Awakenings

Thom squeezed me tighter and I exhaled a shaky breath as I buried my face against his neck, reveling in the warmth of his embrace.

“We’ll find a way,” he said quietly, as if he could hear what I was thinking. “We’ll be ready, come what may.”

Phelan took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. I twisted to look at him, watching a troubled expression creep across his features.

“My sister is still out there,” he said after a few long moments of silence.

“You don’t think she’s…” my voice trailed away. Phelan smiled faintly.

“West? No. East, I think, still. Time will tell. She’ll come looking. That’s the way she is.”

“Neve and Cameron found us,” J.T. said. “I’m sure she will, too.”

“Maybe,” Phelan agreed softly. “I have to hope.”

“She’ll find us,” I said with a conviction I didn’t really feel. He needed to hear those words, though. Somehow, I knew that he needed them.

Phelan just nodded, then shrugged. “Come what may. So what are we going to do about whatever’s going to come from the west?”

“Shouldn’t you be answering that question?” J.T. turned away from the barrow and started to climb the slope back toward the shattered garden and rubble of what used to be lecture halls and the library. “You’re the expert here, Phelan.”

The once-druid snorted humorlessly. “We’d all like to think that, wouldn’t we?”

I stared at him and he shrugged.

“I only know what I know, leánnan, and I sure as hell don’t know everything. We’ll find a way to keep everyone here safe as best we can, but we can’t do much more than that.”

The best we can, huh? I gently disengaged from Thom’s embrace.

“I guess we’d better get back to work,” I said.

I turned and followed J.T. up the hill.

I had to take that deep, steadying breath before I dared continue.  Thom wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed me tight against his side.  It took everything I had not to just bury my face in his shoulder and hope that everyone had forgotten what I’d just said.

No luck, of course.  Not like that.

“I’ve been seeing things coming to attack us in fits and snatches for months,” I said.  “Some worse than others.  In hindsight, I thought some of what I saw were camazotzi coming to attack us, or the dirae, but maybe I was wrong—or right.  Maybe my subconscious wasn’t trying to somehow protect me by slotting in new monsters.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Mar,” J.T. said, frowning as he moved away from the edge of the barrow, hands shoved deep into his pockets.  “What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know,” I said.  “I just thought that maybe I’d just remembered the vision wrong, that what I’d seen were actually those and not something new and equally dangerous.  It was easier to think it was that than to face the fact that we might have to fight more monsters before things realize that it’s best to just leave us well enough alone.”

I shivered.  There were so many things out there that I didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about.

Like seeing Thom attacked by things that I can see and he can’t.

“Are you all right?”  Phelan asked, brows knitted in concern.  I shivered again and shook my head.

“That wasn’t a good question to ask,” I told him.  “What do you think the answer is?”

“I’m thinking both questions were stupid.”

Thom shook his head slightly. “You could be right, but we had to.  We have to know if one of us has seen something that might help.”

“I don’t know that what I saw could help.”  I sighed, staring at the barrow.  “We have to watch everywhere, because they’ll come from everywhere.  We have to make sure we’re ready.”

I’m just not sure how that’ll happen.

            What the hell does “ready” actually mean?

I didn’t have a clue and I wasn’t sure any of them did, either.

“What’s the matter, Thom?”

I hadn’t even turned to look at him.  We’d known they were coming—he and the rest.  J.T. and I had decided that they’d show up inside of an hour after we’d been gone for the first sixty minutes.  They worried and it was probably a good thing.  There wasn’t much reason for us to be out here for two hours and we probably wouldn’t have been if J.T. and I hadn’t gotten to talking about he and Carolyn, about the future, about what I’d seen for them.  It hadn’t been much.  I hadn’t seen much of them, heard more than I’d seen, so there wasn’t much to tell.

Then J.T. had gotten to talking about the ghosts he’d been talking to—the ones that had stayed behind even though Neve had sung them to their rests.  Constance and a dozen others remained, mostly at a distance, watching quietly, silent, unseen sentinels safeguarding the living as best they could.  They lingered without any of us knowing why.

Sometimes, J.T. had said, he thought that even they didn’t know why.

