Moira's Song (The Moira McCauley Series Book 1)

by Lee, Tawnya

  “Mom, could we go to the pool today?” Moira asked.

  Gayle, Moira's mother, glanced at the clock on the stove. The bold red digits glared 3:45 pm. She glanced back at her daughter, shrugged and sighed, “Why not? Get your suit on. We’ll go in a minute.”

  “Yippee!” Moira raced to her room. She emerged moments later dressed in her bathing suit, with a towel draped around her neck. Moira ran to her mom and hugged her.

  Gayle pushed her daughter back and inspected her.

  “Look at your thighs," Gayle complained. "They shouldn’t touch at the top like that. You need to lose weight.”

  Gayle pursed her lips together, huffed, and turned back down the hall toward her bedroom. Moira’s smile deflated as she looked at her mother’s back. An old, gilded mirror hung on the living room wall. She turned and examined herself in that mirror. Her one-piece bathing suit modestly covered her 5’ frame. While staring at her imperfection, she noticed bits of white dust and streaks on the mirror. Her eyes focused on the streaks, resisting the pain of seeing her reflection.

  Moira turned, sat down on the couch, hunched over, and hugged her belly. As she choked back self-hate, she stared at the couch. The floral pattern was faded, almost shiny in spots. The cushion next to her was worn through, revealing a small, circular thatch of heavy threads. The frayed edges zoomed larger and almost jumped out at her from the couch as Moira stared.

  Gayle strolled back into the living room. “Look at your stomach. You have a roll. You shouldn’t have a belly roll at your age. You’re only ten!”

  Moira straightened up and sucked in her breath. She raised her head, but her eyes were dull and heavy.

  “Humph,” Gayle said, grabbing her Marlboros from the end table. “You’re always pouting. Wipe that look off your face or we won’t go swimming.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Together, they stepped out the front door and walked down the drive. Moira’s shoulders slumped as she walked behind her mother. She pulled the beach blanket over her shoulders tighter, in effort to shield herself. The echoing sounds of children laughing came closer and closer, but Moira didn’t hear a thing. She didn’t want to swim at all.

  Moira, lost in the past, sat in the stillness of the cabin living room. Gayle had been dead nearly a year. Moira could barely remember the sound of her voice. Over the last months, the only time she could clearly recall it was in her dreams. Life with her mom had been complicated. She loved her mom fiercely, and the older Moira got, the closer they became. But her mom had two sides. A true Jekyll and Hyde. She never knew which mom she would get in any one moment. Would her mom be sane, rational, loving? Or would she inflict pain and terror? Gayle had always been her number one critic. Criticizing her clothes, her weight, her interests. She never had the sense she lived up to her mom’s standards.

  Despite all of that, grief clung to her like water-soaked clothes. At the moment, her pain was dull. Heavy, but dull. Losing her mom had been like losing her roots, her sense of self. Her mom was the last link to blood kin besides the boys. And when the boys’ father died, any sunlight within her extinguished. Any hope she thought she’d have for personal happiness died with him. She felt off-balance with the world before Breasal turned her. Now she felt completely upside down. The boys were her anchor. They kept her rooted in the moment. The days she wanted to fade away and disappear, they were there. Needing her. Loving her. She longed to give them what she never had, a sense of routine comfort, of full acceptance. She wanted them to be saturated in her love and safe in its consistency. She was all they had and they returned the favor.

  At the moment, they were asleep. She could hear the beating of their hearts, smell their breath, and make out scenes from their dreams from her seat on the chair. There were days she wished her mom could see the boys. And every day, she wished their dad, John Michael, was still alive to help raise them. She wanted to show her mom how Derek organized his toy cars, all in a row, or tell her how Tristan climbed to the top of the crib and was trying to jump off as she walked in his room last week. She longed for a husband to hold her hand at night, after putting the children to sleep. But there was no one with which to share her pride and fears. They had been stolen from her. And now, any normalcy, any chance to be fully present with them had been stolen from her too.

