by Linda Jordan
Morrigu was a delicate looking Celtic Goddess. Morrigan, was her full name. Some said she was a mother goddess, or one third of a triple goddess. Others claimed she was a war goddess. Either way, she was a strong being who’d mastered modern technology, such as it was.
Technology hadn’t advanced much in the wake of the oceans drowning the land, massive quakes, the flu pandemic and political upheaval. Magic had come flooding back from wherever it had hidden for millennia. So had all the deities of every mythology the planet had ever hosted.
Deities appeared wherever they had followers. Multiple versions of many spirits had seemingly winked into existence. Some diminished, some at full power. Their abilities seemed to wax and wane depending on the strength of their followers’ belief. Many moved into the modern world as if they’d never disappeared.
Morrigu had created an entire army. Although human, Roosevelt did too. Their conflict had been going on since before Cady was born and she didn’t see any end to it soon, although she hadn’t paid attention to goings-on in the Zoo since leaving.
She rubbed her eyes. Both Beth and Sarah were watching her.
Cady asked, “I don’t know if I can help you. I haven’t been in the Zoo for thirty years. I’m sure things have changed, but I can’t fight either Roosevelt or Morrigu.”
“We just need you to find him,” said Sarah. “Sam’s friends will have to get him out.”
“As if finding him’s an easy thing.”
It was and it wasn’t. She could find him easily enough, but not getting caught and getting back out was completely different.
She should say no. But then she looked at Beth again. The world was only going to get better if better people were born. If the only humans procreating were the likes of Roosevelt’s and Morrigu’s followers, the future looked dark indeed.
The least she could do was an exploratory search. See if he was alive and findable, if she went back inside the Zoo, with his friends.
“Do you have anything of your husband’s? Something small that’s important to him, that I can use to track him?”
Beth pulled a ring out of her pocket.
“He loved this ring, it’s been in his family for generations. He hasn’t worn it for a while.” The woman hesitantly handed it over.
Cady took it. The ring was gold with a red stone in the center, maybe a garnet, and said, University of Washington, Criminal Justice. It was heavy, a man’s ring. It carried enough of a connection, a tug that could be felt as she rolled it around between her palms. She set it on the table.
Standing, Cady set a candle in the center of the table, lighting it with wooden matches. She could explore at least. See if it was possible to find him easily.
To be of any use though, she’d have to physically go inside the Zoo. That would come later, if her initial exploration worked. Some people or things she just couldn’t find. Her magic wouldn’t work with them.
She paced around the tiny cabin, centering herself. Silently calling any spirits or allies who could help her, but especially Brigid. Her connection to the deities and other beings from the U.K., or what was left of it, were stronger than any other. Her ancestors came from that part of the world. One of the people who’d taken her in as a child had the full range of genetic tests done. Hoping to identify any disease patterns, but also to give Cady a sense of who her real family was, since she’d lost them all.
She continued to pace, breathing deeply. Monster appeared out from under the bed. Eyeing the strangers warily with his golden eyes, but drawn by the energy Cady was pulling in. He jumped up onto a window sill and began bathing his long, dark fur.
As her spirits came into her consciousness, one by one, a massive black dragon appeared to her volunteering its service. She’d never met a dragon before. This would be interesting.
Cady sat down on the hard wooden chair and picked up the ring, rubbing it between her palms, taking a breath and letting it out slowly. Her roots sank deep into the soil beneath her home, calling up the earth’s magic. Drawing it all in until she was filled with energy. She felt the familiar sense of disconnection as her soul left her body. Traveling.
She ran towards the dragon. Her soul and all the helping spirits climbed onto the dragon, who raced down a road, then took flight. They flew fast, quicker than her soul alone could fly.
Soon they were soaring, looking down at the Zoo. Going lower, seeing the flat rooftops of the metal warehouses between the tall maples and firs. Large vehicles were being loaded and unloaded.
Some of the original brick buildings of the former zoo were still standing. Probably still used for offices for the companies who imported goods into the Zoo. Those buildings, and their employees, had been like ambassadors.
No one had touched them. No one was foolish enough to jeopardize the Zoo’s lifeline.
Alcohol, drugs, jewelry, art, gas and oil were flown in and stocked here. Until trucks took a ferry over to the Eastside of the water.
Where the truly wealthy, and their armies, lived. Like the royalty of old. Their servants were like peasants, stuck in those roles for generations. Afraid to leave and go out into an uncertain world.
Not many people drove over to the Eastside. Few roads still ran around the north end of the Salish Sound and all the way to the Eastside. Those that did were blockaded by gangs who charged drivers a heavy toll. Thirty years ago, it was rumored to be at least half the cargo a driver was carrying.
Cady let the tendrils of her consciousness move outward, searching for Sam.
The cargo airport ran along the west side of the Zoo. The rest of the land was warehouses. From there things were trucked down to the boats in Ballard Bay and shipped to the Eastside. Some cargo was flown over in small planes, or put on railcars that took the long way around Salish Sound. The railcars’ track were regularly destroyed and the trains looted by individuals or gangs. The rich people on the Eastside rebuilt the tracks. Often their armies accompanied the trains.
