Morrigan by Jonathan King (cat reading book txt) 📕

She lunged, but before she could strike, the tarp in the back of the truck flew up and a sword blade punched through the rear windshield, skewering the vampire’s neck.

“Get out of there!” Morrigan shouted, leaping over the side of the truck bed.

“How…?” Abel asked, but then he saw that the sword through the Dearg-Due’s throat had only annoyed her, and he decided not to stick around. He half-fell out the door as the vampire took the blade in her hands and eased it out of her throat.

The real Dorothy looked up at the commotion. “Abel? Baby, is that you?” She started toward them, but Abel held up his hands.

“Go back inside, Mom. Now!”

She looked about to argue, but at that moment, the Dearg-Due let out a shriek that sounded like a soul leaving the body and scraping a chalkboard on the way out. Dorothy screamed and darted back inside.

“Come on,” said Morrigan, grabbing Abel’s hand and dragging him down the street.

“We can’t just leave her here with that thing!” said Abel.

“It’s after us,” Morrigan said. “She’ll be safer on her own, and you’re a hell of a lot safer with me.”

“I’ll be fine!” Abel lied as he stumbled after the goddess.

“No you won’t,” Morrigan muttered. “I was afraid I’d scared you off, but I didn’t think propositioning you would make you suicidal.”

“I had to take care of Mom,” Abel said.

“Who turned out to be a blood-sucking monster, so not the smartest move,” said Morrigan, leading him down another street. “My gut never stopped screaming at me that she was wrong. It’s a good thing I heard you leaving and followed you in crow form. You’d have gotten killed without me.”

“Yeah, I’d much rather be killed with you.”

“Don’t even joke,” Morrigan snapped, grinding to a halt.

As they stood catching their breath, they heard the roar of a motor behind them.

“The Dullahan?” Abel asked.

Morrigan shook her head. “That’s no motorcycle engine. That’s Mac’s truck.”

Abel turned to see the green beast screeching around a corner. “Aw, I knew I should have taken the keys.”

“Time to go off road.” Morrigan pulled him off the street, past houses and through toy-littered backyards, into the woods where the trees were too thick for a truck to pass. The Dearg-Due tried to follow anyway but didn’t get past the houses, scraping walls and getting hung up on birdbaths and swing sets.

Morrigan and Abel burst out of the woods onto another road—and heard a screaming whinny. “Get down!” Morrigan shouted, and Abel ducked as a spine whip swished and cracked over his head. When he stood, he saw the looming torso of the Dullahan astride a rearing horse with a matted black coat, burning coal eyes, and a mane that seemed to flow on its own graveyard breeze.

“It’s got its old ride back,” said Morrigan.

Abel clutched his necklace, but the headless rider reined in its horse and swung its whip around for another shot. Too much distance between them to ward it off safely.

The spine snaked out, but Morrigan stepped in front of Abel, and the whip wrapped around her forearm. She grunted in pain, but then tugged as hard as she could. The Dullahan fell out of his saddle and hit the pavement hard.

There was another screech, and they turned to see the Dearg-Due abandoning the truck and sprinting after them, red dress trailing behind her.

“Now would be a great time for one of your small miracles, Abel,” said Morrigan.

Abel offered up a quick prayer—and then it came to him, and he smiled. “Follow me.”

This time it was Abel grabbing Morrigan’s hand and pulling her along down the streets as fast as he could. It wasn’t fast enough, though. The Dullahan was back on its horse, and the Dearg-Due was inhumanly fast. There was no way they could outrun them forever. But they didn’t have to.

Pepper’s Mill First Baptist Church was right up ahead. There was a time when he’d resented that brick facade, but he’d never been so happy to see that white steeple reaching to heaven as he was now.

“Holy ground,” Morrigan said with a grin.

“From what you told me, I figured that would give them some trouble,” said Abel.

They raced for the steps, but before they could get there, the spine whip lashed out one last time and popped Abel on the back, knocking him off his feet. The Dullahan charged, but Morrigan kicked out and caught the horse in the knee, and it stumbled, throwing its rider. Abel was back on his feet now, cross necklace held out, and the Dullahan scrambled away. Together, Morrigan and Abel backed up the stairs just as the Dearg-Due reached them. She set foot on the first step and screamed, staggering back and stomping her foot as though trying to put out a fire.

“Holy ground, sweetie,” said Abel.

The Dearg-Due wailed, but there was nothing she could do to catch her prey as they disappeared through the church doors.

Abel collapsed on the thin red carpet, the adrenaline that had carried him through the chase fading away. His back swelled up and stiffened; he’d be lucky if he hadn’t torn a ligament or something.

“It’s okay,” Morrigan said, peering through the windows in the door at the monsters outside. “They can’t get in here. We’re safe.”

But as Abel stood and looked around at the hard-backed pews, the pale walls, the unlit electric chandeliers, and the stained glass dotted with the emotionless face of Jesus, none of it felt safe to him. None of it felt anything. It was a prison he’d lost all hatred for over the years, and now it simply was, passionless and dead.

“Who’s there?” As if on cue, the prison’s warden stepped into the sanctuary, taking his place behind the pulpit by habit.

Abel braced himself for the inevitable sermon. “Hi, Dad.”

There was a pause. Then the Reverend asked, “What are you doing here?”

It wasn’t the question he’d been expecting. Maybe “Where have you been?” or “What were you thinking?” or even “How