Kat's Conundrum: Raven and Hummingbird, #3

Prologue

Bones rattled as the witch shook the bag and muttered her questions. She pulled the drawstring open and let them scatter across the dirt floor, the action causing the candle to flicker and nearly go out. It is as I thought, she mumbled, her gaze moving from the bones to the shadow on the cave wall. I will make you whole again, and when I do, you will assist me.

She moved the candle in its holder and examined the bones again, gnarled fingers running through her matted gray hair. They tell me that I am the one who will bring down the world. Once I am finished the world will reflect what I, and others like me, want. She rose from where she kneeled. But first I must stop the girl who has come from the god’s loins. She is my nemesis and my trial. If she succeeds, I will fail. She glanced down again. And I cannot fail. She bent to gather the bones together, replacing them in the velvet bag. Turning, she placed her hand on the wall where the shadow hovered. Soon, my love. We will be together very soon. Outside the cave the wind came up, howling like wild dogs. The candle blew out, plunging the cave into darkness.

1

The note said:

My dearest Katel,

My time on earth has abruptly been brought to a close and I have gone home to the Underworld and the duties I left behind. Do not seek me there; if you do it will be at your own peril. Your father has been stripped of his powers and locked away where he can never again do damage. The borders have closed, the worlds of gods and humans separated forever. I have no insight left to impart, only that you must listen to your own heart and the wisdom of the forest. Use the gifts given you.

Kat stared at the square of white left on the bare counter of what had been Cerridwen’s Cosmetic Cauldron. She’d been working here off and on for over two years and trying her best to learn what it meant to be a demi-goddess. Airmid, her teacher in the fine arts of goddess powers, had left months before, heading home to Otherworld to fight the darkness that had crept through the opening between worlds. The shelves were empty now, with no remnant of the creams and essential oils Cerridwen had concocted from the herbs and seeds Kat had collected in the forest. All that was left was dust.

A sinking sensation entered her, anxiety making its way into the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t realized how much this woman’s presence had soothed her, how the work had kept her mind off disturbing events and buoyed her moods. Why hadn’t the crone goddess mentioned her impending departure? Or for that matter, the terrible news that Bran would not be allowed to return. Her mother and baby brother were thousands of miles away, and from what the note said, the love of her life might be banned from ever coming back.

Her thoughts turned to her immediate plight, the weighty sense that it was up to her to get rid of the Dubh and stop whatever was creeping over the land. According to Gwen, it was her destiny. But without the support of Gwen and Airmid, she felt lost, especially since Dagda was no longer around to piss her off and bring out what was lurking beneath the surface. Her powers seemed to arrive unbidden when she was around him, fury with her father sparking them.

Anger rose up at the damage that had been done to her, the goddesses’ decision to have Bran live with her as a teenage boy, his disappearance into the nether realms of the Norse world to find himself again. If it hadn’t been for her, Bran would be dead now. The loss of his presence in her life was worse than any of the others. She was now utterly alone. 

Kat walked out of the empty shop, her troubled gaze going to the smoke rising from the forest in the distance, the blank faces of those walking by, and the proselytizers carrying signs with messages about repenting and the end of days. The lead-up to all this had taken many months, months in which she’d been missing Bran and waiting impatiently for his return. The Dubh were here, their amorphous shapes wafting by in the increasingly gray world. They looked like ghosts, with their pale ever-changing bodies, but that was not what they were; ghosts did not suck the life out of the world, leaving it cold and dead. According to Cerridwen they were not the problem, they were merely a symptom. If they weren’t the problem, what was? In Kat’s mind leaching the color out of everything alive was no small thing.

Many of the people she saw were numbed out and blank. The temperatures had dropped, the days shortened and the nights so cold that no amount of heat could keep out the chill. Those who were resistant to the Dubh were the ones carrying signs and seeing evil everywhere. And the others had apparently lost their senses. Was there something more malevolent waiting at the edges of the world to wreak even more havoc?

Last time Kat had spoken with her, Cerridwen had feigned innocence when asked what was happening in Otherworld—how the trial of Dagda, Kat’s father, was going. Considering her own intervention, Kat had assumed that things would work out for her father; she’d made a special trip to Otherworld to plead his case, citing his love for her mother as the reason to be lenient. If it wasn’t for her newfound ability to shift into a hummingbird, she would not have found her way to Otherworld, some small kernel of knowing arising once she was in bird form.

