“Very well,” I sighed, already well aware what he would ask next.
“I would know what you are. And don’t try to claim a witch, as only the superstitious and rustics believe that rubbish in this day and age.”
I paused at the dilemma that yawned before me. To be sure, the attacks in the stable justified the use of my power in front of James. But to reveal the entire truth might go further than the law allowed.
“Fair is fair, Miss Kilbrid. I divulged my past, now it’s your turn to ante up.”
He had a point. We’d made an agreement, and surely Brigid would not punish me too much for honoring my word, especially now that James knew me to be different.
I offered the condensed version. “I am goddess born, Mr. Roth.”
The words hit him square in the chest, and I looked on innocently as he struggled to keep his breath steady. “And what precisely does that mean?”
“That I am descended from Brigid of the Tuatha Dé.”
He frowned and the name rolled over his tongue like a foreign object. “Tooah day... Are you referring to the Fae?”
“Faeries aren’t real,” I said, irked to no end by the popular misconception. “The Tuatha Dé are an ancient race of gods and goddesses who left the human world more than two thousand years ago. As Brigid’s direct descendant, I am part goddess.”
His nostrils flared. “Do you really take me for such a simpleton?”
I stood my ground, unflinching. “Do you take me for fully human?”
His mouth opened, then snapped shut without so much as a word. I waited, not wanting to pull him faster than he could run. After a minute, his lips parted hesitantly. “Brigid is a myth, left over from pagan times.”
“That’s odd, since I just saw her last summer. But I’ll let her know the next time we meet in the Otherworld.” Not that I had any idea when that would be since the only altar I knew outside of the Colonies was in London at All Hallows.
“This is absurd. This...” He sputtered to a stop just long enough to find the right words. “This is beyond absurd. This goes against the entirety of man’s understanding. Against the very order of things!”
Well, that seemed a bit of an exaggeration. Different didn’t make me absurd, nor against the natural order of anything. I breathed deeply through my nose, and struggled for patience. “What I did today may exceed your understanding of the world, but believe me, my existence as a goddess born does not begin nor end with your approval. The Tuatha Dé and their descendants have existed on this earth for thousands of years without it, and I think I shall manage just the same.”
James’s eyes bugged with indignation. “What do you—”
I held up a hand to interrupt. “Look at it logically. You know I’m not fully human. So what other explanation is there for my kind? Why would I lie to you about being Brigid’s descendant? I gave you the truth. Take it or leave it, it’s your choice.”
The battle had turned to a full-scale war. On one side stood everything he had ever known to be true. On the other stood the irrefutable facts of what I had done today, stunning Sam and Anna, healing their brains, healing the dog and the bite mark on his hand.
Turning, James looked at the stream. A squirrel scurried across the far bank, up the side of a tree. One of the last remaining leaves drifted slowly to the ground. “Does Lord Fitzalan know of your...ancestry?”
“Henry’s known since last summer. The duke knows as well, which is why I believe he changed his mind about me. Apparently, he’s not opposed to having a goddess born for a daughter-in-law.”
James took a moment to mull this last bit over. Then he turned back to me. “If I accept Brigid is real, how did your kind come about?”
Now we were getting somewhere. “Brigid married King Bres and they had three sons. I am one of their descendants.” Easy as that.
“And Deri, is she the same as you?”
“Similar, though not the same. She’s descended from Cailleach, the goddess of death and disease. So where I can heal, Deri can kill.” I wanted to stop there, but for James’s sake, I continued. “And you may need to revise your opinion of witches if what I’ve learned of late is true. Deri may also descend from the witch Carmen. Have you ever heard of her?”
James shook his head.
“She was responsible for laying waste to Ireland long ago. Legend has it that once she died, King Bres buried her beneath the oak trees in Wexford.”
The name connected immediately. “Is that why Deri is bringing Nora there? To visit her mother’s grave?”