  Moira heard one of the boys stir, bringing her back to the present. Kali sat beside her, one paw outstretched, oblivious to the weight her human bore. White heat rose in Moira’s chest. What kind of mom could she be now? Everything she’d struggled to build for them was laid to waste. They would never have a normal childhood. She clenched her fists, feeling the bite of her fingernails against her palms.

  The angrier she became, the more she felt heat rising in her chest. The smoke alarm overhead began to beep. Kali hissed and ran under the couch. Moria reached up to touch the alarm and nearly burned her fingers. Looking up, she saw the ceiling around the smoke detector was singed. It hadn’t been damaged before today. Moira grabbed the smoke alarm, yanked the batteries out and tossed it all on the couch. She walked to the thermostat on the opposite wall. It was cracked. She switched the air on. Nothing happened. She banged the side of the thermostat. Still nothing.

  “Come on, dammit. Turn on!” Moira gritted her teeth.

  The woosh of the ac unit switched on. Moira jumped. Surely that had to be a coincidence, she thought. Or was this another side effect? Controlling air conditioners? How useless would that be? Except maybe in the summertime.

  The white heat roiled through her again. She stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched, breathing heavily. She let the heat build within her, and then yelled.

  “Turn off!”

  Immediately, the unit shut off.

  “Turn on,” she thought silently. The ac unit grumbled and began to hum. She didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified. She scanned the room. The lights were off. Focusing on the light bulbs in the ceiling fan she thought “Turn on.” Light filled the room. A smile curled the edge of her lip. She looked at the TV set. “Turn on” she thought. Light on the black TV set expanded outward from the center. Jessica Simpson appeared on the set, smiling and holding a bottle of Proactiv. Moira clapped her hands together and grinned.

  One by one, she turned each device off save the air conditioner. Her thoughts whirled through her. The idea that it may come in handy chilled her, but she’d do anything to protect her children. Thinking of the stories Breasal told of Aithne, she wondered if she too could control the birds, or at least speak with them.

  She stepped out into the darkness of the back porch. Even in the darkness, she could see the gradations in the concrete and the individual blades of grass just beyond the porch. She walked to the edge of the patio and stared up at the inky sky. Clouds parted, and the light of the moon spilled onto the backyard. She noticed the leaves in the trees, small pine needles and cones. The wind picked up, and the branches and needles whispered with the breeze. Her eyebrows knitted together as she closed her eyes. She worked to filter out the cacophony of sound, until she heard the heartbeats of a mother bird, and her two eggs. She looked in the direction of the sound and saw a nest in a pine tree roughly fifty feet away from her.

  Mother bird, thought Moira. Do you hear me? I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t want to hurt your eggs. Can you hear me? Do you understand me?

  Moira stood on the porch, directing all her energy and focus on the tree and the mother bird. For a second, Moira thought it wasn’t working. She wasn’t sure what to even expect. The bird couldn’t exactly answer back. Then she remembered sensing the thoughts of Derek and Tristan. It wasn’t so much actual thoughts and words but impressions and feelings.

  Moira breathed out and shook her hands to release her tension. “One more time,” she muttered. She sent her psychic message to the bird and focused her intention on sensing the bird’s feelings rather than words.

  Moira’s mouth dropped open. Protectiveness washed over Moira, but it wasn’t her emot
ion. It was the bird’s. Suddenly, scenes popped in her mind. Moira saw the bird hunting for worms and bits of food as well as additional materials for her nest the day before. She saw the bird eye her eggs and stretch a wing across them in the nest. Then, the scene changed and Moira saw the bird watching a snake slithering in the grass below. Moira could feel the bird’s anxiety and concern as she watched for predators from the apparent safety of the tree.

  Moira felt a connection to the bird. She related to the bird’s worry and desire to protect her young. She began to sense the bird’s worry through the day, worrying about the nest falling, and worrying about barn owls swooping in to attack her. In her gut, she knew that if she wanted, she could encourage the bird to fly out of the nest or even peck her own eggs until they cracked. Not that she wanted to do those things, but Moira knew, or rather felt, that if she focused just a little more the bird would do her bidding. She didn’t know how she knew this, she just did.

