Awakenings

            “What happened?” she blurted, already half out of bed before the thin woman pushed her back down again.
            “Stay there,” the woman snapped as she moved to help Cameron and the bear of a man he was leaning against.  “Where’s Jac?”
            “She’s coming,” the big man said as he helped Cameron into a chair, then crouched to peel back the edges of his shirt from the rent in Cameron’s side.  “She went to grab extra supplies.  I think we’re going to need it.”
            “What happened?”  Neve asked again, her gaze meeting Cameron’s.  She didn’t like the guilty look she saw there.  What the hell did you just go toe-to-toe with, Cam?
            “Dirae were beyond the walls,” Cameron said, leaning back in the chair and squeezing his eyes shut.  “What was I supposed to do, not help?”
            “One of them clawed you again?” she asked, heart pounding painfully.  “You almost died the last time.”
            “But I didn’t,” he said, opening his eyes and glancing at the big man next to him.  “How does it look?”
            “Not as ragged as I thought it would, all things considered,” the big man said.  “Pretty deep, though.  Care, can you bring one of those lamps over here?  I need a little more light.”
            Neve took a few ragged breaths, trying to gather her thoughts.  Dammit!  What did we pack it with before?  Why didn’t I let Teague give me some of that herb mix before we left?  I’m an idiot.  I should have brought some along, just in case.  “You need to clean it,” she said, swallowing hard.  “Even when you do, it’s still going to get bad.  Needs…some kind of poultice.  Is Phelan here?  He’ll know what to pack it with.”
            The big man looked over at her, blinking.  “How do you know?”
            “One of those things got a piece of me before,” Cameron said, voice tight with pain.  “Was a few months ago.  It’s where the scar came from.”
            “Scar?”
            “Check the other side.”  Cameron looked at Neve and gave her a brave smile.  “We won, at least.”
            “You couldn’t have done that without getting hurt, though?” she whispered.  Her hands curled into fists.  And I was in bed, doing absolutely nothing to help when he got hurt.  Some guardian I turned out to be.
            “I tried, Neve,” he said.  “I really tried.”  His lips thinned and he hissed as the big man crouched at his side poked around at the wound’s edges.  “Dammit, J.T., what are you doing down there?”
            “Trying to figure out how deep it is, now hold still.”
            “Is it deep?”  Neve asked.
            “I don’t know yet, he needs to hold still and people need to stop bothering me.”  J.T. hunkered down and peered closer.  “Bring that light in a little more, Care.”
            Neve’s hands fisted in the blankets, squeezing so tightly she could have sworn that her nails were tearing tiny holes in the fabric.  Her eyes watered, not from pain but from fear and frustration.
            I can’t lose you, Cam.  Not now.
            “Were any of the others hurt?”  Cameron asked.  “I didn’t really get the chance to look once that hag showed up.”
            Hag?
            “Cuts and scrapes,” J.T. said.  “Nothing as bad as the last time we went toe-to-toe with something before today.  You got the worst piece of it, I think, but I’m going to have a look at Rory’s face and Thom’s arm once I’m done in here.”
            “What about your back?”  Cameron asked, biting back another hiss.
            “Jac can take a look at it once I’m done.  It’s superficial.  Stings a little.”
            Hopefully they’re not blooded at all.  Not like…bloody hell, not like Cameron.  “Who else?”  Neve asked, her voice weak.  Who was the hag?  “Who else was there with the Dirae, Cam?”
            “Thordin and Phelan knew her,” he said.  “Called her Hecate or something like that.”
            Her whole body went rigid.  So it’s been her all along that’s been sending the fucking Dirae after us like hounds on a scent.  But what does she want with Cameron?  The sword?
            “Neve?”
            She startled and looked at Cameron, knowing her face must have gone ashen, given the concerned look he was giving her.  She swallowed hard.  “Yeah?”
            “If she didn’t know about the sword, why would she be after me?”
            Her blood ran cold.  “I don’t know,” she said, heart starting to beat a little faster.  Does she know something I don’t?  Why would she be after him?
            Teague’s words drifted back to her.  As if he had Áes Dána blood in him.  She swallowed hard.  Was it possible?
            “Bloody hell,” J.T. breathed.  “What’s happening with these?”
