Morrigan

by Jonathan King

  Abel gulped.

  “And you won’t even commit to a tattoo?” Morrigan finished.

  “I’m sorry,” said Abel. “You’ve been around thousands of years, and you’ve experienced more of the world, and you expect me to have goals the same as you? Me, who spent the seventeen years of his life sheltered under the strictest of rules, who hasn’t even figured out what’s really good or bad?”

  Morrigan shook her head. “No, you’re right. I guess I just expected more.”

  Abel squeezed his fists until his knuckles turned white. “More flirting too?”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” said Morrigan. “You don’t need to flirt. You’ve got a certain innocent charm without it. But I was flirting with you. You … well, like I said, you tried.”

  “You made it seem like you liked it.”

  Morrigan shrugged. “I liked you.”

  “Like you’d like a trained dog.”

  “Will you let that go? I was out of line there. I know that.”

  “Yeah, I’m not a trained dog anymore,” said Abel. “I’m a puppy that follows you around everywhere. Cute, but embarrassing.”

  “I’m not embarrassed by you!” said Morrigan.

  “Embarrassed for me, then,” said Abel.

  Morrigan hesitated. “I just think you could be doing more with your freedom. That’s all.”

  Abel balled up the Freedom List and dropped it into his beer glass, watching the paper soak up the foul liquid. “Forget it. It was a stupid list, anyway.”

  Morrigan replied, but Abel couldn’t hear her over the pounding in his ears. Had nothing been real this whole time? Mere moments ago he’d thought they’d had something. Now he saw it had all been an act. Or he’d read too much into things. Or it had been real, and he’d ruined it. He honestly wasn’t sure which was worse.

  Sound finally broke through the clouds in his brain, but it wasn’t Morrigan or her relatives. It was a song, the words in a language that was probably Gaelic, the melody honey-sweet, bringing tears to his eyes. He’d heard the saying “voice of an angel” before, and now he knew what it meant.

  He turned and saw the angel standing among the musicians, swaying to the rhythm of their instruments. The sunlight from the window haloed her golden hair and soaked into her red silk dress. He’d seen her in the back of the pub when he’d first come in, but only now that she was singing did he really notice her. In fact, every eye was on her now, every man and even a couple of the women gazing at her with obvious longing. Even Boyle stood motionless except to wipe his eyes as he gaped at the vision in red. But she only had eyes for Abel; her azure eyes stared straight at him and through him and into him, stealing the breath from his lungs as if to feed the song.

  “Táim sínte ar do thuama

  Agus gheobhair ann de shíor mé

  Dá mbeadh barra do dhá láihm agam

  Ní scarfainn liet choíche…”

  Each word trailed a delicate finger across the back of his neck, setting every nerve tingling.

  Then the song ended, and the applause from the patrons broke the spell. Abel shivered. Something had connected them, something he’d never felt before. Something he longed to feel again.

  He watched her go back to her booth across the room and then glanced at the paper beer pulp that was the Freedom List. It was time to mark one off the list.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll prove I can flirt.”

  “Sorry, what?” Morrigan blinked. She and the gods had been deep in conversation, reliving some past battle of note. Abel doubted they’d even heard the song or seen the woman.

  “I’m gonna flirt with her,” Abel nodded to the woman, who sat with her back to them.

  Morrigan followed his gaze, and her eyes popped wide. “Her? But she’s—”

  “Out of my league?” Abel finished for her.

  “I was going to say not likely to be as kind to you if you fail.”

  “Not like you, then.”

  Morrigan sighed. “You always assume you know what I’m saying.”

  “You didn’t see the way she was looking at me,” said Abel. “I can do it. I can impress somebody here, even if it isn’t you.”

  “Sounds like the beer is affecting him already,” Mac whispered to Brigid.

  “It is not!” Abel said, although he felt warm and more than a little loose.

  “Now Mac, there’s no reason at all she wouldn’t find a young man like him attractive,” said Brigid.

  “Every man is attractive to a woman until he starts talking,” said Mac.

