Incrediblyhard.
In another world—a normal, ordinary world—I would have been able to leave Kai behind and rush back to my dorm all giddy, briefly play coy with my roommate until shequicklysuspected something was up and grilled me, and then giggle my way through relating the details of what was, to be honest, the hottest sexual encounter I’ve ever had, with or without another person involved.
Fuck.My stomach does a little flip just thinking about it.
But I don’t live in that world. So I have to do my best to act normal.
Fortunately, I’m able to play off my absentmindedness and generally sort of…floaty demeanor as side effects of all my studies with Emrys and Kingston, which Morgan turns out to be highly intrigued by, and that gives me an easy option to monologue my way through my own awkwardness as Morgan eats her snacks.
“….and all of these women were writing about, like, God and Jesus and Divine Love or whatever,” I say, “butnotthe same way as all the men of the era?—”
“—which is why they were burned at the stake,” Morgan interjects.
“—which is whysomeof them were burned at the stake.” I connect the dots of my theory from there: the revelations to ordinary people, the ideas of renewal and fresh life, theviriditasin Hildegard’s writing.
“She literally describes this feminine figure coming down and being like,I am the life force that makes plants grow, I make everything that happens happen,blah blah blah.” I shudder to think what Saint Hildegard would think if she could hear my butchered version of her writing, but I’m…getting the gist across.
“Innnnnteresting,” Morgan says. She sprawls back on the couch, examining the ends of her hair. “So like, a nature-based version of the Holy Spirit, or whatever you people believe?”
“Something like that,” I say. “And so I’m thinking, like…what if that’s what the Grail…is. Does. Has?” I frown. I don’t even know how to phrase it. Because, truth is, I don’t yet want to connect it to me. I want it all to be theoretical, phenomenological, impersonal.
“It sounds awfully witchy to me,” Morgan says. “Sorry, just being honest. You’re sure this is something church people wrote about?”
“Yes,” I say emphatically. “Well, mostly mystics. And women. And really just until the 12th century.”
“What happened then?”
“They…” I grimace. “Burned people at the stake.” Morgan looks a little satisfied. “But not for being witches per se. Just for being…outside the church’s control.”
“Again? Sounds awfully witchy to me.” Morgan sighs, then taps a finger to her chin. “You know, I have a theory that Vivian Thorne was a witch.”
“Vivian?” It takes me a moment to place that name, but when I do, my chest contracts.
Vivian Thorne
Loved much, lost too soon.
Custodiat hunc locum amoenum in eterna.
“Vivian,” I say again. “The?—”
“Yah,” Morgan affirms. “The lady of the lake.”
I’ve seen her. A ghost. Just the once, during my doomed swim test. At the time, I thought it was just…well, just another symptom of me losing my mind.
Now, though…
“She’s the whole reason I wanted to come to Caliburn, actually,” Morgan goes on, then adds with a scoff, “as if I’d actively choose to be stuck in the same place as Kingston and Kai.”
“Oh,” I say. It never occurred to mewhyMorgan would come here, but when she puts it that way, I can see I roll my pencil between my fingers. “So…what’s your theory, then?”
“It’s kind of like you were saying,” Morgan says. “Feminine power, the influence of the rhythms of the seasons, the cycles of the moon, death and renewal…” She fixes me with a hard look. “Idon’tthink she was crazy. That whole narrative, I reject out of hand.”
I nod. “Okay. Then…how did she die?” No, wrong question. I give my head a shake. “Why did she die?”
“That’s the thing,” Morgan says, chewing a Twizzler. “I don’t know. And trust me, I’ve asked.”
“You’ve asked the ghost?”
