Divine by Blood

  Richard Parker nodded grimly. “If my guess is right, and she’s listening to the damn whispers from the damn things that won’t leave her alone, she’s gone back to the cave.”

  “The place where her power is the greatest,” Mama Parker said.

  Richard grunted. “That’s the point, isn’t it? My guess is our Morrigan has power they want.” As he found the old thermos in the cabinet and started to fill it with coffee, he thought wryly that where his girls were concerned his guess was usually right. Which hadn’t always been a good thing.

  CHAPTER 6

  Partholon

  “Uh, excuse me, Myrna. What did you just say? To me it sounded like ‘I’m pregnant with the troll’s baby and I’m going to handfast with him, Mama.’ I know I couldn’t have heard you right.”

  Myrna tossed her auburn hair back and put her hands on her hips. I instantly recognized her “I’m ready for a fight” body language.

  “You heard me right, Mama. Except for the part about Grant being a troll. You know I’ve asked you a thousand times to quit calling him that.”

  “Let’s see…he’s short. The top of his head is flat. He has an underbite. And a squeaky little voice. All that says troll to me.”

  “His voice is not squeaky.”

  “Fine. His voice isn’t squeaky. Everything else says troll to me.”

  “Really? I think it says ‘my daughter’s soon-to-be husband and father of her child’ to me.”

  I looked around as if I expected another person to pop up from behind one of the rosebushes in my gorgeous garden. “Do you have a grown daughter who’s supposed to be away at the Temple of the Muse learning how to be well read and knowledgeable and graceful, et cetera, et cetera, but who is instead fornicating with a troll and causing you to have a giant pain in your—”

  “Rhea! Myrna! There you are.” Alanna (bless her heart) burst into the garden and positioned herself between my daughter and me. Before I could draw a breath to launch into another tirade, the sound of hooves pounding down the marble path told me the cavalry—aka the fornicator’s father—was on his way. I turned back to (perhaps a little too vigorously) cutting my favorite violet roses for a bouquet, ignoring the rebellious fruit of my loins as well as my best friend.

  I could feel Alanna glance at me, and then she hugged Myrna. “Sweet girl! Grant told me you’d arrived this morning. What a surprise. We didn’t expect to see you until winter.”

  I snorted at the mention of the troll, but ClanFintan’s arrival covered the sound. Mostly.

  “Da!”

  I didn’t have to turn around to know that Myrna had hurled herself into her father’s arms. Jeesh, she was such a daddy’s girl.

  As you have always been, Beloved.

  I mentally rolled my eyes at my goddess and muttered, “Let’s just see what her father has to say about her lovely news.”

  Patience, Beloved, came the entirely too familiar reply.

  I turned around and crossed my arms in time to see ClanFintan beam a proud parental smile at our only child.

  “My heart is whole once again now that my two girls are with me.”

  His eyes met mine and his smile included me. For a second I forgot that our daughter was driving me insane. All I could think about was how almost twenty years had only made him more handsome—and had only made me love him more completely.

  Then I remembered the reason behind Myrna’s surprise visit.

  “Tell your father why you came home, and then my guess is he won’t be quite so happy to see you,” I said.

  Myrna frowned at me. “You don’t have to be mad at me, Mama. This really is a good thing.”

  “Hrumph!” I snorted, sounding purposefully like said father.

  ClanFintan gave me his “let me handle her” look. I held my hands up in mock surrender, only too happy to comply. He looked down at Myrna. His tone said he was more than used to running interference between two volatile redheads. “What have you done to upset your mother, Myrna?”

  I watched her turn her bright blue eyes on him and smile joyfully. “I’ve gotten pregnant, Da! And Grant and I are going to be handfasted!”

  I heard Alanna’s startled inhalation of breath. ClanFintan looked from our daughter to me.

  “Told ya so,” I said succinctly.

  “And where would Grant be?”