            “I told you, you need to flush them out,” Neve said, hating how weak she sounded.  “Get Phelan, he’ll know.  You need to flush them and pack them and if you have antibiotics you need to pump him full of them.  Those wounds will putrefy no matter what you do, but that’ll mitigate what happens next.”
            Cameron winced, looking at her. “I let it keep bleeding,” he said lamely.  “I thought that might help.”
            It might have.  Neve swallowed hard again.  “I don’t know if that’ll have helped or not, Cam.”  She looked at J.T. and his female companion again.  “Please, just get my cousin.  Please.”
            J.T. glanced over his shoulder and nodded to the woman.  “Go, and hurry.  Round up some boiling water and Jac, too.”
            “Be back in a jiff,” the woman said, setting down the lamp.  Without another word, she was out the door, leaving the three of them alone.
            Neve caught her lower lip between her teeth and eased out of bed.  J.T. glanced over his shoulder at her and cursed.
            “What are you—”
            “Just let her,” Cameron said, sounding tired and resigned.  “She’s going to do it whether we want her to or not.”  He reached for her as she half limped, half crawled the few feet over to them.  She took his hand, not caring that it was sticky with drying blood.  Her nose closed at the familiar smell of the wound and she coughed, swallowing bile.
            “You’d think the first time would teach you well enough,” she whispered, resting her head against his thigh.
            “I had to do something,” he murmured, tilting his head back.  “I had to.”
            “I know.”  She looked at J.T.  “Is there anything I can do?”
            He shook his head.  “Not just yet, anyway.  Just stay put and hold his hand.”  He glanced toward something she couldn’t see, then added, “And pray.”
            The weight of his words, the certainty of them, sent shivers down her spine.  She looked up at Cameron and saw his lips thin.
            “I guess we’d better start praying,” she whispered.
            “Yeah,” he said quietly.  “I guess we’d better.”

            Neve shot upright in the bed with a cry as if someone had stabbed her in the side, eyes watering from that new pain even as the old pain made itself known again.
            “Whoa!”  The small blonde that had helped her in the field beyond the walls jerked out of her chair and came over to her beside. She touched her shoulder and tried to gently push her back down against her pillows.  “Settle down.  You’re safe.”
            “No,” Neve whispered.  “Something’s happened to Cameron.  Where is he?”
            “I’m not sure,” the other woman said honestly.  “He went to talk to Thom and Marin.”
            The names didn’t mean that much to her as Neve frowned, lips thinning to a tight line.  You need to find him.  Something bad happened.  He needs you now.  She tried to shake off the small blonde so she could get out of bed.  “I need to get to him.”
            “You’re running a fever of at least a hundred and three,” her caretaker snapped.  “You’re going nowhere.  Now lay back down.”
            Don’t you dare give up.  Neve swallowed a whimper and tried to push her away again, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, a stubborn set to her jaw.  Her injured leg screamed in pain but she fought not to let that show.  The woman with her growled in annoyance.
            “For goodness sake, just stay still.  Stay here and I’ll go find him.  Don’t try to walk on that leg or it’ll never heal right.”
            Neve hesitated, then leaned back, biting her lip.  “Hurry,” she whispered.  “Please, just hurry.”
            The blonde gave her a brief, hard look, then grabbed a jacket and ducked out the door, leaving Neve alone in the small, snug space.
            We must have made it, she thought.  Is Phelan here?  Is he still alive?  How long have I been out?  She frowned.  She couldn’t remember anything since laying in the snow and mud out in the field before the settlement’s walls.  They must be within those walls, now.  She took a few deep breaths, trying to gather herself.  Her side ached, a deep, gnawing pain that wasn’t from her own injuries.
            What happened, Cam?  What happened this time?
            She flinched at the sound of gunfire.  Gods and monsters.  What’s going on out there?  She bit down harder on her lip and hugged her good leg against her chest.  I should be with him.  I shouldn’t be trapped in here like this.
            Damn it, anyway.  She started to get out of bed again, deciding she didn’t care how badly she ended up—she wasn’t where she needed to be.
            Now where’s something I can use as a crutch?
            “What are you doing?”
            The woman in the doorway was thin, her hair pale brown and stick-straight, yanked back from her face in a messy ponytail.  Leaning against the edge of her bed, Neve lifted her chin to meet the other woman’s gaze.
            “Going to look for Cameron.”