The dragon flew lower still, through the remaining trees. Merely a shadow to those with magic to see. The spirits and Cady held invisible against its huge bulk.
She felt the presence of Morrigu and Roosevelt, like beacons. There was a pulse. There, that was Sam. In one of the warehouses. Cady tried to find which one and who it belonged to.
Then the dragon sliced sideways through the air and dove. He curved sharply upwards and away towards Puget Sound. A blood red streak followed them. The dragon wove in and out of the tops of the trees. Attempting to hide.
The red streak followed, taking shape as a demonic being with bat wings. Its humanoid body flew with a speed that matched the dragon’s.
“Vanish,” she screamed, and found herself back in her body. Heart pounding. Sweat pouring down her forehead. A scuffling noise beneath her bed told her Monster had retreated again.
She opened her eyes and took several deep breaths. Cady set the ring on the table. Then took a sip of her now cold tea, not tasting anything, but grateful for the liquid and the grounding nature of swallowing.
Then she put both her palms flat on the table and let the energy drain away.
She looked at the two women, who watched her intently.
“Your husband is in the Zoo. I couldn’t see which warehouse he was in before I was attacked. I don’t know who’s holding him.”
Beth sank down into herself as if completely defeated.
Sarah asked, “Isn’t there something else we can do? We really need information.”
“Even if I had been able to find him, I still would need to go in with the men. They might move him again. They might have used a decoy to trick anyone searching for him. I can be fooled. Roosevelt’s and Morrigu’s magics are both powerful and deep.”
A thought was coming to her, niggling at her consciousness, but it was lost, when Beth asked, “When can you go?”
“When will the others be ready?”
“Tonight,” said Beth.
“I can be ready tonight,” she said.
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After the two women left, Cady sat down again and drank the rest of her tea.
This was not how she’d planned her day. But finding was one of the few skills she could offer the community, that no one else could do. She took so much it was only fair she gave back when called on. She just hoped that in her next life her soul would choose a skill that wasn’t so perilous.
Instead of planting, Cady pulled the wooden box out from under her bed. Monster came out too. Staring warily at her.
In the box were the two guns she’d brought with her from the Zoo. An ancient rifle with a scope and a Glock. She rarely used them these days. Finding lost children generally didn’t require a gun.
She cleaned her guns. Monster helped. Then she walked down the muddy road to Tessa’s to barter for more ammunition. Taking with her two of the more useless garden books, one of them all about irrigation, now only a curiosity.
When she returned, Cady sharpened her two knives, the big one for on her hip, the other, a stiletto, went in a sheath in her boot. Cady pulled out her essence of death potion, and as an afterthought, pocketed fist-size chunks of labradorite and obsidian. For protection and remaining hidden. She tucked a filled water bottle in her pack, and some dried goat meat. Monster sat watching her, curious about everything.
She had time for a three hour nap and took it. Who knew when she’d get to sleep again?
When she got up, Cady dressed in black pants, a long-sleeved black shirt and black jacket. She pulled on wool socks and laced up her black leather boots with the stiletto in the right one. The boots still had a warped spot where it fit. She hadn’t worn these clothes for a couple of decades, but they still fit. A bit musty though, even after airing out on the clothesline all day.
She fixed a goat cheese sandwich from bread she’d made, Joe’s tangy goat cheese and some greens from the garden.
She left a note on her table for Joe, telling him when she’d return. Monster would take care of himself. He dined outside, mostly on voles, mice and rats, but he caught the occasional mole or rabbit. Rarely birds. He was a ground cat. He went under when afraid. Never up. She did refill his water bowl.
After dinner, she took her seeds out and planted another section of greens. For the future. The rest she’d have to do when she returned.
Then Cady strapped on the handgun and hip knife, put her small waist pack on. She slung the rifle harness over her head and right shoulder, letting the rifle hang down her back and went to the center of the village to meet up with the others.
2
Damon
Damon stood at Morrigu’s side in her throne room. A bodyguard to his left and Morrigu’s right. The massive warehouse she’d confiscated years ago, which had been dubbed Morrigu’s Castle. And indeed, it was a castle. The thick concrete walls lined with rich fabrics in the colors of crimson, black and gold. On top of the fabric hung more stolen paintings than most of the world’s remaining museums. Covered with thick bulletproof glass.
At one end sat her golden throne, shimmering in the dim light. They stood in the center of the room. That didn’t bode well. She always held audience there when she didn’t want to get anything important spattered with blood.
He was getting too old for this job. Yet she wouldn’t let him go. Not as long as he was still doing it well. And when he couldn’t any longer? Damon figured she’d just kill him. A quick death as a reward for decades of service. It wasn’t easy serving a goddess but it had been a long time since he’d any choice.
She watched the strangers intently. A delegation from Fine Art and Antiques International. Come to explain why their shipment hadn’t arrived. Morrigu had good customers waiting for the painting. Customers who paid a small fortune.
The two men and one woman stood there. They all wore business suits, a uniform mostly unchanged for centuries. Since before the earth tried to destroy humans and all they’d built. The two men wore white shirts, signaling their subordination. One of the men had a twitchy cheek. The silence was getting to him. The other man wasn’t making eye contact with anyone. The woman was though. She wore a black shirt along with the black suit. A sign she was high enough up in corporate structure to actually make a decision. Her green hair was cut short.
