Birth of a Goddess (Reincarnation of the Morrigan Book 1)

by Renée Jaggér

  “What secret?” Moon asked, anxiety lacing her tone.

  Sun’s eyes glazed with tears. She traced the palm of her sister’s hand. Their mother used to do that to comfort them. Sun did so in an idle way now, as if she weren’t quite aware of her movements. “Our powers come from the gods. Our powers to save and heal, but also to—”

  “Kill and destroy,” Stars finished. “Even those who are innocent.”

  A tear slipped down Sun’s cheek. “How are we to know who is innocent? Who is to say a child taken captive today will not become a tyrant in ten years' time? The gods pull the strings. We are as much puppets to them as men are.”

  “No.” Stars’ voice was firm. “We’re not puppets. The gods fight among themselves just as men do. We do not. We stand together.”

  Moon nodded in agreement. Sun gave her youngest sister the only smile she could manage. “It’s time for me to let go. I cannot carry on.” She began to cry in earnest.

  Moon pulled her into her arms. “It’s okay. We knew this day would come for all of us.” She pulled back and shrugged. “We’re still with you. You are still our sister.”

  Stars managed a smile of her own. “We’re together, Sun, until the end of time.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Hunger never sated,

  thirst never quenched.

  Testing and trial,

  torment and the tremors of war

  in the earth’s very center.

  ‘I can no longer go on,’ she said.

  ‘The stars burn on,

  send me two, break this soon.’

  The world—it cannot end now.”

  —Song of the First Sundering

  “Finally,” I breathed.

  I closed my flat’s door behind me. My home looked the same as I had left it: dingy and dirty. Why start doing things differently now? With little time between shifts, I always chose sleep over cleaning. A little honest dirt never hurt anyone.

  Well, maybe it was time to give my dwelling at least a lick and a promise. I ordered takeaway, turned on the television, and set to work. First, the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Next, fold all my laundry. Third, dust and put away the clutter scattered across my living room.

  Why the hell did I let myself get this way? I thought. Good thing I can’t have houseguests over anytime soon. At this thought, an ache bloomed in my chest. The last houseguest I had had was my brother, and that had been years ago.

  I allowed my thoughts to be interrupted by the deep voice of the narrator on the television. “A group of crows is called a murder. Although several explanations exist for this term, the most popular one comes from folk tales and superstitions. One such folktale talks about how crows will gather to decide the fate of another crow. Many consider the appearance of crows an omen of death because they, like ravens and vultures, are scavengers and are associated with dead bodies, battlefields, and cemeteries. They are often seen circling in large numbers above sites where animals or people have died.”

  I paused and straightened, my body going still.

  The television droned on. “Crows are members of the Corvidae family, which includes ravens, magpies, and blue jays. Loud, rambunctious, and very intelligent, crows are associated with a long history of fear and loathing. They are considered pests by farmers trying to protect their crops and seedlings. Many people fear them because of their black fe—”

  I turned the television off and sank onto the sofa.

  I glanced at the window where a crow normally sat pecking at the pane. It was not there. “An omen,” I murmured, echoing what I had heard on the television. I sighed, leaned back, and rubbed my eyes. Today, for once, I was able to forget about being a goddess and saving the world. It all started with Simon, then my mother.

  I sat straight up as something dawned on me. I hadn’t called her yet. She had known Gran wanted me there and why. She’d been keeping it from me for however long, and she’d lied to me about Gran being her mother.

  I considered my mother, Hellen Morgan, to be an open book, especially after her divorce from my father. I hadn’t seen my father since I was ten years old and didn’t have a desire to now. Hellen Morgan had shared all her secrets with me, from cookie recipes to things she had gotten away with at university. All except one, I thought. Frustration welled within me, but I couldn’t tell if there was a rising bitterness there as well.

  I had to find out.

  I dialed my mother’s number. After two rings, I heard a click and the cheerful greeting that always followed. “Hello, dear! So good to hear from you, but oh! You’re back early. What happened?”

  “I had to go back to work,” I explained. “The hospital is overrun.”

  “Oh, dear, I’m sorry,” my mother responded, but I had an inkling she was sorrier about my holiday being cut short than about me having to return to work.

  “Me too.” I pulled in a deep breath. “We need to talk, Mum.”

  My mother paused, and I knew what would come next. You left me in the dark for so long, I wanted to say. I was ready to pounce, but she wasn’t my enemy. She was my own flesh and blood. If what Gran had said about my future was true, I needed allies.

  “How long have you known, Mum?” I asked, trying to relax.

  I heard my mother take a long breath on the other end. “I’ve known since about ten years before you were born.”

  I gawked. “You knew about me?”

  “No, no, dear. Let me explain. You see, your great-great-aunt and I were close when I was a child, and by the time I was nearly grown, she had begun telling me about the Morrigan. She knew, however, that I wanted children. I wanted you.” Her voice was earnest. “And your brother.”

  My heart squeezed in her chest. My mother didn’t often mention my younger brother, who had died in a motorbike accident five years ago, right after I finished my EMT training.

