“Everything, of course,” she laughed. “Love cannot be based on parts and you would soon discover that half-truths can be even more dangerous than lies.”
Of all the options I’d considered earlier, absolute honesty never seemed possible. First, the law forbade it. Second, since discovering my birthright, I had been taught to equate such a confession with sure and violent death. Just thinking about it now terrified me to no end, though with Brigid’s approval, it appealed more than either concealment or denial.
On occasion it has worked...
Perhaps this would be one of those occasions. The tightness released somewhat from my chest, and I sat quietly, wondering which way it would be for me. Henry was a good man, but that was no guarantee how he would react. If he believed me, then we could be happy. Otherwise, he would think me under the Devil’s influence. If only there was a way to know before.
Surely he would understand and not think me evil—
“Tell me, Daughter,” Brigid said. “How have you been using your gift?”
“I healed a man of lockjaw two days ago. And I think a baby will need her heart repaired once she is born.” Pulling the rock from Ollie’s nose hadn’t taken anything more than a steady hand.
“You are a blessing to these people.”
“A blessing to some and a curse to others,” I murmured. “Why do some people insist on hating us when all we want to do is help?” My question was more rhetorical, since I was already well versed in the answer.
“Humans have always feared what they don’t understand.”
“Then why keep us a secret? If our true identity were revealed, people would learn not to fear us. Once they saw what we could do, they would come to revere us—”
“You mean they would worship you,” she interrupted. “And yet you are not a god. It is not your place to be worshiped.”
My mouth tightened with annoyance. “So we are to be despised and persecuted instead.”
Brigid looked beyond me toward the edge of the garden. A veil of sadness shadowed her lovely face, and a long moment passed in silence. “It has not always been this way,” she said, returning her eyes to mine. “There was a time when my children were known, but the temptation for glory became too great. Through me you are divine and have gifts held only by the gods. But you are also human, subject to human temptations. Too many of my sons and daughters were tempted to raise themselves up in pride, demanding to be worshiped for their power. When I left the human world I decided it best to keep your identities secret, to save you from yourselves.”
The memory of being thrown into the river and the looming charge of witchcraft came into my head. What was the purpose of being saved from myself if someone else was just going to kill me?
Brigid arched a delicate brow. “You have made some enemies,” she said. “These people may have the power to destroy your body, but only you can destroy your soul. Do you understand the difference?”
I nodded halfheartedly.
“Then why are you afraid of dying?”
Only a god would ask such a question. I loved my life, my friends, living at Brighmor. I loved Henry and wasn’t ready to give him up, even for the Otherworld. “I just don’t want to die yet.”
“Yes, I see that. But this does not release you from your divine obligation. While my blood runs in your veins, you may not deny those in need, regardless of your personal safety. To do so would be to curse yourself.”
“What if a man is wicked?” I thought of Nathan Crowley and how many times I had wished for his death. “Wouldn’t it be better to let him die?”
Brigid tilted her head to one side, the graceful movement reminding me of a swan. “It is a hard thing to measure a man’s heart. Your power is to sustain life, not to judge it. Some of my children who sought to do more have fallen.”
I sighed, knowing she was right.
Brigid took a silver cup and dipped it into the spring. “Drink, Selah, that you may be strong.”
I accepted the cup. The cold water turned to fire in my throat. Brigid controlled both elements, and in this spring she had combined them to give power to her children. The water rushed through me, filling me with her divine strength.
Brigid looked at me approvingly. “Be true to thyself, Daughter,” she said, taking the cup. “It is time to go home. Your Englishman is waiting.”
I looked at her curiously, but she said no more, returning her attention to the spring.