‘Who are you?’
I can’t get the air out of my lungs as the panic starts to build. ‘It’s me, Michael.’
She jolts back. ‘I don’t know you. Where am I? What… what am I doing here?’
Wind roars round my head. ‘Nanny Bet, please. It’s me. I’m your grandson. Please…’
‘What’re you talking about.’ Her hands tremble on her chest. ‘Don’t hurt me.’
Hurt her?
‘I’d never... You have to remember me.’ I step towards her, but she flings out her arms and pushes me back.
‘Get away,’ she whimpers.
I step forward again and she cries out and flaps wildly at my chest. ‘Who are you? Get out of here. I’ll get my Frank on you. I’ll call the police.’
I raise my hands to protect myself. ‘Sorry, I’m sorry.’
Nanny Bet gets to her feet.
I’m shaking my head. ‘No, no. It’s OK. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll go…I’ll go.’
She turns and I watch as she limps towards the house, blood matted in her hair.
My throat narrows as the back door closes after her. I can only hear the sound of my own ragged breaths. The moisture from the grass soaks through my jeans and chills my knees.
‘We need to talk.’ The Morrigan sits on a garden chair and waves her good hand towards the empty one beside her.
I stand up, my muscles screaming in protest. The lights in the kitchen are on and Nanny Bet is watching through the window. Even from here, I can see the blood trickling down her face.
‘Sit, Micheál.’
‘I’m fine standing.’ My voice is steadier than it has any right to be.
She shrugs. ‘As you wish.’
I fold my arms. ‘How could you do that to her?’
‘We are not to be crossed.’
My teeth chatter, but I clamp them shut.
‘We’ll not harm her any more. That debt is paid.’ She nods. ‘I want to tell you everything. You deserve that.’
In among the numbing fear, a heat is building in my stomach. ‘No.’
She blinks. ‘Excuse me.’
The fire spreads through me. ‘I don’t want to hear it. I have nothing left to say to you. You’ve taken my father from me. You’ve taken my nan. We are done.’
I turn.
‘Don’t walk away from me. You are a death poet.’
The flames erupt and I whirl on her. ‘I amnothingto you. Do what you want – I won’t be your slave.’
Her taloned fingers twitch, the shadowy dress ripples.
