If he’d had any doubts about Cora’s craziness, this settled them. Abel panicked and sprinted into the kitchen. He was just out the back door when Cora screamed.
“She’s home?” Morrigan asked from the car. “You could have been killed going back like that.” Her tone was more admiring than angry.
Abel leaned hard on the driver’s side door. “Cow’s head.”
“What?”
“She had a cow’s head. Who carries around a cow’s head?” Abel’s voice was at least two octaves higher than normal, but he was way beyond controlling it.
Morrigan shrugged. “She brings home weird things for spells sometimes. Forget it.”
“Forget the cow’s head?!”
“Stop saying cow’s head and get in before she kills you!” Morrigan jerked her thumb at the passenger seat.
“Yeah, sure.” Abel opened the driver’s side door. “Scoot over.”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you learn to drive from television too?” Abel asked.
Morrigan glared at him, but she slid over to the passenger seat. Abel leaped into the driver’s seat and jammed the key into the ignition, cranking it to life. He floored the gas and the car took off down the driveway.
Straight for Cora.
The woman’s eyes glinted like deadly flames in the headlight beams. She snatched at them as they swerved past, but all she caught was air. Heat pricked the back of Abel’s neck, but he didn’t dare turn around lest he see green fire coming from—he didn’t want to know where. He just drove all the faster, hoping the roar of the engine would drown out Cora’s screams of rage. But they echoed in his ears for miles after the house disappeared behind them.
7
Morrigan whooped as they turned onto the highway. “I’m free! After all these years, I’m finally free!”
The tinny tones of “I’ll Fly Away” rang out from Abel’s pocket, and he sighed.
“That your phone?” Morrigan asked.
Abel nodded. “Probably the Reverend wondering why I haven’t come home yet.”
Morrigan held out her hand. “Let me see it.”
Abel pulled away from her. “You’re not gonna answer him?”
“Of course not. I’m not stupid. Just give me the phone.”
Abel pulled it from his pocket and handed it over.
“Thanks,” Morrigan said, and chucked it into the road behind them.
Abel swerved onto the shoulder and slammed the brakes so hard Morrigan had to grab the car door to keep from flying out.
“What are you doing?!” she asked. “We can’t stop now. Cora will be after us any minute!”
“What am I doing?!” Abel shouted, leaping out of the car and running back down the highway toward his shattered phone. “What are you doing? You don’t just take someone’s phone and wreck it like that!”
“You want your dad tracking us with that thing?” Morrigan turned in her seat. “Or Cora?”
Abel ran his fingers through the pieces of his device and glared at her. “Did you hear about people tracking phones on TV too?”
Morrigan crossed her arms. “Are you sure Cora can’t track phones?”
Abel wanted to argue, but he didn’t know what the woman was capable of. Besides, nothing he could say would bring back his phone. So he walked back to the car, hands in his pockets, glaring at Morrigan.
“Believe me, Cora has plenty of ways to track us down, even without a ‘Find My Phone’ app,” Morrigan went on. “I don’t want her finding us until I’m ready for her.”
“I don’t want her finding us at all.” Abel climbed back into the car.
Morrigan leaned back in her seat. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe once I’ve killed her.”
Abel did a double take. “Once you’ve what?!”
“Are you gonna yell at me anytime I do or say anything now?” Morrigan asked.
“I’m sorry,” said Abel, “but either you’ve gone crazy or I have.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you talking about killing people like it’s normal!” Abel shouted.
“It is normal,” said Morrigan. “It’s kind of in my job description.”
“Oh right,” said Abel. “War goddess.” When he said it out loud, it seemed ridiculous. In fact, the whole night was ridiculous, now that the danger was gone and the adrenaline had worn off. Undead gnomes, green fire from thin air, and evil not-mothers were hard enough to believe, but this was one impossible thing too many.