  I grinned at the dangerous calm in my husband’s voice. Myrna, clearly recognizing her father’s demeanor for what it was—the calm before the storm in which he stomped Grant’s fornicating little ass to death—turned to fully face him. I watched with amusement. Usually Myrna looked so much like me that it was a little scary. I mean, she was younger and thinner and taller than me, and her hair was a darker shade of red than mine, her eyes a blue that often reminded me of my dad, where mine are a moss green, but other than that she and I looked enough alike that no one would ever doubt that we were mother and daughter. I rarely saw anything of ClanFintan in her, except when she dug in her heels about something. Then the stern, determined look that took over her face was all her father’s. At that moment her face was one hundred percent bullheaded ClanFintan.

  “Da, he’s waiting for me to tell the two of you our news first, then he’ll join me here.”

  He cocked a dark brow at her. “And why would he not come to your mother and me first and ask permission to handfast with you, as is the honorable thing to do?”

  She cocked her own brow, mirroring his expression perfectly. “Because he’s not stupid. Anyone with any sense would be scared of you two. But even scared to death, he wanted to come with me. I wouldn’t let him. I knew I needed to talk to you alone first.”

  “Fine. You’ve talked to us. Now go get him so your daddy can stomp the crap right out of him,” I said, smiling pleasantly.

  “You are quite sure you’re with child?” Alanna’s soft voice was unnaturally sharp, catching our attention.

  “I’m sure,” Myrna said happily. I wanted to happily strangle her.

  Alanna closed her eyes as if she was in pain. What the hell? When she opened them her gaze instantly found mine and I saw that her expression was filled with sadness, much more than what was warranted by her best friend’s daughter getting knocked up when she was too friggin young by a pain-in-the-ass kid who looked like a troll.

  And then it hit me and I felt all of the breath leave my body. I backed shakily up until I found the marble bench I knew was behind me. I sat down before my legs gave way completely.

  “Oh, no…” was all I could say. Alanna hurried over to me and took my hand.

  “Mama?”

  “Myrna, we are talking about the Grant you’ve known since you were a child, is that right? The young man who is the only son of The McClures who own the vineyards that adjoin the temple?”

  “Of course, Mama. There isn’t any other Grant.” I saw in her eyes that she knew what Alanna and I had just realized. She kept on speaking, but as she did she walked over to me. “And there isn’t any other man, or centaur, for me. It’s Grant I love, and Grant who is the father of my child. Ask Epona, Mama, she knows.”

  I heard ClanFintan’s sharp curse, and knew he’d just understood the full ramifications of Myrna’s announcement.

  “Mama…” She sat beside me and took my other hand. She spoke very gently, and I thought how old and mature she suddenly sounded. “You’ve known for a long time that I’m not going to be Epona’s Chosen after you.”

  “No,” I whispered through my tears. “No, I haven’t.”

  Listen to her, Beloved. Myrna knows her heart and she accepts her destiny.

  “Yes, you have. You know Epona has never spoken to me.” I opened my mouth, but she hurried on. “Oh, the Goddess loves me, I know that. And I love her, too. I love the rituals you perform and I love the blessing ceremonies. But I’ve never had the slightest desire to lead the rituals or the ceremonies. More than that, Mama, I have no goddess-given affinity. The trees greet you. The rocks sing your name. Your spirit travels during th
e Magic Sleep. I don’t have any of that, not even a touch of it.” Myrna paused and looked down at her lap. “I love you, and I’ve really tried to be what you want me to be, but all I’ve ever wanted is to be a mother and to help Grant tend his vineyards.” Her words hitched a little as she began to cry. “I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you and Da.”

  My heart hurt as I put my arms around her. “Oh, honey, you could never disappoint your father and me. We love you.” Myrna clung to me, all signs of stubborn bravado gone. I could feel her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. And then ClanFintan’s arms were around both of us. He kissed our daughter and then me. “If this man is what you desire, bring him here and he will receive my blessing,” he said.

  “Do you promise?” Myrna sniffled, pulling back so she could look into her father’s face.

  “You have the oath of Partholon’s High Shaman,” he told her solemnly.

  Then she turned her gaze to me. “I really am sorry that I wasn’t born to be Epona’s Chosen, Mama. I know that’s what you’ve always wanted me to be.”

  I looked into my daughter’s eyes and knew that if I told her how desperately sad I was that she was not going to follow in Epona’s service after me I would wound her irreparably. And I couldn’t do that. I could never do that. So instead I smiled and used the corner of my silk robe to wipe the tears from her face.