            “I don’t think so,” the woman said, marching over.  Neve’s breath caught as she saw the barest glimmer of blue and green and gossamer wings perched on the woman’s shoulder, hanging onto her earlobe.
            What in heaven and hell and all the worlds—
            “Get back in bed,” the woman said sternly.  “Whatever’s going on out there is going to be over soon and then he’ll be back, I promise.”
            “What is going on out there?”  Neve asked as the other woman manhandled her back into a horizontal position.  The thin girl was stronger than she looked.
            “Some kind of fight,” the girl said.  “Par for the course around here, I’m sorry to say.”  She reached behind Neve and adjusted the pillows before gently pushing her down against them.  “Now lay still so you don’t undo all the work Jac did.”
            “Jac?”  Neve asked.
            “The first one who told you to stay put,” her new companion said as she adjusted Neve’s blankets.  “She asked me to keep an eye on you while she went looking for your lover.”
            Neve felt color stain her cheeks and looked away.  “Was it that obvious?”
            “Only to people who know how to look for it.”
            “And you do?”
            “Oh you bet,” the girl said with a grin.  “We got a lot of practice with each other before shit hit the fan.  That’s the problem with surviving the end of the world with a big group of friends.  Everyone already knows who was interested in each other.”  She blushed a little.  “Well, maybe not quite everyone, but the point mostly stands.”
            “Right,” Neve said, drawing the blanket tight as she became abruptly aware of the goosebumps rising along her arms and legs.  “Where did we end up, anyway?  I know it’s what used to be Michigan, but…”
            “Fifteen, twenty miles from the lake of the same name,” the woman said quietly, perching on the edge of the bed.  “On what used to be a college campus.”
            “Oh,” Neve said, trying not to reveal that her words barely meant anything.  Why did I even ask?
            Because you’re terrified that Cameron’s bleeding to death somewhere and you’ve got to keep talking so you don’t sink into some kind of pit, that’s why.
            The door burst open as her eyelids started to grow oddly heavy.  She snapped upright and swore at the pain that lanced through her chest.
            Then she swore again as she saw Cameron’s pale face and the blood welling from a wound in his side.

            Behind him, Marin swore, too before she took two steps after him.  Thordin held up a hand to stop her.
            “Stay there and cover me,” he growled.  “Cover all of us and make sure those damned wards hold.”  He continued forward, leaving the Seer behind in the gap where someday gates would be.
            Phelan glanced at him and put up a hand to try to forestall him but all Thordin did was shake his head.
            Not this time, my friend.
            Phelan snarled slightly and turned back to the Hecate, his expression schooled back into something close to impassivity by the time he faced her again.  “You can’t have any of them, hag.  I thought we established this.  You don’t get to make demands of us when it comes to all of that.  You don’t get to choose.”
            The witch-goddess smiled a thin, cruel smile more befitting a hag than the maiden she appeared to be.  “You don’t get to tell me what I am and am not allowed to do, Wandering One.  I’ve told you once, twice—a dozen times.  I’ve told your haggard prince the same.  Curse his lady for her cleverness.  The rest of you, though—you’ll not be so lucky if I’ve a thing to say or do about it.”
            “You’re not welcome here,” Phelan said, his voice a little stronger, though there was the barest hint of desperation in his voice.
            Don’t show her weakness, old friend.  I’ve no idea what you’ve gone toe-to-toe with lately, but you shouldn’t have any thoughts of pending knee to this bitch.  It’s not worth your life or your soul and you know it.
            “And when have I ever cared where you and yours welcomed me, Wandering One?”  The Hecate spat his name like an insult, eyes narrowing slightly. Her gaze shifted toward Cameron, blood-red lips curling back in a smile.  “The Dragon,” she said, her tone somehow softer.  “You have no idea how long I’ve sought you, child.  Down a hundred generations, all I’ve searched for is you.”
            Phelan’s eyes narrowed as he aimed a baleful glare at the Hecate.  “Ask her why, Cam.  Ask her why she’s been searching for the Dragon for a hundred generations and more.”
            Cameron shook his head, one hand clamped over the rent in his side.  “I don’t need to as.  It’s because of the goddamned sw—”
            “Shut your mouth, Dragon,” Thordin rumbled as he watched the gleam of curiosity leak into the Hecate’s eyes.  She doesn’t know about that sword, does she?  No, it’s something else.
