Morrigan by Jonathan King (cat reading book txt) 📕

birds. Then he came back around the corner, swerving and screeching across the road, and mired in the midst of a tornado made of crows, all diving and pecking and scratching.

Morrigan ran toward the bike, and the crows parted before her as she flew into the air. Her foot connected with the man’s face, knocking him out of his seat and onto the road. She flipped and landed crouched in the middle of the street. Abel hop-skipped out of the way as the bike flipped onto its side and scraped to a halt where he’d been standing.

The biker pushed himself up, and now Abel had a good view of the familiar face, eyepatch and all. Only now, it bled from the attacks of the crows winging their way back to the skies.

Morrigan grabbed him by his leather jacket and shook him—not an easy task since he was almost as big a man as Mac. “You set that fire, didn’t you? I should feed the crows your other eye.”

Eyepatch spat in her face, but she dodged, and it landed on the pavement with a pathetic splat. Morrigan drew back her fist to strike him, but Mac loped forward and grabbed her arm.

“Allow me, darling,” he said, gently pulling her off the biker. Eyepatch tried to crawl away, but Mac planted his boot on the man’s chest and pulled a sword from inside his coat, tucking it beneath the man’s beard and against his throat.

“Has that been in there the whole time?” Abel asked Brigid.

Brigid smiled. “You’d be surprised what he’s got up his sleeves.”

The sword started to hum, a drone that buzzed in Abel’s brain even at a distance. He couldn’t imagine what it was doing at close range, but Eyepatch went rigid.

“Who sent you?” Mac asked, drawing out each word to an almost hypnotic length.

The biker pressed his teeth against his lips, holding back the answer crawling up his throat, but it came out just the same. “She calls herself … Cora.”

“And what did she tell you to do?”

“Watch the girl … and report back so she could find her. Destroy any … safe places. Makes sure she … came home.” Eyepatch’s good eye found Abel. “And make sure the kid … dies. Slowly. Painfully.” He laughed. “She was really clear about that last one.”

Abel shuddered. Again with the killing me. Why is that such a thing with this woman?

Morrigan lunged forward, but Mac held her back, sheathing his sword and wrapping his arms around her. Eyepatch ran, eyes watching the skies in case the crows came back.

“He’s getting away!” Morrigan shouted.

“It’s okay,” said Mac. “He’s not worth it.”

“I’ll kill him and that witch both,” said Morrigan. “He can’t threaten Abel like that.”

“Didn’t you say you dreamed about him?” Abel asked. “That your dreams were death premonitions?”

Morrigan stilled, and a smile crept over her face. “You’re right. He did die.”

“You didn’t kill him?” Abel asked, worried what the answer might be.

“No, I’m pretty sure it was something else,” said Morrigan. “But it was terrifying. Painful.”

I’m not sure I like who you are when you get vengeful, Abel wanted to say, but he was smart enough not to say it out loud. And he couldn’t really complain. In this case, it was vengeance in defense of his life. As for Cora … well, at this point, even Abel had trouble arguing for non-violence.

“At least he was harmless enough,” said Brigid.

“He burned down your welding shop,” Abel pointed out.

Brigid shook her head. “Poor eejit, thinking fire would do any harm. As though a fire goddess like me wouldn’t ward her home against unfriendly flame first thing.” She pushed open the door to show all her furnishings and belongings intact and undamaged, even the extra propane tanks in the corner. The only change was the stench of burned gasoline.

“Still,” said Morrigan, “we can’t stay here. Cora knows we’re here now. She’ll be sending something more effective to finish us off if we stay.”

“One night at least,” said Mac. “It’s late, and we’re all tired. We can get a fresh start in the morning.”

Morrigan nodded. “It’ll take her time to regroup. But we leave at first light.”

“Good thing I’m an early riser,” muttered Abel.

Monday, October 28

7:27 PM

Hey, God. It’s me, Abel.

So today’s been kinda weird.

It started out with goddesses and Red Caps, and now we’ve got immortal welders and sea captains, not to mention siren vampires. I almost died. Morrigan saved my life. I should be grateful, but I keep asking myself why she did it. Maybe that shows what I think of myself.

Sorry about the thing with the Dearg Due, but I wasn’t in my right mind. Not an excuse, I know, but I’m sure you understand. Now that I know how her magic works, I won’t let her trap me again. And I’m sure not letting any woman near my neck again. Except maybe Morrigan…

Sorry. Doing it again.

But it seems like she cares about me. I still don’t know why, but I like it. Is it wrong that I’m falling for a pagan goddess? I’m not converting or anything, but by golly, she’s wonderful. And not just physically. There’s a heart there, and I’m finally seeing it.

And I’m realizing how much Cora hates me for taking her “daughter” away from her. She’s really not going to stop until I’m dead. Now I’m really worried about that banshee wailing at me.

We’re going to a new hideout tomorrow. Keep us safe as we go. I’d hate to run into a dragon or something along the way.

Thanks, God. Abel out.

15

Sometimes, when Cora got lonely, she’d unlock one of her many guest bedrooms and stand there, looking at all the things her children left behind. A horn from her second-born daughter, a serpent with the prettiest green scales you’d ever seen. A cave painting of a blood sacrifice her fifteenth son had painted; she’d plucked it from the rock with her bare hands. And then there was the harp of her youngest, a squat