Thom stopped alongside me, flanked by Phelan, whose eyes unfocused as he stood alongside the barrow.  I studied them both for a moment, frowning.

Something happened.  But what?

“There are monsters coming out of the west,” Thom said.  I tensed, looking around quickly, then forced myself to relax.  There was no way he’d be this calm if they were practically on top of us.

“How’d we find that out?” I asked.

“The howls ended up being one of Daniel’s packmates,” Phelan said as he came back to himself.  He glanced over his shoulder toward Thordin, who was maintaining a respectful distance, his eyes watchful and wary.  I frowned slightly and shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket.

J.T. frowned at me.   “Howls?  You didn’t say anything about howls.”

“It was one and it wasn’t worth mentioning.  You said you needed to come out here and I wasn’t going to let you come alone.  We don’t do this alone anymore.”  We’ve learned our lessons on that by now.  I turned my attention back to Thom and Phelan.  “What kind of monsters?”

“Actually,” Phelan said, “we were sort of hoping you’d seen something that could help.”

“He was hoping,” Thom said quietly.  “I’d just as soon have it be neither of us seeing anything.”

I shivered, meeting his gaze.  There was fear in his blue eyes, fear that was familiar and close.  I squeezed his hand tightly.

“I wish that was the case,” I whispered.  “I really, really wish that was the case.”

“But it’s not?”  Thom asked.

“No.  No, it’s not.”

I took a deep breath and began to talk.

“Don’t let them bother you, get you tied up in knots,” Phelan said after a moment of silence punctuated only by the sound of their boots in the snow.  “They’re just a part of your existence.”

“Yeah, I accepted that piece,” Thom said quietly.  He shook his head slowly and exhaled a sigh.  “I don’t think I’d still be here if I hadn’t.  Marin and I…”  His voice trailed away as his throat tightened, tears suddenly threatening again.  He forced them back, sucking in a breath.  “Well, it doesn’t matter.  I’ve accepted it.  It’s part of my life—of our lives.”  It’s going to be a part of our son’s life, too, I imagine.  How could it not be?

God, what hell are we visiting on the child she’s carrying?

Phelan must have sensed his sudden discomfort because he reached out and squeezed Thom’s shoulder again.  Thom just shook his head.

“I love her,” he said quietly.  “That’s all that matters.”

They walked past the snow-covered Shakespeare garden, still in shambles since the camazotzi attacked months before.  The garden’s former inhabitants—fae creatures that only Carolyn seemed to be able to see—had scattered, most of them taking up residence with their surviving human neighbors on the other side of the ravine bridge.  Those little friends had warned them more than once of impending danger, but since the weather had turned cold, they’d stuck closer and closer to home.  Thom couldn’t blame them.  This winter had been harder than any he could remember.

As they crested the hill, the barrow came into sight, snow-covered and silent.  Marin and J.T. stood near its edge, shoulder to shoulder, their heads tilted toward each other’s as if they were deep in conversation.  The hairs on Thom’s arms and the back of his neck stirred.  There were ghosts around.

There were always ghosts around, these days.

Phelan followed his gaze.  “I almost hate to interrupt.”

“Me too,” Thom murmured.  “But we have to.  Come on.”

He jogged down the hill toward his wife and his best friend, bracing himself for the news he had to give them both.

This won’t be pleasant.  Then again, these things never are.

“Hell,” Thom breathed, shaking his head and pressing long fingers to his temples.  “This is the last thing we need.”

Their breath steamed in the air as he and Phelan trudged out toward the barrow—J.T. and Marin were still out there, still doing whatever they were doing.  Thordin was trailing a few dozen yards behind the men, still leery of the werewolf they’d left back in camp under Matt and Cameron’s watchful eyes.  Thom didn’t think that Gwilym represented any threat, but Thordin clearly didn’t share that assessment.

Phelan’s jaw tightened and he shook his head slowly, his eyes on the footprints that marked J.T. and Marin’s passage before them.  “You don’t have to tell me that.  I already know it.  There’s nothing I can do to change that, though.  We have to be prepared to deal with whatever’s about to come our way.  There’s not a choice.”

