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Morrigan’s fingernails drummed across the table, pulling back Hel’s attention to the conversation at hand. “Yes, the simpletons who tried to write down our pantheon couldn’t understand how one or two people—in our case, three—could have more than one side to their personalities.”

The goddess motioned with a hand for her sister to sit beside her as a third identical chair appeared. “While we are all three war goddesses, my two sisters and I work together. For some strange reason, they called us the Morrighu, which sounds like my name. Hence, some of the confusion.”

Macha reached for a chocolate square then sat, leaning back in her chair far enough for the wood to creak in protest. “My association is with the land, and I adore horses. The ancients always noticed black birds in the area during battle, not understanding that ravens answer to Morrigan, so they associated the birds with me. Silly humans. I am the reason for war. I create the thirst and vengeance in every warrior’s heart.”

Morrigan smiled, but the sight left Hel with an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. From the intense gleam in her eyes, this woman had a definite thirst for violence. “Our sister, Nemain, is the frenzy of war, the thirst for blood, if you will. I am the one who holds them all together. I help to create the glory of war—valor and great deeds. For those loyal to me, I gift them great victories.”

“And Badb?” Hel asked, using a delicate napkin to wipe the chocolate from her fingertips. “Is she another sister?”

Macha chuckled. “No. The wordbadbin ancient Gaelic means crow. It was a simple mistake an ancient druid made when writing down the history. I never understood it either. Trinity means three, so why would there be a fourth sister?”

“Remember, they didn’t believe I existed,” Morrigan answered. “Macha, Nemain, and Badb werethe Morrígan.I was relegated to a figurehead with a single stroke of the quill.”

Macha slowly chewed, swallowing with a sip from Morrigan’s cup, earning her a glower from her older sister. “I didn’t say you could drink from my cup.”

“No,” Macha said, without missing a beat. “But I was thirsty, and it was just sitting there.” Her gaze turned back to Hel, who noticed the laughter in their depths, wondering what it would have been like to have a sister of her own. While she loved Fenrir with all her heart, he was still a male with a male point of view, even if he was a wolf.

“My sister may grumble, but that mistake gave her the ability to remain invisible, so to speak. That attribute allowed her to move about at will without anyone noticing.”

“Until Fer-Diorich,” Morrigan muttered. “That Fae is the bane of my existence.”

“Well, you did interfere in his love life.”

Morrigan’s expression darkened. “I can’t believe you just said that. He was torturing an innocent. I couldn’t just sit back and watch.”

Macha laid her hand over her sister’s. “I understand, sister, but you can’t change fate—”

“Fate,” Morrigan spit out the word, her lip curled in disgust. “Wedecide the final outcome. On the field of battle, it is my job alone to predict who lives and who dies, but when we are together, our powers are what decree destinies.”

“Yes, we do, but you cannot forget the other pantheons. The Norse Norns, The Greek Fates, and the Egypt’s Shai are all fate gods who also decide destinies. Have you ever thought to check with any of them to see if their decree aligned with Sadhb’s death? Fer-Diorich may have aligned himself with another pantheon. While unwarranted, I wouldn’t put it past someone as unscrupulous as he.”

Morrigan’s blue gaze stared at the table, her mouth pinched. “I have not. While he may have requested aid from others, I refuse to do so. This feud is between him and me. I will be the one who will make him pay for cursing my descendants, not anyone else.”

Hel frowned. “He did what? You said the two of you hated each other, but you never mentioned him cursing anyone.” She glanced through a break in the trees to the horizon where the sun hovered just above the treetops. Time was slipping away for Émilien. She needed to find him and couldn’t wait much longer. As the minutes passed, the feeling of doom squeezed around her heart like a vise.

“For the part I played in helping Sadhb and telling her how to break his curse. Oh, there were a few more things that happened between us, but—”

Macha slapped her sister’s arm. “You killed his only brother! That’s not an insignificant thing. How would you feel if he had killed me or Nemain?”

“I’d be tearing his head off his body, not cursing his descendants. Innocents who had or will have done nothing to him. Innocents, Macha! And my granddaughters and their children will pay that price!” Morrigan slammed her fist on the table, rattling the almost empty dishes. Her cup wobbled and then tipped over, the ruby-red liquid spilling onto the white tablecloth.

Macha scowled at the mess. “Now see what you’ve done. You wasted your drink.”

“Don’t change the subject, sister.”

Macha once more laid her hand on her sister’s arm then moved it down to thread her fingers through Morrigan’s red-tipped fingers. “I know, love, I know. Let’s fight one battle at a time. The twin’s fight will come, but right now Hel needs us, or you wouldn’t have brought her here. Catch me up. What are your plans?”

“Long story short—”

“Your specialty,” Macha smirked.

“Shut up. Whether she meant to or not, Freyja sent Émilien and Hel to Midgard, to the time before the Fae cursed him into a wolf. They are supposed to find and stop whoever is behind the disappearances of the dead living in the Greek, Egyptian, and Celtic death realms. Almost everyone in the realms have disappeared. Our situation is dire.”

Morrigan glanced at Hel. “You mentioned something attacking Émilien?”

Hel nodded. “Yes, but I will say, other than finding two very helpful demon brothers and an adorable wolf pup, the trip back in time seems to have been a bust.” A memory niggled in her brain, and she thought back to the Fae’s and Émilien's conversation before their separation. Scowling at her empty plate, she remembered. “He mentioned someone whose name begins with a J being the key.”

Macha frowned. “They key to what?”


Tags: Heidi Vanlandingham Fantasy