Divine by Blood

  “Watch your language, hon,” G-ma said sternly, but she smiled to soften her reprimand. “And I didn’t sneak up on you. I called you three times. Looks like you were busy woolgathering.”

  Morrigan felt silly sitting there in the middle of her journals. She shouldn’t be dredging up the past and messing with a weird ability she’d need to keep hidden when she was at OSU. What she should be doing was focusing on the future. “Sorry, G-ma,” she said quickly, shoving the last of the journals into the storage box. “Guess I was daydreaming.”

  “Well, come on out. Your breakfast is getting cold, and those kids will be here before you know it. The Alabaster Caverns are three hours away. You need a good meal before you go.” She called the last over her shoulder as she headed back to the kitchen.

  Morrigan hurried to do as her grandma had asked, enticed by the smells of bacon and coffee and blueberry muffins wafting down the hall to her room. G-ma had probably packed her—and her friends—a great lunch, too. Shaking off the weird feeling calling the flame to her hands always gave her, Morrigan grabbed her shoes and a sweatshirt and headed into the familiar warmth of the kitchen.

  She ignored the echo of laughter that seemed to float on the air around her.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Mama Parker kicks ass in the kitchen,” Gena said around a big mouthful of steak hoagie.

  “Yeah, but if she heard you say ass she’d tell you to watch your language, hon.” Morrigan did a more than passable imitation of Mama Parker that made the girls laugh.

  “No way would I say ass around your grandma. I don’t want to piss her off. She might stop cooking for us,” Gena said.

  “No shit,” Jaime agreed.

  “Mama Parker is too sweet to piss off. Plus, that wouldn’t be smart,” Lori said. “We might have to start eating my mom’s cooking. Then we’d be saying goodbye to yummy homemade hoagies and chocolate-chip cookies and hello to mac and cheese.”

  “My mom’s idea of cooking is to call for pizza delivery. If she’s feeling extra-fancy she’ll order cheese sticks and ranch dressing, too,” Gena said.

  “Ditto for my mom,” Jaime said.

  “You know, y’all could actually try learning to cook for yourselves. I mean, you’re eighteen and leaving for college in a few days. What are you going to eat?” Morrigan said.

  “Dorm food, of course,” Jaime said.

  “I’ll eat anything someone else cooks. Like Mrs. Taco Bell. I love her cooking,” Lori said.

  “Eat?” Gena tapped her chin with one perfectly manicured French-tipped nail and looked purposefully perplexed. “For the next four years I plan on eating beer and football players.”

  The three of them convulsed into giggles. Morrigan gave her friends a collective eye roll. Yes, she liked them. They’d been friends since middle school, but even when they were just kids she’d always thought of herself as older and more mature. That she felt (and acted) older used to seem kinda cute to her, and they definitely needed someone to look after them. More and more it just irritated her. Would they never grow up?

  “Okay, whatever. I still say I’m glad I don’t have to depend on Mrs. Taco Bell or Mrs. Pizza Hut to eat when I’m away from home.”

  Proving Morrigan’s point about immaturity, Gena stuck out her tongue at her. “Hey, someone remind me why we’re here instead of browsing through the end-of-season sale at Gap?” Gena said.

  “We’re here because Morgie likes to do weird stuff, and this is the last time we’re going to be together doing weird stuff with her probably till Christmas break,” Lori said.

  “I don’t think the stuff I like to do is weird.”

  “Exhibit A—you thought it would be fun to hike the six-mile forest trail by Keystone Dam.” Lori held up one finger like a baseball umpire. “If I recall correctly, which I’m sure I do, it was not fun. It was hot and sweaty and I found a tick crawling up my thigh trying to find its way to my vagina.”

  “Ticks do not go looking for your vagina,” Morrigan said, trying hard not to laugh.

  “No, don’t even try to change my mind about that. I saw the House episode. The tick was hiding in the girl’s vagina.” Lori shivered convulsively. “It was majorly disgusting.”

  “That really is gross,” Gena said.

  “And complete fiction.” Morrigan tried, unsuccessfully, to add some common sense to the conversation.

  “Exhibit B.” Up went Lori’s second finger. “Camping.”

  “Oh, come on! That was way back in ninth grade.”