  “That’s it.” Abel slapped the counter. “I bring back her phone number, or the next round is on me.”

  “Now we’re talking,” said Mac, shaking his hand. “It’s a deal. But you’d best make good out there, lad. I’m a hearty drinker.”

  “Don’t encourage him,” said Morrigan.

  “Worried I’ll get hurt?” Abel asked.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Abel chuckled and shook his head. “I’m more capable than you think I am. And I’ll prove it.”

  Brigid adjusted the edges of Abel’s cardigan, then took him by the shoulders. “Don’t forget to be yourself. That’s all women really care about.” Her gaze shifted, not to the woman in red, but to Morrigan.

  Abel smiled. “Thanks.” Thanks, but she doesn’t see me like that. Not anymore. Maybe she never did.

  “It’s what I do.” Brigid stepped out of his way, clearing a path toward the booth.

  Abel squared his shoulders and walked forward. I can do this. I’ll show her. I’ll show them all I can run with the gods any day of the week. No problem.

  Then the woman looked at him with those hungry blue eyes, and his confidence melted away, threatening to take his body with him.

  Oh gosh, he thought. I’m gonna die.

  13

  Okay, strategy. What are you going to say to her? Compliment her on the song? Ask if she’s waiting on anybody? Tell her she’s pretty? Oh, sure, that’ll go over well. “Hey, you’re pretty. Please like me.” Oh Lord, please don’t let those words come out of my mouth.

  Before he could make up his mind, he found his path blocked. Another man had gotten to the woman first and leaned over her table. Abel stopped dead and sighed. That’ll teach me to overthink flirting.

  “Pretty song from a pretty lady.” The man slurred his words. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  Abel’s mouth fell open. At least I couldn’t have said anything worse than that.

  “Not interested,” said the woman, “in the drink or in you.”

  “Oh, come on, baby, you know you like the attention.” The drunk leaned in closer. “Maybe later we could have a private concert, make some beautiful music together. I know how to make you sing.”

  Abel squeezed his eyes shut. This had crossed the line from embarrassing to disturbing, and he couldn’t stand by anymore. Forget flirting, he had to push this guy away…

  The plan came to him fully formed. He stepped forward, clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder, and threw as much Southern drawl into his voice as possible. “Son, do you know what the Bible says about lusting after a woman?”

  The drunk glared at him, blinking several times to bring Abel into focus, and as the words sank in, his face went from snarling anger to puckered confusion. “Huh?”

  “It’s better to pluck out your own eyes than to defile her with those eyes and be thrown into hell. Those guilty of sexual immorality shall be cast into the outer darkness, where there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” The man tried to interrupt, but Abel charged on. “Oh, friend, there is a day coming when the sky shall open up and the Son of Man shall descend with a flaming sword and separate the unrighteous from his people, and we know that the sexually immoral shall not inherit His kingdom. Get on your knees and pray to God that his fiery wrath shall not consume you on the Day of Judgment!”

  The drunk backed away wide-eyed. “Kid, you’ve got problems,” he muttered, and he ran from the bar. />
  Abel dusted off his hands. “Problem solved.”

  “That was brilliant!” The woman returned his smile and made his knees go weak.

  “Just something I picked up from my father,” said Abel. “He has a talent for driving people away.” He winced. Sure, bring your daddy issues into the conversation. Smooth.

  The woman’s smile faded, but she nodded. “Mine too.”

  Abel blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected that connection. Did everyone have issues with their father?

  The woman waited a moment before breaking the silence. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “Yes,” Abel said, a little too quickly, as he remembered why he was here. “Yes, I would like to sit down.” He slid into the seat across from her, covering his burning cheeks with his hands.

  “So do you really believe all that stuff about people who lust going to hell?” asked the woman.

  “Yeah. Well, sort of. I believe God’s a lot more merciful than that whole fire-and-brimstone spiel painted him,” said Abel.

  “Good, because the way you were looking at me while I sang, you’re going to need some mercy.”

