Morrigan

by Laura DeLuca

  Morrigan heard a disgruntled half-snort, half-chuckle. She knew it was Tiarn even before the underbrush rustled. He sprang from his hiding place and was suddenly standing in front of her with his bare, sun-kissed arms crossed over his chest. She couldn’t help but notice his arms were covered in thick black hair. The glow of the moon played across his beard-shadowed face, making him look even more mysterious than he had earlier. She had to catch her breath as she watched him glide toward her in all his dark glory.

  “It is just like royalty to be late,” he complained. “I have been waiting for you out here for nearly ten minutes.”

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry . . . .” Morrigan stuttered, and then wondered why she was apologizing. She had looked at the clock right before she stepped outside, and it was exactly twelve o’clock. She wasn’t late at all. Tiarn was just trying to get under her skin. “Wait a minute, I . . . .”

  “You what, Princess?”

  He took a step toward her with a casual smirk on his lips. Morrigan didn’t like his cocky grin any more than she liked his condescending tone of voice. She was ready to spew a whole line of unladylike words at him, but she was cut off from her retaliation when Danu and Dagda simultaneously leapt to their feet and let out a blood-curdling hiss that sounded somewhat excessive given the unthreatening circumstances. Morrigan had never seen them react so strongly to anyone. She was going to apologize for their uncharacteristic behavior, but before she could, the cats jumped in front of Tiarn with their fangs barred and their hair standing on end. If that wasn’t shocking enough, Tiarn leapt backward, fell on all fours, and snarled right back at them. His emerald eyes flashed for just a moment to an eerie diamond-shaped yellow before he collected himself and backed away.

  “Guardians!” A low snarl emanated from the back of his throat. “What are you doing with Guardians?”

  “Stop it! Sit down!”

  Morrigan wasn’t sure who she was addressing, the man or the animals. Luckily, they both obeyed her command. She stepped in between them to avoid any further confrontations. The cats took a seat on either side her legs, but their posture hardly relaxed. They still glared warily at the newcomer, even though their hisses died down to an occasional soft growl.

  “Dirty, filthy beasts!” Tiarn snarled as he climbed to his feet. “I hate Guardians.”

  “They’re just little cats,” Morrigan told him. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Just cats! Hah!” He was standing at a careful distance, even though they had started licking their paws nonchalantly. “They are much more than simple cats! Though even those I find distasteful.”

  Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind. It does not matter.” Tiarn dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. “They are not coming with us.

  “They most certainly are coming!”

  Tiarn growled again. “I beg to differ with you, Your Highness. They would only get in the way. Possibly even get killed.”

  Danu raised her head from her grooming to hiss at him again, as though she had taken that last statement as a personal threat. The strange reaction of her faithful sidekicks made Morrigan wonder again just how much Tiarn could be trusted. She also wondered why, when she wasn’t sure she could trust him, she still felt the undeniable urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.

  “If they stay here alone, they’ll definitely get killed or at least sent to the pound,” Morrigan told him. “I can’t let that happen. So, they’re coming. End of story.”

  Tiarn’s eyes flashed dangerously, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. “Very well, Princess. Bring your mongrel felines. Just keep in mind Guardians and lycans do not mix well.”

  “Lycans?” Morrigan repeated.

  A sick feeling started to settle in her stomach as the truth of his words sunk in. It all started to make sense—his hairy arms and chest, his reaction to the cats, even his earlier comment about smelling her out. Her dark knight had a much darker side than she had ever seen in her dreams.

  “Why yes, Your Majesty. Did you not realize? You are a witch and a sorceress. And I, your faithful traveling companion, am a lycan—a werewolf.”

  Chapter Six

  “Are you really a werewolf?” Morrigan asked as she jogged to keep pace with Tiarn. “Or was that some kind of strange joke?”

  Tiarn snorted, but he didn’t reply or even glance in her direction. Apparently he was still pouting over the fact the cats were coming with them. They trudged along behind them, obediently following their master. They were no trouble except for an occasional hiss in Tiarn’s direction.