He did what a god would do faced with a life on earth, she’d told the group of gods and goddesses she addressed. He fell in love with a human woman and lost his wits in the process, embracing the greed of money and power that has become the main purpose of life on earth. Kat remembered the shocked faces when they heard about what earth was like, their expressions saying that they all had power but they did not wield it for personal gain.  When Kat went on, they watched her, their eyes wide with interest. But he changed and he’s been wracked with guilt, she’d told them, not to mention heartbroken over having to leave the love of his life and two half god children.

That last statement had sent murmurs rushing through the group as they discussed her message.  Kat had waited for questions but none were asked. But she’d left out one important detail—the real reason for her father’s guilt and shame had been caused by her mother rejecting him.

Later, when she was back on earth and Bran had been called upon to participate in her father’s trial and sentencing, she’d assumed he would be gone a week or possibly two. When a month went by and then another, she’d felt his absence keenly, but with this news, anxiety came rushing to the surface. If the border was really closed, she might never see him again. As Hummingbird she’d made it there once, why not try again? She nodded to herself. It was the only idea that made any sense.

KAT’S TINY GOSSAMER wings beat against the invisible barrier, her hummingbird heart racing. There was no getting through whatever this was, and in her current state she had no alternatives other than to return to earth. When she reached the ground and turned back to human form, the seriousness of the situation penetrated. She had been so sure that as a demi-goddess she could pass through into Otherworld—she’d done it before in bird form. But now she realized that what Cerridwen had said in her note was the truth. The worlds of gods and humans was separated forever.

It was dark by the time she reached her apartment, her body like lead as she took one slow step after another. At home she pulled the crumpled note out of her pocket, the words blurring through her tears. When the paper grew hot and caught fire, she dropped it, staring in horror at the pile of ash on the floor at her feet. She lay on her bed and gave herself over to grief, finally falling into a stupor-like sleep.

KAT WOKE TO GRAY LIGHT, the words of Cerridwen’s note emblazoned in her mind: listen to your own heart and the wisdom of the forest. She grabbed a jacket and ran from the apartment, ignoring the cold wind that blasted her in the face as she skimmed the distance at a run. The trees taunted her as she entered the woods; the towering leafless gray limbs seemed like a testament to futility. Kat picked her way over burned stumps, skirting around trees that looked ready to topple over, following a former deer path deeper into the forest. There had to be some green left somewhere, some area that the Dubh had missed in their greedy search. What they wanted was beyond her understanding. She’d never had any personal dealings with them, but they eyed her from time to time, their eyes empty as they wafted by.

In the distance she spotted a few old growth trees, their trunks gray but the branches at the top still green. She hurried toward them, allowing her scattered thoughts to drift away. Communicating with trees was a tricky business, one that required a clear mind and a ton of patience. Trees were ancient, and what they had absorbed over their years was not readily given.

She slowed her steps as she approached the gnarled trunks, bowing her head in respect. These beings had been here for hundreds of years and would be here for a hundred more, barring fires or hurricanes or tornados uprooting them. Would the Dubh finally be the ones to kill them? Some had already burned, scars lining the trunks, but they persisted, despite it all.

As she asked for guidance, the pointlessness settled into her. Her approach had to be in keeping with what they were. Trees didn’t think in human terms, nor were they conscious of the puny dealings of what went on in the world of humans. They communicated amongst themselves, keeping away pests by sending out scents, drawing helpful predators to them in the same way, and filling their leaves with toxins to fend off unwanted insects and leaf-eaters of all kinds. They bloomed at the same time to widen the gene pool, and ‘moved’ south or north depending on the warming or chilling of the environment around them. They exchanged information and nutrients with help from fungi, and worked with whatever foraged on their leaves and roots, communicating with others of their species through the web of their roots. Kat was awed by their size and age and how they functioned.

She sat on the ground next to a particularly enormous cedar, one that she viewed as the sentinel; its crown rose higher than all the others, an aura of age and wisdom emanating from it. When she placed her hand on the gnarled bark, she could feel the energy coursing through it. It was very much alive.

