Morrigan

by Jonathan King

  “Take your time,” said Mac. “Nothing to fear now, is there?”

  Morrigan led Abel through the graveyard, stopping by the Dullahan’s discarded biker clothing. “I thought I heard that thing say something during the fight, right before I sliced my way free.”

  “That was me,” said Abel. “I used Fragarach to make him say Cora’s real name, so she’d die.”

  Morrigan smiled. “Not bad. But I’m still taking credit for the kill.” She picked up the leather jacket and slipped it over her bloodstained clothes. “I’m also taking this. Battle trophy. And I like the way it looks on me.”

  As she studied the fit of the jacket, Abel wandered over to the grave where the Dearg-Due was buried and kneeled by the fresh-packed dirt. Nothing stirred underneath, but he knew she was still there, and he guessed she was still listening.

  “I was wrong,” he whispered into the earth. “He would still love you, even now.”

  “Friend of yours?” Morrigan asked, coming up behind him.

  “Enemy,” said Abel. “But I figured I should say my goodbyes.”

  Morrigan pulled him to his feet, keeping hold of his hand. “My thoughts exactly.” She led him to the crypt where the Sluagh had emerged and disappeared again. Her free hand touched the rusted-shut door, and it swung open at her touch, revealing only darkness inside. “Hold tight.”

  They stepped inside, and the world dropped out from beneath them.

  31

  When Abel’s stomach found its way back into place and he could see clearly again, he found his surroundings uncomfortably familiar.

  “This is the Rest Stop of the Afterlife,” he said, gazing around at the projection-screen mist.

  Morrigan squinted at the image and then nodded. “It’s a lot of things, but to you, yeah, that’s exactly what it is.”

  “I’m not dead again, am I?”

  Morrigan laughed. “No, I brought you here alive this time. Sort of ‘Take Your Boyfriend to Work Day.’”

  “Shouldn’t you rest?” Abel asked. “That was some battle you just went through. You’ve got to be exhausted.”

  “I’ll rest when all the people who died on my watch, the people she robbed of their rightful eternity, are resting too.” Morrigan marched toward the rest area. “I made a promise long ago, and I intend to keep it.”

  As they approached the building, though, they heard raised voices and the smack of fists and feet on flesh. Morrigan raced through the sliding doors to see a mob crowded around someone on the ground, attacking the victim with all the hatred they could muster.

  “Get back! Stop that now!” Morrigan charged through the crowd, clawing her way through and knocking them away until she got to the person at the center.

  It was Cora, human again. The blows didn’t look as though they’d done her any harm, but she cowered from them all the less. Now she looked up at the girl she’d held captive for years, much like she had in her last moments.

  “Morrigan,” she whispered.

  The name seemed to strike Morrigan dead in the chest, freezing her in place for a long moment.

  “She tricked us all,” said one of the souls in the mob. “She used us, turned us into monsters!”

  “I wandered for years!” said another.

  “She kept you from me!” said a third. “She had no right!”

  “And she’ll have her just reward for that,” Morrigan said, her voice commanding. She looked down at Cora … and offered her a hand. “But she won’t be alone.”

  Cora stared at the hand. “I don’t understand.”

  Abel didn’t quite understand either, but he liked this Morrigan better than the vengeful creature he’d seen earlier.

  “I made a promise,” Morrigan said, as much to herself as to Cora. “I made it to everyone. Even you.”

  At last, Cora took Morrigan’s hand and got to her feet. If any of the souls felt like complaining, the look in Morrigan’s eyes shut them up. The two women walked back outside, Abel following closely—and then ducking as a dark shape swooped down to land in front of them.

  “Badb!” Morrigan exclaimed, stroking the neck feathers of the giant crow. “I’ve missed you.”

  Badb nuzzled Morrigan’s face with its beak. The bird was far more solid than the world around it, giving Abel the impression that it belonged not here but in the land of the living.

  Morrigan peered down the fog-suspended highway. “What say we change up your look for something more suited to the road?”