  “Hello! I asked you a question.” Morrigan huffed when she still got no reply. “I guess you’re not in the mood to make conversation.”

  He was still silent, and she had pretty much given up on getting an answer at all when he finally turned to her with a tight frown and said, “Yes, Your Majesty. I really am a werewolf. I hope that does not disturb you too much.” His frown changed to a conspirative smile, and suddenly his teeth looked remarkably like pointed fangs.

  Morrigan swallowed hard and tried her best to sound nonchalant. “No, of course it doesn’t bother me. And I wish you would stop calling me ‘your majesty’. Just plain Morrigan is good enough for me.”

  “Is that an order, Princess?”

  Was he trying to be so annoying? Or did it just come naturally to him?

  She crossed her arms. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “Then, Morrigan it is.”

  They spent the next half hour traveling the deserted back streets of the Maryland suburbs in total silence. Eventually they crossed into the city of Baltimore where skyscrapers lit the night sky and the hustle of foot traffic never died out completely. They passed through the safety of the well-lit and populated Inner Harbor. Along the way, pedestrians gave the oddly dressed pair curious looks, but otherwise ignored them.

  Morrigan started to get nervous once they found themselves in a much less savory part of town. Even the glow of the tall buildings in the distance didn’t make her feel any less secure. The houses lining the city streets were dingy at best, many with bars across the windows. A few shady looking characters watched them enter their turf with frowns of disapproval. The tattooed men leaned against graffiti-covered walls while they puffed on their cigarettes. One of them even had the nerve to whistle and wink in her direction.

  Morrigan wasn’t sure what she was doing. There she was, following a total stranger—a self-proclaimed werewolf no less—through the back roads of the city to a yet unknown location. The whole thing was making Morrigan more than a little tense, and she felt the need to fill the silence with some kind of conversation to keep her mind off her precarious situation.

  “So, do you need to wait for a full moon to . . . you know . . . transform?”

  It seemed like a logical question to ask when making casual conversation with a lycan, but Tiarn turned to her and rolled his eyes.

  “You really need to stop reading so many fairytales, Morrigan,” he said with a small snicker. “And stay away from that . . . now what do they call it? Oh, yes, the boob tube. Vampires do not really burst into flames in the sunlight. Witches do not really fly on broomsticks. And werewolves do not need the full moon to change form. We can transform whenever we so desire.”

  “Can you show me… now?”

  The thought excited Morrigan, but Tiarn’s expression changed. All hint of mirth and even arrogance were instantly gone. When he spoke, his emerald eyes were filled with sadness.

  “I hope, for your sake, my dear Morrigan, you never witness my transformation. I have very little control when I am in wolf form. I am afraid my animal side has gotten me into trouble on more than one occasion. The strength and freedom of the wolf comes at a great price. One I am not willing to pay. If I can help it, I will never change again. Of course, the choice may not always be mine to make.”

  Morrigan was touched by the deep emotion in his voice. It wa
s the most sincerity he had shown since their first meeting, and it made her heart swell with love for her poor, tortured knight. She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Tiarn. I would never want to bring up memories that were painful for you.”

  He gave her a small smile. “I know you meant no harm. Now, come along, Morrigan. He is waiting for us.”

  Morrigan jerked back in surprise and very nearly stumbled over Danu and Dagda. “Who?” she asked. “Who’s waiting for us?”

  He gave her a mysterious look. “The Gatekeeper,” he said. As if that explained everything.

  “The Gatekeeper, of course,” she muttered sarcastically under her breath. “Who else would we be meeting in the projects of Baltimore?”

  Tiarn laughed out loud. He had let go of whatever small bit of sentimentality had overtaken him and was back to his normal, aggravating self. Still, she found it hard to stay angry with him when he took her completely by surprise and grabbed her hand. It sent her heart racing and fluttering with excitement, even though he was leading her down shady alleyways. She was glad for his presence beside her and her own supernatural abilities. There was no telling what kind of people might be lurking in the dark corners. No telling who might jump out and attack them at any moment.