            After shooting Thordin a strange look, Cameron looked back toward the Hecate, confusion marking his expression.  “Why have you been looking for me?”
            She took another step forward.  Thordin swung his axe into her path, stopping the honed edge a hairsbreadth from her throat.
            “Not another step closer, Lady,” he growled.
            The Hecate favored him with an almost amused glance.  “Do you presume to stop me, mortal?”
            “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Thordin said evenly, his voice pitched low.  “You should know better than to underestimate any one of us.”
            She snorted humorlessly as her gaze flicked back toward Cameron, who stood stoically, the hand not catching blood gripping the hilt of Caliburn in an iron grip.
            We’d better hope she doesn’t recognize that blade.  Otherwise our hand will be tipped and we’ll be screwed in ways we can’t begin to fathom.  “Tell him,” Thordin said.  “Tell him why you’ve been looking for him, Hag-Queen, or you’ll feel what tempered cold iron feels like against your throat.”
            The Hecate barked a laugh and stared at Cameron.  “It’s your blood, Dragon,” she said softly.  “It’s your blood that pleases, that I’ve sought for so, so long.  It holds the key to so, so much.”  Her voice dropped to a bare whisper and she seemed to lean forward through she hadn’t moved an inch.  “I have been looking for the blood of Seamus the Black since the day I learned he spawned.”
            Phelan sucked in a sharp breath and rocked back against his heels.  The Hecate glanced at him and her smile widened.
            “You didn’t know.”
            “I knew,” Phelan said, his voice low.  “I just didn’t know it was common knowledge.”
            Cameron glared at both of them, his jaw tightening.  “What do you want from me?”
            “I thought I was perfectly clear,” the Hecate said.  “I want you.”
            “I’m not on the block,” Cameron said, lifting Caliburn almost menacingly.  “And I’m getting a little tired of getting hunted.”
            “And no one should blame you for that,” a voice said, smooth as velvet as a figure emerged from the darkness.
            A muscle in Thordin’s jaw twitched.  Where did he come from?
            Thom swore.  “What are you doing here?”
            “Taking care of a little problem for you,” Cariocecus said with a strange measure of pleasure in his voice.  He emerged from the shadows beyond the light surrounding the Hecate.  As he passed one of her Dirae come to heel, he casually reached out and took it by the throat. His hand convulsed and the creature’s neck snapped with a sickening crack.
            Cameron swallowed visibly.
            “You’re poaching on my patch, Hecate,” Cariocecus purred as he circled her like a predator.  “I have a standing engagement with the men and women here and an agreement that I am violating by my sheer presence.  They weren’t supposed to see me for days yet.”  He smiled a thin, dangerous smile at Phelan and Thom.  “I hope you don’t mind, gentlemen.”
            “Oh by all means,” Thom said, voice dripping with sarcasm and barely controlled anger, “eliminate the fucking poacher.”
            “With pleasure.”  Cariocecus trailed a sharp-nailed fingertip along the back of the Hecate’s neck, winning an angry snarl from her.  “They’re mine, Witch.  Not that you’d ever have a prayer of violating the wards they’ve set.  I had to get a cat’s paw so I could get in.”
            “Fuck off, you third-rate warhound,” the Hecate snarled.  “I’ve been looking for them far longer than you have.”
            “Have you?”  His smile was thin.  “Is that truly an argument you want to have with me, Hecate?  In front of an audience, no less?  Have you no idea who they are?”
            “I don’t care who the rest of them are,” she said, eyeing Cameron even as she spoke to Cariocecus.  “I’m only here for one of them.”
            “Not tonight,” Cariocecus said, tone almost light.
            Then he wrapped an arm around the Hecate’s neck and vanished in a burst of shadows and fog, taking her and the Dirae with him.

            “Christus,” Thordin swore again, letting another arrow fly.  “Damned things are going to tear them to shreds.”
            Then, Phelan surprised him.  He’d feared that the once-druid was well and truly out of shape after his years of moving through the modern world, a world where being a warrior hadn’t been prioritized—hadn’t been necessary.
            Apparently, he’d been wrong.