  Abel’s mouth dropped open. “No, I wouldn’t … that wasn’t…”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” the woman said with a laugh. “I don’t mind. At least you’re being a gentleman, unlike some people.” She threw a sour glance at the door.

  “Yeah, he was a jerk. You deserve better.” Oh my gosh, how many times has she heard that line? From her amused smile, Abel guessed it was a lot. He changed the subject. “What was that song about, anyway? It was really pretty, but I couldn’t understand a word of it.”

  The woman chuckled. “It’s a love song. It’s about a man who stretches out on the grave of his young lover, longing to be reunited with her in death.”

  Abel swallowed. “It sounded a lot prettier than that.”

  “It’s tragic, yes, but no less beautiful for it.”

  “Like you.” Abel winced and kicked himself under the table. There you go again. Morrigan’s right. You suck at this.

  The woman laughed. “You’re new at this, aren’t you?”

  “Flirting? Yeah, a bit. That bad, huh?”

  “Everyone is at first, but you still have to try. It’s the only way to get experience.” She leaned forward. “Besides, I like my men on the innocent side. More fun for me that way.”

  “You like to be the one in charge in a relationship?”

  “I do get a thrill out of dominating. But I don’t do relationships.” The woman’s eyes darkened. “I did once. It ended … tragically.”

  “Like the song?” Abel asked. “Did he … did he die?”

  The woman looked away. “Another story for another time.”

  “Then we’ll have to find a way to keep in touch,” said Abel.

  “Ah, now we come to the real reason you came over.” The woman leaned back in her seat. “My phone number.”

  Abel glanced at his friends, who were pretending not to watch in the most conspicuous way possible, Morrigan especially. “I wouldn’t say that’s the whole reason.”

  “I told you, I don’t mind. But I also don’t do long term.” The hungry look came back into her eyes, and she licked her blood-red lips. “Lucky for you, I can give you something better and a lot more memorable.”

  Abel swallowed. “Like what?”

  She stood and beckoned to him, heading for the pub’s back door in a flutter of tight red silk. “Follow me, Baby.”

  Abel’s limbs locked up. He didn’t know what she was planning, but he had a feeling it was going farther than he wanted. Why else would she go out the back door and not the front?

  But his ears picked up a quiet melody. The woman hummed the same song she’d been singing earlier, looking at him with the same desire from earlier, and it only made her all the more beautiful. Maybe the alcohol was kicking in, maybe the music was messing with his head, maybe it was the chance to prove Morrigan wrong about him, or maybe it was his own stupid, selfish lust. Whatever the reason, he’d follow this woman anywhere, whether he should or not.

  He slid out of his seat and went toward her, his world cloudy, his heart pounding like a war drum in time with her song. At the door, he threw one last look back at the gods. Brigid shrugged, Mac gave him a thumbs up, and Morrigan … wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at the woman with … what? Suspicion? Recognition? Jealousy? Whatever it was, she didn’t look happy. Any other time, Abel would have cared. Now all he cared about was this woman and her siren song.

  He stepped out the back door and into the alley.

  Before he knew what happened, the woman grabbed him, pinned him against the wall, forced his arms above his head, and kissed him full on the lips. The shock broke through his stupor; it was his first kiss, after all. He’d never had a girl press her body against his like this or entwine her tongue with his. Every part of his conscience screamed that this was wrong, but his body responded differently. Then her hot breath was in his ear, tingling through the veins in his side all the way down to his toes, and she was kissing her way down to his neck, and it was getting awfully hard to think again.

  “Look, this is moving too fast for me,” Abel stammered. “I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

  “We won’t know each other long enough for that to matter,” she whispered, and the words tickled his ear.

  Like a bell.

  And two automatic responses popped out of the fog in his mind. The first was from 1 Corinthians: Flee from sexual immorality … You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies. And the second was his mother glaring at the Reverend, asking what he was doing married to her, and the answer, unspoken yet so obvious.