“How long do you think we have?”

“I just record the stories, Thom.  You’re the one who sees the future.”  Phelan sighed, fingers flexing around his staff.  There was a tense, tight set to his shoulders.  “Have you and Mar…?”

Thom took a ragged breath and glanced to his right, toward the clock tower, silent all these months since the end.  It had been Marin’s vision of the cloud and that tower that had been their first and only clue.  He stared at it for a long moment, at the orange brick and green roof silhouetted against the snow and sky.  “I don’t know,” he said after a long moment.  “It’s hard to tell anymore, when we’re seeing—how long in the future it might be. It’s only easy when we can see the kids. When Angie’s in them, or my—” His voice faltered.

Phelan reached over and squeezed his shoulder.  “It’s all right, fear fiach.”

“I see him a lot,” Thom said softly. “My son.  Our son.  He’s…”  He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden sting of tears. “He’s a teenager when whatever happens to Mar happens.  I know that something’s going to happen, Phelan.  I know something bad is going to happen when he’s a teenager.  I still don’t know what it is, but we’ll have to leave him.  I think she knows it, too.”

“Are you two at least talking about it?”

“Sometimes,” Thom said, tearing his gaze away from the clock tower.  “But we don’t if we know it’s going to lead to one of us lying to the other.  It is what it is. I’m not sure how much we’ll ever have a hope of changing.”

“Nothing’s set in stone,” Phelan reminded him.

“Apparently, some things are.”  Thom shook his head.  “We’ll have to ask Marin if she’s seen new monsters, new threats. I don’t know that I have.”

If I have, it could be that I just didn’t want to remember.  He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the sun glinting off the snow.  It wouldn’t be the first time and it probably won’t be the last.

Maybe someday I’ll stop seeing things I’d like to forget.  Someday.  That’d be nice.

                Probably won’t ever happen.  But it’d be nice.

“Monsters,” Thom echoed.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

Phelan held up a hand.  “You said to the west.”

Gwilym’s gaze bounced between the pair before he swallowed, nodding in answer to both questions.  “Yes, monsters, yes, in the west.  It was on the other side of the lake.”

“Did they come from the west?”  Phelan asked, his lips barely moving.

Thom looked at him sidelong, frowning.  Why the hell would that matter?  What is he trying to get at?

Phelan’s gaze slid toward Thom and their eyes met, stark terror in the once-druid’s eyes.  “Anything that’s come out of the west either survived the destruction of Yellowstone or appeared because of it.  Neither possibility bodes well for us, my friend.”

He’s got a point there.  Thom grimaced.  “What about the rest of the pack?  Any losses?”

“No, we’re still mostly in one piece.  Injuries only.  They’re a few days behind.  Like I said, I’m the fastest.”  Gwilym looked at Phelan.  “They’re still on your scent.”

“I know,” Phelan said with a grimace.  “They’ve caught up with us a few times since you left.  There’s nothing you could have done about it.”

“What kind of monsters?”  Thom asked again.  Some kind of bizarre comfort that another group is having as many problems as we are when it comes to things they’ve never seen before.

“Women with wings of fire and claws the size of steak knives,” their guest said, huddling in the bush.  “Bat-winged lions with gold eyes, giant lizards that breathe poison.  I’ve glimpsed some myself, heard tell of others.  The winged women attacked us while we were sheltering with the community.  We turned them back, but it was a near thing.”

Phelan shuddered, looking at Thom.  “This isn’t good.”

“It doesn’t sound like it,” Thom agreed.  “But what does it mean?”

“That there’s far more at play here than we ever dared to think about.  We’re in trouble, fear fiach.  We’re in trouble.”

Thom had bad feeling about all of it.  Bad feelings weren’t that uncommon anymore and they no longer came as a surprise.  Visitors, however—those tended to be surprising.

His lips pressed into a thin, white line as he jogged down the hill toward the gates.  Thordin had every right to be paranoid.  They all did.  Their luck had been holding too much lately and it was bound to run out sometime, probably soon.