“You really expect me to believe you’re a goddess?” he asked. “You’re a teenager! You’re handy with a sword, yeah, but anybody could do that with enough training. It doesn’t make you divine, and it certainly doesn’t give you the right to go around threatening to murder people you don’t like…”
He had more to say, but not enough breath with which to say it. The surrounding air seemed thick, trembling, and far too close. His body flashed hot and cold, sweat making red-tinted tracks down his bloodstained skin. And in front of him, Morrigan had grown larger, darker, eyes black holes in a red-splotched skeleton face with dagger teeth. Black wings stretched from her shoulders to the sky, now full of clouds and shadows and fire-red lightning and echoing with the cries of a thousand battles.
This was beyond fear. This was utter dread, the sense of doom of standing in the shadow of a mountain falling from the sky, of a mushroom cloud on the horizon, of an eldritch monstrosity rising from the depths. The despair shook him to his core, to the core of his core, to a core so deep even his most macabre fever dreams hadn’t dredged it.
Abel didn’t realize he’d blacked out until he felt Morrigan shaking him awake. When he opened his eyes, she was the teenage girl he knew, and more concerned than he’d seen her yet.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to use my powers. I guess I got carried away.”
“Carried away. Right.” Carried away like a runaway freight train, Abel finished in his head. “What was that?”
“One of my many talents,” Morrigan said with a grin. “It comes in handy in a battle, making your opponents cower in fear before you even strike a blow. A battle without hope of victory is a battle lost.”
“You should have tried that on Cora,” said Abel.
“Couldn’t. That ankle monitor inhibited my powers too. That’s why I needed you.”
“And to drive the getaway car.” Abel smiled. Morrigan might have dark divine powers he couldn’t understand, but at least he had driving lessons on her.
Morrigan frowned. “I’d have figured it out.”
“It’s a stick shift,” said Abel. “You wouldn’t have gotten it in gear before Cora caught you.”
Morrigan patted the sword by her side. “Never point out the shortcomings of a girl with a sword.”
Abel remembered her swordsmanship earlier. He cleared his throat. “The point is, I’m driving this car, and I’m not going back to murder anybody. I’m putting as much distance between us and Cora and the Reverend as possible. If you’ve got a problem with that, you can get out and walk back.”
Morrigan’s lips twitched upwards and her eyebrows arched in amusement. “I’m not going back now. I’ve got time. And if you’re driving, I’m picking the music.” She dug through the glove compartment, pulled out an AC/DC cassette tape, and put it in the player. “Highway to Hell” blasted through the speakers.
Abel cringed as he pulled back onto the highway. This is gonna be a long ride. But even though the lyrics made him squirm, he couldn’t help smiling as Morrigan sang along off-key, hands in the air. Now that was a picture of how it felt to be free.
Cora stood at the door of her bedroom and stared at the blood-soaked shambles. Her own bedroom, violated. Her own daughter, kidnapped. Never had she felt more lost than at this moment. Everything in her wanted to fall sobbing to the floor.
But I gave up tears a long time ago. I’m a force of nature. I don’t give in when people press on m
e; I press back, and I flatten their world and burn it to the ground.
But Morgan…
She’d been alone for so many centuries before she found the goddess, powerful and bloodthirsty and so much like Cora in her youth. She watched her for months, through brawls and skirmishes, caring for the dying and the dead. She’d seen the anger and the hatred in Morrigan’s eyes, and she knew she’d found someone who would understand, who would see her and know her and love her as she deserved to be loved.
So she’d laid a trap: wounded a poor soul near to death and waited by his bedside disguised as a beggar woman cleaning the floors. Morrigan hadn’t even looked at her as she moved toward the man, ready to usher him into the next life—until Cora lunged at her and snapped the enchanted iron band around her ankle. The man passed into the next life unescorted, doomed to wander that room until someone found his soul again, while Cora dragged Morrigan off to her lair.
