Page 26 of Midlife Demigod Unexpected

“The Dagda?” she asked in awe. “The Irish agrarian god?”.

“Yes. You sure know how to pick them,” I said. It was still hard to believe I was a demigod, and I still had no idea everything that entailed.

“His need to protect the coven means he must’ve been part of the original blood pact. How could they have gotten a god?” I asked.

“The right place at the right time?” Hilda suggested. “We don’t know how the gods work but they are known to visit Earth particularly when they are summoned. Maybe they summoned him.”

“The original blood coven could have invoked him as their deity?” I asked. “Isn’t that normally how gods make it across? Somebody invokes them?”

“Yes, they get drawn in. If they get a summons they have to respond to the summons, but they must’ve been making a pretty large sacrifice to confirm the summons,” Hilda said.

“So, he was summoned by the coven. He clearly played with them a while and became part of the blood coven until he had to leave.” I mused. “Somehow, he came back a hundred years later to conceive me so I would be here at this moment to help with everything going on now. How is that possible?”

Hilda shrugged. “He is a god. Not even the demigod corporation knows how the gods work.”

“Fair enough,” I sighed. “It still doesn’t exactly tell me what powers I have, but at least it gives us something to go off.

“I’m already on it,” Anita said, sitting in the corner with her phone, reviewing various Internet sites no doubt. “The Dagda was an agrarian, druid-type God.”

Hilda smiled. “Of course, he was.” Clearly, she was remembering him. If I had known him, I might’ve been a little grossed, but as far as I was concerned, he was some one night stand my mother had in her past. He had done what he needed to do to take care of me and to fulfill his responsibilities to the Cougar Creek Coven, but that was all. And it was enough. He wasn’t a bad guy. I could tell by the way he took care of me. He also wasn’t coming back, so there was no point in deluding myself about it.

“What were his powers?” I asked.

“He had a staff, a harp, and a cauldron,” Anita said, reading from her phone.

“Like the one in the altar room?” I asked.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Anita said, holding forward her phone where a large black cauldron boiled with gold.

“Right, well, it’s all lost in myth, but ours is small and silver. Big difference,” I said. “Also, we have a sword. What is that about?”

“OK, but we’ve got a sword,” Anita said.

“Maybe the sword meant something to him?” Jane asked, turning to Hilda. “Did he mention anything about it to you?”

Hilda shook her head. “I have no memory of it.”

“It’s kind of weird you have no memory of it don’t you think?” Anita put her phone down.

Jane walked over to my mom and placed her hands on her head.

“Do you think he could’ve wiped your memories?” I asked.

“Maybe we could take a look at it?” Jane asked.

Hilda pulled herself away staring at Jane in horror. “There is no way I’m letting you in on the memories of my night with her dad.”

“I don’t think anyone wants to see that either, Mom,” I said. “But maybe we can take a look at things around that time in your life. Maybe there is a way we can control what we see of your memories?”

“Well, if you can confine it to the daytime hours, you should be pretty good,” Hilda said. “I’m willing to do it because I think you need it. If there’s memories in there, I should have them back by now anyhow.”

"Please make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll take care of it,” Jane said.

“I’m happily settled down onto the couch,” Hilda shrugged.

“Alright, then pay attention to me,” Jane said. “I will get this done in no time.”

“You do know the spell, right?” Hilda asked.

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