Morrigan by Jonathan King (cat reading book txt) 📕

stairs. “There’s no one outside. No monsters, no spies, no Cora.” She looked at the puddle of vomit and then at Dorothy. “Oh, you poor dear. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dorothy reached for her son. “Abel…”

Abel grabbed her and hugged her tightly, muscling past the urge to gag on the odor of vomit and tequila. “It’s okay, Mom. They’ll take care of you now. They just want to protect me.”

“And we’ll protect you too,” said Brigid, leading her to the bathroom. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Morrigan looked ready to object, but Mac scowled at her.

“Don’t push this,” he said. “I know you want to keep him safe. So do I. But bullying the poor woman isn’t the way.” He frowned at his sword and headed back to his room. “If you need be, I’ll be cleaning and disinfecting this.”

Morrigan stared down at the puddle of puke, and then at Abel. “There are paper towels and bleach in the kitchen. We can clean this up.”

Abel glared at her. “You know she grew up in Charleston? Her parents still live here. That’s probably why she came back here. So she happened to bump into our safe house. So what? I can see things more impossible than that just by looking around the room.”

“By your standards,” said Morrigan. “Not by mine. This feels wrong.”

“Because it is wrong,” said Abel. “She’s broken. He finally broke her.”

Morrigan cocked her head. “Your father?”

“I’m amazed she endured him for this long,” said Abel.

“I know he’s strict,” Morrigan began.

“It’s not just that,” said Abel. He rested on the back of the couch. “Mom was only a couple of years older than I am when she met the Reverend. He was the pastor of her church and an older man, and she admired him for both. She thought he was so mature, so respectable, and he ate up her respect. They got way too close. And then they…” Abel cleared his throat. “You know. And that’s when I was conceived.”

“And?” Morrigan asked.

“And having a child out of wedlock is bad enough as a Christian,” said Abel. “It’s even worse when you’re a pastor or only nineteen. At least, so I’ve been led to believe by people’s reactions on those rare times when they find out.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Mom and the Reverend got married as soon as they knew I was coming, but people still knew. The rushed engagement, the ‘premature’ birth. It was all a big show, and it didn’t fool anybody. They all knew their pastor had broken the rules he preached, slept with a girl before they were married. We had to leave the church and head upstate. Dad preached at a few different churches, but even there, the rumors followed them. All that judgment, all the scrutiny and whispers, it hurt her more than she ever told me. But I could see it in her eyes. And the Reverend never got enough respect from his flock, so he demanded it from us. We had to be the perfect family, and he had to be the perfect father and husband, even when he wasn’t.”

Abel met Morrigan’s eyes. “And then I left. Even in the worst times, she always had me. But now she’s broken. Because I wasn’t there.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “It may not be the same responsibility as two hundred years’ worth of deaths, but it still stings.”

It was a moment before Morrigan spoke. “So last night, when you broke things off—”

“I like you,” Abel said. “Like, a lot. But I won’t be my father. I won’t make his mistakes. No matter how much I want to.”

She took his hand and rubbed her thumb across his knuckles. “What we shared last night—hell, what we’ve shared from the beginning—it’s not bad. I won’t believe that. Maybe it was too fast for you, but you have to remember, I’ve lived for thousands of years, and mortals only have less than a hundred years of life. That’s like an hour in my eyes, and every second that slips through my fingers is time I’ll never get back with that person. If I want something with them, if it’s important to me, I have to grasp it before they’re gone forever.” She took a deep breath. “It’s worse now with you. I don’t know how much time you have left. For all I know, you won’t last the day. I hate it, but it’s the truth. I only have seconds left to know you. You don’t have time for me to wait.”

Abel smiled. “It could still be awhile.”

“But there’s no way to know,” said Morrigan. “If this is your last night on earth, how would you spend it?”

Abel looked into her eyes. He knew what he wanted to answer, but he couldn’t. Not now.

“You’re probably safe enough tonight,” said Morrigan. “You’ve got a little time. Just think about it.”

“I’m not sure I should,” said Abel.

“Why not?”

“Because I might do it.”

Morrigan smiled. “I can only hope.” She glanced at the puddle of puke soaking into the carpet. “I should take care of that.”

Abel shook his head and headed for the kitchen to grab the bleach. “It’s my mess to clean up. I’ve got it.”

24

The rest of the day dragged by. No one was in the mood to speak to each other, except Brigid, who tried to start up at least four different conversations, all to no avail. By evening, even she was grumpy, which was right around the time Mac got his spirits up enough to invent what he called a seasburger—“A crab cake for the beef patty, topped with cheese, shrimp and scallops,” he told them with a grin, but Brigid only rolled her eyes. As for Abel, he was doing his best to avoid Morrigan’s meaningful looks, while casting his own glances at the door to Brigid’s bedroom, where his mother was sleeping it off. In the end, he begged off dinner to spend it with