see that the front windows displayed intricate patterns of stained glass, which cast patches of bright colors on the wall. It reminded me of the colors I saw in the cave, when my vision was affected.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, tracing the metal lines between the glass panels.
“I make those to sell at craft fairs,” Ethan said. “I converted the stables into a studio apartment. I live here most of the time, there’s much more space for my work.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
“You’re an artist and a magician,” I teased, pretending to fan myself. “Oh my…”
“I also take care of my grandmother, and she trains me. After my grandfather died, our family’s place in the Tuatha Dé was diminished. With Colin dead and my father refusing his role, for the first time in centuries the Blakes don’t have a seat at the inner circle. My grandmother thinks I can reclaim it when I turn eighteen.”
Ethan led me into a large living room, with antique furniture and wide windows overlooking an outdoor garden. A fire was already crackling in an ornate fireplace. A marble bust stood on the wooden mantle in front of a framed mirror. A woman with long dark hair was knitting something in a regal-looking chair covered with green felt. She stood to greet us when we came in.
“This is my grandmother,” Ethan said.
“Call me Morgan,” she said, extending her arm.
I shook her hand, then sat down when she gestured towards the sofa.
“Ethan tells me you’re interested in the Tuatha Dé. The history and legends.”
“I know little bit already,” I nodded. “I’m mostly curious about the conflict between the Tuatha Dé and the Fomorians. They were allies once right? Even relatives? But the Fomorians became oppressive, and the Tuatha Dé revolted
and threw them out of Ireland. The stories I found talk about the magical weapons the Tuatha Dé used to defeat the Fomorians. I wanted to know whether weapons like that really existed, or whether something similar could still be made today.”
“You’re asking me how to make magical weapons?” Morgan asked, raising one delicate eyebrow. “What makes you think those stories are anything more than mythology, or that I’d know anything about it?”
“I know the Tuatha Dé use magic based on merrow blood, and that the Fomorians were merrow. I know magic is real. I’m just hoping to understand it better.”
Morgan looked alarmed and glared up at Ethan. He held his hands in front of him and took a step back.
“I didn’t tell her, I swear. She did a lot of research and guessed on her own. Since she already knows so much, I thought it would be best to hear the rest from you—better to make sure she knows the truth, right?”
“I swear I won’t tell anyone,” I said quickly, trying to diffuse the tension. “It’s just… I’ve been thinking, if merrow are still out there, they might come back some day, and I’d like to know the Tuatha Dé can defeat them again.”
For a moment, I thought she was going to throw me out, but then she sighed and leaned back in her chair. I could tell she was still unnerved, but she composed herself quickly.
“Sorry for our secrecy, but we’re used to keeping to ourselves, and not trusting outsiders. The things we do here... in the outside world they think we’re witches. It wasn’t that long ago that we were tortured, or burned alive, for simply using medicinal teas, or knowing a little bit of medicine.”
“But you do use merrow blood, right?”
“We used to. Merrow blood is incredibly rare, and very valuable. For its healing qualities, of course, but also for activating runes, making objects of power. Some of the families still keep relics from former times, objects that were said to have great power. But to use them now would take more merrow blood than all of our families possess. Even if we could agree to share our stores and activate them, we’d have nothing left. Instead, we hoard what little remains, and pass on the knowledge to our children as best as we are able.”
She paused, and I took a moment to glance around the room. The high ceiling was divided by heavy wooden beams, and the walls were painted sky blue. Bookshelves lined the walls and the large windows let in a lot of natural light. It must have been a magnificent sitting room once, but it had seen better days. The stains running down the walls indicated a leaky roof, and some of the paintings were crooked, like nobody cared enough to fix them. I wondered if Morgan was lonely, living by herself in this derelict mansion.
“You asked about the conflict between the Tuatha Dé and the Fomorians,” Morgan said, pulling my eyes back to her. “This is the story I learned from my grandmother when I was a little girl.” She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering, and then began speaking in a soothing voice.
“A long time ago, merrow married humans and taught them magic. Some of them were just visitors, leaving behind offspring of mixed blood. But some of them stayed. They shared their powers and knowledge… and most importantly, their magical blood. They gave it freely at first, to protect their human families. They taught us how to channel it, and harness the power into objects or artifacts.”
“The merrow built the stones circles, places of power to strengthen the Tuatha Dé. They taught their families rituals to renew and maintain the power. These were the first Druids. Together they would fight off the human invaders coming from the mainland. But they weren’t prepared for human ambition. The human families began fighting against themselves, arguing over land. They’d also have grand competitions of magic, for entertainment, and waste buckets of merrow blood on magical displays, each family trying to outdo the others for honor and glory.”
“The demand for merrow blood became so great, hunting merrow and selling blood became a lucrative profession—humans used tricks and deceit to lure merrow into traps where they could be butchered. Merrow children were an especially easy target.”
Ethan had gone to heat up some tea, and returned with two steaming mugs. He handed one to me silently, then stood behind my chair as Morgan continued her story.