She breathed in and out, waiting. The sky turned dark, the silence of the forest and the smell of dead leaves and burned wood settling into her. Hours moved slowly by, her crossed legs going numb as her mind opened and cleared. When her mother appeared in her mind with an expression of fear on her face, Kat’s eyes flew open. Something was amiss. She didn’t know if this vision had come from the trees or not, only that she was needed. Her knees ached when she rose from the ground, her hands going together to thank the trees before she sprinted away. 

2

Dagda had accepted his punishment, ready to be imprisoned inside the tower for all eternity. It was what he deserved. So, when he was told that instead of that, his powers would be stripped and he would be sent back to earth as a human, he argued. I want to stay here as a god. You can put me anywhere, I don’t care, just please don’t take my powers.

Forseti, the judge, scoffed. And how can we keep you locked in a tower if you have powers, Dagda?

You can...bind them.

Forseti shook his head. Your daughter has convinced us of your love for this earth woman. We are giving you a second chance.

I don’t want a second chance! What I did down there...I would rather die than go back. But no amount of pleading would change their minds. And so, the borders were opened to expel him from Otherworld onto an earth depleted of color.

He was heartsick, disgusted with himself and angry with his fate. At first, he wandered aimlessly, hoping he would simply die. Sleeping on park benches, and in doorways was not only uncomfortable, but also led to several bad confrontations with those who saw him as a bum. He wanted to argue, wanted to turn them into toads or send them sprawling, but when he lifted his hand, nothing happened.

He caught a cold and coughed for weeks, his lungs burning as though they were on fire. His head was hot but he felt chilled to the bone, shivering as he was rousted by the police. When he questioned them about his symptoms, wondering what it meant, they laughed at him.

After a month of this, when he became so emaciated that he could barely get around, he searched out his former property, surprised to find it brimming with color. The rest of his street had turned a dull gray, and many of the people had simply vacated their houses. Maybe it was his former power still infused into the land that kept it alive, or maybe Kat had been here and worked her magic. It was an oasis in a world that held nothing for him.

The next day he began the slow assembling of scrap wood into a shack to protect him from the elements. A god who had never experienced cold was now shivering through the night. And the hunger that turned his belly into a beast was even worse.

As the endless days passed by his body turned into a mass of pain, his hands blistered and bleeding from carrying the rough wood. Being forced to rely on muscle and will was new to him and not at all welcome, emptiness seeping around the corners of his mind. He’d stolen tools from a house close by, also making off with some scraps he found in a shed behind one of the beautiful mansions so like the one he’d created as a god. He found moldy bread and canned goods in the houses that had been abandoned, his hunger finally at bay.

The ashes still remained from the fire he’d set that night. The beautiful house that he’d conjured for Siobhan was gone as though it had never been. He wondered how humans could stand all the pain they went through—not only the hunger and the constant aching, but also the emotions that he was fraught with every moment of every day. It was nearly unbearable. One minute he’d be working and in the next he was overcome with a hopelessness that hung off him like sticky vines. He’d begun to drink, his forays to the local bar made easier once he learned how to beg for loose change. How far he’d fallen.

Days turned into months as he fought for control. But no amount of wishing could change the fact of what he was now—an old broken-down man with no way out of here. Why didn’t you kill me? he asked every night before he dropped into a nightmare filled sleep. He’d tried to kill himself with pills he’d stolen when he broke into a house close by, but he’d come to in the morning with only a pounding headache, and the violent need to empty his stomach. Was that another part of his punishment—to be stuck here until he died of old age or one of the horrible disease’s humans were prone to?

When he thought of Siobhan it made things even worse, the idea of her seeing him like this taking what little self-worth he had and throwing it into the ever-increasing garbage heap in his yard. He hated his life and he hated himself.

A security cop had rousted him early one morning, asking what he was doing on the property. For some reason the man had believed him when Dagda said he was the former owner who had fallen on hard times.

So, does the current owner know you’re here? the cop had asked.

The current owner is my daughter and she would never throw me off this piece of land.

The man had nodded, as if this information was enough to allow him to squat there for as long as he wanted. Just make sure you dispose of your garbage, he said before he left, watching a rat scurry across the yard.