  Hellen continued, “Since she knew I wanted children, she told me she had been the Morrigan but didn’t press me to take on her mantle. She did, however, tell me that if I were to ever have a daughter, she hoped she could pass it on to her. So when I had you, well...”

  I sighed. “Did you ever think I might want children?”

  “I did,” Hellen answered, “but since we started having conversations about how you didn’t want to bring them into this world we’re in right now, I thought it might work out. I contacted Gran and told her you might enjoy some time away in the countryside.”

  She paused, but I didn’t answer right away. I’m glad everyone else has my future planned out for me. At last, I said, “Who is my grandmother, then?”

  “She died before I finished school.” My mother’s voice sounded sad. “I wanted you to grow up connected to an older woman. Gran became like a mother to me, though distantly.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

  Yes, that would have been nicer than being sent to the countryside during a pandemic, I thought. “How much do you know?”

  “Only that Gran was the Morrigan during the First Great War and separated her powers, making her less powerful but still one part of the goddess. She told me one day she would have to die and pass it on, preferably to a woman in the family. You’ve always been a hero, Ang. I remember seeing Gran’s power for myself. That was why I believed. I’ve seen that same power in you for years.”

  I stiffened at the word “hero,” thinking about my brother. About how if I’d had my job when he died, I could have been on call. I could have been a hero and saved him, but instead, I had coasted through most of my school years. I’d paid more attention to parties and boys than my best friend and confidant.

  Don’t blame yourself, I had to tell myself. I had been saying those three words over and over for the past five years. Even if I’d had the job when he died, it didn’t mean I would have been on call. It didn’t mean I would have even gotten there in time. He had been killed almost instantly, they had said.

  The word “almost” liked to lurk in my mind. It liked to
follow me into my dreams, turning them into nightmares where I was on the motorbike and awoke just as I crashed to the pavement.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing notification on my phone.

  Simon.

  Ang—there's an emergency. Please come in.

  I started. Simon wouldn’t be calling me in after I had worked all day if it weren’t a true emergency. But why me? What emergency required me? Simon was asking a lot of me these days.

  “Are you still there?” my mother was asking.

  “Yes, Mum,” I answered. “I have to go in to work. I’ll call you soon. I have more questions.”

  “Of course you do. Be safe out there.”

  “I will. You must have decided it was important for me to be with Gran if you suggested I go there after being exposed to the virus.”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  I swallowed hard. “The truth from now on, okay, Mum?” Secrets hurt people. I knew that better than I knew most things.

  My mother made a sound of agreement, and I hung up. Remember to call her back. There’s so much you still need to know, I told myself.

  The ambulance’s siren bleated, but I was still able to hear Simon over the radio.

  His voice was urgent. “There were multiple break-ins and violent encounters soon after you left. When the police showed up, many of the occupants became violent, blaming the police for keeping everyone locked inside.”

  “They weren’t locked up, though,” I protested. They were able to leave if and when they needed to but were advised to adhere to certain restrictions in public. So we didn’t end up with more in the hospital, I thought with no small amount of indignation.

  Simon sighed. “I know, but they don’t care. They’re angry the police won’t protect them in their own homes. The situation has spiraled, and a mob of people seized some of the officers and dragged them inside.”

  “They’re holding them hostage?” I asked, stunned. I glanced at the paramedic who was driving. He nodded, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Damn.”

  Simon continued, “The police have surrounded the building and are trying to negotiate with the people inside. They need one of you to go in with one of the police when you get there. I’d like that to be you if you can. You’ve been there before, so you might have an advantage. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will,” I answered, my heart pounding faster. Simon using the word “advantage” clanged in my head. He had no idea.

  “Thanks, Ang, for everything. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Simon’s voice faded as the ambulance whipped around a corner. Night had fallen, and the streetlights shone on the pavement below. As we approached the council flats I had been at that morning, I heard shouting. The vehicle came to a halt, and I hopped out. Police were everywhere, but they seemed beyond frazzled. Their lights shone on the street and cast red and blue beams on the tall brick building they had surrounded.

  Oh, no, I thought as I stepped closer. Dread surged within me. Panic rose behind that and gripped me before I could tear away. I was here in my dream, though, in the dream, there had been a blinding light. It was night; the only lights to guide me were those of the police cars.

  I remembered then what Gran had told me about visions: the way I saw them wouldn’t always be the way it happened. Great, I was given unreliable prophecies. Regardless, the feeling I had was the one from the dream.

  A feeling that if I didn’t act, many would die.

  Get them out, echoed from my dream. My hands curled into fists. My veins felt like they were laden with lava. Get them out.

  Chapter Ten

  “Tell me about the wolf, Imah. Tell me about how she killed.”

  Mother draws daughter close, tucks her in her wing.

  “Listen well, Diah, to the tale of the wolf who killed.

  Cold eyes, the ice.

  Wolf bite, the sting.

  A far-off call, the crow warns.

  Hide, hither she comes.

  Hither she comes.

  Hither she comes.

