Chapter Twenty-Three
The doctors have ruled out an aneurysm and are now doing a few tests to check it wasn’t another kind of stroke. The waiting room fills with other families. They look like we did last night. Scared, anxious, clutching rosary beads or each other’s hands.
Cormac texts to say Paul’s invited us to watch a film at his later. He’s asked Meg as well. I feel I should be here, but when I tell Mum, she insists I go. She promises to call with any news and drives me home.
As we turn into the estate, the pavement lights up with a vision.
I turn away and try to focus on what Mum is saying about house viewings.
The light is getting brighter and a crow swoops right in front of the car.
Mum swears and slams on the brakes. Without thinking, my gaze follows the bird towards the light.
It’s the girl from the photos. Brigid. Still a teenager. She’s walking with one of the men I saw her talking to before. I turn away, ignoring the screams in my ears as we drive past.
Let yourself forget it.
I want to. I didn’t even see anything, anyway. Just the girl walking.
There was something there.
No.
The car radio turns to roaring static. Mum swears again and among the white noise I hear a rasping voice. ‘File báis,’ it hisses, and goosebumps tingle on my arms.
Mum doesn’t seem to notice. I turn the radio off. My phone is in my hand and I feel the light shining behind me. I hover my finger over the camera icon, ready to capture it; then I think of Dad and stop. We turn the corner and it’s gone.
See, I can do it.
But before I can stop myself I open the notes app and write, ‘Brigid walking with the guy from before.’
Damn it.
Mum is still talking about the crow. ‘That scared the living bejaysus out of me.’
‘Yeah, same.’
As soon as we get back, I take Dad’s notebook from the windowsill and put it in a padded envelope with all the photos of the Morrigan. I could maybe forget the visions by destroying the images, but then I’d be back to square one. I’d no doubt start looking for clues again every time I saw a vision.
I have to live with what I know, but I refuse to find out any more.
Meg asks to meet me at her house before we go to Paul’s. When she answers the door, her eyes are bright and her lips are deep red and pulled into a wide smile, but her skin is paler than normal.
I step inside she gives me a hug. ‘You all right? How’s your mum doing?’
‘Yeah, I’m OK. Mum’s fine. She’s gone back to the hospital to be with my nan.’
Meg’s smile disappears at the mention of Nanny Bet. ‘Have you spoken to her yet?’
I look away. ‘Yeah, and it’s all good.’
‘It’s all good?’
My cheeks burn. ‘Yes.’
‘What does that mean?’
I take a breath. ‘It means she explained things and I’m dealing with it.’
She folds her arms. ‘Are you going to tell me or—’
‘Look, I don’t trust my nan, but she’s been trying to protect us from the Morrigan.’
‘By wiping your memories?’
I flinch.
‘And you just accepted that?’
‘No, I’m pissed, but she loves us.’
‘Funny way of showing it.’
A wave of heat washes over me. ‘That’s not fair. You’ve no idea what it’s like seeing the visions. Seeing death everywhere.’
‘It’s a gift, Michael.’
‘No, it’s a curse!’ Meg’s mouth falls open and she glances upstairs. ‘They tortured my dad. He had to leave Ireland to try and have a normal life.’
She cocks her head to one side. ‘And how did that work out?’
It lands like a punch. I turn towards the door.
‘Michael.’ Meg places a hand on my shoulder. ‘Michael, I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to say.’
‘Leave it.’
She grips my shoulder. ‘Stop!’
I shrug her hand off. ‘What’s going on with you?’
There’s sweat under her eyes. She glances upstairs again. ‘I want to help you, OK? I have to show you something.’
I should leave. She’s rude and insensitive and…
My only friend.
‘What is it?’
Her smile is back. ‘It’s going to help you, I promise. Come on.’
Meg turns and runs up the stairs.
I glance at the door, then follow her up the stairs as she disappears into her room, letting the door close behind her.
I notice the smell first. It’s seeped out onto the hallway: incense, almost like turf, woody, earthy and something sweet and metallic. It’s so like the smell from my visions that I freeze.
But there’s none of the usual pain. No blazing light. ‘Meg?’
‘Come in, and keep the door closed.’
That smell catches in my throat. ‘I’m not in the mood to mess about. Can we just go. I—’
‘It’s important.’
My fingers rest on the doorknob for a moment. Then I open the door and step into the darkness.
‘Close it!’
As I push it shut, the light from the hallway recedes.
Meg’s room is lit up once more by the raven lamp with its red bulb as well as a red candle on a low coffee table in the centre, surrounded by small black bowls.
The candle throws ragged, flickering shadows across the walls that make the paintings of trees and animals shift and move.
Meg is sitting on the floor by the table.
The smell is intoxicating: but it’s too rich, too smoky and sweet. And hot. How can a smell be this hot?
I cough. ‘What is this?’
She pats a cushion beside her. ‘Sit down.’
I cough again. ‘Can we open a window. This is horrible.’
She sighs like I’m being dramatic. ‘It’s needed.’
My neck prickles. ‘For what?’
‘The Imbas Forasnai.’
The ritual.
I step back. ‘Oh, come on, Meg.’
She glares at me. ‘Sit down. We can do this.’
My eyes water from the fumes. ‘I don’t want to do this, OK. I don’t want to do some stupid ritual.’
Her face hardens. ‘I’m not stupid.’