  “Time has made it no less horrifying,” Lori said primly.

  “And it wasn’t that bad. I remember having a good time.”

  “Yeah, that’s because you like playing Boy Scout, and the great outdoors, and…and…you like nature.” Lori said the words as if they were the name of a deadly disease. “The rest of us will remember the mosquitoes.”

  “Size of hummingbirds,” Gena piped in.

  “And the chiggers,” Lori continued smoothly.

  “Don’t talk about it. You’ll make me start to itch,” Jaime said.

  “And the snakes,” Lori finished with a flourish.

  “There was only one snake,” Morrigan said.

  “As if that mattered,” Gena muttered.

  “It was really pretty, though,” Morrigan said. She’d never admit to them that she and G-pa had gone back to the Keystone campsite often after her one failed attempt to camp with her friends. She absolutely loved camping.

  “Pretty?” Lori was saying. “No. It was dirty and hot and buggy. The new Starbucks in BA is pretty. The bracelet Keith gave me is pretty.” She waved her wrist around so that the delicate gold links glittered. “My great Kenneth Cole wedges—the ones you wouldn’t let me wear today because we’re going to be schlepping through a nasty, dark, cold, batty cave—are pretty. Camping is not pretty. See the difference?”

  “Wait, there’re bats in the cave?” Gena sat up straight and quit playing with her hair. “No one told me about the bats.”

  “Hello! It’s a cave. Of course there’re bats,” Jaime said.

  Morrigan sighed. “It’s summer. You won’t see the bats. They’re hiding in the darker, cooler parts of the cave. And anyway, if you see one it won’t bother you.”

  “And finally, we come to exhibit C in proof-that-Morgie-likes-to-do-weird-stuff.” Lori paused dramatically with her three fingers up in the air. “Dancing outside naked at night.”

  Jaime groaned.

  “Do we have to talk about that?” Gena used her hand to fan herself as her face flushed hot with remembered embarrassment.

  “Admit it. That wouldn’t have been so bad if we had put on shoes and if disgusting Josh Riddle hadn’t been watching us,” Morrigan said.

  “I still have nightmares about that gross kid’s beady little eyes,” Gena said.

  “That’s not the ‘little’ part of his anatomy I still have nightmares about,” Lori said.

  Gena made gagging sounds.

  “Why were we out there again? I don’t remember,” Jaime said. “I think I’ve blocked it.”

  “We were celebrating the Esbat.” Blank looks met Morrigan’s matter-of-fact statement, so she added, “A celebration of the full moon. My grandma told me the story about how some pagans like to honor the full moon by dancing sky-clad, or naked, under it. We thought it sounded fun.”

  “No, you thought it sounded fun. We just went along with you,” Lori corrected her.

  “You know, it’s weird that Mama Parker knows so much about bizarre religions. I mean, she’s all sweet and grandmalike and looks totally normal. Then all of a sudden one night you’ll drive up the lane and see her outside pouring wine and honey around a fire she’s made in the middle of the patio and she’ll smile at you and say something like, ‘Just finishing up my offering to the Goddess at Imbolc, hon. Make yourself at home. There’re cookies in the kitchen,’” Gena said.

  “Doesn’t seem weird to me.” Morrigan’s eyes began to narrow.

 
“Not that I don’t think Mama Parker’s great. She is,” Gena said quickly.

  “You have to admit that she’s not exactly the norm for Oklahoma,” Lori said.

  Morrigan shrugged. “I’ve never understood what’s so great about the norm.”

  “Morrigan has a point,” Jaime said. “I’ve been going to the super-boring First Methodist Church of Broken Arrow all my life and I’ve never had as much fun there as I did the time we did the Easter-wishes thing with the tree.”

  All of the girls smiled as they remembered. “It’s called an Eostre Wishes Tree,” Morrigan said.

  “Remember how Mama Parker planted all of those flowers around the tree?” Gena said.

  Morrigan nodded. “They were daffodils, crocuses and hyacinths. I helped her plant the bulbs the winter before.”

  “Then when they were blooming and beautiful Mama Parker gave us silk ribbons and crystals—”

  “And those cool little stars she made out of shiny foil,” Lori interrupted Gena. “Then she gave us blank wildflower note cards, biodegradable of course, and told us to write our wishes on them. When we were done we tied the cards and the decorations up in the branches of the tree.”

