Dead Moon Awakens: A tale of Cherokee myth and Celtic magic (Mystic Gates) (2 page)

This diary belongs to Aishling Bran O’Brian

March 8, 1991

Where do I start?

Ma is missing.

It’s been one year, four months and eight days.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m stuck in a nightmare. But nightmares can’t last that long,
can they?

Besides, last night I really did have a
nightmare. I think I dreamed about the fire again, but I can’t remember the
dream now. I can’t remember any of my dreams anymore. My “gift” is gone too … like
Ma.

I can’t even remember the night of the fire. How
could I forget something like that?

I’ve got to figure out a way to keep them from
sending me somewhere else. I know they wouldn’t tell Ma where I was. Why are
they keeping us apart?

I can’t act “crazy” anymore either because
they’ll still send me somewhere else—worse than here. Could I act the way Mrs.
Dawes wants me to and still make these new people not want me?

What if I ran away? Could I make it home? If Ma
wasn’t there, maybe Anita could help me find her. But what if Ma came looking
for me here? How would I let her know where I had gone?

I had two memories of her today! I even saw her
face!!! At least I’m—

“Hello?” a girl’s voice.

Startled, Aishling closed the diary, covering it
with her arms.

“Oh, did I scare you?”

She pulled her backpack over the diary and stood.

The girl’s hazel eyes turned gray.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Aishling whispered.

“You were so intent on what you were writing.” The
girl laid a suitcase and backpack on the other bed. “What were you writing?”
she asked, but her right hand waved the question away. Then, as she shifted her
shoulders back, she raised her chin and moved toward Aishling. “I’m your new
roommate. My name is Morrigan. Shae. MacAuley.” The girl’s smile turned into a
sneer.

Aishling stepped back, bumping into her desk
.
“I’m Aishling O’Brian.”

As Morrigan turned away and began unpacking her
things, Aishling couldn’t resist staring at her—not because her light
complexion contrasted so much with her ebony hair, or her royal-like beauty—because
she
knew
the girl! But, from where?

After unpacking, Morrigan arranged herself on the
other bed as though it were her throne. “Tell me. How long have you been here?
Are they nice? They had better be nice to me. How about the other kids? What
are they like? And the so-called house mother?” She mocked the word
mother
.

Aishling closed her mouth that had somehow slipped
open. Even though Morrigan looked familiar, there was no way this girl would
want to remain her roommate, not the way the girl acted. She decided to get it
over. “You may as well know that no one ever wants to stay in the same room
with me. They say I scream in my sleep and say strange things. Sometimes I get
visions, and I hear things others can’t and see things others don’t. And … and
there are other things about me and who I am that would probably scare you.”
She huffed. “So … boo.”

“I imagine they are afraid of you if that’s the way
you introduce yourself.” Morrigan rubbed her hands together and smiled—more
like a smile this time. “But I’m not afraid of you. Actually, we might have
some things in common.”

“What do you mean?”

A knock interrupted. “Chow time,” said a lofty,
slim teen with rich, cocoa skin and coarse black hair. He leaned against the
doorway. “And you two get my clean-up duty tonight.” He hesitated, grinning,
and then strode away.

“Who was that?”

Aishling rubbed her tingling arms. His penetrating
coal eyes were so familiar.
Where do I know him?
She shrugged. “I don’t
know his name. He’s new too.”

“Who does he think he is, telling me what I’m supposed
to do.” Morrigan said as they walked to the house dining room.

When they arrived, Mrs. Sloan, the latest
housemother, loomed at the kitchen door with arms folded, a scowl on her face.
The rest of the house residents sat at a twelve-place dining room table, gaping
at them.

To Morrigan, Mrs. Sloan said, “Didn’t I tell you
we eat dinner at 5:00 o’clock sharp?” Next, she focused on Aishling. “You know
the rules. I won’t send a search party out next time. If this happens again,
girls, you’ll go back to your room without eating. Now, Aishling, introduce
your new roommate.” The hefty Mrs. Sloan ducked back into the kitchen.

Introduce Morrigan? Why do I have to introduce
her?
She rarely had talked to any of the others, and she didn’t want to start
now. Besides, she hadn’t paid attention when the two new guys were first
introduced. What were their names?

