The Morrigan: Damaged Deities (31 page)

Screaming her frustration, Morrie had grabbed a metal bucket and thrown it, smashing a hole in the side of the barn.  Fortunately for the Clydesdales, they had already been sent out to pasture and didn’t have to endure her tirade.

Her anger slowly dying, Morrie stood at the end of the stables, resting her forearms on the low wall as she watched Danny in the distance working with the Clydesdales in the round corral. 

The cuts on her palms proved that last night had happened, she hadn’t dreamed it. 

She was running out of time, and losing faith in her actions. 

The most frustrating part: she should be able to shirk this silly mortal form and user her magic to seek the horse out and contain him. 

But that was another challenge and even if it wasn’t, would cause problems greater than a killer horse and she wasn’t willing to unleash legions of immortals on a race of humans with no belief in them, much less experience with them.

Now night had fallen, another day unsuccessful in her task and she would be leaving next Friday.  Her fury had preceded her like a warning shot. 

Even Kamden stayed away and the verbose Lorna kept to herself or found company in Danny. 

Eventually Morrie shut herself off in the library, lighting a fire and curling up in a large armchair to sulk alone until night finally came and she could try again.

The MacLeods kept an impressive library especially considering neither brother seemed all that studious.

Straight across from her, one book in particular caught her attention. 

Her gaze focused, Morrie stood up, letting the blanket fall to the floor before she crossed the few steps and pulled it free.  It looked like a scrapbook, or a photo album, stuffed full.

Gently opening its creaky cover, Morrie sat back down, resting the heavy book in her lap. 

Black and white pictures covered the thick cardstock pages and they seemed to capture eras of life dating as far back as the existence of photography itself. 

Kilted men stared back at her with frozen, grim expressions.  Other photos were men suited in the fashion of bygone days—generations passing across the pages. 

Morrie flipped through the book, briefly glancing at the images until one made her stop.

From the scenery, set up, and the style of clothes, from the way no one smiled, Morrie would guess the photo came from the early 1800s.  What she didn’t know was why it seemed that Kade stood in the group of people captured by the camera. 

Having lived it all herself, she knew the fashion of his dress—she remembered the high-collared linen shirts, the loose cravats and the double-breasted waistcoats.  All of these things were worn along with the light breeches and leather boots by a young man that, if he was not Kade, shared an uncanny, bordering on impossible resemblance to the man.

His hair was longer, almost to his shoulders, and so were his sideburns as was popular at the time. 

She knew it couldn’t be him, it had to be an ancestor, but this wasn’t a matter of sharing characteristics—this was a replica of a person.

It made no sense.

“Goddamn it, Kade!” Kamden bellowed from above and seemed to rattle the light fixtures.  The sound of his footfalls thundered on the stairs. 

 Morrie was on her feet, tossing the blanket back in the chair and replacing the book on its shelf.  She rushed to the hall in time to meet Kamden there.

“What’s happened?” she asked. 

His face flushed, Kamden tossed a scarf around his neck.

“Kade’s at the pub in town,” he grated, yanking his coat off the hook.  Before he finished explaining, Morrie was already pulling on her boots. “He’s sauced and got innae a brawl.  The pub owner just called for me tae come collect him.”

“I’m going with you,” Morrie insisted, pulling her coat on as Kamden ripped open the front door.

“Suit yerself,” he muttered. 

Closing the door behind her, she shrugged her coat on, hurrying after Kamden as he strode toward the garage.  Clicking a button on his key, the garage door opened to reveal a brand new, shiny Denali.  She wondered why this had been hidden when she was forced to drive that dump of a truck.

Morrie scampered up into the passenger side while Kamden turned the engine.  Soon, they were spinning out into the wet night and down the foggy drive to the road. 

At the sight of him leaning forward, on edge and tense, Morrie only then realized she’d yet to see Kamden leave the house except for the one time she saw both brothers in the cemetery. 

How she had not noticed it before she could only blame on the inscrutable distraction that was the elder MacLeod brother. 

Thinking back on the two weeks she’d been there, Kamden had kept to his room or study, sometimes pacing the halls and coming down for dinner, but never stepping foot out the front door otherwise. 

And then there was that night before Kade left for Edinburgh. 

Something supernatural was underfoot, she just couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

“Why’d he get into a fight?” Morrie asked. 

She knew Kade had a mischievous side, she learned that quickly enough, and he was certainly athletic and built for trouble, but nothing about him seemed the type to pick a fight.  He’d yet to display any aggression around her.

“Got to jawing with Laughlin MacBride,” Kamden grumbled, his dark gaze steady on the road before him. “Kade has a tendency to speak his mind regardless of whether it’s appropriate or not.”

Frowning, Morrie thought for a moment, the name sounding familiar to her. 

The image of a newspaper clipping floated to her consciousness: two bodies covered with white blankets, like their lives had not just been ended, but cut from the picture that was life. 

“MacBride…” she whispered to herself. When it hit her, she barely stifled a gasp. “That’s the brother of one of the lake victims, isn’t it?”

Kamden’s silence was answer enough. 

The trip to town was much quicker in the Denali and Morrie felt sort of irked over having to settle for the jalopy before. 

If things quieted down, she might have a few words with Lorna in the morning regarding available modes of transportation.