  “Yeah, and Mama Parker told us it was just another way for our prayers to be heard at Easter. Well, it was for sure way more fun than waking up too early and sitting on a hard pew through boring church,” Jaime said.

  “It really was cool,” Lori said.

  “Yeah, cool,” Gena echoed.

  “So maybe y’all don’t mind my weirdness too much?” Morrigan kept her voice light and kidding, but she knew that there was a very real part of her that was constantly waiting for her friends to someday realize that she just didn’t fit in—no matter how good her acting abilities. Then they’d walk away and leave her alone with the voices in the wind and her unanswered questions.

  “Morgie, baby, we like your weirdness!” Gena cried and flung an arm around her.

  “That’s right. Without your weirdness we wouldn’t be the Core Four,” Jaime said.

  “Which is why we’re here, following you into a batty cave when we should be shopping,” Lori said.

  “Okay, enough with the bats,” Gena said.

  A bell rang, reminding Morrigan of something that ranchers probably used a zillion years ago to call cowboys in to dinner.

  “Three o’clock tour through the cave is leaving in two minutes!” a male voice bellowed over a scratchy loudspeaker system.

  The girls exploded into activity as they shoved the leftovers in the picnic basket Mama Parker had packed for them and dumped the plastic plates, et cetera, in a nearby trash can. Morrigan grabbed the basket and hurried to put it in the back of Old Red, her beat-up Ford Escort station wagon. As an afterthought, she grabbed the little emergency flashlight G-pa made sure she kept with the first-aid kit, flares and blanket in the rear of her well-used car. She shoved it into her purse and jogged to catch up with the line that was already beginning to make its way around the gift shop and picnic area down some old rock stairs that would lead to the entrance of the main cave.

  Morrigan felt a tremor of anticipation. This time she wasn’t just going camping in a forest, or hiking in some woodsy hills. This time she was actually going into the earth. She could feel the draw of it as surely as she could feel the change in temperature of the air around her.

  Come… The word echoed in her ears.

  “Morgie! Come on—over here.”

  Morrigan realized she had been standing alone at the bottom of the stairs, gazing at the surprisingly ordinary-looking slash in the earth that was the entrance to the cave. She blinked and saw Gena waving at her from the shadows just inside the cave where she stood with Lori and Jaime, and the rest of the small group they’d joined. Morrigan shook herself and hurried to her friends.

  Come…

  The word enveloped her, as did the cool darkness of the cave. August in Oklahoma was always hot and miserable, and Morrigan instantly breathed easier, adjusting quickly to the more than thirty-degree difference. She drew another deep breath as she reached her friends and only half listened as the guide launched into a speech about the history of the cave.

  It smelled incredible! Earth…rich, sweet and rocky. The scent filled her senses and made her feel excited and relaxed at the same time.

  This is where you belong.

  The words drifted through her mind and for once Morrigan didn’t run them through a sieve of good-thought/bad-thought where she would dissect it and struggle with it and try to figure out if it was something she should ignore or not. This time the truth in the words was too powerful for such laceration.

  This is where you belong.

  Unable to stop herself, she moved through the little group so that she could be the first one behind the guide to enter the bowels of the cave. The first to smell and touch and see everything. Morrigan’s soul seemed to quiver in excitement and she ignored the sounds of her friends trying to catch up with her.

  “Okay, if we’re all ready, then let’s move forward as a group,” the guide was saying. “Please remember that the lights are on a timer system, so you’ll need to stay fairly close to me and together.”

  How annoying! Like she wanted to be stuck with the herd? She was dying to explore this amazing place on her own. Irritated, Morrigan pulled her eyes from staring at the recesses of the cave, meaning to shoot the pain-in-the-ass guide a dirty look. Instead she felt her heart lurch with a little stutter-beat.

  The guy was f-ing drop-dead gorgeous. And he was looking right at her like he could read her mind.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Ready?” The guide spoke right to her, his brilliant blue eyes meeting her gaze. Morrigan nodded her head. “Excellent,” he said. “Oh, I forgot to formally introduce myself. My name is Kyle, and I will be your guide today.” Even though he seemed to be speaking just to Morrigan, several people in the group laughed and called, “Hello, Kyle,” while he turned his back to them and used a key to unlock a little metal box and flip a series of switches. Instantly, the cavern was bathed in white lights.

