Morrigan by Jonathan King (cat reading book txt) 📕

attacks on your life,” said Mac. “In Breej’s safe houses, you’re as secure as if you were on holy ground.”

“I tried building a safe house in a church once,” said Brigid, “but the organ shook it all to pieces.”

Abel flopped down onto the couch and stretched out, nestling among the cushions. The fabric was scratchy and smelled of mildew and mothballs, but after the day he’d had, it felt like the mattress at a five-star hotel. “Not bad. I don’t think I’ll mind staying here a couple of days.”

“Couple of days?” Mac asked. “Cora’s not going to give up her search after a couple of days. We could be here months, even years.”

“Years?” Abel and Morrigan asked at the same time.

“If that’s what it takes to keep you two safe, yes,” said Mac.

Abel sat up. “But we can go other places, right? A night out, that kind of thing? We’re not actually going to be stuck in this tree for years, right?”

“Depends on how long we’re safe here,” said Mac. “If Cora discovers us, we’ll have to move. Until then, we stay put.”

Morrigan turned to Abel. “It won’t be that long. I’ll find a way to kill Cora, and then we’ll be free.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Mac declared. “I told you I wasn’t helping you with any suicide plan, and I meant it.”

“Mac, she’s a grown woman—” Brigid started.

“—who got half-killed today,” Mac finished. “As did I, as did you. So until she calls off her hunters, which from what little I know of her won’t be for a very long time, we’re all staying put.”

“It won’t be a very long time,” said Morrigan. “It’ll be forever. Cora doesn’t give up, not when she really wants something. I was her prisoner for two hundred years; I know what she’s like. She doesn’t let go, and she doesn’t forgive.”

Abel fell back on the couch and pressed his palms against his forehead. All this struggle to be free, and he’d only traded one prison for another.

“It won’t be that bad here,” Brigid said quickly. “We’ve got food and drink to last us for years, and a large wardrobe—I’m sure there’s something in your size you can change into instead of wearing Mac’s old clothes.” She motioned to the TV and grinned at Morrigan. “And this tree gets cable and Wi-Fi, which means you can catch up on everything you missed the last two hundred years.”

“While I spend another two hundred as a prisoner,” Morrigan said, glaring at Mac. “Again.”

“I’m gonna spend the rest of my life in this room,” Abel murmured.

“Don’t say that!” Morrigan said, sharper than Abel thought necessary. “It’s not going to happen.” She whirled back to face Mac. “Standing by and doing nothing is not an option. You hear me? I can’t do it!”

“You listen to me,” Mac said, but broke off when he heard a clattering in the kitchen. He stomped off to investigate. Silence for a few moments . . . and then a string of profanity worthy of the saltiest sailor, making Abel wince. A chorus of higher-pitched voices joined in, matching curse for curse, and then a dozen chubby little men no higher than Abel’s ankles, wearing patched red coats and scraggly red beards on their glowing red cheeks, darted through the living room and out the front door in a cacophony of broken bottles and empty cans.

Mac reappeared at the kitchen door. “Clurichauns in the kitchen! The bastards went through our whole store!”

Abel and the goddesses rushed past him to look at the floor and open refrigerator and pantry shelves splattered with wine and beer and dotted with crumbs and torn packaging. It looked like an army of rats had gone through the place and picked it clean of anything edible.

Brigid sighed. “Looks as though I’m going shopping.”

Morrigan cast a lingering glance at Abel, like she wanted to say something to him. Finally, she said, “I’m coming too.”

“What did I just say?” Mac asked. “Cora is looking for you—”

The world snapped sideways, and Morrigan was no longer young and beautiful. Now she was an elderly woman, bowed almost double and pinched to sharpness and sagging in wrinkles. “I’m sorry, dearie,” she croaked, pulling an aged shawl tighter around her shoulders, “what were you saying?”

Mac fumed. “Morrigan…”

“Cora isn’t looking for this form,” said Morrigan. “I’ll be safe for an occasional excursion, as long as I don’t get too close to her or her agents.”

Brigid shot Mac a puppy-eyed look. “Please, Mac.”

Mac sighed and rolled his eyes. “Sure, why not? Get yourself killed. Why should I care?”

Brigid squealed and wrapped him in a hug. “I knew there was a heart in there. I’ll get changed.” She danced off to the closet.

Morrigan took Abel by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. So many things about her had changed, but those emerald eyes were still the same. “I will make this right,” she said, her voice quavering. “I promise.”

Tuesday, October 29

11:12 AM

Hey, God. It’s me, Abel.

I’m trapped again. I risked so much to be free, and now I’m back in prison.

At least at home, I could go outside sometimes, even if I had a curfew or places the Reverend wouldn’t let me go. At least I had more than four walls to look forward to. At least there was a chance of escape. At least I never had to fear for my life (which you’ve saved like twice now, so thanks).

At least I had Mom.

I miss her, God. If she were here right now, she’d be giving me a hug, telling me it would be okay, finding a way to make the situation fun even though she’d feel just as trapped as I do. She had such strength, endured so much. I didn’t realize how much I depended on her until now. Now I don’t have anyone.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the gods. Brigid is cool, and Mac’s just doing what he thinks is best to keep us all safe. I