There was pity in his eyes, an emotion that would have made the former Dagda livid. But this Dagda only nodded and got back to the slow work of putting a shelter together. Why he bothered, he didn’t know. As far as disposing of his garbage, he had no way to do that. And besides, the rats made good companions.

3

Siobhan answered the door, her eyes widening in surprise. She pulled Kat into her arms.  Why haven’t you visited sooner? I’ve been so worried! At the very least you could have called. Mior clung to Siobhan’s legs, his large dark eyes regarding Kat solemnly. A moment later he was off, playing with his toys on the floor and ignoring them.

I lost my cell phone and I haven’t had the energy to get another one. Kat gazed around her mother’s small apartment, the one she hadn’t been in since the day Dagda left for Otherworld. The aroma of essential oils wafted in the air from the diffusers her mom had set up, a comfy couch and chair adding to the cozy feeling. Crystals caught the light from the windows, casting rainbow shadows on the walls. On the porch windchimes moved in the breeze, musical tones echoing. Her mom was still a hippy at heart. I had a vision of you looking worried. Are you okay?

Siobhan sighed. I feel as though something terrible is going to happen. When I was with your father, I never felt like this. He was such a protector, you know?

That’s my job now. Now tell me about this premonition.

Siobhan shook her head. Kat, you have your own life. You can’t be expected to watch out for me. I’m a grown woman. Siobhan led the way to couch. Now tell me how you’ve been.

Mostly I’ve been waiting for Bran to come home, but...

Bran left months ago. Your father’s trial couldn’t possibly take this long.

Kat let out a heavy sigh, not sure if she wanted to share the bad news. She flopped onto the couch. The border is closed, Mom. I tried to get into Otherworld but now there’s an invisible barrier that I couldn’t get through.

Siobhan sat next to her. "But you’re a half-goddess—they can’t keep you out, can they?"

Apparently they can. I worry that Bran didn’t come back because... Kat looked up, gazing into her mother’s concerned eyes. Because I didn’t tell him I went to Otherworld to defend Dad.

Pish tosh, Katel. That would never stop him. He loves you to distraction.

Kat’s eyes filled. You really think so?

Yes, I do. Now tell me everything. Do you know what happened to your father?

Kat shrugged. I thought I might have done some good, but the note Cerridwen left for me seemed to suggest otherwise. She said Dagda has been stripped of his god powers and locked away.

Siobhan nodded sadly, her gaze going to the small boy who was now playing with blocks next to where they sat. Can you say hello to your sister, sweetheart?

Kat leaned forward, giving Mior her best smile. You’ve grown so much since I was here. You’re a big boy now.

Mior gave her a shy smile, his deep blue eyes reminding Kat of her father. You look like your daddy, she whispered, taking his proffered hand.

Siobhan stifled a sob. He reminds me so much of Dag. It just breaks my heart. I miss him so.

I miss him too, but I miss Bran more. I have to find a way to reach Otherworld. I can’t think until I find him and discover why he didn’t come back.

Your father’s behavior must have caused this. If only he’d repented earlier, we’d all be together.

Kat thought about her mother’s death and resurrection. She wouldn’t mention how wrong it had all been. As glad as she was to have her mom, she knew that Dagda raising her from the dead and then conceiving a child with her should never have come to pass. I should know what to do, she muttered. Some demi-goddess, I am. The world’s in trouble and all I can think about is the man I love.

Siobhan gazed into the distance, thinking. Is the Norse realm also closed?

I haven’t checked.

I was there, you know. Mior was born in Odin’s castle. Seems like a lifetime ago. Perhaps from there you can breach Otherworld’s barrier?

Hmm...I was there once too, when Bran went missing the last time. Remember? She let out a humorless laugh. What’s with his disappearing acts? That time he was on some kind of walk-a-about that ended up with him nearly dying.

He’s temperamental, isn’t he?

Kat scoffed. And yet he lived with the homeless here for months. He’s a walking contradiction. Kat was making light of what had been a terrible time. She knew that Bran’s sojourn in the bleak regions of the Norse realm was due to his utter desolation. Her father had taken away all of Kat’s memories of