Magic Burns by Ilona Andrews

three goddesses rolled into one. She changes depending on what she wants to do.
    Kind of like putting on different outfits. It’s called having divine aspects. Sometimes she is the goddess of fertility and prosperity and her name is Annan. I’m guessing that’s the aspect your mom worshipped.
    Annan also guides dead people to their resting place in the Otherworld. That’s the place where the Celtic dead live. The second aspect is Macha. She oversees kingship, governance, and horses. The third aspect Page 54

    is Badb, the great battle crow.” I paused. In light of Julie’s missing mom, mentioning that the Badb drank the blood of the fallen and reveled in the slaughter was not a good idea.
    “I’ve forgotten what the first one is called.” Julie’s voice gained a slight sleepy thickness. Excellent. She needed sleep and so did I.
    “It doesn’t really matter. They’re all Morrigan.”
    “Who did she battle?”
    “Fomorians. That’s the thing to remember about gods: they always have someone to fight. Greek gods fought Titans, Viking gods fought Frost Giants, and Irish gods fought Fomorians, the sea-demons.
    Morrigan kicked a lot of butt, and finally the Fomorians were driven into the sea.” My Celtic mythology was a bit rusty. I’d have to brush up the first chance I got. Nobody could hope to remember all of the mythological heavyweights, so the trick wasn’t to know everything. The trick was to know enough to figure out where to find the rest.
    “So why can’t you get rich worshipping her?” Julie yawned.
    “Because Morrigan doesn’t grant wishes. She makes deals. That means she always wants something in return.” Only fools made bargains with deities.
    She closed her eyes.Good. Sleep, Julie.
    “Kate?”
    “Mmm?”
    “How did your mom die?”
    I opened my mouth to lie. The response was automatic: I hid my blood, I hid my magic, and I hid the truth of where I came from. But for some odd reason, the lie didn’t come out. I wanted to tell her the real story. Or at least a part of it. I never spoke of it and now the words itched my tongue.
    What’s the harm? She was only a child. It would be like a twisted good-night story. She would forget it by morning.
    “I was only a few weeks old. My father and mother were running away. A man was chasing them. He was very powerful and evil. My mother knew that of the two of them my dad was the stronger one. She was slowing him down.”
    My voice shook a little. I didn’t expect the words to be so hard.
    “So my mother gave me to my dad and told him to run. She would delay the evil man as long as she could. He didn’t want to go but he realized it was the only way to save me. The evil man caught my mom and they fought. She stabbed him in the eye, but he was very powerful, and she couldn’t kill him. And that’s how my mother died.”
    I tucked the blanket around her.
    “That’s a sad story.”
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    “It is.” It’s not finished, either. Not by a long shot.
    She patted the afghan still on my lap. “Did you make this?”
    “Yes.”
    “It’s nice. Can I use it?”
    I put it on her. She kicked the blanket off and wrapped herself in the afghan, like a little mouse nesting.
    “It’s soft,” she said and fell asleep.

    A VOICE SPREAD THROUGH THE APARTMENT, PURElike a crystal bell, sweet like honey, soft like velvet.“Girl…Want girl.”
    I opened my eyes. The magic was up, setting the bars on the windows aglow with ethereal bluish light. I saw Julie slip into the hallway, a ghostly, silent shape in the darkness of the night-drenched apartment.
    “Girl…”It was coming from the outside.
    My fingers found Slayer’s textured hilt. I took it, rose, and followed her.
    “Need girl…Girl…Want girl…”
    Outside the kitchen window, a pale shade floated an inch from the glass and my ward. Female, with a delicate, almost elven face and a heartbreaking body, she looked into my house with lavender eyes. Her skin glowed with a faint silver radiance.