by Lenore Wolfe
TWENTY-FIVE
MORGAN
Late that night, Morgan snuggled to Alex’s side. The evening rain beat against the window. Morgan felt leaden with exhaustion, yet she still found peace. Tonight had been amazing, and she felt a heavy sense of contentment. She couldn’t stop smiling. She couldn’t get over how astonished she’d been to see her aunt—and to hug her.
They didn’t stay up too late, after all, her aunt too exhausted from her long drive there. Though Morgan lay in her bed for over an hour, she still couldn’t sleep. Excited, she kept going over every moment of their visit in her mind, savoring the feeling of family. Like all the bad had been put to rest. Like a healing balm now covered the scars on her heart. Maybe, Jacelyn wasn’t her mother—but seeing her aunt was the next best thing.
Morgan laid her hand on Alex’s chest, listening to him breathe. She couldn’t believe how quickly she got use to him being here—or how fast she reached a point where she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. It felt right—snuggled up with him.
Tears filled her eyes at the thought. She just wished she could let go of the ever-present fear—that all of this would all be ripped away from her. Worse, that it would be torn away by her own hands—like before. Only, this time, forever.
He’d woke when she’d come to bed. He’d stayed awake for a long time—guessing at what he thought Sophia could do, which had Morgan laughing. He’d had her giggling hysterically, as he made up some things he thought it might be. Everything, from blowing up trees—which she quickly pointed out the Fae would frown on her for doing, to bringing on rain storms—which Morgan said she thought would be a cool power.
He lay quiet now. Maybe he slept. But, then, he said, “If you could choose a power—what would you choose?”
Smiling, Morgan lay with her face against his chest. “That’s easy. I would call the sea.”
Alex started to stroke her hair, but at her words, he stilled. “Why the sea?”
“Hmmm,” Morgan murmured. “Because I’ve always been called to it.”
Alex smiled. “I’ve practically known you, your whole life—but I would never have guessed that.”
Sighing, Morgan bent her head back to gaze up at him. “Well, here—we’re nowhere near the sea. There’s not even the ocean.” She snuggled back in. “So, what could I possibly have said.”
“Maybe you miss Atlantis,” he said.
She leaned back to look up at him, but his eyes had drifted closed.
Now what on earth made him think of that? He couldn’t possibly know that. Most people didn’t believe in such a place.
She knew a lot of them wanted to. Something about that particular ancient city made a lot of people want to believe. Many people treasured some part of it somewhere deep in their souls—even if they thought it another fairy tale.
Morgan felt like she’d been missing a vital part of herself all her life—and every part of her felt tied to the sea—and Atlantis.
To her, this mystical place had always been real. And now, learning about Sophia—she felt validated. Maybe it explained why people loved tales about the Fae, and of the supernatural.
They wanted to believe. They wanted to feel as validated, as she had, for believing.
After Alex had fallen asleep, Morgan got up and grabbing a light cotton blanket she went to sit by the window. She relaxed there, quietly gazing out the window. Gazing out at the Gargoyle statue under the full moon.
Just a few days ago, she’d been completely unaware of all of this. Even so, she realized she’d never stopped believing, even when she couldn’t remember. Somewhere deep inside, some part of her remembered, after all. Because—she didn’t feel at all as surprised by all of this as she should have.
She pulled her feet up on the chair, wrapping her arms around her legs and folding the blanket around herself. She sat that way, resting her head on her knees with her face turned toward the moon.
Morgan knew she’d never fix this place up and sell it, hadn’t wanted that since the first day they’d all arrived. Even if she’d still had that inside of her, she could never do that to Claire. Her sister clearly loved this place, made evident by the memories she kept telling her about their childhood, here.
She knew that Claire wanted her to remember. And, in truth, threads of memory filtered through her on a regular basis now, like flashes on a movie screen.
Morgan blinked at the bright, clear moon.
Somewhere deep inside, she knew she loved this place too. Claire wasn’t alone in that. And in the same place where that love lived, in the depth of her being, she missed the magick as well, like a piece of her soul.
Things seemed different now that she’d come back. She couldn’t begin to see a scenario where she’d willingly leave here again—where she’d allow anything to drive her from her home again.
Morgan lifted her head, turning her head so she could stare at Alex’s sleeping form.
Tomorrow they would ask their aunt what she knew about the evil going on around them. She and Claire hadn’t wanted to bring it up tonight. They’d wanted one night as family—without the war. Tomorrow—perhaps—they’d get some answers.
Tonight, she savored. Tonight, was theirs.
Somehow, she had the notion that after their talk with their aunt tomorrow, she wouldn’t feel as good as she did right now. Perhaps she wouldn’t feel that way for quite some time. Perhaps—not until they’d managed to take their shadowy enemy down. If, indeed, he could even be taken down.
She turned her head, laying her cheek back against her folded arms, as she’d wrapped them around her bent knees to gaze back out the window. The cooling weather causing a cold blast against the window pane.
They couldn’t leave the windows open anymore, even for the Gargoyle’s easy access for protecting them, and she missed the fresh fall air that they’d enjoyed only a few short weeks, ago.
She found it amazing how quickly things could change.
Morgan stared at the crystals forming on the glass, more than a bit terrified at the notion that this shadowy, bad guy might not have an Achilles heel. She knew why she felt that way.
She didn’t know what she’d do if her aunt told her she didn’t know a thing that could help them.
What if there were no way to stop him? She didn’t think she wanted to go to sleep tonight—and rush through to the morning, where she’d learn once and for all that they were doomed. She didn’t want to know something that couldn’t be taken back.
But avoiding it wouldn’t alter the facts.
A rustling in the hallway caused her to jerk her head up. She got up, putting on her robe, hearing a light tapping on the door. Going to it and opening it, she found a grinning Tara, Claire and Sophia beaming at her.
Sophia held her daughter out to her. “Do you mind?”
Smiling, Morgan took Kira, cradling the child close to her. “Go and have fun,” she said.
Laughing quietly, Claire closed the door—and Morgan headed back to the bed with Kira.
