Morrigan by Jonathan King (cat reading book txt) 📕

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Abel pressed a hand to his forehead. “I can’t die now! Morrigan doesn’t know about the ghost army. I have to warn her!” He kneeled by the pond. “Is there a way back?”

“There’s always a way back,” said the Salmon. “The question is, should you take it?”

“And what’s the answer?”

“How should I know? I’m the Salmon of Knowledge, not the Salmon of Wisdom.” The Salmon looked down into the pond. “But it would appear you don’t have a choice.”

Abel followed his gaze to see that the bottom of the pool had disappeared in a void of black that turned indigo, then cerulean, then sky blue, and finally dazzling white. Then gravity wrapped him in a bear hug, and down he went into the deepest part of the water.

“Wait! Before you go!” the Salmon’s voice echoed after him. “The meaning of life! It’s—”

Abel sat bolt upright, taking in a lungful of air in one gasp. The world around him was solid again. It was a second before he realized he was in the bed of Mac’s truck, surrounded by Mac, Brigid, Morrigan, and a dozen thick shards of dark wood.

Abel blinked furiously and then glared at them. “You couldn’t have waited five minutes? A dead fish was about to tell me the meaning of life!”

They all stared at him.

“Oh, tell me that’s any weirder than anything else in your—” Abel started, but before he could finish, Morrigan tossed aside the splintered stick she’d been holding, threw her arms around him, and squeezed him tight.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she said.

“You will again if you don’t loosen your grip a little,” Abel choked, but he hugged her back all the same. It felt better than he could express to hold her in his arms.

He pulled back and picked up the stick. He recognized the wood. “This was the Dagda Mor’s club?”

Mac nodded. “One end dealt death, the other life.”

“I thought you didn’t want to use it again because it might break.” Abel looked around at the blackthorn shards surrounding him. “Which apparently it did.”

“We all agreed it was the right thing to do,” said Brigid. “We weren’t about to lose anyone else.”

Morrigan swallowed hard and nodded.

Abel smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing you did. I found out a lot during my little trip to the afterlife. For starters, Cora is—”

“The Caorthannach,” Morrigan interrupted. “We know.”

“Oh.” Abel cleared his throat. “Did you know that the Dearg-Due is shanghaiing souls into a ghost army?”

Morrigan’s eyes grew dark. “That witch. Escorting the dead is a sacred calling. To pervert it like that…”

“Cora said she wants an empty world to share with you,” Abel interrupted before she could go too far down her warpath. “Whatever she’s planning, she needs an army to do it.”

“Unless the army is its own goal,” said Brigid.

Mac nodded. “The Sluagh Sidhe.”

Abel lifted his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Is everything we fight going to have an unpronounceable name? What’s a Slew-a?”

“Pray you never find out,” said Morrigan. “Who knows how many souls she’s press-ganged into her army? And if she unleashes it on the world…”

“Goodbye world,” Abel guessed.

“The Wild Hunt will roam the earth, adding the living to its numbers until there are no more living left,” said Mac. “An empty world.”

“But she’ll need a gateway to bring them into this world,” said Brigid. “She’s not going to go all the way back to Lough Derg, is she?”

“Not every gateway is in Ireland,” said Morrigan. “There must be a few in this country as well.”

Abel coughed. “There might be one pretty close by,” he said. “Anyone heard of Oakwood Cemetery?”

Morrigan frowned at him. “Should I have?”

“I only know about it because my grandmother is buried there,” said Abel, “and she could have picked a better spot. The place has a long history of vandalism, weird rituals, attempted suicides … and hauntings.” He paused. “It’s also known as Hell’s Gate.”

“Sounds like a gateway all right,” said Morrigan. “Or at least a place where the veil is thin enough to break through. Especially with Samhain approaching.”

Mac and Brigid shared a look. “Then she didn’t come to Pepper’s Mill to hide,” said the old sailor. “She’s been looking for the right place to bring her army through.”

“And with the right spell, she can,” said Brigid.

“Unless we stop her,” said Morrigan.

“The truck’s too banged up to get us very far,” said Mac. “We’ll take Cora’s Mustang. That’s how we got here.”

Morrigan put a hand on Abel’s shoulder. “Can you get us to the cemetery?”

Abel nodded. “I’m a little fuzzy on the directions, but give me a map and I can do it.”

“Great.” Morrigan handed him his sword. “Here. You need this more than I do.” She smiled at him. “It’s so good to have you back.”

“Good to be back,” said Abel.

Morrigan stood and pulled her own sword from the truck’s rear windshield. “Right, let’s go stop a Sluagh.”

29

The Halloween moon was a jack-o-lantern smile hanging low above Oakwood Cemetery, wide and glowing pale orange in a navy-blue sky. As Mac drove the Mustang and its passengers toward the cemetery’s stone wall and metal gate, he stopped the car short. Blocking the way were three police cars, blue lights flashing warnings to stay away. Several officers stood outside the gates, guns drawn, wanting to go inside but holding back for some reason.

One of the cops holstered his gun and approached the gods. “I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to turn around. We have a situation here.”

“We know,” said Mac. “We’re here to fix it.”

“Not likely,” said the officer. “Turn the car around now.”

Morrigan sighed. “This is going to take too long.” She stood up in her seat.

The officer drew his pistol. “Sit down now, ma’am!”

The air thickened again. Abel put his head between his legs and breathed as best he could as the wails and screams of the police filled his ears. He didn’t have to imagine what they were seeing; he’d seen