  Moira thought about Aithne’s ravens. She recalled an article she’d read once about crows’ intelligence, and stories of people who had befriended the bird and bonded with them. She decided tomorrow she would begin to work with the crows to see how far she could take the telepathic bond. She wanted to do something practical for the bird. She was deciding between making the nest more secure, or providing the bird with a birdhouse when she sensed someone in the cabin.

  She held her breath and attempted to feel out who was inside. At once, she sensed Breasal. She opened the door to walk inside. Inside the living room, Moira saw a slender, tall woman with black hair. Her green eyes were sharp, guarded. Moira sensed she was shielding herself from Moira’s probing energy.

  “Moira, this is Seara. She is a long-time friend, someone we can trust.”

  Seara smiled. “And didn’t you tell her I was coming, Breasal? I can see what you mean about being extremely protective. She’s a fierce one.”

  Seara smiled and stepped toward Moira, “I’m sorry to take you by surprise. I hope it’s alright, my being here.”

  Moira looked at Seara’s out-stretched hand. Moira shook her hand and a warmth seeped through her body. It was like taking the first bite of her favorite chocolate pie; oxytocin rushed through her veins. Looking into Seara’s eyes, Moira knew she was revealing just enough so Moira would feel at ease.

  “What did you just do?” Moira asked.

  “I let you feel the energy of my motivation. For personal reasons, I shield my thoughts from all vampires except when necessary. Almost all of us can read each other’s thoughts. There are exceptions, however. But I wanted you to at least get a feeling of what my intentions are.”

  Moira nodded.

  Breasal looked at Moira. “I apologize for not telling you I’d bring her. It was a last minute thought. I believed she would be helpful. Perhaps having a woman around may make you more comfortable.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Moira realized that as soon as she touched Seara, her heartbeat had slowed. She knew Seara had done something to her to make her feel that way, but Moira didn’t want to shake it. Whatever it was, it dulled the pain, stress, and worry she’d had for the last several days. She didn’t want it to end.

  Moira sat down in the yellow chair. Her muscles softened, and she sank deeper into the seat. She closed her eyes and felt the room spin, her consciousness floating just outside her physical body. She snapped her eyes open when she realized the two blood-drinkers were staring at her. Awareness shot through her spine.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Moira asked.

  Seara sat on the couch across from Moira. Breasal followed suit.

  “Did Breasal mention the Tribunal to you?”

  “Briefly,” Moira answered.

  “I don’t know if Moira is ready to hear this, Seara.”

  “And isn’t it cruel not to tell her?” Seara said.

  Moira looked at the woman. “Tell me what?”

  “The Tribunal is made of three elders, The Taoiseach,23 the Brehon,24 and the File.25 These elders govern and lead us. They also decide what happens when those laws are broken. The laws are in place to keep our kind from being discovered. It’s for the safety of our race,” Seara said. “As such, they determine what sort of contact we may have with our human families once we’ve turned. There is a law. The law of motherhood. We view motherhood as being sacred. It’s not only how mankind endures, but our kind as well. How else can we live, if not for the humans we once were?”

  Seara continued. “So, we don’t turn, or create a new blood-drinker, until after a woman’s children are grown, or we do it before she is able to have children. Breasal broke this law.”

  “What will they do to him?” Moira asked.

  “It’s not so much what they will do to him but what they will force you to do that concerns me,” Seara responded.

  “What do you mean ‘force me to do’?” Moira’s eyes narrowed.

  “Brehon law states that any woman who becomes part of Na Fuilteacha and has minor children will be required to either kill them or abandon them.”

  “Kill them?”

  As Moira jumped from her seat, three lights in the living room burst. The smoke detector wailed, despite not having batteries, and the air conditioner completely shut down. Moira looked at the smoke detector, eyes blazing. The plastic melted and began to drip into the cushions and onto the floor. The batteries beside it popped and a spark flew across the room. The device fell silent.