  A surge of annoyance made Morrigan forget about the hot guide. The lighting was wrong. It was too harsh—too white—too impersonal. The inside of the earth should be illuminated with softness. With glowing rocks or sweetly licking flame…

  “Jeesh, Morgie, quit staring and come on!” Lori grabbed her arm and pulled as she jostled past her.

  Morrigan shrugged off Lori’s arm and moved ahead until she was at the front of the group again. The guide stopped not far inside the cave. They’d come to a room that was huge, littered on either side of the iron-railed trail with enormous sections of large, flat rock. Before the guide began to speak, Morrigan knew. “This is the deepest part of the cave.”

  “You’re absolutely right!” Kyle smiled at her. Completely taking Morrigan off guard, she smiled nervously back at him. Until then she’d had no idea she’d spoken aloud the thought that had been whispered into her mind. Then she was further surprised to see Mr. Gorgeous Guide blush, like her smile had disarmed him, and turn hastily back to address the rest of the group. “As the young lady said, we are now at the deepest part of the cavern. From floor to ceiling it measures fifty feet, which puts us at about eighty feet under the surface.”

  Young lady? Morrigan thought. He doesn’t look much older than me.

  Beside her, Lori hugged herself and whispered, “It’s too creepy for words thinking about being eighty feet under the ground. God, talk about a deep grave.”

  “No, it’s not like that at all,” Morrigan responded automatically, eyes scanning the magical place. “It’s not creepy. It’s beautiful and perfectly safe.”

  Safe? Why had she said that?

  Lori turned her attention to Kyle the Hot Guide. “Hey, Kyle. My friend says the cave is perfectly safe. What do you say?”

  “Well, it’s not one hundred percent safe.” All the people in the group, except for Morrigan, shifted restlessly at this, so he added hastily,
“Oh, you’re safe enough with me today. But the truth is that those huge slabs of gypsum that litter the floor around the entrance, and those there and there—” he pointed to giant clumps of rock off the side of the trail “—they all fell from the ceiling of the cave. The last time we had rock break loose was just this past December. Thankfully, the cave was closed for Christmas.”

  “How do you know none of it will fall on us today?” Lori asked.

  “We have monitors checking the ceiling daily. If anything is loose, we close that area of the cave. Nothing’s been loose since December.”

  One of the middle-aged men in the group, the one with the big gut, snorted. “You’re, what, all of eighteen? Shouldn’t we check with someone else, like your boss, before we go any farther?”

  Morrigan thought Kyle would blush and fidget, but was impressed when he turned a steady gaze on the old guy. “Sir, I am the boss, or rather the most senior member of the team here. I’ve been employed at the park for six years. Currently, I’m finishing up the fieldwork for my master’s in geology. Don’t worry, you’re as safe as you can possibly be.”

  “Oh, well then…” The fat guy looked embarrassed and the women in the party all looked smug, clearly choosing the gorgeous young geologist over Mr. Fatty.

  Morrigan wanted to say I told ya so, but then again Kyle hadn’t agreed with her one hundred percent.

  It is always safe for those who have an affinity for the earth…if the rocks speak to you and tell you when and where they will fall…

  Uncharacteristically, Morrigan listened to the voice that sloughed through the winds of her mind. Here in the womb of the earth the voice seemed maternal, harmless, even nurturing. And she felt so right here—so like she belonged. Maybe the earth herself was insulating her from the whispers of the dark god. Maybe here she could be sure she was only hearing the sound of her mother’s voice.

  “Right around this corner is what we like to call the Encampment Room.” The line had begun to move again and Kyle had flipped on another set of abrasive artificial lights. “It would make sense if people had used this cave as shelter—although we haven’t found any evidence of ancient occupation—that they would probably have camped here. It’s close enough to the entrance to be easily accessible. The floor is flat. You can see the walls have formed in such a way that they’re perfect for shelves. And a stream runs here on the other side of the room, bringing in fresh water.”