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Either I had hit the nail on the head or the four representatives of Morrigan got a simultaneous case of serious constipation, because their faces turned red and strained.
“I think that Morfran is in cahoots with the Fomorians, but I don’t know why. I need to know what happened after the rite was performed, what happened to Julie’s mother, and what’s the significance of the necklace the little shaman boy named Red carried.”
“Where is the necklace?” Bran suddenly came to life.
“I’m not telling you.”
He spread his arms. “Why not? I’m the good guy here!”
“I don’t know that. It’s a trust issue. Until somebody explains this mess to me, nobody gets the necklace.”
“I’ll explain.” The middle witch of the Oracle leaned back. Above her, the mural shifted. The black lines crawled. The outlines of Hekate grew faint while the cauldron before her solidified.
“Two generations ago at the start of the Shift, Morrigan entrusted her covens with a magic cauldron.”
“They did a bang-up job taking care of it,” Bran said.
The mother-witch pinned him down with her stare. “Hush.”
“We didn’t know,” one of Morrigan’s witches said. “And she hasn’t spoken to us since the last flare.”
The middle witch silenced her with a wave of her hand. “Now then, the cauldron is her way into our world. Its magic only manifests during a flare. Morfran wanted the cauldron so that he too could experience life. He made a deal with Morrigan’s enemies, the Fomorians, the sea-demons. In exchange for their help, he would release them, through the cauldron, from the Otherworld. They’re not gods. They need little magic to exist here. They will become his first worshippers in this world.”
“But I killed at least ten of them. How many came through?”
“You don’t kill them,” Bran said. “They don’t stay dead unless I leave one of my shafts in them. As long as the cauldron feeds on the magic of the flare, they continue to return to life. The closer they are to the cauldron, the harder it is to disable them.”
Great. Fantastic. “Couldn’t you have told me this sooner?”
“It’s a trust issue,” he told me, mimicking my voice. I felt like smacking him.
“Okay, but how did the Fomorians get the cauldron in the first place?”
The witch sighed, folding her hands on her lap. “Through the ages Morrigan’s Hounds have protected the cauldron, and only they have power over it.”
On the walls the hounds raised their muzzles in a silent howl. Men, just like Bran, stolen from humanity through a fool’s bargain.