Only one of that pack showed up.  That can’t be a good thing.  I sincerely doubt it’s a good thing.  His lips thinned and he picked up his pace.  They’d be lucky if Thordin hadn’t done something that couldn’t be undone, especially with the razor’s edge he’d been walking lately since Sif’s arrival.  Thom wasn’t sure where the pair stood—he wasn’t sure that even Thordin knew.  It hadn’t come up yet.  Things were tense, but quiet.

He shook his head at himself.  I should tell Drew that one of his brother’s pack is here.  But Drew was out at the greenhouse with Greg, checking on the salvaged plants.  It would have to wait until Thom knew why the werewolf had come—and whether their latest visitor brought good news or bad.

Phelan’s voice echoed in the distance as Thom ducked through the open gate.  “Thordin!  Back off!”

That doesn’t sound promising.  Thom broke into a run, swearing as his bad ankle protested.  Even though it had healed well enough, it still chose the worst possible times to protest when he did things like running in the snow.  He hoped it would get better in time, but he wasn’t going to hold out much hope that would happen.

“I said back off, dammit.”  Phelan looked about ready to judiciously apply his staff to Thordin’s head as the bigger man menaced a cowering, curly-haired man hunkered in a bush.  Thom winced, slowing as he came within the last few steps of Phelan.

“What the hell is going on out here?”

“I told him not to move an inch and he didn’t listen,” Thordin growled.  “He’s a stranger.”

“He’s not a stranger,” Thom said.  He knew he man’s face, recognized him as the quietest, smiling but shy member of Daniel’s pack.  “He’s been here, shared our fire.  Step off, Thordin.”

“Thomas,” the werewolf breathed in relief.  “Danny hoped you’d still be here.”

“I don’t know where he’d imagine I’d go,” Thom said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, watching Thordin out of the corner of his eye.  Thordin eased back but kept on clutching his axe like he was ready to cleave the newcomer in half.  “What’s going on?  Where’s Daniel?”

“They’re still west of here, other side of the lake,” the werewolf said.  “Said they’d catch up, sent me ahead.  I’m the quickest, y’see, and I wasn’t afraid to run the ice on the lake.”

“What happened?”

“There’s more survivors,” the werewolf said.  “More like you, across the lake.  They’re trying to hold out.”

“Hold out against what?”  Phelan asked, fingers white-knuckled as he gripped his staff.  “What’s out there?”

“Monsters,” the werewolf whispered.  “Monsters coming out of the west.  They’re coming and I don’t know that they can be stopped.”

Thom’s head jerked up, whipping toward the door as Matt burst into the forge, breathing hard from his slippery uphill run.

His eyes narrowed. “What the hell, Matt?”

“Hide that thing. I need you. Where’s Marin?”

Thom glanced down at the sketchpad on his knee, one brow arching warily. “What’s going on?”

“One of Daniel’s werewolves is here.”

Thom blinked, slamming his sketchbook shut and shoving it into its hiding place in a hollow behind Matt’s leather apron. “Was that the howl we heard?”

“Yeah, out toward M-45. Where’s Marin?”

“With Jay. They went across to the barrow.”

Matt shuddered visibly. The mass grave out by the ruins of the performing arts center still gave him the screaming willies, worse than any graveyard could. “Why?”

“He didn’t say, just that he felt like they needed to go out there. He had a look and I didn’t argue.” Thom yanked on his jacket. “Did you leave him with Thordin?”

“He asked me to bring him pants.”

“We’ll get him pants,” Thom snapped. “Did you leave him with Thordin?”

“Who the hell else could I have left him with?” Matt shook his head and spun on his heel, starting back down the hill at a jog. “There wasn’t anyone else to leave him with.”

“So you left a strange werewolf alone in with Thordin.”

“He’s not strange. We’ve met him.”

“Thordin hasn’t.”

Matt stopped, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly. “I’m completely aware of that, Thom. I didn’t like the look in Thordin’s eye when I left, but it’s not like he was going to give me a vote.” He started moving again. “Phelan went down there. He should keep things under control.”

“This is Phelan we’re talking about.”

Matt grimaced. “Right. We’d better hurry.”

“Get the pants. I’ll follow the footprints.”

