Meg’s eyes pool with inky blackness as she towers over me. She places a finger on my forehead as the Morrigan softly hisses, ‘See.’
A shard of ice needles into my skull.
Nanny Bet’s screams fill my ears as I’m blinded by light.
A heartbeat pulses as shapes start to form. I’m in the garden. It’s daytime. Wasn’t it just night?
‘Nan?’
She’s not here. Neither is Meg. My head spins and I put a hand out to steady myself on the garden chair, but it’s gone.
A chill spreads out from my stomach.
A door opens and I turn to see a child – my dad – seven or eight years old, running into the garden.
I’m in the past.
‘But it’s not fair!’ he shouts. ‘I want to go too.’
‘Shut up, ye melter,’ says Brigid, following him. She’s about sixteen, wearing a green bomber jacket, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail with a yellow scrunchie.
‘Please, Brigid!’ Dad looks up at her.
‘No.’
‘You’re meant to be minding me. I’ll tell Mummy.’
A wave of dizziness makes me step backwards.
She’s my aunt.
Brigid folds her arms. ‘You know what happens to snitches, don’t ya?’
Dad turns from her.
Brigid comes over and gives him a hug from behind. ‘I’ll be back in an hour. Look, if you don’t tell Mummy, I’ll give you 20p.’
His face softens and then everything seems to slow for a moment as something wavers beside him.
A shadow.
It slowly takes shape into the outline of a woman. Long hair flows as the shadow-woman bends down and whispers in Dad’s ear.
He pushes away from Brigid. ‘Go away. I hate you!’
The shadow swirls away from Dad to join Brigid. Her features harden and she tuts. ‘You’re such a baby. Do what you want.’
She walks off and Dad stands with his hands balled in tight fists, watching her go.
‘Our warrior.’ A voice fills the air. It’s clear, strong and beautiful.
And terrifying.
A dark form floats in the sky.
The shadow-woman spreads her crow-like wings, and inky trails of darkness flow out in all directions. I turn to see Dad running round the side of the house after Bridget, as darkness flows over me.
Then the garden is empty again. I search for shadowy forms, but I’m alone.