  Badb cawed, and halfway through, the caw changed to the honk of a horn. Reality snapped sideways, and the bird was an old black Dodge Charger. Morrigan helped Cora into the passenger seat, but stopped Abel from following.

  “You can’t come where we’re going,” she said. “Not until the next time you’re dead.”

  “So I should just hang out here until you get back?” Abel asked.

  “Actually,” said Morrigan, pointing him back toward the rest area, “I thought there might be someone here you’d like to talk to.”

  The crowd of souls had dispersed now, and through the tangle of people, Abel could just make out a man in a crumpled suit sitting by the goldfish pond. “Dad?”

  “The one and only Reverend,” said Morrigan.

  Hope stirred in Abel’s heart. “Can you bring him back?”

  Morrigan shook her head. “I’m sorry. Nobody can pass through a gateway without a guide and survive the process. If the Dagda Mor’s staff were still intact…” She shook her head. “Even then, we shouldn’t. Death is a fact of life. Change the facts too much or too often, and what kind of life do you have left?”

  Abel stared at his father. “I wish it had been him and not me, then.”

  “I don’t,” said Morrigan. “Your father did good at the end, but the world is getting the better man. Don’t doubt it.”

  “It’s not about good or better.” Abel nodded at the car and its passenger. “Seems like you know that.”

  Morrigan followed his gaze. “Yeah, I guess I do.” She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t rush the goodbye. Take the time you need.” She got into the car and drove it out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

  Abel went back inside … and stopped. He’d been afraid to talk to his father before, but this was far worse, paralyzing him from mouth to feet. This was his last chance to talk to the man who raised him; why did it scare him so much? Maybe the answer was in the question.

  But then the Reverend looked up and met his son’s gaze with eyes just as full of fear, and the spell ended. Abel closed the distance between them.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Abel. I’m dead, aren’t I?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Are you…?”

  “No sir. Just visiting.”

  “Ah.”

  Silence.

  “Dad, I—”

  “No, please, let me go first,” said the Reverend. “There’s so much I need to apologize for, so much I’ll never be able to put right. Your poor mother … I put her through so much, and then I betrayed her. And then the woman I slept with used my blood to kill people and enslave souls and almost end the world.” The strangeness of the idea struck him, and he chuckled before he moved on. “And you. My own son. Did I ever do anything right with you?”

  “Yeah,” said Abel. “Yeah, you did.”

  The Reverend gave a small smile. “I wanted you to be better than I was. I always knew I wasn’t the man everyone wanted—needed—me to be. I tried so hard to be perfect—”

  “I didn’t want perfect,” said Abel. “I wanted you. Just you. No rules, no commandments, no head full of Bible verses. Just you.”

  “Well, you’ve got me now. I don’t know for how long…”

  “Morrigan’s going to be busy for a while.” Abel sat down next to his father. “We’ve got time.”

  And they talked, like father and son, for the first time Abel could remember. So many questions he’d always had but had been too afraid to ask, so many answers to que
stions he’d never been asked, so much wisdom and so many memories he’d always longed for but never gotten were shared in that rest stop. Time stretched on forever and sped by too quickly as they laughed, cried, reminisced, regretted, lived, and loved. One by one, Morrigan called the other souls to their final home, but neither man realized it until she entered one last time and there was no one left.

  “I can give you guys a few more minutes,” she said.

  The Reverend shook his head and stood up. “It would never be enough. Let’s get this over with. I deserve what’s coming to me.”

  “A lot of people were surprised today,” said Morrigan. “You might be one of them.”

  He shook his head again. “Too much to hope for.”

  “It’s okay,” said Abel. “I’ve got enough hope for both of us.”

  The Reverend smiled at him. “Tell your mother…” he started, but his voice trailed off. “Tell her everything. There’s been enough secrets in this family.”

  “I will,” Abel promised, and he hugged his father tight. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you too, son,” said the Reverend. “So much.”

