“He raped her, this young demon, killed her, drank her blood?”
“All that, aye, all that, while she cried out for love of him, for mercy, cried out for her family, for her life. Until she could cry no more, for he consumed her. Do ye understand? Her blood, her flesh, herbones, her essence. All. And the mother, seeing this, how he feasted like a beast on the flesh and bone, understood, too late, what she’d borne and raised. She begged him to stop. Beyond reason, he slew his mother, and drank of her blood that spilled on the altar. Drank the blood of his mother, the blood of a god, consumed the body of a demon, and so with the ritual, with this lust, with this feasting beyond all the laws, took the demon into him, a part of him now. Blood in his blood, bone in his bone, flesh in his flesh.”
It made Breen want to shudder because she could see it. She could see it so clearly. “Do you believe this?”
“I’ll tell ye I do, and I’ll tell ye the rest. Her cries were heard, Daughter. The gods broke through the spell wall and into the secret place of ritual to find the dead mother, the god beast, and the simple dress the god beast had ripped from the young maid.
“In the story they say they slew him where he had done his evil, that they brought the justice of gods down on him in lightning and fire. But this I think is not true. In the tales of Odran, all I know, they speak of the casting out, when they find he’s broken all laws, done blood sacrifices to gain power. Consuming blood, and some say flesh. Of man and Fey and of other worlds, all in his thirst for more. This, I think, is the true ending of the first story I told ye. There is none I know that tells of Odran with a demon in his ancestry.”
“You say she was pure, did no harm, was young and good. But what I saw in him—”
She cut Breen off with a wag of a bony finger. “Was the corruption, the choice, the evil done to another for the joy of it. The beast ye saw in him is what he made of it. And though they cast him out, Daughter, what was done formed the first cracks in the worlds, in the trust, in the time upon time of unity. This is what I know. As I know until he’s destroyed, no world is safe from that lust. He thirsts for ye, Daughter.”
“I know.”
“Do ye know how to destroy him?”
“I… Do you?”
“This comes from ye and not from me. The songs and stories call for ye, and say his end is by the hand of the Daughter. But this ishope. The act must be of ye, from ye, for ye. The god slays the god, and it may be the demon at last frees the demon.”
She smiled then. “Have another biscuit.”
“Thank you, Mother, but I should get back. I need to tell Keegan all you’ve told me.”
“Well then, take the book.” She rose to wade through cats who’d crowded around like children listening to the story. “And if the taoiseach can’t read the old tongue, the shame is his. I’ll have it back,” she told Breen as she pulled a thin book bound in worn brown leather from a pile. “Be sure of that.”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
Dorcas laid a bony hand on Breen’s. “My eyes still see, and see ye clear. Not a maid, but pure enough. Use what ye are, take what ye need, trust in yer gifts. He has only the dark and those who walk in it. Ye have the dark and the light, and both will serve ye.”
“Thank you, Mother. I’ll keep the book safe.”
“See that ye do.”
She stepped out into the blessedly cool air and, clutching the book, started down the path.
“Mate vigorously, Daughter!”
Laughing, Breen looked back to see Dorcas in the doorway, a cat on her shoulders and others swarming around her feet. “I’ll do my best.”
She carried the book, the story, a million impressions back to the castle. Before she could reach her mind out to Bollocks, she saw him with Kiara and two others along with Sinead, a brood of young children, and a small pack of dogs playing a game that made her think of Duck, Duck, Goose on the green lawns.
Even as she started over, Bollocks raced toward her. He ran a circle around her, then stopped, his eyes going huge. He went on an orgy of sniffing, her boots, her pants.
“Cats,” she told him. “As I’m sure you’ve already detected. But in your dreams you couldn’t come up with so many.” She bent to pet him all over. “You’ll always be my first love.”
Sinead crossed over to her. “What a fine day it’s turned out to be, and what a joy it is to see the littles so happy.”
“Is it Duck, Duck, Goose?”
“It is! How I remember seeing you and Morena and all the others playing the same game.”
“She’d take wing and fly around the circle when I chased her.”
“So she did. And now I’m reminded I have something for you if you’ve time to come to my rooms for a moment.”
“Of course.” She’d make it quick, she thought, holding the book close.