Morrigan by Jonathan King (cat reading book txt) 📕

“I’ll take all the help I can get,” said Abel. He snatched up the cards and gave Morrigan one more grateful smile.

20

Two hours later, Abel had mentally crossed off most of the items on his Freedom List. He and the gods had played poker for peanuts, and he’d won four out of five games.

“Beginners luck,” Mac had assured him, shuffling the cards like a professional dealer. Considering he was still trying to master the difference between a straight flush and a full house, Abel thought it might be something more along the lines of throwing the game, but there was no way he could prove it.

The rap music was kinda shocking at first with how blunt and sweary and kind of angry it was, but after a while, Abel stopped listening to the lyrics, and the rhythm was so catchy he started bobbing his head along with the music. Morrigan laughed at his antics. Yesterday, he might have thought she was making fun of him. Today, he knew she was having fun with him.

Now Brigid and Mac had retired for the night, leaving Morrigan and Abel on the couch watching Slasher 4. Abel had mixed feelings about the movie, and most of the good ones were coming from the girl leaning against his side.

“You know,” Morrigan murmured as the killer offed yet another sexy astronaut, “blood isn’t nearly that dark. And it doesn’t spurt like a geyser when you’re stabbed in the stomach. Although I’ve never killed anyone in a zero-gravity environment, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t look like that.”

“We don’t have to keep watching it if you’re not enjoying it,” said Abel.

“Who says I’m not enjoying it?” Morrigan asked, nestling deeper into his shoulder.

“Oh.” Abel swallowed. “Well, to be honest, I’m not. In fact, I’m nauseated.”

Morrigan chuckled. “Not much for blood then?”

“I used to be okay with it,” said Abel. “Then I got splattered in blood on Sunday and had way too much blood sucked out of me yesterday. I’ve had enough blood-related trauma for a lifetime.”

Morrigan nodded, grabbed the remote, and switched off the TV. “That’s fine. I can’t blame you. We’ll know for next time.”

“How many of these movie runs do you plan on making?” Abel asked.

“Quite a few, if we really do have to stay here for years.” Morrigan counted through the List on her fingers. “The tattoo was next, right?” She ran to the kitchen and wet a cloth, and then came back and peeled apart the tattoo’s wax paper. “Take off your shirt.”

Abel nodded, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. Morrigan’s eyes flicked over him the way they had back in the laundromat, and his stomach started turning flips for an entirely different reason.

“Lie back,” she said. Abel obeyed, and Morrigan leaned over him, pressing the Celtic knot design to his shoulder and dabbing it with the wet cloth. Abel peered up at her through half-closed lashes, savoring the firefly-light dancing in her raven hair and the feel of her weight on top of him. It was a perfect moment, almost divine.

But something was troubling her. He saw it in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Morrigan’s hands stilled. “I owe you an apology.”

“If it’s about getting me into this mess, you didn’t make me. I chose—”

“Not that, although I feel guilty enough for getting you—almost getting you killed.” Morrigan shook her head. “No, back at the pub, when you first told us about your list, I made you feel less because you wanted simple things. You’d surprised me before, not only freed me but killed a pack of Red Caps with a few words. You risked your life more than once to save me. I had this image of you as the hero warriors I loved in my youth, daring and bold and worldly.”

“Worldly? Me? The preacher’s kid?”

Morrigan shrugged. “I know. Thousands of years and I can still get swept up in a romantic notion. Then that notion got shaken by your modesty at the laundromat, and the Freedom List shattered it completely.” She gave him a sad smile. “But that was my fault. I never should have put those expectations on you in the first place. It’s not who you are. I should know better; Cora did the same thing to me.”

Abel chuckled. “I wasn’t exactly blameless then either. I let that vampire seduce me—”

“I told you, that wasn’t your fault.”

“I still should have known better,” said Abel. “And I definitely should have let you explain yourself instead of assuming I understood you.” He gestured to the TV and to the cards on the table. “I mean, you were clearly paying attention. You actually cared.”

“I’ve always cared,” said Morrigan.

“Which I would have known if I were listening,” said Abel. “Well, I’m listening now.”

Morrigan leaned back, peeling the paper with her. “What do you want to know?”

There were so many questions, but one sprang to mind more readily than all the rest. “Why is it so important to you to get revenge on Cora? I get that she’ll never stop coming after us and we may have to kill or be killed, but it goes beyond that for you. You’ve wanted her dead from the very beginning. Why?”

Morrigan bit her lip and examined his tattoo. “It turned out nice.”

“No backing out now,” said Abel. “You promised you’d help me understand you.”

“Did I say promise?”

Abel sat up and raised an eyebrow at her, and she sighed and fixed her eyes on the floor.

“Remember when I said part of my job as a goddess was escorting people to the afterlife? That’s a huge responsibility, to give comfort and companionship in those last terrifying minutes. To let them know that, whatever comes next, they’re not alone.” Morrigan took a deep breath. “I couldn’t do that when Cora held me captive. The iron shackle dimmed my powers and bound me to this life. I couldn’t slip between the planes like I used to. That was two