Morrigan, Book 2: Blue Moon Rising

Chapter One

Chapter One

In Memoriam

The crowd gathered at the church was large. Mass wasn’t to start for another twenty minutes, so people congregated outside murmuring in small groups. Flying overhead, I could sense hushed excitement ripple through the body of people below, as each tried to discreetly ascertain exactly what had happened on the night Anthony Butler had died. Only a tiny number attending were there because they liked, or respected the man. For the most part, the macabre circumstances surrounding his passing were too juicy to miss out on—in Callighstown, everybody loves a good funeral, or in this case, a memorial.
I found a tree branch, with a good view of the entrance to the church and settled in. Close to the church doors, I could see Mrs. Cassidy, dressed from top to toe in black. She was clearly staking out her claim to be first to enter the church, after the immediate family. As town gossip she insisted on getting the best spots at weddings, funerals, and the like, in case any drama should occur.
Mrs. Butler, the widow, who had been out of town at the time of her husband’s death, had returned and was staying with her sister, as the Butler residence was in ruins after the fire. The deceased’s former mistress, Evelyn Bishop’s, remains had been found at the scene and had been taken back to a distant relative in county Cavan. Anthony Butler, however, had left nothing of himself behind. The police were at a loss to explain what had happened after Caitlin and I got out of the burning house with baby Jack. Butler appeared to have self-combusted or something, before the fire-brigade arrived. Apparently, bodies with a high fat content can dissolve in a very hot fire. That’s what I want to believe anyway. Regardless, I was happy to see the back of him. Now at least, Caitlin could venture outside without fear of running into him all the time. The one time I’d seen Caitlin rattled, was when she bumped into him unexpectedly. For all her power and wisdom, she was reduced to a quivering mess by that monster. Still, the lack of proof of his passing did not fill me with confidence. Just after the fire, I had bumped into a monk called Hugh, who was also a ghost. He delivered the news that ‘my father’ was looking for me. I pushed that particular thought from my mind and focused instead on the celebration of his passing, taking place below.
A black limo pulled up to the church door, and Mrs. Butler, her eldest son, Tony, her daughter Helen, and then Robbie all got out. Sinead, who had moved in with Tony, had decided not to come to the memorial, but Tony’s, soon to be ex-wife, Ruth, was attending with her mother. Tony and Ruth had never really wanted to marry, but had been more or less coerced into it by their respective fathers, who had been business partners and close friends for years. Neither had had the nerve to defy their father, and anyway the pair had always been great friends, so it hadn’t really seemed like much of a hardship when, in their mid twenties the wedding looked set to happen. At the time, neither was involved with anyone else, and they reasoned, a marriage based on friendship and loyalty might end up staying the course.
A year into their marriage though, Tony had bumped into my cousin, the lovely Sinead, at a party. The attraction was instant. One thing led to another and they began to see each other secretly. What Tony felt for Sinead was different from what he felt for Ruth. The platonic love he felt for his long time friend was no longer enough, but when he dared broach the topic of ending the marriage with his father, Anthony Butler wouldn’t hear of divorce or annulment. He threatened to disown Tony and cut him off financially. Ruth’s parents felt the same and since Tony had a very well paid job working for Ruth’s father, he found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. He liked his lifestyle too much to jeopardise it.
A few months later, Sinead fell pregnant. Ruth found out and confronted him. It was she who had insisted that he go to the hospital the night baby Jack was born, to meet his son. Now that Anthony Butler was dead, and Ruth’s father had had a stroke that left him completely incapacitated, there was no real reason why they had to stay married. Ruth was as eager as Tony to break out of the arrangement, and that’s what they were doing. They had officially separated and filed for divorce.