  “What I’ve always wanted is for you to be happy. And if the troll makes you happy, then he will have my blessing.” I felt the familiar nudge in my mind and added, “And Epona’s.”

  Myrna smiled through her tears. “Oh, thank you, Mama!” She hugged me and then jumped up. “I’m going to go get Grant right now.” She started to rush away and then turned to look at me. “Mama, would you please stop calling him the troll?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I said with forced brightness. She rolled her eyes at me and then she was gone.

  “A granddaughter…” ClanFintan’s deep voice sounded unexpectedly wistful. “I had not thought it would be so soon, but now that it is going to happen I cannot say that I find the idea unpleasant.” His warm hand reached out and caressed my cheek. “I will pray that she looks like her grandmother.”

  “If it is a granddaughter.” Now that Myrna was gone I didn’t conceal the disappointment in my voice. Had Myrna come to us and said that she was in love and pregnant with the child of one of several centaur High Shamans who had, over the years, enthusiastically attempted to court and woo her, there would be no doubt as to the sex of her firstborn. Epona’s Chosen always handfasted with a centaur High Shaman the Goddess fashioned especially for her. Their firstborn was a gift from Epona, and was always a daughter. Myrna was pregnant with an ordinary human’s (okay, he wasn’t really a troll) child. Said child did not come with Epona’s guarantee because Myrna would never be Epona’s Chosen. I needed to face the awful fact that Myrna didn’t have any touch of goddess gifts within her, as absolutely friggin impossible as that might seem.

  Myrna will give birth to a healthy, happy girl child. And you are wrong about your daughter, my Beloved. She does carry the gifts of a goddess within her, and those gifts will be born into the daughter she carries.

  My breath caught with a surge of joy at Epona’s words. “Myrna will have a daughter!” I said.

  Alanna clapped her hands in joy. “The line of MacCallan daughters continues. And here I am standing around as if I have nothing to do.”

  I raised my brows at Alanna. Jeesh, she was always so busy. “Myrna isn’t even showing yet. We have plenty of time to stress about a baby’s room and whatnot.”

  “Rhea, we have the Handfast ceremony of the only child of Epona’s Chosen to plan,” she said in a tone that clearly implied that while I was Beloved of the Goddess I might also be a moron. She shook her head and I swear she clucked like a hen while she muttered something about it being too late in the season for the best flowers for the most fragrant bouquets. Then, throwing me a quick, distracted smile, she hurried from the garden.

  “My love, I think it would be best if we met Grant and Myrna in the Great Hall. The betrothing of our daughter should be announced with ceremony and glad tidings if we are really to give our blessing to her.”

  I looked up at him and sighed. “I know.”

  “Rhea, has Myrna’s choice truly made you so distraught? You and I have spoken before about the fact that she seemed to have no desire to become Epona’s Chosen.”

  “You’re right. I can’t honestly say that I’m that surprised. It just makes me wonder—” I broke off, feeling horribly disloyal to my daughter.

  “You wonder about Rhiannon’s child.”

  “It’s not that I wish Myrna was different, really it isn’t,” I said quickly. “I adore her. She’s always been a wonderful daughter. I just can’t help but wonder if Morrigan is like Myrna. Epona just told me that Myrna has been gifted by her, but that those gifts are going to be born in her daughter. Does Morrigan have these hidden goddess gifts, too, or are they more tangible in her? And what if she has them, but because she’s stuck in Oklahoma she’s as miserable as Myrna would be if we could somehow force her into Epona’s service against her will?”

  “Morrigan is in Epona’s hands. You must trust your goddess, and your father, to look after her.”

  “I do trust Epona and Dad. I just wish it was easier for me to visit him using the Magic Sleep so I could see what’s going on over there with Morrigan.” My spirit had only returned to Oklahoma a half-dozen times in the past eighteen years, and then I’d only stayed briefly—long enough to assure Dad that Myrna and I were okay. During those visits I had only glimpsed Morrigan three times, once had been the day she was born. The other two times I had seen her sleeping. Each time I had been amazed anew at how closely she resembled my daughter. I knew that resemblance was one reason that I felt so attached to her. How could I help caring about her? And I was totally aware, though ClanFintan and I never spoke of it, of the fact that Morrigan could have been mine (maybe even should have been mine). Had I chosen to stay in Oklahoma I would have married Clint Freeman, doubtless we would have had a child together.

