Morrigan (5 page)

It wasn’t as easy a task as she had
originally anticipated. After all, there were four teenagers in the
house, so groceries moved fairly quickly. She sighed as she rifled
through packages and packed up all she could find, which included a
bag of beef jerky, some potato chips, a few bottles of water, two
cans of soda, and a box of instant soup. On the way toward the back
door, she decided to check the bathroom cabinets as well. There she
found a medicinal goldmine—aspirin, gauze, rubbing alcohol, and
peroxide. She even came across a forgotten bottle of her foster
brother’s antibiotics and antibacterial ointment he had never
finished after cutting his hand on a rusty fishing hook. The new
supplies really weighed her down, but they would come in handy
during an emergency.

Her bag was full and her heart was pounding
as she slipped quietly out the back door and down the porch steps.
She sat down at the bottom of the stairway to wait, wondering how
on earth Tiarn was ever going to find her in the maze of suburban
homes. Danu and Dagda each laid their heads on one knee, and purred
contentedly. They thought it was just another night under the
stars. She listened to their contented purr, reached out to scratch
their ears, and gave them a half-hearted smile.

“Don’t worry, guys,” she told them, though
they were hardly the ones who were doing the worrying. “Everything
is going to work out just fine. I’m sure he’ll be here any
minute.”

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.”

“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 was 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.