  Silver and sleek, she howls.

  A starry crown,

  crescent throne growing full.

  Waning is the war,

  waking is the queen,

  walking are the dead.

  Hither she comes.

  Hither she comes.

  Hither she comes.”

  —Song from the Ancient Book of Morrigan

  I did not waste time mingling with the other emergency staff. Simon had specifically asked me to go in. Questions came into my mind, and I sought answers. Which way would we go in? Which officer was I supposed to accompany? Why were they all standing around as if waiting for a hero to show up?

  They were about to be disappointed with what they got, I thought. I wasn’t here to fly the hostages out or crush the building to get in.

  I pushed through the throng. It was mostly comprised of policemen and those whom the hospital had sent, but there were also a number of civilians. Some looked angry and were shouting; others looked afraid. Still others were just watching what was going on. Most weren’t wearing masks and seemed not to mind being so close together.

  I groaned. Why couldn’t they just listen for once? This wasn’t a show. Many people in England were cooperative, but not in this area.

  My heart thundered as I pushed through the people. This was just the kind of thing we needed during this time: a large crowd in one place. My fellow paramedics followed me, and when I broke away from the crowd and reached the line of policemen in front of the building, one hailed me and my team.

  I approached the policeman, who extended his hand. “My name is Officer Dawes. Thank you for getting here so fast.”

  “It’s our job,” I answered. Had he expected anything less? “Angelica Morgan. Our emergency director assigned me to go in,” I said as if I were a soldier in Simon’s army.

  The policeman nodded. “I saw you this morning with the mother and child. We took the boyfriend in, but the disturbance has increased since then.”

  “I see that.” I pressed my lips together. “Are we going in?”

  The policeman nodded as he surveyed the building. Shouting was coming from within. I stiffened, remembering what was inside. “We’re trying to negotiate. If they let the officers go, no harm will come to them. Everyone makes it out alive, and no one is injured.”

  I had a feeling that both deaths and injuries had occurred, but saying so would only instill more fear.

  Dawes motioned at the building. “Follow me. I’ll watch out for you.” I followed the policeman around the building to the back, where a dilapidated playground stood. Swings dangling from a single chain brushed the concrete. The metal slide looked like a rusted tongue spilling into the dirt. The pole around which ribbons had once hung gleamed in the moonlight. A fence rose around the enclosure. Looks like a prison yard, I mused to myself. Might as well be.

  Dawes pushed open a creaking gate and we entered.

  I heard the rustling of the figures before I saw they were men. Four, I counted. I should have brought a damn weapon. What was I thinking? The men weren’t idling about the yard but had been posted as...

  Guards, I realized. Low-grade guards with low-grade weapons, but dangerous anyway.

  One held a long kitchen knife, another a spiked cricket bat. The third held a crowbar in one hand and a tire iron in the other. The fourth wore a menacing smile and stalked toward us, swinging a heavy chain. “Tasers and batons won’t help you very much here, will they?” he taunted.

  Dawes stiffened, and I wanted nothing more than to lunge at the four men and get them out of our way. “Let us through, McAroy. You’re all done today,” Dawes commanded.

  “We’ve just gotten started.” McAroy’s lips parted to reveal a toothless smile. “Who's this? Pretty girl?” He turned to me.

  I stiffened, and rage mounted within me. I wished more than anything to wrap that chain he carried around his neck, but I managed to address hi
m in a calm tone. “We want to negotiate. You let your hostages go, and we won’t harm anyone.”

  The man’s brows rose. “You won’t harm us?” He cackled and stepped back, throwing his hands up in a mocking manner. “Ooh, I’m so scared! The nurse won’t hurt us!”

  At least nurses don’t have to be here dealing with you, I thought, but saying that wouldn’t make any difference.

  Dawes spoke next, and I noted that though his voice was firm and threatening, it held pure exhaustion as well. “You’re surrounded.”

  I stepped forward and the four men shifted, ready to launch an attack. “Step out of the way.” My command was met with snickers and low, wicked-sounding chuckles. Come on, don’t leave me now. I thought this at the Way of Kings as though it were a person guiding me. What the hell am I even doing? was my next thought, but deciding I didn’t have time to waste, I stepped closer to the man with the spiked bat.

  “Nice sword,” I commented in a dry tone. I smirked as I surveyed his weapon. I folded my arms and took in his soiled, ripped clothing and unkempt hair.

  The man chuckled. “Thanks.”

  I looked at his face to find his expression relaxed and eyes bright. He had taken my comment as a genuine compliment. I almost laughed. “Do you like playing guard?” I asked as if I were making small talk with a child. The man smiled and leaned back, dropping his guard. I didn’t look at the others, but I sensed two of them were listening with interest. “It ain’t no game, Miss.” The man’s expression and voice were somber.

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “This isn’t a game, and I need you to let me through.”

  The man smiled and began to move to the side. Two of the others had fallen silent and were just watching. I could feel Dawes’ wide-eyed gaze on me. The fourth man, the one who appeared to be leading them, was less than affected by me.