Morrigan spoke up, “I didn’t realize I was late.
I’m not used to having someone”—she pointed at the kitchen door—“tell me when
I’m supposed to eat.” She gathered her long black curls behind her head and
straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin. The tiniest of smiles escaped her
lips. “My name is Morrigan. Shae. MacAuley. I’m from Asheville. I’m only here
until my aunt is back in the country.”

“Jeez.” The teen that’d been sent after them
rolled his eyes and stood. “And I’m … Kelile. Manannan. King,” he said,
animating his words and bobbing his head. “That’s my roommate,
Sir
Lance
Reynard.” He chuckled. “And I don’t know the rest of these people.” While
giving a dismissive flip of his left hand, he sat in his chair again.

“Are you making fun of me?” Morrigan said.

“No, not me, your royal highness.”

“For your information, my name
does
mean ‘great
queen’ in Gaelic.” Morrigan wrinkled her nose. “But, someone like you wouldn’t
know that, would you.”

“More like
prissy
queen.”

Aishling positioned herself next to him, blocking
his view. “Morrigan, this is Keri. Donny. Betty. Lucy. John. Mitch. Bill. And
Michelle.” With her left hand, she had directed Morrigan’s attention to each
one as she said their names. Skipping over Lance, she looked at Kelile. “Of
course, you already know who the rude, smart-mouth is.”

“Oho! You got some spunk in your trunk, girl.”
Kelile motioned for her to sit next to him.

Morrigan plopped next to Lance, leaving her no
choice. She sank into the chair.

As the others began serving themselves, Kelile
whispered, “You know I’m right about her.”

“No, I don’t.”

“She’s trouble.”

“If you feel that way, then stay away from her.”

“I like trouble.”

“Oh?”

“I’m just messin’ with ya, girl.” He picked up a
serving bowl of mashed potatoes and lopped a spoonful on his plate. When he
passed the bowl to her, he winked.

She caught Lance staring at her when she passed
the bowl to Morrigan. Another wave of déjà vu stunned her. She almost dropped
the bowl. What was going on? First Morrigan, then Kelile, and now Lance.

While they ate dinner, Kelile told her he wasn’t
an orphan, but had been sent to Herald Home at the request of his stepfather.

“Can he do that?” she asked.

“He did. He thinks this place is gonna straighten
me out. Huh. The only thing that will straighten me out is gettin’ Mom and the
twins away from his sorry ass. This place is a joke. I’ll be gettin’ myself
outta here soon, you watch.” He winked again.

After dinner and kitchen duty, Aishling and
Morrigan sat on their beds, talking.

“You should have seen the look on that black guy’s
face when you called him ‘rude smart-mouth.’ How funny. I thought he would slap
you or something. I can’t believe he actually talked to you the whole time.”
Morrigan leaned against her headboard and sighed. “Lance is so cute. He’ll be
fourteen in June. He seems older. I guess because he’s quiet and serious, like
you. Doesn’t he have dreamy brown eyes? And his—”

Aishling hadn’t noticed his eyes before tonight.
She hadn’t paid attention to him when he first arrived a couple of days ago.
Nor had she paid attention to Kelile when he came last week.

“Hello, Earth to Aishling. Did you hear anything I
said?”

She flinched. “I’m sorry.”

“I swear. You’re like a wild horse. You’re so
skittish. Are you having a vision right now? You’ve got such a faraway look in
your eyes.”

“No. Just thinking.”

“Aishling. That’s a Gaelic name.”

“How did you know that?”

“Tell me what your name means.”

“It means
dream
or
dreamer
.” She
sighed, and her thoughts wandered again.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just remembered something, that’s all.”

“Tell me.”

Aishling leaned over the edge of the bed and
stared at her sneakers. “Ma used to call me her raven dreamer.”

“Raven?” Morrigan sat up, her eyebrows arched.

“My middle name is Bran which means—”

“
Raven
,” they both said.

“But Bran is a boy’s name.” Morrigan gawked. “Why
would your mother pick that?”

“She used part of my grandmother’s first name, Branwen.”

“So did mine. My grandmother’s first name was
Shae. But, your mother didn’t use the whole name. Why?”

Aishling shook her head, unable to answer.

“So, do you have the gift of
prophetic dreaming
?”

“Yes—I mean I used to. How did you know?”

Morrigan leaned against her headboard again. “Why
are you here?”

The question hit Aishling with the force of a
baseball bat. She gasped for air and massaged her arms. “I was brought here
after the fire, when Ma vanished.”

