Morrigan by Jonathan King (cat reading book txt) 📕

Something hissed over the concrete barrier and cracked through the passenger window, wrapping around Mac’s neck and pinning him against the door. Hand over hand, the Dullahan pulled itself out of the ocean and back onto land. Brigid jumped into the cab to help Mac, but by the time she pulled the whip from around his throat, he’d already been choked unconscious and the headless biker was back on its feet again. Any bystanders still hanging around scattered as the Dullahan lurched forward.

Morrigan set Abel down behind a tree. “Stay here. Be safe.” She rushed at the Dullahan, sword out and swinging, slicing, stabbing, but her attack barely staggered the monster. Brigid grabbed her torch and shoved the burning end down the thing’s neck, but it grabbed it from her hands and hurled it away. The tank broke open and exploded, knocking Brigid against a car, and the Dullahan threw one last punch that knocked her unconscious.

Abel pulled his sword from its scabbard, but he didn’t hold out much hope. Morrigan was much better with a sword than he was, and she hadn’t even slowed the creature down. As he watched, she drove her blade right through its gut. It swatted her away and then lumbered toward Abel, sword still skewering it like a charred kabob.

“Oh crap,” said Abel.

Staying put wasn’t an option anymore, and clearly, neither was fighting. He pushed himself to his feet and limped away, but his ankle shrieked with each step. The spine whip snaked out again, pinning Abel’s arms to his sides, and the Dullahan pulled him to the ground and dragged him backwards. The sword dropped from his hand. He raked the pavement with his fingernails, but it gave him no purchase against the monster’s irresistible pull.

Morrigan jumped onto the Dullahan’s back, kicking and punching and scratching and pinching, but the Dullahan threw itself backwards and body-slammed her into the ground like a wrestler. The sword popped out of its body and flew into the air, slinging black blood as it spun. One fluid move and the Dullahan was back on his feet and catching it, bringing the hilt down hard on Morrigan’s forehead. She lay still.

“Morrigan!” Abel shouted, and then regretted it as the biker turned his way. He wriggled out of the whip and tried to roll away, but the Dullahan dropped the sword and grabbed him by the collar of his borrowed shirt, dragging him back toward the motorcycle.

A box of rotting oak bound in rusty iron was strapped to the back bumper. It drew and repelled the smoke and steam around it, in and out, in and out, as though it breathed.

Abel struggled harder, but he couldn’t break free of the creature’s death grip. He could only watch as the Dullahan opened the box and reached inside. When it brought out the contents, Abel nearly vomited.

It was the thing’s head, yellow and pocked with maggot holes and decay, like some blob of too-aged cheese. One side had fallen in where the skull had grown soft with rot. The skin was as leathery as the suit its body wore, the teeth black with rot, the hair coarse and wispy and tied back in an ink-black rattail. Worst were the eyes, yellowed and bloodshot with dots of pupils that leered at Abel.

The Dullahan lifted Abel so that his feet dangled high above the ground, and in the other hand, it raised its grinning head. The withered nostrils inhaled, rattling the air in a throat that wasn’t, and the jaw lolled open wide as a coffin, ready to utter cold, dead words. Abel squirmed, frantic to free himself. Whatever came next, it wouldn’t be nice.

As he thrashed, his cross necklace slipped from beneath his oversized shirt and hung waving in the air. The Dullahan head spotted it, and its speech turned into a wail of horror like a storm wind through a graveyard. Abel dropped to the ground, panting hard from fear and exertion, but he couldn’t help feeling confused. What was this monster so scared of? Surely not one little cross necklace. Still, he took it off and held it out in front of him as if to ward off a demon.

The creature lurched back.

“You don’t like this, do you?” A confident smile played at Abel’s lips and pushed back his terror. “Well, you’d better run off back to Cora, or . . . or I’ll wave it at you some more.” He feinted forward, swinging the cross at the monster as if to touch the head with the necklace. The Dullahan shrieked, stuffed its head back in the box, and thundered away.

As soon as it was out of sight, Abel dropped to the ground, the adrenaline that had kept him going long gone, his ankle screaming. No idea how I did that. As usual. Thanks for the miracle, God. He held the necklace up to the light. And thanks for the gift, Mom.

Pushing himself half upright, he dragged himself over to Morrigan and shook her to wake her. Part of him didn’t want to disturb her—she looked so beautiful lying there, wet hair splayed around her, lashes resting against her cheeks.

He swallowed hard. Focus, Abel. Make sure she’s all right.

“Morrigan, I need you to wake up, okay?” No response. He grunted in frustration. “I swear, given the choice between mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and slapping you, I’m going with the second one.”

Morrigan squeezed her eyes tighter shut and groaned, reaching up to probe the growing bruise on her forehead. “That’s gonna leave a bump.” She eased her eyes open and peered at Abel. Then she shot upright and wrapped him in a tight hug. “You’re alive!”

“For now,” Abel choked, “but the way you’re squeezing the air out of me…”

“Sorry.” Morrigan let go. Her brow wrinkled. “Did you say something earlier about mouth-to-mouth?”

“Maybe later,” Abel said as they helped each other to their feet. “Headless Horseman’s gone.”

“Thank goodness for that. How’d you get rid of it?”

Abel held up his necklace. “I warded him