‘You’re right. You are smart. Maybe the smartest person I’ve met. But this –’ I point at the table – ‘this is stupid. No, it’s worse. It’s obsessive. I told you I didn’t want to…speak to them.’ My voice is louder than I’d like. ‘What do you want from me?’
Meg rests a hand on her chest. ‘I don’t want anything. I’m your friend. I’m trying to help you.’
‘If you want to help me, then be there for me. Leave this shit alone and stop talking crap about my family. My dad could die, Meg, and it’s all because of them and this awful thing I have.’
‘It’s your power, Michael. You have to embrace it.’
‘Why? So I can end up in a hospital too. Is that what you want?’
She pushes her hair back and gets to her feet, causing the candle flame to gutter. ‘Of course I don’t want that.’
‘Well, then I need you to leave this be. I need to focus on my dad.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I’m never using my powers again. I don’t want to end up like him. I can’t do that to my family.’
There’s a tap on the desk and my eyes are drawn to the lamp.
‘What are you saying?’ Meg’s voice is low.
My fists clench. ‘I’m saying that I’m done with the visions. I’m done with the photographs. I’m done with the Morrigan.’
Meg rubs her forehead. ‘You have a gift from a goddess. How can you ignore it? Do you have any idea how lucky you are?’
‘Lucky? You think you know everything because you’ve lit a candle and read a few books about the Morrigan. This has ruined my dad’s life. I don’t want it to ruin mine.’
She shakes her head and the shadows of her hair cast dark flames against the wall. ‘You don’t deserve your power.’
‘And you do?’ I spit the words and her cheeks flush.
‘Yes, actually.’ She pushes her hair from her eyes. ‘Maybe I do. I’ve already done the ritual.’
I pause as a cold numbness starts at my fingers and works up my arms. ‘You what?’
She gestures to the table. ‘I’ve been practising the Imbas Forasnai since yesterday. I just didn’t want to tell you, what with everything you’ve been going through.’
Curiosity and fear are battling in my chest.
‘It was scary at first, not going to lie. I had to get a lot of materials and do a tonne of research. Then there was the chanting. I just didn’t know what to say, you know?’
My throat is dry. I need water. I need air.
‘In the end I just kept it simple. “I want to speak to the Morrigan, the Great Queen.”’
I picture a woman with white skin and flowing red hair reaching out for me and I take a step back.
‘First few times nothing happened. You know why?’
The hairs on my arm rise and tingle.
She gestures again at the table. ‘I was cooking it before.’
‘What?’ I follow her hand to the black bowls on the table. One contains some feathers, a second some herby liquid and the third lumps of glistening meat.
Raw meat.
Nausea swims in my stomach as I take in Meg’s pale skin and red lips. ‘You ate that?’
A nod.
‘But…but you don’t eat meat.’ My words are small, shaky.
She shrugs and smiles. ‘Gross, I know.’
I swallow down the bile that scalds my throat. ‘Meg, what the fuck?’
She places a hand on her stomach. Her nails are bitten and the beds swollen. ‘I’m trying to help.’
‘I can’t—’
‘And it worked,’ she says. The chill crawls through me as she steps towards me. ‘I did it today. I did it properly and it worked. She spoke to me, Michael.’
‘Meg…please.’ I’m shouting. ‘This is crazy. You didn’t do anything!’
She frowns. ‘Oh yeah. Then explain the crow.’
There’s a scratching behind me. I turn to the desk with the raven lamp.
The wings on the lamp move and I jump back.
‘Fuck.’
Meg laughs.
The wings shift again as a crow hops out from behind the raven. It cocks its head and one unblinking eye meets mine. Its beak is long and sharp and glistening from…
‘You captured a fucking bird and fed it meat?’
‘It did say you had to give an offering to her. The bird appeared at the window when I ate the meat and started the chant.’ The crow hops to the end of the desk and caws. ‘But I think there’s more to the ritual. If we do it together, we can—’
‘No!’ I shout. ‘Stop this. Stop it, now.’ I turn towards the door and find the light switch, hitting it with a force that jars my palm. As the light comes on, the crow calls out in protest. Wingbeats fill the air as it lands on her wardrobe.
Meg rubs at her eyes. ‘Calm down. This is amazing. Don’t you see?’
I stare at her. ‘Oh my God. You have a fucking wild animal in your bedroom, you ate raw meat and you think you’ve spoken to a goddess. You’ve lost it!’
‘What did you say?’ Her eyes are hard.
‘You’re crazy. I can’t say this any clearer. Listen to me.’ I lean in. ‘I’m done with all of this! My powers, the past, the Morrigan.’ The crow on the wardrobe caws and I stare at those dark angry eyes. ‘I said I’m done.’
A heavy silence sits in the room.
Meg glares at me. ‘I’m not crazy.’
‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ I say as the anger starts to ebb.
She raises her chin. ‘You’re upset, I get it. But, Michael…’
‘What?’
A sneer. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw this back in her face.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because even if you don’t believe the ritual worked, you’re right about one thing. I have read a lot about the Morrigan and I know one thing for sure. You do not want to piss her off.’ She folds her arms. ‘I’m here when you’re ready to accept who you are.’
The temptation to agree, to say yes, is so strong. But I can’t.
‘And I’m here when you’re ready to be friends with someone who doesn’t have magical powers. I need a mate, Meg, not a coven.’
I walk out, closing the door of her room firmly behind me.