Morrigan Jonathan King (e reading malayalam books TXT) 📖

back! Stop that now!” Morrigan charged through the crowd, clawing her way through and knocking them away until she got to the person at the center.

It was Cora, human again. The blows didn’t look as though they’d done her any harm, but she cowered from them all the less. Now she looked up at the girl she’d held captive for years, much like she had in her last moments.

“Morrigan,” she whispered.

The name seemed to strike Morrigan dead in the chest, freezing her in place for a long moment.

“She tricked us all,” said one of the souls in the mob. “She used us, turned us into monsters!”

“I wandered for years!” said another.

“She kept you from me!” said a third. “She had no right!”

“And she’ll have her just reward for that,” Morrigan said, her voice commanding. She looked down at Cora … and offered her a hand. “But she won’t be alone.”

Cora stared at the hand. “I don’t understand.”

Abel didn’t quite understand either, but he liked this Morrigan better than the vengeful creature he’d seen earlier.

“I made a promise,” Morrigan said, as much to herself as to Cora. “I made it to everyone. Even you.”

At last, Cora took Morrigan’s hand and got to her feet. If any of the souls felt like complaining, the look in Morrigan’s eyes shut them up. The two women walked back outside, Abel following closely—and then ducking as a dark shape swooped down to land in front of them.

“Badb!” Morrigan exclaimed, stroking the neck feathers of the giant crow. “I’ve missed you.”

Badb nuzzled Morrigan’s face with its beak. The bird was far more solid than the world around it, giving Abel the impression that it belonged not here but in the land of the living.

Morrigan peered down the fog-suspended highway. “What say we change up your look for something more suited to the road?”

Badb cawed, and halfway through, the caw changed to the honk of a horn. Reality snapped sideways, and the bird was an old black Dodge Charger. Morrigan helped Cora into the passenger seat, but stopped Abel from following.

“You can’t come where we’re going,” she said. “Not until the next time you’re dead.”

“So I should just hang out here until you get back?” Abel asked.

“Actually,” said Morrigan, pointing him back toward the rest area, “I thought there might be someone here you’d like to talk to.”

The crowd of souls had dispersed now, and through the tangle of people, Abel could just make out a man in a crumpled suit sitting by the goldfish pond. “Dad?”

“The one and only Reverend,” said Morrigan.

Hope stirred in Abel’s heart. “Can you bring him back?”

Morrigan shook her head. “I’m sorry. Nobody can pass through a gateway without a guide and survive the process. If the Dagda Mor’s staff were still intact…” She shook her head. “Even then, we shouldn’t. Death is a fact of life. Change the facts too much or too often, and what kind of life do you have left?”

Abel stared at his father. “I wish it had been him and not me, then.”

“I don’t,” said Morrigan. “Your father did good at the end, but the world is getting the better man. Don’t doubt it.”

“It’s not about good or better.” Abel nodded at the car and its passenger. “Seems like you know that.”

Morrigan followed his gaze. “Yeah, I guess I do.” She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t rush the goodbye. Take the time you need.” She got into the car and drove it out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

Abel went back inside … and stopped. He’d been afraid to talk to his father before, but this was far worse, paralyzing him from mouth to feet. This was his last chance to talk to the man who raised him; why did it scare him so much? Maybe the answer was in the question.

But then the Reverend looked up and met his son’s gaze with eyes just as full of fear, and the spell ended. Abel closed the distance between them.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Abel. I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Yes sir.”

“Are you…?”

“No sir. Just visiting.”

“Ah.”

Silence.

“Dad, I—”

“No, please, let me go first,” said the Reverend. “There’s so much I need to apologize for, so much I’ll never be able to put right. Your poor mother … I put her through so much, and then I betrayed her. And then the woman I slept with used my blood to kill people and enslave souls and almost end the world.” The strangeness of the idea struck him, and he chuckled before he moved on. “And you. My own son. Did I ever do anything right with you?”

“Yeah,” said Abel. “Yeah, you did.”

The Reverend gave a small smile. “I wanted you to be better than I was. I always knew I wasn’t the man everyone wanted—needed—me to be. I tried so hard to be perfect—”

“I didn’t want perfect,” said Abel. “I wanted you. Just you. No rules, no commandments, no head full of Bible verses. Just you.”

“Well, you’ve got me now. I don’t know for how long…”

“Morrigan’s going to be busy for a while.” Abel sat down next to his father. “We’ve got time.”

And they talked, like father and son, for the first time Abel could remember. So many questions he’d always had but had been too afraid to ask, so many answers to questions he’d never been asked, so much wisdom and so many memories he’d always longed for but never gotten were shared in that rest stop. Time stretched on forever and sped by too quickly as they laughed, cried, reminisced, regretted, lived, and loved. One by one, Morrigan called the other souls to their final home, but neither man realized it until she entered one last time and there was no one left.

“I can give you guys a few more minutes,” she said.

The Reverend shook his head and stood up. “It would never be enough. Let’s get this over with. I deserve what’s coming to me.”

“A lot of people were surprised today,” said Morrigan. “You might be one of them.”

He