            Phelan saw the Fury coming and dropped low.  As she closed, he sidestepped expertly and threw his elbow at the creature’s throat.  The Dirae’s screech died with a wet crunch, becoming a high-pitched wheeze as the impact crushed its windpipe.  There was an anger all his won in Phelan’s green eyes, which gleamed with power and emotion.  He swore at the stumbling Dirae in his native tongue and stabbed it through the chest with the blade in his hand before whirling, looking for a fresh target in the darkness.
            It didn’t take him long to find one.
            “What kind of whoresons are you?”  Thordin muttered under his breath, trying to get a bead on another of the Dirae and not have his shot fouled by one of the four men engaging them in combat beyond the walls.  Power—whether from the wards or the men before him, he couldn’t be sure—set the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck standing straight up.
            He cursed again as a blast of flame from Rory’s hands left him—and likely the rest of the men on the field—temporarily blinded.  Beneath cackling shrieks, he heard the crunch of boots running across the gravel and snow back toward where he stood.  Blinking and trying to clear his vision, he twisted to see Marin coming between the spots dancing in front of his eyes.
            “That was fast,” he said lamely as she scrambled up the ladder partway to thrust a box of shotgun slugs into Paul’s waiting hands.
            “I know where we keep everything.  Are they holding their own?”  She jumped down the ladder and unslung the bow she was wearing across her body, reaching into the quiver that thumped against her hip for an arrow.
            “For the moment.  Can you shoot?”
            “Well enough,” she said.  “Not as well as you or Phelan, but I’m not going skewer my husband or one of my friends.”  With that, she drew the fletching back to her ear, sighted down the arrow’s shaft, and let fly.
            In the darkness, a Dirae screamed.
            Bloody—that’s a little more than passably well.  There was an odd gleam to her eye that Thordin feared he recognized.
            Wanderer, you’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done with you!  Thordin snarled and turned away, sparing only a second longer for his vision to clear before he started firing into the darkness alongside Marin.
            Above them in the watchtower, Paul opened fire.
            “Did we get a count on how many?”  Marin asked between shots.
            “A dozen,” Thordin snapped.  “At least.  No telling how many more may show up.”
            “Bloody hell,” Marin swore.  “We just can’t fucking catch a break.”
            “This happen often?”
            She barked a bitter laugh.  “You have no fucking clue.”
            Thordin growled low in his throat.  Why had Cameron dragged them here, again?
            To everything there’s a reason, he reminded himself.  He drew back another arrow and fired.  The arrow slammed home into the spine of another Dirae, one that Phelan had flipped up and into the air when it came at him.
            Out in the darkness, Cameron swore, then howled a wordless battlecry and threw one of the Dirae into a gout of flame Rory lobbed at it.
            “How many do you see?”  Thordin barked to Marin.
            “I’m counting eyes,” she said.  “Five, I think, but they’re moving too fast for me to get a clear idea.”
            “Six,” Paul yelled down from the watchtower.  “There’s one a little further out, hanging back.  I can see it from here.  It’s just hanging out and watching.”
            “That shouldn’t be happening,” Thordin said, almost too quiet to hear.
            Marin shook her head.  “Things that aren’t supposed to happen typically do around here.  Should we be worried?”
            “Yes,” Thordin said without hesitation.  “We should be very worried.  There’s no reason one of them would be holding back when there’s a fight to be had and targets to take out.  They’re like supernatural assassins.”
            Marin shivered.  “Paul?  Can you get a bead on it?”
            “I can try.”
            “Do it.”
            A moment later, another shotgun blast rang out, echoing off the trees, the buildings.
            As one, the Dirae on the field screamed.
            A woman’s voice rang out over the din, cursing their collective lineage as a bright ball of red-white light turned darkest night into brightest day.  From beyond some brush strode a woman, shorter than any of them men on the field, her dark hair hanging in dreadlocks braided with gold and silver trinkets and wooden and bone amulets.  Blood red lips peeled back from white teeth, blue eyes narrowed dangerously as she strode toward Phelan.  The Dirae dropped to their knees as she came forward onto the field.  The light itself was centered on her, turning the blood that dripped from a wound in her shoulder black as the night itself.
            “You,” Phelan said, spitting the word as if it was an epithet.  “What do you want?”
            “You know exactly what I’ve come for, Wandering One,” the woman said, her voice like discordant music, like an orchestra being tuned.  She looked directly at Cameron, whose hand was pressed against a bleeding wound in his side.