“I have come to offer our apologies,” she said to Morrigu, bowing.
Morrigu said nothing. She too, was dressed in black. A long velvet gown with rows of diamonds highlighting each seam of the flared skirt, beneath which delicate, low-heeled black boots peered out. Her bodice cut low for distraction. Long black hair mostly unbound and left flowing to her waist. A circlet of gold and diamonds wove around her head. Her green eyes wide, staring the woman down.
“We are doing everything we can to recover the painting. Pirates attacked the ship and have not sent us a ransom request. We are still pursuing them.”
Morrigu still said nothing.
“Is there a way we can make this easier for your customers?” the woman asked.
“A boat. You put the painting on a boat? It is not my clients who have a problem,” said Morrigu with a deep, calm voice. “My clients expected the painting a week ago. I could not deliver the product, because you did not get it to me. That makes me look bad. They are disappointed. I am disappointed. They will tell their friends. Word will get around. That hurts my business and my reputation.”
“How can we compensate you and your customers?” asked the woman.
“Return their money and get my clients their painting.”
Damon inwardly smiled.
The woman’s features scrunched up in dismay.
“We cannot return their money and get the painting both. Perhaps there is something else we can do.”
“You ask me what you can do and then you refuse. Your words are empty,” she turned away from them, as if to speak to Damon. Ignoring the woman.
The woman stepped forward. Morrigu’s bodyguards moved forward to meet her. She put up her hands and moved back. The bodyguards didn’t retreat.
The woman said, “Please, let me explain. We can get you another painting. We brought one on the plane with us. Your cargo supervisor said he would bring it here. A Monet.”
She had Morrigu’s full attention and it wasn’t good. “My clients detest Monet. They only collect Picasso.”
“But you could sell the Monet for much more than the Picasso is worth and recoup your customers’ money.”
“Ah, more work for me to do because of your incompetency. No. I will take the Picasso. You will give me the Monet as a bonus,” said Morrigu. She moved forward. The bodyguards parted and the light in the room dimmed, highlighting Morrigu’s aura of power.
Damon pitied the woman. It was a losing battle to argue with a deity. She probably knew that. Probably knew she’d been thrown under the wheels by her superiors. The two men, what were they there for anyway? To add enough bodies to the delegation to make it look important?
He scratched his stubble. He still didn’t understand business, after all these years. He did understand Morrigu, at least most of the time. His life depended on it.
She was playing with the woman. Seeing how far she could push the other dominant person in the room.
The woman sighed, her shoulders drooped slightly. Knew she was losing.
“I will need to contact my superiors.”
The door opened and a cart wheeled in with a painting propped up on it. Remnants of a shipping box lay on the cart. Damon recognized the warehouse woman who wheeled in the cart. He motioned her to come forward.
As the cart drew near, he recognized the painting from one of the books in Morrigu’s library. Sunset in Venice. It was on the small side. About 25” by 36”. Glorious yellow-orange and contrasting blue. A beautiful painting. It might even be a real Monet. They’d need to call in Jeffries to be sure.
“I don’t know if I can sell this,” said Morrigu. “People here will either love it because it represents a city that no longer exists or hate it because it’s the world they live in. Right next
door to a rotting city that’s been consumed by the ocean.”
“It’s worth a small fortune,” said the woman. “One of his best, I think. And very overlooked.”
Morrigu turned to Damon.
“Call Jeffries. I want to know if this is genuine.”
Damon nodded and walked a short distance away. He spoke into his wristband.
“Jeffries.” Then paused until he heard the man respond.
“What?”
“You need to get over to the throne room immediately. Morrigu has a painting for you to authenticate.”
“Which one?”
“Monet’s Sunset in Venice.”
“You’re joking.”
“Have you ever known me to joke.”
“No. Sorry. I love this job though. Be right there.”
“It’s a matter of some urgency.”
“Got it.”
Damon returned his attention to Morrigu’s side.
The woman was on her phone. Probably trying to get approval for Morrigu’s outrageous demand. She must have expected it though.
Morrigu had never been reasonable. None of the deities ever were. At least not that he knew of.
Fine Art should have expected her to make demands. She was a good customer. One of the deities with a very exclusive client base. She knew everyone and what they wanted.
Long gone were the days when she and Roosevelt scrapped for the Zoo. Now it was all appearance. To keep the locals away. And to discourage unwanted visitors.
There was still some animosity between the two. Roosevelt wanted the entire place to himself, as did Morrigu. But after nearly a century of fighting, Roosevelt was growing old. He had his family to protect. Young Roosevelt, who was nearing fifty was in charge now. He had a daughter who was next in line.
Jeffries came in the door, pushing a metal cart of supplies. Damon knew what some of the things were, but not others. There was an electronic tool that allowed Jeffries to see different layers of the canvas. To see how an artist worked different sections with layers of paint. To see what brushstrokes went down first, which ones last. One could see if there were other paintings beneath the previous one. It allowed him to compare other paintings by the same artist.