  “Rhea, you know the last time Epona allowed you to travel to your old world during the Magic Sleep you were ill for days afterward.”

  I sighed. “I know. The Goddess said traveling there is dangerous for me. It’s just too far to separate my soul and body, especially the older I get. I’m supposed to be content with knowing that Epona sends dream visions to Dad so that he doesn’t feel completely cut off from me.”

  ClanFintan smiled. “I do wish your father could cross the Divide and come to Partholon. I’ve missed his mirror image, The MacCallan, all these years. Having him here would be like having The MacCallan back amongst us.”

  “You and Dad would get along great—if you could put up with what I’m sure would be his zillions of embarrassing questions about centaur anatomy.”

  He chuckled. “I forget that in your old world centaurs are only myth.”

  “Well, Dad wouldn’t let you forget it. But I wish he could come here, too.”

  “There might be a way to—”

  “No!” I stopped him. “To change worlds requires the sacrifice of a human life. As much as we miss each other, I know there’s no way Dad would be okay with someone giving his or her life so that he could join me over here. Plus—” I smiled and tried to lighten my tone “—it would have to be two sacrifices because no way he’d come without Mama Parker. Heck, make that three sacrifices. How’s Morrigan supposed to stay over there alone? No. Dad will have to remain in Oklahoma.”

  “And you shall remain in Partholon.” He didn’t speak it like a question, but I could see in his eyes the need to hear me say the words.

  “I will remain in Partholon with you forever,” I said. I stood up and wrapped my arms around his waist. He bent and kissed me thoroughly. I smiled coquettishly up at him. “You’re pretty sexy for a grandpa.”

  He blinked and looked a little stunned. “We’re going to
have a grandchild. It is an odd yet wondrous thing to get old.”

  I studied him, taking in his muscular human torso that was only a little thicker than the lean, strong centaur who had handfasted with me almost twenty years ago. His dark hair was peppered with gray, but I liked it. It made him look wise and distinguished, which I didn’t think was fair because the gray in my wild red hair did make me look like someone’s grandma (which is why Alanna and I hennaed it regularly). He had, quite simply, aged deliciously.

  “Am I passing your inspection, my love?” He cocked a brow inquisitively at me.

  “Wait.” I glanced pointedly behind him at the horse part of his body. “I haven’t checked to see if you’ve become sway-backed lately.”

  “Hrumph!” he snorted, and grabbed me. With strength that totally did not equate to being a grandpa, he tossed me up behind him. “Swaybacked, indeed,” ClanFintan muttered. “I suggest you hold on, Grandmother, or your aged husband may cause you to lose your seat.”

  Giggling in a very inappropriate way for a grandma, I wrapped my arms around his broad chest and bit his shoulder. He kicked into a smooth canter and we headed to the Great Hall where we would welcome our daughter’s choice in husbands—whether we were particularly thrilled about it or not.

  I put Morrigan out of my mind. ClanFintan was right. I had to trust that my father and my goddess would look after her.

  And the simple truth was, Morrigan was not my daughter. I had my own daughter, and she wasn’t a world away. I needed to concentrate on Myrna and my life in Partholon. Period.

  “Hey!” I purposefully tickled his ear with my breath, and when he shivered I nipped at his lobe. “If I’m counting the months right, we should be grandparents in early fall.” Just when the kids would be returning to school if I was back in Oklahoma, I added silently to myself.

  “I proclaim fall an excellent time for a child to be born,” he said firmly.

  “Yeah…” I said, but my mind was already wandering. Fall was the time when life, and Partholon in general, prepared for winter. One usually associated spring with babies and new beginnings. Conversely, fall was a season for endings: the death of forest foliage…the last harvest of the fruits of summer…the preparation for shorter, darker days to come. I frowned and rested my chin on my husband’s broad shoulder, worrying about complex symbolism in the way only an ex-English teacher could worry.