They’d been together ever since, through poverty, near starvation and immigrating to America. They’d lost the Irish accents to avoid discrimination, and, after a few discreet business investments and conveniently arranged inheritances, they’d built some comfortable wealth. They kept a low profile to avoid any gods that might come looking for Morrigan, renamed Morgan to better blend in. And over the years, Morgan’s begging and pleading and wailing had hardened into loathing and resigned frustration. Not ideal, but easier for Cora to respect. Another few decades, perhaps, and it might even have mellowed into love.
Then someone had stolen her away in the night, right when Cora was on the verge of removing the last barrier between them. And she knew exactly who it was. She had stared into his eyes as he almost ran her down in her own car.
The preacher’s boy.
Well, Cora Hammond didn’t take things lying down. She had her resources, and more power than most people ever dreamed of. And she’d been busy these last couple of centuries, building an American spy network to rival her Irish connections.
She pulled her cellphone out of her purse and dialed the first in a series of numbers to her eyes on the highways. If Morgan and her boyfriend were anywhere in the southeastern United States, they’d be found soon enough.
In the meantime, she’d focus on her big project. She’d found the cemetery, and Samhain was only a few days away. She had the cow’s skull downstairs, ready to strip of flesh and organs. If she gathered all the other preparations in time, Morgan would come home to a world without the constant pressure of responsibility, with no distractions from her loving mother. They could finally be together forever.
And as for that boy … Cora would take great pleasure in ripping his corpse apart and burning the remains to ashes.
No one takes my baby.
Monday, October 28
2:29 AM
Hey, God. It’s me, Abel.
So gods are a thing. Like, what?
Yeah, Morgan—sorry, Morrigan—is a goddess with supernatural powers, and she fights monsters, and she really is thousands of years old. I don’t know why I’m telling you when you already know that. Maybe because I wish you’d given me a little heads up.
I don’t know why I’m still talking to you. Magic is real. Gods, plural, are real. None of that is in the Bible. How can all that exist and you be real too?
Maybe I’m avoiding that question because you’re the only thing keeping my whole universe from flipping upside down. Everything around me is changing, but if I hold onto the belief that you’re the same yesterday, today, and forever, then maybe I won’t go crazy.
Part of me wishes I’d never left home, stayed ignorant of all this stuff, and lived a boring, trapped, normal life. At least then I wouldn’t have to rethink my concept of reality. But it’s more important to know the truth, right? Even if it makes my brain hurt to think about it.
Besides, if I hadn’t, Morrigan would still be under Cora’s thumb, and she makes the Reverend look like Parent of the Year. For all his faults, at least he isn’t homicidal.
But when I think of Mom alone with him…
Please look after her, God. Because I don’t think I’ll be able to go back for a long time. Bonus points if you can get her out of there. Maybe now that I’m gone, she’ll have no reason to stay. That’d be awesome.
Thanks, God. Abel out.
8
“As someone who’s been around since before the druids started worshipping trees, someone who has tasted the food of gods and kings,” said Morrigan, chewing thoughtfully, “I have to say that bacon cheeseburgers are the greatest miracle of culinary history.”
“Let’s see if you still think that when you need another rest stop in half an hour,” said Abel, shaking his head and smiling.
They’d already stopped at one rest area to clean up. Abel had washed the blood from his skin and hair and tried to get the stains out of his sweater, but with no luck. Morrigan hadn’t even tried, just scrubbed her body clean and strutted out in her red-splattered clothes. It was an improvement, but they’d still frightened the daylights out of the waitress at the old fashioned drive-in diner where they stopped for breakfast. The poor girl almost dropped their food, but Morrigan threw herself over Abel and snatched the tray before it fell.
“Student film,” Morrigan had explained, gesturing to their bloodstained clothes. “Zombie flick. We filmed through the night and haven’t had a chance to change.”
The waitress’s eyes had widened with mild terror, but she’d nodded, wheeled around on her roller skates, and zipped back inside.
