Epona, who usually spoke up, prodding my mind and telling me how silly my imaginings could be, remained uncharacteristically silent.
CHAPTER 7
Oklahoma
Morrigan had been driving for more than an hour before she realized where she was heading. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard. It was already after ten o’clock. It would be past midnight when she got to the cave.
“That’s good,” she told herself, using the familiar sound of her own voice to keep herself calm. “It’s not like I want an audience for what I’m going to do.”
What was she going to do?
Okay, so she hadn’t really thought that part through yet. Actually, she hadn’t really thought through any part of what she was doing yet. She’d just known she had to get away from her grandparents, who were really not her grandparents. There was someone in Partholon who actually had a mom and a dad and grandparents. Her grandparents. Only they weren’t hers.
The whole thing was making her head hurt almost as much as her heart and her stomach.
“So what am I going to do when I get to the cave?” Morrigan asked herself.
Embrace your heritage…
“No,” she said firmly. “No, I don’t want to hear anything from any of you about it.” She turned up the radio so that the sounds of any wind whisperings were drowned out. Morrigan needed to think with a clear head—one that wasn’t being influenced by ideas she didn’t know if she could trust. If finding out who she really was, and trying to discover exactly what kind of powers she had was what the whispering meant by embracing her heritage, then she supposed that was what she was about to do.
And that maternal voice that seemed so close to her in the cave? She couldn’t trust it. It wasn’t Shannon, ex-high-school English teacher and daughter of Richard Parker. Morrigan bit her lip to keep herself from crying. All those pictures of the beautiful, vivacious woman who had smiled at her from cherished photographs her grandparents had shown her for as long as she could remember. Those pictures she had daydreamed about her whole life, imagining the things Shannon would have said to her if she’d lived, and the life they would have had together. That. Wasn’t. Her. Mother.
Her mother had been a High Priestess from another world who had royally screwed up.
Like mother like daughter?
She seriously hoped not.
Morrigan glanced guiltily at her silent cell phone. She’d turned it off as soon as she’d gotten in her car. They’d be worried about her, and she hated that she was causing them pain. They loved her. She knew that. It wasn’t her grandparents she doubted. Morrigan was already sorry for the harsh things she’d said to them. She hadn’t been angry at them—or at least she hadn’t been angry at them after she’d had time to calm down and think. It wasn’t their fault that she wasn’t Shannon Parker’s daughter. She could even understand why they hadn’t told her. How could they explain to a…say…five-or ten—or fifteen-year-old that she was really the daughter of a priestess from another world who had turned evil, then rejected evil, then died? It was hard enough for her to comprehend it and she was a supposedly mature, intelligent eighteen-year-old.
As Morrigan drove she sifted slowly through the jumbled sand of her thoughts. Rhiannon MacCallan. That was her mother’s name. How was she going to stop picturing Shannon Parker when she tried to get a visual image of her mother? Even now she still envisioned the mane of curly red hair, the bright green eyes and the full, life-loving smile. Okay, so now she should erase the modern clothes and exchange them for something the women on the HBO miniseries Rome wore. She should also erase Shannon’s smile. Her gut told her that even if Rhiannon had smiled, it would have looked very different from Shannon’s open happiness.
Grandpa said that the shaman had told him that before Rhiannon died she rejected Pryderi and was reconciled to Epona. She wondered if that was really true. The shaman probably hadn’t had any reason to lie. But what about Rhiannon? Had she lied?
And, most important to Morrigan at the present moment, how would she know the truth about her mother? When she was in the cave the voice that had whispered to her in the wind had been so maternal—so loving. She had assumed it was her mother and had felt closer to her than she’d ever felt before. After what she’d found out today, Morrigan more than ever wanted to know if that voice was really her mother’s—really was Rhiannon, and if it was, what was the truth behind the whispers?
So that was the real reason she was going back to the cave. She wanted to discover the truth about her mother as much as she wanted to discover it about herself.
* * *
Morrigan parked Old Red beside the Alabaster Caverns State Park sign that was just inside the little road leading to the gift shop, picnic grounds and the main cave entrance. Her Nikes made crunching sounds against the gravel, but the sky was so big that any noise she made was muted by the stars. Morrigan looked up as she walked. Out there, well away from any city, it looked like someone had spilled raw-sugar crystals on a blanket of black velvet. The moon was a fat crescent peeking through the leaves of the trees that lined the road. The wind was soft and warm against her face, and she was relieved that it carried no voices to her.
She passed the park ranger’s cabin, careful to step off the road and move silently in the spongy grass between the trees. There was one dim light burning inside the cabin, and she wondered briefly if Kyle was up watching TV, or maybe studying. He really had been totally cute. And he’d definitely been interested in her. He’d even given her his card under the lame but adorable excuse that she might want to call him sometime if she wanted to come back and do something he called wild caving. That’s when spelunkers got together and explored the parts of the Alabaster Caverns system that weren’t developed. She flushed with pleasure at the memory. She really would like to do that. And, no, the fact that he was so damn hot didn’t hurt, either. When she got herself together and figured out who she was and what she was supposed to do about it, then she would call Kyle, she promised herself. Until then she shoved him to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to crush on a guy like a typical moronic teenage girl.