“But there were repercussions. The merrow are far stronger and more powerful than humans. When a loved one went missing and they suspected human treachery, they would retaliate. They flooded cities, or kidnapped our children to drown them underwater, or tore the heads of a whole herd of cattle and left them to rot. Most merrow stopped coming to shore altogether; they’d warn their children against setting foot on land, and to always run from a human. Those merrow who did come to land were harsh merchants or traders. They used the humans for sport or profit.”
“Our story begins with the Druidess Birog. The Fomorian general Balor heard a prophecy that his grandson would destroy him, so he locked his daughter Eithne in a tower on Tory Island. But then he stole a magical cow from Goibniu, the smith. Fed up with the abuse against his people, one of the young Tuatha Dé chieftans, Cian, and the Druidess Birog, promised to get it back and seek revenge against Balor.
Birog helped Cian sneak into the Balor’s tower, and there he encountered Eithne. They were smitten with each other, and she later gave birth to three sons. Balor sent a messenger to drown them in a whirlpool, due to the prophecy, but one boy escaped and was rescued by Birog. She gave the child to her brother, Goibniu the smith, and he was raised as Tuatha Dé. This was Lugh.”
“Nuadha was the first king of the Tuatha Dé, and he ruled for seven years—until he lost an arm in battle. According to tradition, Nuadha couldn’t rule because he was physically imperfect, so Balor replaced him with Bres, a half-Fomorian prince who was loyal to the merrow. Under Bres, the Tuatha Dé were required to pay an awful tribute, to keep the humans powerless and in check. This was the environment Lugh grew up in.”
“As tensions rose between the Tuatha Dé and the Fomori, Lugh decided to defeat the merrow once and for all and free his people. He asked Goibniu to make him a powerful weapon, a spear of nearly miraculous qualities. Goibniu also made Nuadha a mechanical arm of silver, and a powerful sword. With his new arm, Nuadha qualified for kingship. Bres was removed by a coup, and Nuadha was restored. Bres fled to Tory island to request Balor’s help, and together they gathered a merrow army to restore Fomorian rule of the Tuatha Dé. Balor defeated Nuadha in battle, but Lugh threw his spear through Balor’s poisonous eye, killing Balor and scattering his armies.”
Morgan finished her tea and set her cup down on the table before continuing.
“The Tuatha Dé lived in peace for a thousand years… but without a fresh supply of merrow blood their powers lessened considerably. As more and more mainlanders began moving to Ireland, they believed the Tuatha Dé practiced witchcraft and communed with the devil. We mostly kept to ourselves, became secretive. But they still feared us. During the witch hunts, one of the main tests for witchcraft was to throw a witch in water. If they drowned, they were innocent, if they floated, they were guilty. Of course, most Tuatha Dé don’t have much merrow blood and would drown. However, some Tuatha Dé, with purer blood, instead of drowning, would adapt to the pressure and learn to breath underwater. Others would use a spell or magical artifact to save their lives when put through such a test.”
“But eventually, everything real became superstition and madness. The Tuatha Dé became legendary creatures who lived underground, called the Good People. It was believed that fleeing into a graveyard or jumping across a creek were other options, because the Good People couldn’t follow you into a graveyard or across water. They are right to fear us, and our powers, we are not to be trifled with.”
When Morgan finished talking, I looked up for Ethan but didn’t see him. I hadn’t even noticed him leave the room. I felt awkward, alone with Morgan. Her eyes were sharp and piercing, as if she were trying to look under my skin. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I got up to check out at the books on the shelf.
; “Forgive me for staring,” Morgan said, “it’s just that you look so much like your mother.” Did Ethan tell her who my mother was, or did she guess?
“Did you know her well?” I hedged, unsure how Morgan would react if I brought up Colin’s murder.
“Not as well as I would have liked,” Morgan said.
“She was, dating your son... is that right?”
“Briefly,” she said. “They met in high school. Were drawn together, and then inseparable for several months. Until Colin died.”
Now that she’d broached the subject, I decided to push ahead.
“I’m trying to figure out what really happened. I know my mother and Colin were planning on running away together. My mother thought someone was after her.”
“Who would that be, dear?”
“I don’t think she knew. I don’t think Colin ever told her.”
Morgan stirred her tea, then tapped her spoon against the side of the cup before setting it down on a dish.
“What exactly are you asking of me?” She folded her hands in her lap in a casual pose, but there was an edge to her voice. The silence in the room seemed to crackle with energy, and I realized how stupid it had been to come here. Ethan may not have put it together yet, but I could tell by Morgan’s saccharine smile that she had. Colin and Branna were running away from something dangerous. What if the Tuatha Dé had been the dangerous ones? What am I thinking, of course they were. Sebastian and Ethan both told me how they treated merrow. But, if the Tuatha Dé were after my mother, why had they killed Colin, Morgan’s son? It didn’t make any sense.
“I met your mother a few times,” Morgan continued. “And then there was that tragic accident, if you can call it that. It was no accident that someone put a knife through my son’s heart.”
“But the police said they never even checked into it?”
“We wanted to keep it a private affair.”