  Abel tried to pull away, but the woman shoved him back against the wall with a lustful snarl.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I can’t do this. I’ve bitten off way more than I can chew here.”

  “Relax, Baby,” said the woman. “I’ll do enough biting for both of us.”

  “No, it’s okay, you don’t have to—” Abel’s words shattered into a scream as two sharp points pierced his neck. Every nerve shrieked, and warm blood ran down his chest and soaked his shirt and sweater.

  The woman caught some sticky liquid on her finger and sucked it off, savoring every drop with moans of pleasure. Between her lips, Abel saw two white fangs jutting down, tipped red in his blood.

  “A vampire?” he panted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Sorry, Babe,” said the vampire. “I really did like you, but I’ve got my job to do.” She leaned in and licked the blood from his collar bone, trailing her tongue in little circles. “Although I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t going to enjoy this.”

  14

  Abel struggled to free himself, but one of the vampire’s hands still held his wrists in place, and her knee against his stomach kept him pinned. She was stronger than she looked, and he was weak and lightheaded from blood loss.

  Then he heard a screech, and a black-and-white blur descended on the vampire’s face, flapping and cawing and pecking at her eyes. The vampire stumbled to the ground, leaving Abel free to slump to the ground. He clutched his neck and felt his warm pulse sloshing against it.

  His eyes were fuzzy, even with his glasses, so he didn’t see the crow change, but the world snapped sideways as Morrigan took on human form again. The goddess slammed her fists into the vampire’s face, screaming with every strike. Abel’s body chilled, not from blood loss but from fear. This wasn’t the grace she had shown in her fight against the Red Caps. This wasn’t even the dignified and awesome horror he had seen in the car. Morrigan was an animal, a bear defending her cub, a wildcat clawing its prey. No strategy, no skill, just raw power and pain and rage.

  That was her downfall. The vampire grabbed Morrigan’s wrists and rolled, straddling her and holding her still. “Losing your edge, Morry? You weren’t this careless last time we fought.” She glanc
ed at Abel. “Don’t tell me I’m encroaching on your territory. A goddess like you can do better than him.”

  Morrigan writhed, but the vampire only laughed and held her still, unable to attack. Morrigan stopped fighting, breathed in, breathed out, deep and even until she could manage words again. “Why him?”

  “Besides the fact that he’s cute and tasty?” The vampire shrugged. “Apparently he didn’t make the boss lady very happy when he kidnapped you. I mean, we both know you don’t go anywhere you don’t want to, but she feels the need to blame somebody.”

  Morrigan let out a dry laugh. “You work for Cora now.”

  “It keeps me well fed.” The vampire frowned. “Not on you, sadly. Boss lady has her rules.”

  Morrigan leaned up toward the vampire as much as she could. “Tell Cora my friends are off limits. Tell her I’ll come back when I’m ready. And when I do, it’ll be to kill her.”

  “What makes you think I’ll deliver that message instead of sucking your boy toy dry?” the vampire asked.

  “What makes you think you’ll get the chance?”

  Morrigan flattened herself to the ground as much as she could as the rumble of an engine filled the air. A beat-up Chevy truck sped down the alley and plowed into the vampire, sending her flying through the air to land ten feet away. Abel was sure the vampire was dead, but she stirred and rose to her feet. Then Mac’s strong arms were around him, and Morrigan rolled out from under the truck, and together they heaved him into the truck bed with Brigid. Morrigan hopped in next to them, and Mac climbed back in the cab and backed the truck up. The vampire lunged, and her nails raked the side of the truck bed. Then Mac shifted gears and screeched away, leaving Abel’s attacker in the dust.

  “Hold still now.” Brigid pulled Abel’s hand away from the wound.

  “Is he all right?” Morrigan asked, and the worry in her voice surprised Abel.

  “He will be in a moment.” Brigid placed a hand over Abel’s bleeding neck and mumbled an incantation in Gaelic. Fire spread through his veins, and he couldn’t hold back a scream. Then the pain vanished. He touched the place where the vampire had bitten him and found only smooth skin and clotting blood.