Yes, she was still a teenage girl.
Yes, she did occasionally (especially recently) feel moronic.
But, no, she was definitely not typical.
When she came to the souvenir shop, she followed the old sidewalk around the left side of it, just like she’d done much earlier that day. The rock steps dropped down fast and she was quickly cut off from the brightness of the night sky. Morrigan groped through her purse for the flashlight that was, thankfully, still in there and aimed its beam down. Then she followed it.
She felt the opening of the cave before her flashlight illuminated it for her. Its cool breath teased her face. Morrigan breathed deeply, drawing into her lungs the earthy smell that was so welcoming. She stopped in front of the slash in the earth.
Morrigan should have been afraid. Actually, she should have been terrified. She was all alone, at night, outside, getting ready to go into a cave (with bats).
The truth was, she was exhilarated, which further proved to her just how f-ing weird she was.
Morrigan squared her shoulders and walked into the cave.
The dark really was complete. Her small flashlight made only a pinprick in the impressive blackness, illuminating no more than a tiny shard of the vast underground world. But Morrigan didn’t mind the dark. It didn’t scare her. She didn’t think of it as mysterious or frightening or oppressive. Instead she thought of the unending blackness as soothing to her overstressed nerves.
As if she’d been coming there for years, she easily followed the path around and down into the bowels of the cave. Her footsteps were muffled. This time not by the eternal sky, but by the earth herself. Strangely, the farther into the cave she went, the more relaxed Morrigan became. The tension that had gripped her shoulders all during the return trip faded. The worry she’d felt for her grandparents dissipated. The confusion over the voices in the
wind lessened.
Later she realized that this unnatural relaxation should have warned her of what was to come. Then she smiled and kept walking deeper into the cave. It wasn’t until she entered the section of the cave she remembered Kyle calling the Encampment Room that she understood what was drawing her.
“The selenite boulder,” Morrigan whispered as her flashlight caught the crystal-laden rock, causing it to glisten like moonlight on water. It was so much more beautiful now that the ridiculous pink light wasn’t focused on it. Eagerly, she started for it. And then the whispers began.
Yes…come forward and embrace your heritage.
Morrigan stopped like she’d run into a glass wall.
She drew a deep, angry breath.
“No. Just no, dammit no. I’m so tired of being jerked around! I don’t even know who I am anymore. What heritage are you talking about? And just exactly who are you?”
For the first time in your life you do know who you are, Morrigan, daughter of a Chosen High Priestess of Partholon.
Morrigan shivered as the words caressed the air around her.
Your heritage is divine, granted to you through your blood, gifted by a great goddess.
The words thrilled her, even as she struggled to maintain some degree of calm objectivity. But it was hard, so damn hard, when every particle of her soul rejoiced at the idea that she might really belong to a goddess.
“I don’t know what it means,” she said slowly, “to have a goddess-given heritage.”
It means you are divine by blood, and have power beyond your wildest imaginings.
Morrigan bit her lip. Power beyond her wildest imaginings…Wow! That must be some power, because she definitely had an excellent imagination. It would really be nice to feel like she had the ability to control her life on her own. Wouldn’t power give her that ability?
Come forward and embrace your heritage as you step into your future and accept your destiny, Light Bringer.
That title—Light Bringer—speared through her body. It was what the crystals had called her, what the very walls of the cave had named her. Unerringly, her eyes were drawn back to the selenite boulder. Morrigan couldn’t stay away from it, and youthful eagerness caused her to dismiss the unanswered part of her questioning. Knowing the identity of the gentle, guiding voice in the wind seemed far less important than knowing the secrets that were hidden within herself.
Morrigan held the flashlight in her left hand. She placed her right palm against the smooth crystal skin of the boulder, trying to ignore the fact that her hand was shaking. The rock quivered and warmed. Holding her breath, Morrigan said, “Hello. It’s me, Light Bringer.” She tripped only briefly over the unfamiliar title. “I’ve come back.”
Light Bringer! We welcome you!
The words rushed from the boulder, entering her body through the palm of her hand as if she held it against the jets of a whirlpool and the water was words that somehow passed through her skin.
“Oh!” she gasped.
Call forth the spirit of the crystals, as is your right, and they will answer you.
Yes! Morrigan’s own spirit cried in echo to the voice in the wind. Unable to hold back the tide of curiosity any longer, she put the flashlight on the ground and placed both hands firmly against the boulder.
“Um…” She cleared her throat, all of a sudden feeling kinda foolish. The crystals weren’t even beginning to glow. The rock had stopped talking to her. What if she was imagining all this weird stuff? What if she had really gone crazy and the voices in the wind were nothing more than advancing schizophrenia? “No.” She shook her head. Years of her grandpa’s firm, reassuring confidence in her overrode self-doubt. “No. I am not crazy.” Morrigan stared at the amazingly beautiful rock and drew a deep breath. Then in a rush she said, “I am Morrigan, daughter of the High Priestess Rhiannon MacCallan of Partholon, and I call forth the spirit of the crystals!”
We hear you, Light Bringer!