  It was a hug Abel never wanted to end, but his father broke away and took Morrigan’s hand. She led him out to the Charger and drove him away, and Abel watched until the car bearing his father to his final rest was just another black dot between the mist of the afterlife.

  “See you later,” he whispered.

  He wandered back inside, and the space seemed emptier than ever. Even when he was dead, he hadn’t felt this alone. But there was still one soul here, splashing around in the pond.

  “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet,” he said to the Salmon of Knowledge.

  The Salmon poked her head out of the water, a sulk on her fishy lips. “Someone threatened to flush me down the toilets if I didn’t shut up.”

  Abel couldn’t hold back a snicker. “Sorry.”

  “No, don’t be,” said the Salmon. “I heard you talking to your father. All my years spreading knowledge—or trying to, anyway—and I’ve never said anything as important as the things you two said to each other.”

  “Not even the meaning of life?” asked Abel. “You still haven’t told me what it is, you know.”

  “Oh, I think you discovered a pretty big piece of it just now,” said the Salmon. “Better to let that sink in for a while.” She gave Abel a gentle smile and splashed away into the depths of the pond.

  Abel chuckled. “Nothing like death to remind you what’s important about life.”

  “Exactly,” said Morrigan, walking through the sliding doors.

  “That was fast,” said Abel.

  “It was a quick trip,” said Morrigan. “You already gave him more comfort than I ever could.” She smiled and took his hands. “Ready?”

  “Definitely,” said Abel. “Let’s go home.”

  32

  “Right this way!” Mac said, leading them up the pier toward a glistening white yacht. “Behold, the Wave Sweeper Mark II!”

  Abel and the gods were back in Charleston, their last port of call before returning to Ireland. Mac nearly bounced along the wooden walkway, excited to show off his favorite toy. Brigid kept pace with him, and Abel and Morrigan held hands a few yards behind them. Abel was back in his own clean clothes, and he’d never felt more himself than right now. Especially with this particular girl next to him, wearing her plundered leather jacket and a dazzling smile.

  “We put a lot of work into this one,” said Mac.

  “I mostly did the metalwork and inspired one or two little ideas,” Brigid corrected. “But y’know, a helping hand is a helping hand.”

  The Wave Sweeper was a medium-sized motorized yacht, two decks high, and the sides were sculpted in delicate swoops that mimicked the waves it swept. Irish flags flew from poles on either side of the upper deck.

  “The first Wave Sweeper had its charm,” Mac went on, “but it got very old-fashioned very quickly. And with human technology finally catching up and creating ships that didn’t need sails, naturally I had to keep pace. So not only does this ship need no sails, but it also travels both above and beneath the waves, and I’m working on installing a flight mode to take it among the stars. It’s three times the speed of any ship its size, yet below deck you feel as though you’re not moving at all. And don’t even get me started on the entertainment center!”

  He and Brigid climbed aboard the vessel. Morrigan moved to follow, but Abel pulled her back.

  “Listen,” he said, “I’m not getting on the ship.”

  “Why not?” Morrigan peered at him, puzzled.

  “Because if I do, I’m not going to want to get off.”

  Morrigan turned and took his other hand. “So this is goodbye.”

  “For now,” said Abel. “You sure you have to leave so soon?”

  Morrigan looked out over the sea. “I’ve been away from home too long. My skin itches for Ireland again. You sure you won’t join us?”

  “Not yet,” said Abel. He looked back at the sea wall, where his mother stood staring out at the ocean without seeing it. “I left her once. I’m not doing it again, not until I know for sure she’ll be okay.”

  “She will be,” said Morrigan. “From what I’ve seen of her—the real her—she’s a strong woman.”

  “Who just found out the husband she hated and loved cheated on her and then sacrificed himself to save every soul on the planet,” said Abel. “That’s a lot to process. It helps that she’s staying with her parents now, but she needs me.” He caught his mother’s eye, and they shared a smile. “And to be honest, I need her too. I’ve got a lot of processing to do now that no one’s trying to kill me anymore.”