 The family stood awkwardly in front of the congregation. Nobody approached them and they stood rooted to the spot waiting to be told what to do. I watched Robbie push a small stone around with the toe of his shoe, his hands jammed deep into his pockets. I had recently found out that Robbie was my half brother. He didn’t know. Caitlin and I agreed that we should keep the details of that night to ourselves. We gave the police all the information they needed about Anthony Butler and Evelyn Bishop abducting baby Jack, but the rest they could figure out themselves. No-one would benefit from knowing that Robbie’s real mother was Evelyn Bishop. At least, not yet. Funerals are hard enough. Robbie already had enough on his plate. If Mrs. Butler was happy to continue to play the charade that Robbie was her son, who was I to rock the boat?
 A dumpy figure in a black skirt suit, sky-high heels, and black fascinator, broke away from the main crowd and grabbed hold of Robbie’s hand. I flew to a lower branch to get a better look. ‘Oh, Robbie!’ she gasped. The drama was starting.
‘Rachel. Hi,’ murmured Robbie awkwardly. Rachel dabbed at her eye with a handkerchief. I couldn’t help wondering where you could even buy one of those these days.
‘I can’t believe he’s really gone, Robbie. It’s awful.’ She sniffed between her words, dabbing daintily at her eyes.
‘Yeah.’ Robbie stuffed his hands even deeper into his suit trouser pockets and surveyed the crowd behind her. Rachel snaked her hand into his, milking her role as ‘girlfriend of the bereaved’ for all it was worth. It really was most distasteful.
One of the funeral directors bent down and whispered in Robbie’s ear, who then excused himself and went back to the limo. The family began moving inside and for a moment Rachel was lost. She hopped from one foot to the other, undecided, and then opted to stay close to Robbie while he retrieved his mother’s handbag from the limo nearby. She shadowed him closely, mincing a step or two behind him as he entered the church. The grounds were almost empty now with everyone inside. Gliding above, I waited for Robbie to get inside. Rachel’s ridiculously high shoe got stuck in the grate and she was forced to bend down and free it. Gaining as much momentum as I could, I swooped down and just as I reached her, extended my claws. She screamed, her arms flailing above her head trying to fight me off. I withdrew and made ready for the second attack. As luck would have it, all the excitement caused my tiny bowels to move. By now she was hysterical and the last remaining people disappearing in to the church frowned their disapproval. Her mother had already gone inside to secure a choice pew, so Rachel was on her own. Looking skyward, her mouth slightly ajar, she sought out her attacker. I sailed over her and let go. The remains of my ‘lunch’ dropped like lead, across her face and in her mouth!
Robbie came back outside to look for her. Her hair stood on end and green slime streaked her face. She was doubled over, dry retching on the church steps.
‘Rachel, what happened? Are you okay?’ She couldn’t articulate her words and simply wretched some more. Robbie searched around her for clues as to what might have happened.
‘Is that bird-shit?’
‘It’s that bird I told you about. Look!’ She pointed in my general direction. As a bird, it’s hard to laugh, but my stomach was hurting from the effort. Rachel was not to be deterred. Using a kleenex, she smeared the remains of my lunch all over her face and hair.
’Mo Reilly has something to do with it. It’s her pet, or something. Her familiar! She’s a witch, Robbie, and she’s after me.’
Robbie had the pained look of someone used to dealing with the mentally disturbed.
‘Look, Rachel, this is my father’s memorial. Maybe you should go home and get cleaned up. I’ll meet you at the reception in Molloy’s Hotel afterward.’ He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, thought better of it and went quickly inside.
 Screeching, I swooped Rachel one more time from behind, tugging at her hair. She screamed again and ran out of the church grounds, as fast as her sky-highs could carry her.
I had no sympathy. She had been in cahoots with Anthony Butler. Rachel set me up on my birthday, telling Butler where I would be and trying to get me drunk, so that I wouldn’t be able to handle myself. She even fed her other two friends to the wolves—that’s the kind of person Rachel Cassidy turned out to be. Were it not for Caitlin, coming to my rescue, I would have been hurt pretty badly. Well, now he was gone and she had me to deal with.