“You don’t think she’ll call the police?” Abel had asked. “I’m still a minor, and this is a stolen car. If someone reports us…”
Morrigan had shaken her head. “The police are the least of our worries. But you let me know the second you hear a siren, and we’ll hit the road. I know how to lose people I don’t want to follow me.”
Now she sucked her milkshake through a straw. “Mmm. Actually, in terms of greatest food of all time, pumpkin spice is giving bacon cheeseburgers a run for their money.”
“We keep eating like this, we won’t be in any shape to run from the law.” Abel popped a tater tot into his mouth.
“I’ve been in this shape for millennia,” said Morrigan. “It’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“Immortal and unchanging, huh?”
“Oh, I change plenty. But only when I choose to.” She grinned. “For example…”
The world bent sideways for a nanosecond. When it snapped back into place, Morrigan was gone and a hooded crow with a white body and black head and wings sat on the seat, beak tearing at the beef patty.
There was a yelp, and a waitress skating by dropped her tray and plopped down hard on the pavement.
“You might wanna be more careful where you change,” Abel muttered.
Space twisted again, and Morrigan was back to human and calling “Sorry!” to the waitress, who scrambled to her feet and rolled away.
“See, this is why people worshipped us,” said Morrigan. “They can’t explain what we do, so they think we must be Divine with a capital D.”
“So how do you do what you do?” Abel asked.
“Hell if I know,” Morrigan said with a shrug. She noticed Abel wince and said. “Sorry. Guess I still have to watch my language around you.”
“No, it’s okay,” said Abel. “If I’m gonna get out of my Christian bubble, I’ve got to get used to stuff like that.”
Morrigan winked at him. “Goddamn right.”
Abel fought to hide his frown. This could be harder than I thought. Aloud, he asked, “Okay then, what else can you do? There’s the shapeshifting, and the fear, and the skill with a sword. Anything else?”
Morrigan settled back in her seat. “Well, like you said earlier, I’m pretty much immortal; gods only die in battle or by foul play. Some bad plagues a while back wiped a few of us out, too. Other than that, though, we’ll live forever, as far as we know. I can pass into the realm of the dead; it’s my job to help the fallen on to the
ir final destination and provide them what protection and comfort I can in those last moments.” Her eyes darkened. “I haven’t been able to do that in centuries.”
“So you know what comes next?” Abel asked.
Morrigan shook her head. “I’ve never passed into the afterlife. Never even seen it. I just know how to get there and who goes where. Kind of an instinct. Better that way, anyway. I’ve never been curious about where I’ll end up.” She frowned. “And sometimes I get visions, dreams of death. I can tell you when someone’s going to die.” Her eyes darted to the rearview mirror and stayed there, transfixed. “The biker across the parking lot is going to break his neck not long from now.”
Abel chanced a look over his shoulder. The guy was black-leather clad from the neck down, grizzled white hair from the neck up, with an eyepatch over one eye. He leaned back on his bike, throwing glances their way as he munched on a corndog.
“Accident?” Abel asked.
“Don’t think so,” said Morrigan, “but it’s always fuzzy on the details. All I know is I dreamed last night that the guy died.”
So that was why you moaned in your sleep last night. Abel remembered grabbing a couple hours sleep in the rest area parking lot and waking in the middle of the night to Morrigan tossing, her eyes squeezed shut as if she wanted to shut out even what she saw with them closed.
He looked back at the eyepatch guy. The look on his face made Abel’s skin want to crawl away and hide, like this man wouldn’t think twice about slitting somebody’s throat. Still, Abel couldn’t just stand by and let the guy’s neck snap in two.
“We have to warn him,” he said, but before he could open the car door, Morrigan laid a hand on his arm.
“It doesn’t work like that,” she said. “I’ve tried stopping my visions in the past, but they always come true. I dream someone, they die. Every time.” She watched Eyepatch in the mirror. “And he’s been watching us since we got here.”
“Yeah,” said Abel. “Probably because we have blood all over our clothes. We’ve got to change soon.”
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