  “Well, well, Filtiarn! Back so soon? And what is this I see? You have brought company with you. Guardians, nonetheless!”

  Morrigan jumped at the sound of the new and unfamiliar voice. With the same sort of strange accent as Tiarn, it was certainly not the sound of a born and bred Baltimorean. Glancing around the alley, her eyes finally came to rest on an old man lying in the corner. She hadn’t even seen him—he blended so well with the bags of garbage and cardboard boxes. Old and dirty, he was missing more teeth than he had, and his straggly beard was probably lice infested. His clothes were little more than rags, and the smell—as he stood to walk toward them, Morrigan couldn’t help but lift her arm to cover her nose. It was the only way to keep from gagging.

  Tiarn had no such qualms and instantly reached out a hand in greeting. “Condon, my friend! How are you?”

  “Much the same as I was this morning when you passed through my gate—cold and weary. I look forward to the end of the moon cycle when I can switch places with my brother and return to Tír na NÓg. Even a war torn world is better than a soulless one. Yet still, I am much better off than you. A lycan in the company of Guardians? And here I thought these old eyes had seen all the wonders the worlds could possibly show them.”

  “Not my choice, Condon, I assure you. But you know how stubborn royalty can be.”

  “Royalty? So this is the girl? The one the prophecies spoke of? I never thought I would live long enough to see—”

  “She is the daughter of Ceridwyn,” Tiarn interrupted. “But as for your prophecies, old man—I have little time for make believe.”

  “Still the eternal pessimist, Tiarn?” Condon laughed good-naturedly as he looked Morrigan over. She saw kindness in his dark eyes and his gentle smile. It made his ragamuffin appearance less intimidating, if not more appealing. “Well, I see a great light in this girl. She may surprise us yet. I suppose either way it matters little what I believe. I am just a Gatekeeper, and that is all I shall ever be.”

  “You are much more than that, my friend, and you know it,” Tiarn said, giving the man a pat on the shoulder.

  Morrigan stood back silently, listening to the exchange and making a mental list of questions to ask Tiarn later. It seemed the more she was told about herself, the less she knew. Her destiny was turning out to be much more complicated than she had realized. Lycans, Gatekeepers, mysterious prophecies—it was a lot to digest in a single night.

  “Well, well, well . . . I do believe we have met before.” Danu and Dagda were no less opposed to the smelly homeless man than Tiarn was. They both wound around his ankles, purring and rubbing against his soiled pant legs as if he were covered in catnip. “What was it now? About two years ago that you passed through my gateway?” he asked as he stroked their arched backs.

  “It . . . it was two years ago that I found them,” Morrigan admitted.

  Condon raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Well, she speaks! I was afraid she might be a deaf mute, standing there so still and silent.”

  Tiarn laughed and Morrigan felt her lips curl back into a frown. “Hardly,” she said and folded her arms. “I just wait to speak until there’s someone worth talking to.”

  “Ha, royalty indeed!” Condon laughed. “No, don’t worry, Princess Morrigan . . . I do not take offense. I am sure a witch of your stature is aware this guise is nothing but an illusion.”

  “Yes, Morrigan,” Tiarn teased. “Why not kiss him and see if he turns into a prince?

  Morrigan felt like they were making fun of her, and she didn’t like it. She had been teased enough in her life. She thought she was finally escaping that kind of torment. She was even more annoyed when she felt her eyes stinging with tears.

  “What about the cats?” Morrigan asked, trying to change the subject. “You said they came through your gate before I found them?”

  “You found them?” Condon laughed again. It made him seem even less vulgar, and made it hard to stay angry with the old man. “Oh, no, my dear—they found you. They were sent to you for protection.”

  That piqued her interest. “Sent by who? My mother?”

  Tiarn snorted. “That is doubtful.”

