“Sit. No, sit,” Breen insisted. “I’ll get the desk chair from my room. Is it still there?”
“It will always be there,” Marg assured her.
Breen got another cup, another little plate. “When I came back to Philadelphia, and went to confront my mother … It was hard.”
“I know, honey,” Marco said.
“I walked a long way when I left her house, trying to settle myself. She kept all of this from me, all of this, my heritage, my gifts, put me in a box. I know it was fear for me,” she added before Marg could speak. “But when I sat down, finally, at the bus stop, Sedric was there. He was there because I needed someone to be. I won’t forget that. And I won’t forget what Keegan told me. That it’s fear of me for her, too. Fear of what I am, what I have. And I think, one day, I’ll be able to forgive her because of that.
“I’ll get another chair.”
When she left, Marg sighed. “Her heart will be easier when she’s able to forgive.” She picked up the pot, poured Sedric’s tea. “Now, Marco, you came through without having a moment to bring what you might need or want during your stay. You’ve only to make a list for Sedric, and he’ll fetch what you like.”
“You can do that?”
“I can, and I’d be happy to.”
“Because you’re …a witch? Wizard?”
“Just a touch of that. I’m a Were.”
Marco’s hand froze as he reached for a lemon biscuit. “You’re a were-wolf?”
“Not a’tall, though I’ve the acquaintance of several. Who do not go mad for flesh and blood at the full of the moon, I promise you. A were-cat, I am.”
“Like a lion?”
Marg snickered, waved a hand. “Go on then, Sedric, show the lad.”
Sedric shrugged, smiled. And became a cat.
Under the table, Bollocks’s tail whipped with delight.
“Oh!” Breen carried in the chair as Marco goggled. “I’ve never seen you transform before. It’s so effortless.”
The cat became a man, who reached for his tea. “We’re one, the man, the spirit animal. For the traveling to worlds, the witch in my bloodline helps. Tell me what you need, and I’ll bring it over for you.”
Marco held up a finger. “We’re going to have really big drinks later.”
“We have some lovely wine,” Marg began.
“Thanks, but even with this, it’s a little early for me. Later, though, really big drinks. And what I’m going to need, I guess, depends. Breen was scared to come back. Damned determined, but scared. Keegan, there was stuff he said—it was all really fast, really confusing—but he said stuff about releasing her from her duty, her promise.”
“Did he?” Marg acknowledged.
“Yeah, and Breen told me there’s a Big Bad, and she’ll explain all that. But I don’t know what I’m going to need until I know why he wants to hurt Breen.”
“You haven’t told him about Odran?”
“Nan, I didn’t know he’d jump into the portal that way, and he was—you can imagine—shaken up and sick. I have it all written down, and want Marco to read it all, and I’ll tell him all of it.”
“This much he should know here and now, and early of day or not, a sip of apple wine hurts no one.”
Sedric patted Marg’s shoulder. “I’ll see to it.”
CHAPTER TWO
When I was young,” Marg began, “younger than you, I took the sword from the lake, took the staff, and was taoiseach. Odran came to the Capital, and I saw only what he wished I see. Handsome and kind, charming and romantic. And so I fell in love with this illusion, and we married.”
She spoke of their return to the family farm in the valley, of the months he deceived her and her family, of the birth of her son, and her joy in him.
And, when she broke from a drugged sleep, her discovery of Odran’s purpose. How he drank their son’s power from him in the night to increase his own. The war that followed against the dark god and his demons, his slaves, and everything that came after that, up to his abduction of the child Breen had been.
Marco found himself very grateful for the wine.
“But Breen’s more than her dad, right? She’s got her mom, too. Human, too.”
“You’re a quick one, Marco. Our Breen is the bridge between the realms of the Fey, humans, and gods. She broke free of the glass cage, this child of three, because of all she is. More than even Odran knew. More than still he knows, I think. So then Eian, as taoiseach, led the battle—the Battle of the Black Castle—and destroyed Odran’s fortress, blocked any and all portals from his world again, did all that could be done.”
“Mom wanted him to choose, between her, me, and Talamh,” Breen added. “How could he? But he gave the farm to the O’Broins—Keegan’s family. Their father died in the battle to protect me. They were best friends. He was in Sorcery—the band? From the picture Tom Sweeney gave us in the pub in Doolin.”
“We were meant to go there.” Marco sipped more wine. “Pretty clear we were meant to meet Tom and hear how your parents met.”
“They loved each other. I think they always did. Because he loved, they went to Philadelphia, and he tried to be what she wanted, what his people needed.”
“All those out-of-town gigs weren’t gigs. He was coming here?”
“Yeah, and she knew, of course, and it just built up resentment. She divorced him, and I think she must have said to him what she said to me when I went back to tell her I knew all this. The aberration—that’s what she called my gifts, and really, that’s what she called me—wasn’t allowed in her home.”
Marco reached over to give her hand a squeeze.
“She believed she protected me, she convinced herself of that, but under it, she protected herself. The world as she needed to see it.”
“I’m sorry, Breen.” Marco kept her hand, gripped it hard.
“Me, too.”
“She’s wrong. She’s been wrong all along, so I’m sorry for her, too. ‘Aberration,’ well, fuck that. Sorry,” he said to Marg immediately.
“No need, as I agree.”
“You’re a wonder, that’s what you are. I always thought so, just didn’t figure, you know, witch goddess.” He looked back at Marg. “How did Eian die? If you destroyed this Odran’s fortress and blocked the portals, how come he’s still a threat to Breen?”
“Not just Breen, but she is the key. Odran killed my son. With time, his powers, and the aid of the black magick of a witch who turned to him, he waged his war on Talamh again. This, I think, was a ploy to draw Eian out, to murder him. To kill the son who refused to bend to his father’s will.”
“Now he wants Breen. Okay, with all the respect I’ve got, and I’m sorry you have to fight these wars with some crazy god, but it seems to me like the best place for Breen is back home. Where he can’t get to her. I’m not agreeing with your mom. You need to be who you are, do what you love, but, girl, you ain’t no warrior princess.”
“I’ve been training for it—not the princess part—all summer. With a sword.”
He gave her shoulder a push. “Get out.”
“I can defend myself. And nowhere’s safe, Marco. Not for me. Not for anyone.”
“He’ll come again,” Marg said. “Another battle. More blood, more death. We will stand against him to the last of us. But if he defeats us, if he conquers or destroys Talamh, your world is next. And all the others to follow as he kills and burns. His powers will grow, and so will his thirst for more.”
“You mean he’ll destroy the Earth, like, everything?”
“Our world, your world, all worlds. Each in turn gives him more. Do I understand Jennifer’s drive to lock Breen away? I do. But what she would never believe, never accept, is Breen is the key to the lock. She can’t be shut away. He’ll find her, in time, or if she has a child of her own? A god has all of time.”