In the water, the Morgan women clustered around Faye, wanting to be acknowledged. Wanting to give her something of themselves. Each one held out a gift, and she knew that she had to take them all, even the things she didn’t want to receive.
Some of the women held out bones and skulls. Some held spheres of light or swirling darkness. Some gave her plants and flowers; some handed her crude figures that appeared to be crafted from mud and old pieces of cloth, or swatches from their dresses. Everything she took was made of water and disappeared as soon as she held it, but she had the sense that she retained all the gifts somehow; each was like a memory, firmly committed into her ancestry.
Each Morgan woman said something to her: their voices were real, not imagined.
‘I give you my knowledge of herbs.’
‘I give you my psychic ability.’
‘I give you my insight.’
‘I give you my kindness.’
Many of the gifts were beautiful. Faye felt them enrich her soul.
But there were as many women that gave her awful, terrible gifts that made her heavier, darker, sadder.
‘I give you my pain.’
‘I give you my hopelessness.’
‘I give you my loss.’
She took it all, going around and around in the chalice until she had taken everything the women had to give. And then, she stood at the centre of the cup, facing Grainne Morgan.
‘To you I give my bravery. You are no man’s whore, and no man’s servant. Faerie or otherwise,’ Grainne said to her. ‘Your desires are not wrong. Your desire in whatever form it takes is your power. But do not give yourself to anyone who would treat you less than a queen, dear daughter.’
Faye nodded. She remembered the moment she had witnessed Grainne curse the people who had lashed her to the stake for being a witch.
Confess, and ye shall go to your death godly. Not as the Devil’s whore, the man had said to her as she stood defiantly in front of the crowd. I am no whore. I am Grainne Morgan, Beloved of the Good Folk!she had replied, and the faerie had spirited her away.
‘Are you here, too?’ Faye asked Grainne. ‘In Murias? Like Moddie?’
‘No, child. I was there for a while, healing, but then the fae took me to my rest. I was a friend of Murias, and it was a friendto me, then. But times have changed. You must be careful now. The faerie kings are corrupt. He would own you, and a Morgan woman will never be owned,’Grainne replied.
‘I will be careful,’ Faye said.
Grainne took both of her hands in hers.‘I am with you,’ she replied.
Finally, Faye stood face to face with her grandmother and her mother.
Moddie. Grandmother.
Tears started rolling down Faye’s cheeks as the two people she had loved most in the world walked out of the mist and materialised in front of her.
‘Hello, my darling girl,’ Moddie said, and enveloped Faye in a hug. ‘I cannot stay long. But I give you my love for always, which you already had. And I give you a gift of protection.’ Moddie handed her a small silver charm; it looked like it was from a charm bracelet. It was in the shape of a kelpie: a water horse.
‘Like poison heals in small proportions, this protects against that which it represents,’ Moddie said, pressing the charm into Faye’s hand. ‘You know of whom I speak. Wear this around your neck and he will not be able to take you. I love you, always.’
Moddie started to fade away.
‘Mum. No!’ Faye cried out, but Moddie was gone as soon as she had come. A terrible ache of loss filled Faye’s heart. ‘Please. Come back,’ she said, like a child. ‘Please.’
Faye turned to her grandmother.
‘Grandmother. I have missed you,’ she said.
‘I miss you too, but I am with you. In the grimoire,’ Grandmother answered. ‘I give you knowledge. Knowledge is power, my love.’ She kissed Faye on the cheek. ‘Do not be sad, child. We are all with you, now. Forever.’