“She vanished? Oh, I thought …”

Trying to ease the painful clawing inside,
Aishling hugged herself and changed the focus. “Why are you here?”

Morrigan closed her eyes and lowered her head. She
answered barely above a whisper, “My mother died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I
hate
having to come here.” Morrigan
scowled and got off her bed, moving to her desk. She picked up a tan book and
turned on her desk lamp. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m going to write in
my diary. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Aishling hesitated, then, “I hope you
don’t want to change rooms.”

“I don’t.”

“Good.” Aishling stared at her backpack. Her new
diary was under there. “Morrigan, I feel like I already know you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.”

“It’s true,” she whispered. After sitting a moment
longer, she retrieved her diary and finished the entry she had begun earlier.

I had two memories of her today! I even saw
her face!!! At least I’m
starting to remember more and more. It’s weird,
but I feel like I’m just waking up, like I’m not a zombie anymore. Have I been
asleep all this time?

I got a new roommate today. I think we’re going
to be friends. I don’t scare her. She even knows about Gaelic names and
dreaming. I hope she doesn’t change her mind if she finds out the truth about
me and Ma. Though I don’t remember, I must have dreamed about this day before
because I feel like I already know Morrigan … and Lance … and Kelile, too.

Tomorrow is my birthday. I guess I’ll be 13. But
who cares?

Saturday, March 9

“Today’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me
sooner?” Morrigan fisted her hands on her hips.

Why did I say that?
“Forget it. It doesn’t
matter. Anyway, I don’t tell people around here about it anymore. Besides, I
just met you yesterday.”

“That’s true. Why don’t you tell anyone about your
birthday?”

Aishling stared at the dust cloth in her hand, mad
at herself and her big mouth. She wasn’t ready to tell Morrigan her secret yet.
Now, she’d have to be careful what she says. She forced herself to look at
Morrigan again and smile. “People here don’t like how Ma and I celebrate
birthdays, that’s all. It’s no big deal.”

After tucking the bedspread around her pillow,
Morrigan sat on her bed. “What did you and your mother do?”

She turned away from Morrigan and rolled her eyes.
Honesty would be more difficult today than yesterday since she wanted Morrigan
to like her now. How could she explain without giving her secret away? For one
thing, she couldn’t say
that
word. While removing the clock from her
desk, she summoned her courage. “You know how you and I both have Gaelic names?
Well, Ma and I do things like—” she lifted her lamp “—like the old forest
Celts, or
Druids
.” She made a hard swipe over her desk and set the lamp
down. “When we celebrated my birthday, we did a ceremony thanking Mother
Goddess for her blessings.” She set her clock back down before turning around
to see Morrigan’s reaction.

Morrigan grinned. “You and your mother are
Celtic
witches
.” She hopped off her bed, patting her hands together.

“How did you know that?”

“Because, silly, my mother and I are too.”
Morrigan bounced on her toes.

“What?”

“Yes! See, I told you we had some things in
common. Now, tell me. What else did you do?”

A throaty laugh emerged from Aishling before the
rush of words. “We would make a gift bag filled with cookies for the
Sidhe
and dance around singing happy day to them and happy birthday to me. Ma always
had me chant my wish and blow it into the gift bag. Then, hopefully, the
Sidhe
would help make the wish come true.”

Her babbling stopped when she remembered the last
time she had celebrated her birthday with Ma. She hadn’t thought of it since
last year when she’d gotten into trouble. “Morrigan, I miss her so much.
Sometimes I can’t stand the pain I get right here.” She grabbed at her chest
and hunched over. “I don’t understand why she disappeared. Why won’t she come
for me?”

“Don’t think about her. That’s the only way you
can deal with it.”

“But how can I not, especially when I think about …
before?”

Morrigan sat on her bed again, staring at the
floor. Moments later, her head jerked up. “Let’s do it. We’ll bake cookies and
make a
faery
pouch.” She stood and paced.

“What? They’ll get mad and punish us.”

“Oh, silly Aish, we won’t tell them what we’re actually
doing. I’ll ask Mrs. Sloan if I can make cookies for your birthday. Then, I’ll
tell her I want to make a birthday gift for you and ask for some material and
ribbons.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry.” Morrigan stopped pacing. “Did you
notice I called you
Aish
? That’ll be my name for you. Only
I
can
call you that. And, you can call me
Morri.
Only
you
can call me
that.”