The surface of the boulder rippled, like an animal twitching its skin. Her palms tingled with the warmth that was flowing from the rock. Then, in a burst of sensation, the boulder blazed alight. Not like the dim glow that had begun to form under her hand during the time Kyle turned off the lights. And not like the sweet light that had shined from the selenite when she’d crawled through the tunnel. This was a brilliant light, so bright and full-moon white that it had her blinking spots from her eyes.
Eyes watering, Morrigan stared into the glowing crystal depths of the boulder, and within it she watched the stone ripple, like a wind blowing over the surface of an otherwise calm lake. She blinked hard to clear her eyes and looked through the stone to…
Her breath came out in a rush. She was seeing through the selenite boulder to another cave that looked exactly like this one. Only the walls of that other cave were covered with amazingly intricate carvings and mosaics that reminded her of the delicate silver necklace Grandpa had bought for Grandma at last year’s Scottish Festival, and the room was filled with women. What was she seeing? What did it mean?
And then the power hit her and Morrigan gasped, losing her glimpse of that odd other cave. Struggling to control the white heat that surged through her she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. It was like she was suddenly connected to more than just this awesome boulder of light—it was like she was a part of the entire cave. Calming herself, she opened her eyes again and glanced up. The selenite crystals embedded in the ceiling had begun to twinkle like a star-filled night sky. She was doing that! She was calling the crystals alive and making them shine!
Morrigan threw back her head and laughed with joy. The happy, youthful sound bounced from the cave walls like music only she could make.
Rejoice in the power of your heritage!
“It’s unbelievable!” Morrigan cried, all thoughts of not fitting into her world and a possible lurking evil forgotten. Tentatively at first, she pulled one hand from the boulder. Concentrating, she stared at the glowing rock. “Stay lit.” She spoke in a low, serious voice. Then, reconsidering, she repeated in a more cajoling tone, “Please stay lit.” She took her other hand from the rock.
The selenite stayed lit. True, it wasn’t shining with the brilliance it had when she had been touching it, but it was definitely still glowing with a pure, silver light. Morrigan whooped, and did a little twirling dance. Lifting her hands over her head she extended her fingers toward the ceiling and concentrated on the nuggets of crystal above her. “Shine for me!” she called up to them.
The ceiling responded with a blaze of sparkling and glittering that took her breath away.
“What in the hell is going on in here?”
Morrigan spun around to see Kyle—dressed in jeans and a hastily pulled on, inside-out OSU sweatshirt, thick blond hair disheveled as if he’d just woken up—standing inside the Encampment Room, staring from her to the lit crystals with wide, shocked eyes.
CHAPTER 8
“Kyle!” Morrigan felt her cheeks flame. No one outside her grandparents knew she had weird abilities. No one. She opened her mouth to try to formulate some kind of excuse…anything…something that would begin to explain why she was there, past midnight, standing in the middle of the cave making the crystals glow…
Stop denying your heritage!
Morrigan jumped. The words crackled in the air around her. Morrigan felt their anger—felt it deep within herself—and then she realized she was angry. Why should she make excuses and deny what was hers by right—hers by blood. She lifted her chin.
“I did this. I made the crystals glow. I am the daughter of a priestess.”
Kyle’s head began shaking back and forth, back and forth as he stared at the glowing crystals. “I must be sleeping. This has to be a freakishly real dream.”
The old Morrigan would have agreed with him and then run out, leaving him there to deal with what she assumed would be fading crystals and the possibility of a bizarre sleepwalking episode. But she wasn’t the old Morrigan. She was
determined never to be the old Morrigan again.
“Pinch yourself or whatever. You’re not dreaming. I did this,” she repeated more forcefully. “Earlier today when I went through the cave I knew I was attached to the crystals.” Her hand caressed the selenite boulder fondly and it responded with a burst of light that made Kyle gasp. Morrigan looked at him. “I came back because I needed to embrace my heritage.”
“My God! It’s you, Morrigan,” Kyle said, clearly just then recognizing her.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Morrigan decided she was beginning to enjoy his shell-shocked reaction. After all, he didn’t look horrified, he just looked amazed. Then she thought about how he’d basically come on to her just a few hours before. And now it was like he barely recognized her? “So do you usually give women your phone number and then forget what they look like? Or is that something unique to me?”
He brushed his hand across his forehead, still looking dazed. “Of course I remember who you are. But you look different.”
Morrigan snorted in disbelief (even though Grandma had told her over and over again that snorting was very unattractive). “Different? Yeah right. That sounds like a lame excuse a boy would use.” She felt very superior and mature as she spoke, flinging back her hair and meeting his eyes.
“It’s not an excuse. You do look different. You should see yourself.” His voice had deepened; he was clearly awestruck. “Your skin is glowing.” He walked toward her slowly as he spoke. “Your eyes are like blue topaz jewels lit from within.” He stopped in front of her. “And your hair…” Kyle’s hand reached out and Morrigan was totally shocked when he brushed back a thick strand of it that had fallen over her shoulder. “Your hair is like the rest of you—magically beautiful.” Then he took her hand in his and lifted it so that she could see her arm, bare to midbiceps because she was still only wearing her OSU T-shirt.