  Seara and Breasal sat calm but focused on Moira. She rushed to Breasal and grabbed him by his throat. “Damn you, motherfucker. I could kill you right now for the shit you’ve done to me. You fucking knew they would come after me. You fucking knew they would take my children!”

  He swallowed, but otherwise he gave no reaction. Moira pushed him back onto the couch and stood, heaving with anger. He straightened his collar and stayed silent.

  “We won’t let that happen,” said Seara. “This is why I’m here. We are working on a plan to protect you and your children. We will also petition the Tribunal, should it come to that. We hope we can persuade them to make an exception.”

  “You won’t let that happen? You won’t let that happen? Like hell it will happen.” The vein on Moira’s forehead began to pop out from her skin.

  “Moira, even you may have difficulties alone with the Tribunal. We have an entire group of Na Fuilteacha who wish to help. We may even find other Banba witches willing to throw in. Please, calm down. If not for your sake, then for your children’s,” said Breasal.

  “You! You’re the reason I even need to be calm for my children. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t fucking turned me, you goddamn bastard!”

  “I know. And I would say I’m sorry, but it was fate. I did what needed to be done.”

  Moira stood, rage roiling through her body. She stormed to the hallway, then glanced back at the vampires.

  “Before I kill us all, I need to breathe. To be alone,” said Moira.

  “Let me help,” Seara said. “I know you are angry. You have every right to be. I’m sorry this was done to you. I don’t exactly agree with Breasal’s timing or methods. But if you don’t calm down, you may accidentally hurt your children. You could set fire to the cabin without trying. Come here and let me help you.”

  Seething, Moira took a deep breath and let it out. She knew Seara was right. She had no idea what she was really capable of doing. She could very well set the whole town on fire if she didn’t control herself. She walked over to Seara and lifted her hand.

  Seara took Moira’s hand and kissed it. A slow, luxurious warmth spread up Moira’s arm and down her legs. She felt the heat settling down. Seara pulled Moira to her and held her. The feeling of safety and contentment washed over Moira. She was lost in the rush of hormones and pheromones. She leaned into Seara, submitting to the delicious waves that washed over her.

  She’d been leaning on Seara for several minutes when she realized she smelled Seara’s blood. It had been 48 h
ours since she drank from Breasal. She felt a tingle move from her roots to her throat. She wanted to taste Seara, to drink of her. Moira pushed back and looked at Seara. Seara stared back.

  “It’s ok. You can drink from me,” Seara held her wrist to Moira. “Be careful. Not too much. You can’t kill me but you could weaken me.”

  Moira grabbed Seara’s wrist and bit into the soft flesh. A familiar salty rush hit her tongue. She drank greedily and moaned. Seara smiled, with a somewhat intoxicated expression on her face.

  “Ok Moira. Enough.”

  Moira didn’t want to stop but did anyway. She looked at Seara, surprised at herself. Then she wiped the blood from her chin.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Moira said.

  “You need to hunt. Breasal, has she hunted yet?” asked Seara.

  “No. First we need to find someone who can watch her children. Someone trustworthy,” Breasal turned to Moira, “Then we can show you how to take blood, without killing. It’s important you know how. Too many dead victims can create suspicion. You don’t need that kind of attention.”

  “It will be dawn soon. At some point, Moira, you’ll need to rest. Breasal is right. We need several reliable people to help care for your children. Not just for night feedings, but for daytime. You are a young sidhe. But the longer time goes on, you will either need to feed more or rest more. A good solid blood feast could keep you going for days. But you can’t kill enough people to always be awake for your children,” Seara said.

  “Can you imagine the lies I’ll have to tell my children to protect them?”

  Moira’s eyes dulled. The corners of her mouth turned down. She stared at the floor and sighed. She could easily kill Breasal for turning her. But she needed him. She also knew fighting against what is would be useless. Every fiber of her being shouted to protect her children. Yet she couldn’t do that without letting these two blood-drinkers into her life. She needed their guidance and expertise. Without them and their help, she was open to attack, and vulnerable to the demands of the Tribunal. Moira stood.