“Nothing,” I say. “It’s certainly the most comprehensive conspiracy theory map I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, bite me.” Morgan rolls her eyes. “Maybeyoucan keep this all straight in your head, but I’m not that organized.”
I glance around her bedroom, noticing for the first time that I’m sitting on what appears to be unfolded laundry—clean, I hope.Fair enough.
“No, no, it’s great,” I insist. “Really.”
Morgan huffs. “Thank you.” She turns back to the wall. “So that sort of overlaps with all this”—she waves a hand at the cluster of ANCIENT NEAR EASTERN RITES notes—“but also these”—she gestures at the PRE-CHRISTIAN CELTIC AND BRITANNIC area, which takes up a good half of the corkboard. She taps her pale fingernail to the card reading BRID. “You’ve got your girl ‘Saint’ Brigid”—she draws air quotes—“right?”
Right. I remember that from before the Candlemas Ball. Imbolc, Brid, how all those traditions and beliefs sort of got mushed into Christianity once it took over what would eventually become England and Ireland.
I nod. Morgan looks pleased with herself. She flops back onto the bed next to me, studying her handiwork from a greater distance.
“And you and Kingston have discovered what, exactly, in all your studies?” she asks, eyes flashing from the corkboard to me.
“Um…”
“On theboard,Gwenna.” She shoves the index cards and pen into my hand. I sigh, but good-naturedly.
“Sure.”
I get up and write out as much as I can, as briefly as I can. How the legend of the Grail didn’t actually come around until the 1100s. How, around those same decades, there were more and more religious scholars—and more and morewomen—writing about a different kind of spiritual power in the world:not just the holy spirit or God’s divine will but somethingelse.What Hildegard calledviriditas. Greening, growth. The force that enlivens everything.
When I’m done, I’m not sure I’ve made anythingclearer,necessarily, but Morgan’s right: it does feel good to download it from the inside of my brain.
“Hmm.” Morgan says, tapping her nails to her lips. “Hmm hmm hmm hmmhmmm.” She looks at me. “So there is no Grail,” she says. “Per se. No…cup waiting around for Indiana Jones to grab it. Right?”
“Right. It’s just a cover story, basically. This”—I grab a dangling piece of string, wrap it around the thumbtack holding the GRAIL card in place, and pull it taut all the way across to the RUSSIANS area—“is this.” I loop the string and secure it to the SPRING MAIDEN card.
Morgan gives a proud little smirk. “She’s getting the hang of it.”
I stare at the SPRING MAIDEN.
“And thatperson,” I say, after only a moment’s hesitation, “is the one who possesses that power. Viriditas. The thing that that the Grail legend is an allegory for, basically.”
“A-ha.” Morgan nods sharply, the cap of the pen against her lips, then peers over at me. “Is this helping?”
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “Maybe.” I stare at the board and have to laugh again. “God, this isnotwhat I thought I’d be doing in college.”
“No,” Morgan deadpans. “I’m shocked.”
I laugh. “Yeah, call me crazy, but I thought I’d mostly be studying.”
Morgan blows a raspberry. “Boring.”
“Oh, come on.” I throw a pillow at her. “What else is college even for? Because I can’t play any sports, I hate parties, andI’mnotthe type of girl who comes to college just to get a boyfriend?—”
Cough.I look up to Morgan giving me a pointed stare.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shrugs. “Just, here you are anyway. A fourfold success.”
My neck and chest prickle with heat. I clench my fists. “Yeah, but I’m not?—”
“Hey, hey, easy.” Morgan puts up a hand to silence me, then cocks her head. “Why so defensive?”
“I’m not defensive,” I say, realizing too late that that’s exactly what a defensive personwouldsay. “You know what I mean. That just isn’t me.”
