‘Oh shit.’ Meg’s eyes widen. ‘No, it’s not the Angel of Death.’ She looks down at the photo of the woman, gazing lovingly at a dying baby. ‘Michael, you have a photo of the Morrigan.’
‘The who?’
‘The mother-fucking goddess of death!’
Chapter Sixteen
‘I’m sorry. What?’ I stare at Meg.
She’s beaming. ‘The Morrigan, Michael. It’s the Morrigan!’
‘The goddess of death?’ The words feel too big for my mouth.
‘Well, death and war. This makes so much sense.’
I scratch my forehead. ‘Oh, does it? Who is she?’
Meg lets out an exasperated sigh. ‘So, whatdoyou know about the Morrigan?’
‘I…’
She rolls her eyes. ‘You can say nothing.’
‘Nothing.’
‘And the Tuatha Dé Danann?’
The Irish words echo in my ears like a foreign language. I shrug off the guilt and shake my head. ‘Too wa de…what?’
‘We need to start discussing my tuition fee soon.’ Meg rolls back her shoulders. ‘The Tuatha Dé Danann are essentially the ancient gods of Ireland. They arrived from the north seas with powers and battled to rule the land. One of the most powerful of them all is the goddess of death and war, the Morrigan.’ She raises her chin. The red light from below throws shadows over her eyes and for a moment her head is like a crimson skull floating in the darkness.
I catch my breath. ‘Stop!’
‘What?’ Meg frowns.
Behind her, the photos of the woman in black hang on the line like storm clouds in a night sky.
‘Can we talk about this somewhere else?’ I say. ‘I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic.’
Meg’s garden is lined with towering trees, framing the mountain beyond. The back section is filled with ferns, with long grass and wildflowers dotted throughout. We’re sitting in a clearing on two once-white wrought-iron chairs in front of a shed with sage-green peeling paint. It couldn’t be more different to the other houses I’ve been to on the estate. ‘This is so…’
‘Messy?’
I laugh. ‘No, wild.’
‘It was the garden that made us want to move here. Dad was meant to take care of it, but he’s been busy.’
‘Oh?’
Meg shrugs. ‘Anyway, I prefer a wild garden.’
There’s a rustle from the trees and a crow caws loudly.
Meg smiles. ‘That’s one of their animals, you know.’
‘What?’
‘The Morrigan. They often appear as crows.’