            Thordin swore under his breath.  “Not good.”  His gaze raked over the others.  He saw fresh blood on more than one of them.  “Really not good.”
            “Who is she?”  Marin asked in a bare whisper as she drew closer, her knuckles white around the bow’s grip.
            “The Hecate,” Thordin breathed.  “And she’s pissed and they’re all bleeding.”  He glanced at her.  “Are you all of their blood?”
            Marin’s throat convulsed as she swallowed.  The sudden spark of fear in her eyes told him all he needed to know.
            He shoved the bow into her hands and unslung the axe he wore across his back.  “Stay here.”
            He marched out onto the field.

            “We’ll need the guns,” Marin said.
            “Won’t do the trick,” Cameron said, shaking his head grimly.  “I tried that once.  It didn’t end very well for me and I’ve got the scar to prove it.”  Caliburn rasped out of its scabbard and he weighed it in his hand, as if it was feather-light and unbelievably heavy all at once.  “Hand to hand seemed to do the trick.  So did Neve’s arrows.”
            “Anything with a decent iron content will do the trick,” Phelan said.  “But we all need to steer clear of those claws.”
            “So the shot that we’ve used on the camazotzi might work?”  Greg asked as he began to distribute the weapons he’d brought.  He’d arrived unobtrusively a few minutes before and gotten an earful of what they were dealing with.
            Phelan grimaced.  “Maybe.”
            “Iron broadheads are better,” Thordin said, still peering out into the darkness.  There were at least a dozen pairs of eyes out there.  “Christus,” he swore under his breath, making Phelan startle next to him at his choice of words, “What did you do to piss these things off, Cameron?”
            “I’ve got no idea,” Cameron said with a grimace.  “Neve and I initially thought they were after her.”
            “If they’d been after her, you’re not the only one they’d have hurt,” Thordin said.
            “Time out,” Thom said, then pointed to the glowing eyes.  “Are they going to be able to punch through the wards?”
            “If they haven’t yet, they can’t do it,” Phelan said.  “Those wards are probably the only thing keeping them at this distance.”
            “So they’re not hanging out there and waiting for reinforcements?”
            Phelan shook his head.  “No.  Probably not.”
            Thom’s blade rasped softly as he drew it from its scabbard.  “Fan-fucking-tastic.  Let’s go.”
            Marin grasped his wrist.  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
            “Don’t have a choice,” he said, then leaned in to steal a kiss for luck.  She held him fast for a brief moment before she released him.
            “I’ll get a couple of the hunting bows and a box of shot.  Paul can snipe and I’ll see what kind of damage I can do.”
            “Don’t hit anyone,” Phelan warned her as he drew his borrowed sword.  Marin gave him a withering look in the darkness.
            “Because I want to shoot one of you.  Get out there and be careful.”  She turned and jogged off, ponytail bouncing.
            “I don’t like this,” J.T. rumbled.
            “There’s nothing about it to like,” Thom said.  “Just something to fight.  If we don’t win, then we’ll have even bigger problems.”
            “Spoken like a true warrior,” Thordin said with a wry grin as he notched another arrow.  “Charge them.  I’ll cover until your lady comes back to take over.”
            “Hopefully, we won’t need her,” Thom said, his voice low.  He lifted his blade and charged out into the darkness.
            Phelan cursed softly.  “Damned impetuous—”
            “Reminds me of someone else I know,” Thordin said, tone far more cheerful than it had any right to be given the situation.  “Get out there before the spawn of your spawn gets himself ripped to shreds.”
            Phelan cursed again and dashed after Thom.  J.T. took off on his heels, Rory plunging after him, flames dancing blue at his fingertips.
            “Good luck,” Thordin muttered under his breath as he let another arrow fly.
            Out in the darkness, another Dirae screamed as the arrow slammed home.  That scream was joined by more as a four-man army ripped into a dozen of the dangerous monsters in the darkness.  Eerie blue flames spread by Rory illuminated the field, giving it an eldritch glow—and made the hag-like furies seem even more horrifying than they actually were.
            The sight of them had always been enough to turn a stomach, but somehow, in that light, they seemed worse.
            And worse yet, they were angry and suddenly had more than one target of opportunity.
            The largest pointed to Thom, Phelan, and Cameron before screeching a battle-cry and launching herself at the Wanderer’s throat.

