Morrigan by Jonathan King (cat reading book txt) 📕

Morgan kneeled behind him until the flow stopped. “All better?”

Abel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey, the carpet hides the mess. Guess that color really is good for something.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Come on!” Morrigan grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room and down the stairs. They ran through the cellar and out to a tarp-covered car behind the house. Morrigan threw back the tarp to reveal a vintage Mustang convertible, as close to Cora’s shade of green as the car manufacturers could bring themselves to paint it.

“Won’t her car be protected too?” Abel asked.

“It’s not the car she doesn’t want people stealing away.” Morrigan threw her sword into the back. “Get in.”

Abel slid into the passenger seat and buckled up, expecting them to take off. Instead, Morrigan felt around beneath the steering wheel for something.

“Shouldn’t we be driving away?” Abel asked.

“I’m gonna need time to hotwire the car,” said Morrigan.

“You know how to do that?”

“Of course! I’ve seen it on TV plenty of times.” She leaned over farther. “I know those wires are here somewhere.”

Abel rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right back.” He was halfway to the house before Morrigan could protest. Half a minute later, he was in Cora’s room, ignoring the carnage and running his fingers over the key rack until he found the car keys. He snatched them up and hurried back down the stairs—and froze.

A key turned in the front door lock. Cora was home.

6

Abel ducked into the darkness of the living room as the door opened and Cora stepped inside. He pressed himself against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, trying to freeze the breath in his lungs and the blood in his veins.

A few halting footsteps sounded and then silence, and he prayed. Hey God. It’s me, Abel. God, please don’t let her look here. I know now may not be the best time to ask for a favor, what with the whole defying our parents’ authority thing, but if she finds me, I’m pretty sure she’ll literally kill me. So if you could direct her attention elsewhere, that’d be great. Thanks! Abel out.

More footsteps and something heavy scraped across the floor, and then both sounds stopped on the other side of the wall.

“Morgan?” called Cora.

Abel squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Here it comes.

Silence again, and then a few muttered words. “I know you’re upset with me, but we can make this work … no, no, that’s all wrong. I love you, Morgan … no, she’ll never believe that.”

Abel’s eyes flashed open. It sounded like Cora was working on some kind of speech.

Cora tried one more time. “I know you’re not really my daughter, but we’ve been together for so long, and I’ve come to know you so well, it’s almost as though I’d given birth to you myself. You mean a great deal to me.” She paused, cleared her throat, and went on. “I’ve had so many children over the ages. All were great in their day. But they’re all gone now. I lost them all, Morgan, the same way I’m losing you. Do you know the torment of losing a child? I hope not. It’s like having your heart ripped out with a rusty hook, only ten times worse. I don’t ever want to feel that again. So please, let me try to be the mother you deserve. It won’t be easy, but I’ll do my best. For you.”

She sounded so miserable, so desperate, that Abel wanted to step out of the shadows and confess everything. How could he stand in the way of a parent who wanted so badly to reconcile with her child?

Then he remembered the Red Caps and steeled himself again. Regardless of Cora’s intentions, anyone who kept monsters like those as house pets couldn’t be all good.

Cora started again. “I know you think you owe these people something, that you have to be there for them. But you don’t, not anymore. I’m working on something big. And when I’m done, there won’t be anyone left to come between us. It’ll be you and me and a great big empty world, just the way it should be.”

Abel blinked. Empty world? No one left? What’s she talking about?

Cora squared her shoulders. “Just wing it, girl,” she said to herself. “You’ve got this.” She flicked on the hallway lights.

And gasped.

Abel winced. He couldn’t see Cora from his hiding place, but he could see the carpet on the stairs. And he could see the trail of red leading from the bedroom to the cellar.

“Oh, don’t tell me you dragged that poor preacher’s boy into this,” Cora said. There was a thud as she dropped whatever she’d been dragging, and then she started up the stairs. “I’m sorry, dear, but I’m not letting you go that easy.”

She thinks she’s won, thought Abel. She thinks my body’s upstairs being drained by those things, and Morrigan’s watching. She doesn’t know we beat her.

Which gives me a chance to get away.

He had to hurry, before Cora reached the bedroom and learned the truth. He tiptoed out of the living room and down the hall, keeping out of her line of sight as she got to the top of the stairs. Then he glanced back over his shoulder—and slapped a hand to his mouth to muffle a cry.

A severed cow’s head sat in the foyer. Its eyes and tongue bulged, and crusted blood streaked its black fur.

If he’d had any doubts about Cora’s craziness, this settled them. Abel panicked and sprinted into the kitchen. He was just out the back door when Cora screamed.

“She’s home?” Morrigan asked from the car. “You could have been killed going back like that.” Her tone was more admiring than angry.

Abel leaned hard on the driver’s side door. “Cow’s head.”

“What?”

“She had a cow’s head. Who carries around a cow’s head?” Abel’s voice was at least two octaves higher than normal, but he was way beyond controlling it.

Morrigan shrugged. “She brings