They took several turns down wide roads until the way grew thinner, the lighted buildings fewer and the businesses more spread out.

Kamden brought the SUV to a sliding halt in front of a small pub with a lighted red door, neon beer signs in the window. 

The door was open and there was a crowd at its threshold with another larger group outside. 

From her perch inside the car, Morrie could see a stocky, balding man in the center of a circle of on-lookers, his back to her. 

He was large and might have been in shape at one point, but life had fattened him around the middle, thinned the hair on top.  He had the sleeves of his thick fisherman’s sweater pushed up on his hairy forearms and when he took a step back, she saw he was throwing punches at Kade.  Punches that Kade didn’t return. 

Kamden was out of the car with Morrie quick behind him, pushing through the circle of gawkers.   The younger MacLeod grabbed the man by the shoulders and shoved him aside, confronting his brother.

“What the hell is wrong wit’ ye?” he seethed, clutching the front of Kade’s thermal shirt by the neck.  It had once been a cream color, but was now stained with blood and mud. “Ye were supposed tae be in Edinburgh!”

In a drunken daze, Kade looked up.  His lip had been split and he had a cut over his eye. 

It might have just been the drizzle, but his face looked covered in blood. 

Fear gripped Morrie as she joined the group.

“Go’ in lest nicht,” Kade slurred in a much thicker brogue than normal, showing no signs that he was in any great amount of physical pain.

“And ye,” Kamden turned his anger on the other man, MacBride, the grip on his brother’s shirt now used to hold him up. “What are ye thinking, hitting yer laird?”

“The cocksucker was talking shite about my Cathy,” MacBride growled.  Kamden stepped aside next to his brother, his brow deeply furrowed.

“I’m sure we can work this out, Laughlin,” he said. 

Kade stumbled away from his brother’s hold and straightened up.  “Doona be daft,” he said to MacBride, his voice a little clearer. “I wasna talkin’ shite abit Cathy—wait, is she the
geng
or the one with the wee scar above her—” he pointed to his hip, but before he could finish the sentence, MacBride lunged and punched him in the mouth. 

Horrified, Morrie watched as Kade did nothing to defend himself. 

He didn’t lift a hand or fist to block or fight back, but seemed to be waiting for the next punch, his face slowly returning for more after each one.

“His loch has already taken one o’ my sisters,” MacBride cried, “Cannae he leave the rest alone?” 

As MacBride reared back again and with Kamden doing nothing to halt the mauling, Morrie jumped up between them.

“Stop!” she cried throwing her hands out to block them. 

Both men were like giants with Morrie between them.  Like Big Mike had always said, she was a lil’ thing. 

But if she wanted, her power could crush the whole lot of them.  And for a moment she thought she could feel it tingling through her fingers, like a numb limb awakening. 

But the feeling was gone as quickly as it arose and she couldn’t figure out how to retrieve it. 

Instead, she had to use her small, mortal body to end the fighting. 

“Please, stop,” she begged, hoping her presence would hinder the fighting.

MacBride didn’t seem to care.

“Out o’ the way, wench,” he grumbled, shoving her aside. 

He was as strong as he looked and with a grunt, she landed on her backside on the ground. 

Nails digging into the ground, her anger threatened to boil over.

But before she could react, she saw a light flash in Kade’s eyes, glowing red before he bellowed his rage and lunged for MacBride, knocking the man off his feet. 

It was then Kade finally hit back.

“Ye’ll no’ lay yer hands on her again,” he growled as he landed punch after punch on the man’s gut. 

He had already bloodied Laughlin’s face, breaking the man’s nose, and now seemed to be working on his internal organs. 

Morrie scrambled to stand, throwing a desperate look at Kamden.

“Kamden?!” she cried at the bewildered brother. “Help!  Kade, please, stop!” she begged the other. 

She knew he was strong, if Kade didn’t control himself, he would kill the man. 

Kamden had to hook his arms under Kade’s to pull him off; still he struggled as Kamden dragged him away.  The crowd looked on, gawking and muttering amongst themselves. 

Yanking open the Denali’s back door, Kamden shoved his brother inside where he slumped across the back seat in a wet mess.  Morrie got in on the other side. 

She gently lifted Kade’s head and cradled it in her lap.  With an indiscernible murmur of ascension he turned his face to her and slipped his arm around her, hugging her hip. 

Before Kamden had pulled away from the pub, Kade passed out.

While they drove down the quiet road, Morrie inspected Kade’s face. 

Brushing the hair back from his forehead, she stroked his bruised cheek and jaw, so well defined even beneath his stubble.  His dark lashes fanned his cheeks, wet and splattered in mud.  Blood pooled in a cut just above his eye. 

Even beaten and battered, he was still beautiful.  Sigh-worthy.  If fact, as Morrie drank him in with her curious gaze, she did sigh.

His full bottom lip was red, swollen and split.  Softly, she ran her thumb just below it, wiping away the blood. 

She could heal him.  Eons ago, she would have been able to heal him with that little touch.  But now she was powerless.  Useless. 

His arm tightened around her, as though in sleep he feared losing her.  And again her heart melted for him. 

A new feeling stirred.  Something powerful, foreign and yet Morrie knew it, recognized it for what it was.  She was just too afraid to name it.