            “Bloody hell,” J.T. swore softly and shoved himself to his feet.  He crossed the narrow space between he and Jacqueline and shook her shoulder roughly.  “Jac.  Jac!  Wake up.”
            The blonde healer startled awake after a bare moment, blinking sleepily up at the larger man.  “What’s wr—”
            “They’re blowing the whistles at the watchtower.  I need you to stay awake and keep watch over her so we can figure out exactly what’s wrong,” he said, snagging Phelan by the sleeve.  “C’mon, Phelan.  I need you with me.” 
            “I’m half burned out already,” Phelan warned as he stood up.  “Don’t expect miracles.”
            “We never do, but you always seem to deliver them anyway.”  J.T. shook his head, feeling a pang of regret as he watched Phelan lean in to smooth his cousin’s hair one more time and kiss her lightly on the forehead one more time.
            Then the once-druid straightened.  “All right,” Phelan said. “Let’s get on with this.”
            “Do you need your staff?”  J.T. asked as they ducked out into the makeshift corridor.
            “If I need my staff, we’re already in more shit than I’d be able to handle tonight,” Phelan said grimly.  “But I could use something sharp if we’ve got spares.”
            “I think we’ll be able to find something,” J.T. said with a slight nod.  Probably someone’s spare, or one of Matt’s prototypes. Christ on crutches, I hope they’re as solid as he’s saying they are. The last thing we need is someone’s sword shattering the minute it hits bone.
            Phelan clapped him on the shoulder and together they began to jog toward the outside world.

•          •          •

            “—and we packed up and hit the road again.”  Cameron said, gaze flicking toward the kettle hung over the fire.  “How long until the coffee’s ready?”
            “I can start it right now,” Marin said, starting to get up.  She froze in mid-motion at the sound of a whistle from the lookout’s post.
            “Shit,” Greg said, gazing through the darkness in that direction, though he couldn’t see anything from where they were sitting.  “Can’t we catch a goddamned break?”
            “Apparently not,” Thom said, getting up.  “Greg, we’re going to need the armory again.”
            “Such as it is,” Greg said as he rose.  “I’ll grab you guys your gear.  Two minutes.”
            Cameron’s expression tightened.  “Does this happen a lot?”
            “Seems to come in waves,” Marin said as she broke into a jog, headed back toward the sprawl of sheds.  “Probably have one more attack before we get to breathe again.  I’ll bring your sword, Thom.”
            He nodded and glanced at Cameron.  “Come on, we’ll see what’s going on.”
            They were halfway to the watchtower when Phelan and J.T. caught up with them.  Cameron looked directly at J.T.
            “Why aren’t you with Neve?”  There was a hint of fearful demand in his voice.
            “Relax, I left Jac with her,” J.T. said, shifting his shoulders slightly to resettle the claymore slung across his back.  “Something tells me that you guys are going to need me more on the front line than she’s going to.”
            Cameron gave him a suspicious look.  Phelan clapped the former pilot on the shoulder.
            “Trust him,” Phelan said.  “We want him with us right about now if this isn’t some kind of false alarm.”
            “You know that it’s not,” Thom growled.
            “I hope that it is,” Phelan corrected, “but I do suspect that it’s not.”
            Thom shook his head.  “Rory!  What’re you seeing?”
            “Red eyes in the darkness!”  Rory called back.  “Paul wants to know if you want him to fire a warning shot at a pair of them.”
            Cameron grimaced.   “Nothing good has red eyes.”
            “Typically not,” Phelan agreed.
            “Greg and Matt are waking some of the others,” Marin said as she jogged up, her staff in one hand and carrying Thom’s sword in its scabbard in the other.  She handed it to him, brows knitting as he belted it on.  “What do we have?”
            “Something with red eyes,” Thom reported.
            “That already doesn’t like us,” J.T. added.  Thom looked at him askance in the night’s dim and J.T. shook his head.  “Constance told me.”
            “I thought they couldn’t help us anymore,” Marin said.  “I seem to recall you saying that.”
            “Apparently, that wasn’t entirely true, now was it?”  J.T. grimaced and shook his head.  “She kind of insinuated that whatever’s out there has a particular measure of malevolence to it.”
            “Toward us, or in general?”  Thom asked as he moved forward, toward the gap in the walls for a better look at whatever was lurking beyond.