  “So you’re still trapped here,” said Morrigan.

  Abel shook his head. “Not trapped. This is my choice. And when we’re ready, I will come find you.”

  “I’ll try not to be too hard to miss,” said Morrigan. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a napkin with an email address scrawled across it. “In the meantime, I’m finally online. Keep in touch.”

  “You bet.” Abel took the napkin, running his fingers across the pen marks. “You know, this all started with a napkin. And now…” He looked into her eyes, unsure how to finish.

  Morrigan crossed her arms and gazed out over the sea. “Maybe this is for the best. Gives us time to let this simmer, figure out what’s between us.”

  “You called it the L word when you were talking to Cora,” said Abel.

  Morrigan looked down at her feet, but she couldn’t hide a small smile. “I guess I did.”

  “That’s what it feels like to me, too,” said Abel.

  Morrigan looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Then you better not wait too long to come see me.”

  They kissed, starting soft and growing passionate, like the goodbye it was. But it’s not forever, Abel reminded himself. You’ll see her again soon.

  “Hey!” Mac called from the deck. “You two want to spend less time exploring each other’s lips and more time exploring the Wave Sweeper?”

  “Actually, this is as far as I go,” said Abel. “I have to say goodbye now.”

  Mac’s face fell. “But … my ship…”

  “Oh, don’t make it harder on him than it already is,” said Brigid, bustling back down the gangplank to wrap Abel in an enormous hug. “Don’t stay away too long now.”

  “From you all?” Abel grinned. “Never.”

  She let go, and Mac took her place, bruising Abel’s ribs. “There’ll be a grand tour waiting on you when you get to Ireland.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  The two older gods went back aboard the ship, but Morrigan hesitated at the bottom of the gangplank.

  “Could you come for Christmas?” she asked.

  “Do the gods celebrate Christmas?” Abel asked.

  She shrugged. “Christmas, winter solstice, it all gets mixed together. Pagan and Christian elements go side by side in a Tuatha Chri
stmas.”

  “Just like us,” Abel said, smiling at her. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “I’ll have a feast waiting for you,” said Morrigan.

  “You don’t cook,” said Abel.

  “I’ll have someone else have a feast waiting for you.” Morrigan hesitated. “I’ll be counting down the days.”

  “Me too.”

  She took a step closer, thought better of it, and blew him a kiss. “Don’t die again.”

  Abel struggled to keep the smile on his face. “I’ll try not to.”

  Morrigan hurried onto the ship and below decks. Brigid and Mac gave one last wave from the deck. Then Mac made a sweeping gesture, and the Wave Sweeper glided silently out of port and shot out into the open ocean. In only a moment, it was nothing but a white dot riding a massive gray sea, headed home.

  Abel stood staring out at the expanse, the infinity of choice it offered, the nearly borderless world in front of him. And then he turned and walked back to his mother and wrapped an arm around her, but it didn’t feel as though he were walking away from all that possibility. For the first time, Abel Whittaker was as wide open as the sea, finally and truly free.

  Glossary and Pronunciation Guide

  Áine (AHN-ya) – Mac’s daughter and the goddess of summer.

  Badb (BIVE) – Morrigan’s crow, sometimes thought to be the Morrigan herself.

  Balor (BAH-lore) – A Fomorian chieftain, known for his one eye that caused paralysis. He was killed by Lugh.

  Bodhran (BOW-ron) – A type of Irish drum, held in one hand and played with a stick.

  Brigid (BREEJ) – Goddess of fire, the forge, and inspiration.

  Caorhannach (QUEER-hawn-nock) – A dragon-like monster and the mother of so many monsters, she’s rumored to be the mother of Satan himself. She once fought St. Patrick; some say he killed her, while other say he banished her from Ireland.

  Clurichaun (CLOOR-ih-kawn) – A tiny man dressed in red, who is always drinking and always drunk. If your kitchen is empty, it may have been raided by clurichauns. They are a close relative of leprechauns.