Kevin Hearne - Hexed

Brighid’s nose wrinkled. I heard her sniff a couple of times, and then she abruptly stepped back and tore my shirt down the front, revealing the scratches and bruises from my morning’s exertions. Brighid’s face flushed and her eyes bulged as she drank in the evidence of my dalliance with her rival.

“I knew it!” she shouted. “You’ve lain with her! You’re the Morrigan’s creature!” And that’s all the warning I got before she unleashed the flames of her wrath against me in very literal terms. Fire whooshed out from her fingers and palms to char me toasty in my own kitchen. It didn’t burn me directly, thanks to my amulet, but it did behave differently than the fallen angel’s hellfire: Whereas the hellfire gave me a flash of heat before fizzling impotently, this ball o’ fire got channeled directly to the cold iron on my chest, where it began to burn painfully, just like the German hex had a couple of days ago. That was a mystery I’d have to ponder later. Right then I had a friend to protect, skin to heal, and several fires to put out.

Oberon barked.

That’s why I wanted you behind her. Don’t attack yet; I’m okay .

I drew Fragarach from its sheath, wincing at the heat in my palms, and pointed it at Brighid’s throat. “Freagróidh tú!” I yelled.

“No! Release me now! ” she shouted back. She struggled to move but could do nothing but twitch, held fast in the blue glow of a spell crafted by her own brethren ages ago.

“You’re giving me commands? You just tried to fry me and you want me to obey you now? I’m sorry, that’s not how it works. And you’re the one who said I was fit to wield this sword.”

“You said you’d never wield it against me!” she blazed.

“True,” I admitted, “but that was before you tried to kill me.”

Her eyes shifted to find Oberon. “Release me now or—”

She stopped as I pressed Fragarach to the hollow of her throat. “Understand me, Brighid: If you ever hurt Oberon, your very long life will end directly afterward. You know I can move between the planes as I wish; there is no place you can run that I cannot follow.”

“You dare threaten me, a guest in your home?”

“You tossed out all the rules when you lost your temper. So we’re going to have a nice, long talk, you and I, and Fragarach will make sure you are not deceitful.”

Thanks, buddy . “Please take a moment first to put out the fires you started.”

“Why shouldn’t I let the whole house burn?”

“Because that would be rude when it’s a simple matter for you to put them out. Please put them out so we may talk peaceably.”

“Peaceably?” Brighid sneered. “With a sword at my neck?”

“Touché. But this would not be necessary had you acted with restraint. I ask you politely once more: Will you put out the fires?”

“What’s next? Torture if I refuse?”

“No, I’m not the Inquisition. I will find other means to put them out if you will not.” Fragarach could not compel her to act; it could only compel answers. I had a fire extinguisher in the garage, and I’d have to drag her there and back if she didn’t agree.

The goddess of fire grimaced but focused on something behind me and growled in Irish, “Múchaim.” Then she focused on me and said, “It is done.”

Is it done? I asked Oberon.

“Of course I did,” Brighid said, reminding us that she could hear Oberon.

“Thank you.” I nodded, as smoke roiled near the ceiling. “Let’s be seated, shall we?” I moved the sword slowly, allowing Brighid to shuffle in an undignified way to a chair at the kitchen table, then lowered it by degrees until she was able to sit down. I took a seat across from her, moving her ale out of the way.

“Excellent. Now let’s review what happened here, shall we? You showed up uninvited and I welcomed you in. I offered you refreshment and you accepted. You made a proposal to me and I said I would think about it. You ripped off my shirt and then tried to kill me. Now I ask you, which part of that sequence of events breaks every law of hospitality known to our race?”

“You left out the part where you fornicated with the Morrigan.”

“Not while you were here. Answer my question.”

Sullenly, Brighid said, “The part where I ripped off your shirt was a minor breach of hospitality.”

“We are making excellent progress,” I enthused. “How about the part where you tried to kill me? Was that not also poor conduct for a guest?”

“Yes—strictly speaking. But you gave me cause!”

“No, Brighid, I did not. If I had agreed to be your consort first and then fornicated with the Morrigan in front of you with Def Leppard on the stereo, then that would have been cause to incinerate me on the spot. But I am a free man and I gave you no such cause. And beyond that, I cannot fathom why you’d react like a jilted high school girl. This wasn’t done out of jealousy, was it?”

“No,” Brighid said. “I was not motivated by jealousy.”

“I thought not. And did you propose that I become your consort out of any true affection for me?”

“No.”

“Of course not. Before we get to the real reason you asked me to be your consort, I would like to address your accusation. If I were truly ‘the Morrigan’s creature,’ as you put it, then I could have killed you already, and indeed I should have and would have. We would not be talking right now if I were beholden to her will or if I were part of some evil plot to usurp you.”

“Then what is between you?” Brighid asked.

“She regenerated my ear for me,” I said, flicking the lobe. “Sex magic.”

Brighid flinched. “I did not know you had lost it. No one told me.”

“Yep. I lost it in the Superstition Mountains when I was killing Aenghus Óg for you. Speaking of which, did you tell Flidais to kidnap Oberon to make sure I showed up?”

The goddess sighed. “Yes.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Oberon,” I said. “Brighid, I want you to think a moment about what you have done here. I am the last man on this plane who worships you in the old way. I gave you full rites on Samhain just a few nights ago.”

“Yes, but you gave them to the Morrigan too.”

“As I should! And to Ogma. And to Manannan Mac Lir and all the rest. For they are my gods, as you are. And now to be served thus, after millennia of faith in your goodness and beauty and purity of spirit—and for what? Let’s have that answer now. Why did you truly want me to be your consort?”

“I want the secret of your amulet. I can study it better in Tír na nÓg.”

“Is that your sole motivation?”

“No. It would thwart the Morrigan.”

“Thwart her how? That’s more important to you, isn’t it?”

“Yes. She wishes to be supreme in Tír na nÓg, and she is using you to make it happen.”

“You are no better,” I pointed out. “You wish to be supreme, and you would use me the same way. I’m disgusted with you both. And you know what really chaps my hide here?”

“It’s that you’ve come down so dramatically from your pedestal. I can’t even have a proper crisis of faith and vacillate between the image of perfection and my shattered illusions, because you’ve left no doubt that there is nothing divine about your nature. Do you not see how you have debased yourself, or do you persist in thinking that you acted justly in trying to kill me? Wait—don’t answer that yet.” An inconsistency demanded resolution. “Why did you try to kill me with fire?”