  “I cannot answer that question,” Condon said with a shake of his head. “But I am sure once they are home, your pets will find a way to answer it for you. Now, are you ready?” Tiarn nodded and so did Morrigan, though she wasn’t nearly as certain she was ready. “Then let me call my brother, Dunham, and we shall have you two children on your way to Tír na NÓg.”

  He was so casual in the mention of calling his brother, Morrigan half expected him to pull out a cell phone. Instead, his features went instantly blank, and he fell into a strange, almost catatonic state. The air around him seemed to buzz with energy she could almost see, like an aura of silver-white light all around him, and she knew he had much less conventional ways of communicating with his brother.

  “His twin brother is in Tír na NÓg,” Tiarn explained in a soft whisper. “They both need to open their ends of the portal in order for anyone to cross over. Identical twins are the key to opening the gateways between worlds. Even here, some are born with the power. That is why twins were often separated at birth and sometimes killed in ancient times. Too much power always scares the people of this world. Twins have little to fear now, since few people here believe in magic anymore.”

  His breath teased the hairs on the back of her neck, making her shiver though she was hardly cold. It was a magic that was very different than what she was witnessing with Condon, but it was just as captivating. She was a little disappointed when he stepped away.

  It seemed they were standing there for an eternity with no change in Condon’s expression. Morrigan started to shiver in the cool autumn night. She was about to ask how she would know when the brothers made their connection when Condon answered the unspoken question for her. Not with words, but with his fluid, surprisingly agile movements. He stood with his eyes still closed and raised his gnarled hand to the sky. On the palm of that hand was what might have been a tattoo or even a birthmark. It was an endless spiral—the spiral of creation.

  Morrigan gasped at the familiarity of the symbol. She instantly recognized its power. Just looking at it made her feel dizzy and somehow less substantial, even before it started to glow a brilliant, radiant purple. Then she could only sit back in silent awe as the symbol grew and rose away from the man’s palm, growing larger and brighter, until it became an entity all its own. The spiral glowed in shades of violet and green and moved in a circular motion in never-ending rays of light. Entranced by its strange beauty, Morrigan took a step toward the gateway, but Tiarn restrained her.

  “Sorry, Morrigan, I am always a gentleman, and under normal circumstance, I would c
ertainly abide the rule of ladies first. But when you are traveling between worlds, you never know what might be waiting for you on the other side. And Condon’s brother is known for his lack of integrity. So, I think it best I do the honors.”

  Morrigan couldn’t argue with that. She hardly wanted to be the first to walk into a dragon’s lair or a castle under siege. She stepped back and allowed Tiarn to move forward.

  “I shall see you on the other side,” Tiarn said and winked as he approached the portal. “I hope...”

  He jumped into the swirling circle of light before she could ask what he meant by “I hope” and instantly vanished from her sight. To her surprise, Danu and Dagda were fast on his heels. They must have been anxious to get back to their true home because they felt no fear whatsoever about what was waiting for them on the other side. Morrigan didn’t feel nearly as brave when it was her turn. She breathed deeply to steady her nerves and took a small step forward.

  Before she could go farther, someone grabbed hold of her wrist. This time is was Condon. He looked at her in a strange way, and tried to open his mouth to speak. It was obviously difficult for him. It must have taken a great deal of energy to keep the gate open. To try to do any more had to be next to impossible.

  “When . . . the time comes . . . sweet Morrigan . . . choose the light . . . choose the light . . . .”

  He didn’t give her time to ask what that meant. She saw him start to crumple to the ground just as he shoved her through the opening of the portal.

  Chapter Seven

  Morrigan was floating, surrounded by a whirlpool of colors. Red and orange, yellow and green, blue and indigo flashed before her eyes in a blinding kaleidoscope. Then finally a bright violet overtook all the other colors. The color seemed to become almost a tangible thing, wrapping her in its glow; opening and expanding like a lotus flower in bloom. She could almost feel the soft petals of the flower against her skin, embracing her, like a warm and welcoming blanket. She let her eyes slip closed for just a moment, feeling surrounded by peace and wanting to linger in the safety of the womb-like shelter.