Matt swore and darted toward the tent where they kept their supplies.

Matt knew that he hadn’t liked the look in Thordin’s eye when he’d left him with Gwilym out in the field beyond the walls, but he also knew he couldn’t well have refused to do the smart thing and round up Thom and whoever else might have been available to deal with their visitor. There was something unsettled in his stomach as he dashed through the wide-open gates, almost running face-first into Phelan.

“The wolf,” Phelan said. “Did you find it?”

“It’s one of Daniel’s pack,” Matt said. “Thordin sent me to come get Thom and get the guy some pants.”

“He didn’t come right up to the gates?”

“The last time they showed up, we almost shot them. I don’t think I’d come right up to the gates or the hedge if I were any of them.”

Phelan grimaced, glancing away. “Maybe not. Go. I’ll meet up with Thordin.”

“Hurry,” Matt said. “I didn’t like the way Thordin was looking at him.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Phelan’s eyes half lidded and he exhaled quietly. “Go. Hurry. I’ll do the same.”

Matt nodded quickly, clapping Phelan on the shoulder as the older man headed out the gates even as Matt pressed on toward the hill, toward the forge. Thom had to be there—that’s where he’d been before, when they’d heard the howl.

He wouldn’t have gone far. With any luck, his sister would be there, too. They could deal wit the visitor and figure out why he’d come.

Can’t be for anything good. Nothing like this ever happens and is good.

Well, except for Phelan showing up, and Neve and Thordin and Cameron. Nothing else, though. Matt grimaced, stumbling a few steps as his boot slipped in the snow.

Move faster. Move faster.

He dashed up the hill, yelling his brother-in-law’s name and hoping against hope that this time his gut was wrong.

The bushes rustled again and Thordin’s grip on his weapon tightened. His heart began to beat a little faster. The glint of gold had to have been eyes—what else could it have been? There had been a wolf in those bushes, a gold-eyed wolf, and it either meant them harm or no ill will.

The battleaxe in his hands would ensure that regardless, no harm would come to the people of the tiny settlement that he’d adopted as his home.

“Wait,” an unfamiliar voice with a thick accent said. “Peace. I’m coming out.”

Thordin’s eyes narrowed. Matt grasped his shoulder.

“I think I know the voice. I think he was here with Drew’s half-brother.”

“You know Daniel?” The voice asked. A mass of black curls appeared over the top of the bush, followed bright hazel eyes and a winter-pale forehead. Those eyes narrowed for a brief moment, the stranger’s gaze focusing on Matt, not on Thordin. Hope lightened the man’s heavy accent. “I remember you.”

Matt nodded, slipping past Thordin to the edge of the brush. “You need clothes, don’t you?”

“Clothes would be helpful.”

Thordin grabbed a fistful of Matt’s jacket. “Who the hell is he?”

Matt twisted to look at the older man. “He was part of a pack of werewolves that showed up here before you and Neve and Cameron. We can trust him.”

“You sure about that?” Thordin eyed the stranger warily. The man’s lips were turning blue. Maybe he really was completely naked and hiding in that bush. “A name, stranger.”

“Gwilym,” the man said, the Welsh undertones vaguely familiar and identifiable to the man who’d lived a life centuries past and then thirty years of one wandering from one end of a continent to the other. Thordin frowned, continuing to study the newcomer.

“You’d trust him?”

“Pack alpha is Drew’s younger brother.”

Thordin nodded slightly. “Right. Go and get him clothes and get Thom.”

“What are you going to do?” Matt asked.

Thordin smirked. “Try to figure out if I think he’s worth trusting.”

He got an inappropriate amount of satisfaction from the stranger’s nervous swallow. Thordin grinned even wider at the man as Matt looked between them.

“Don’t hurt him.”

“I won’t unless he tries to hurt me.” Thordin waved him away. “Go. We’re not going anywhere.”

After another moment’s hesitation, Matt turned and went, leaving Thordin alone with the stranger named Gwilym.

“All right,” Thordin said softly, “now you can tell me why you’re really here.”

Gwilym just swallowed hard and shuddered.

Thordin smiled and waited.

It was only a matter of time.