            J.T. frowned.  “Toward us, definitely.”
            Cameron eased up next to Thom, squinting into the darkness.  Phelan came up on the other side.
            “Dirae,” he spat.  “Wards must be keeping them back.”
            Thom looked askance at Phelan even as Cameron cursed.  “Dirae?”
            “I’d hoped that we lost them,” Cameron muttered.  “I should have known better.”
            Phelan glanced at Cameron.  “I would ask why they were chasing you, but it would be a stupid question.”
            “What the hell are they?”  Thom asked.
            “Dangerous,” Phelan said, his tone not quite light enough to be construed as flippant.  “Probably the last thing we needed tonight short of Cariocecus showing up and causing trouble.”
            An arrow split the air between them, vibrating the night as it flew true.  Beyond the walls, something gave a vaguely feminine scream.  Thordin emerged into the dim light cast by the moon, his expression grim.
            “If they can’t cross the wards, we cut them down before they can,” he said.  “Put the fear of the gods into them and maybe they’ll go away.”
            “Do you really think that’s going to happen?”  Phelan asked dryly, eying his old friend.
            Thordin shrugged and smiled grimly.  “Short of whoever’s holding their leash calling them off?  No.  But we can sure as hell try.”

            “Any change?”
            J.T. twisted and blinked at Phelan.  His eyes felt gritty, but he couldn’t sleep yet.  Not until they were sure that Neve Vaughan was out of the woods.  That whole out of the woods part might take more time.  “Fever seems like it’s down, at least,” he said.  “The antibiotics Jacqueline pumped into her seems like it might be doing the trick.”
            Phelan nodded slightly as he came over and set his bag down next to the bed.  J.T. watched as the thin red-head reached down and almost reverently brushed dark hair out of his cousin’s face.  “Déithe agus arrachtaigh,” he murmured.  “She still looks like hell.”  His gaze drifted over to Jacqueline, who was curled asleep in a nearby chair, wrapped in a blanket.  “Did she—?”
            “I think she tried,” J.T. said.  “I don’t know.  She might have succeeded.  Seems like your cousin’s sleeping a little easier now, so either Jac did something or pumped more drugs into her while I wasn’t looking.  I don’t think it’s the latter.”  He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, grimacing at the stubble he found there.  What time was it, anyway?
            He could see the shade of Constance lurking just out of the corner of his eye.  He glanced in that direction and bit back a sigh.
            “I think we’re about to have trouble,” J.T. said quietly.
            “Is that why the hair is standing up on the back of my neck?” Phelan asked.
            “No trouble,” Constance’s ghostly voice whispered.  “Just keeping watch.  Just in case.”
            “In case of what?”  J.T. asked, stomach folding painfully in on itself.
            “In case she tries to leave him,” Constance said simply, her ghostly eyes glowing with other-earthly light, gaze drifting away from J.T. and toward the woman in the bed.  “In case another Death comes for her.  I am to keep watch.  To tell her.”
            Phelan’s brows knit.  “I’m hearing…pieces of this, I think.  What’s she saying?”
            J.T. ignored him.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”
            Constance’s nose wrinkled in mock annoyance.  If he didn’t know better, he’d never have thought a ghost could be annoyed.  “I’m a guard against Death taking her, Jameson.  Do you need to know something beyond that, or are you satisfied with knowing that I’m here to help, not harm?”
            He frowned slightly and nodded.  “I think I am.”  He glanced at Phelan.  “She’s here to safeguard Neve.  Must be worse than we thought.”
            “Safeguard her against—”  Phelan cut himself off, mouth snapping shut.  His eyes seemed to briefly erupt with green fire before he brought himself tightly under control again.  “Who sent her?”
            “Why is that—”
            “Déithe agus arrachtaigh, Jameson, who sent her?”
            J.T. looked at Constance’s shade.  The ghost shifted uncomfortably, looking away for a moment.
            “The maiden,” she finally said.
            “Did you catch that?”  J.T. asked Phelan.
            “Only because I was trying.”  A thin line of red trickled from Phelan’s nose.  He scowled and dug a rag out of his pocket, shoving it up against the offending nostril.  His voice came muffled from behind it.  “The maiden, huh?  That could be any number of death goddesses I’ve had the pleasure and displeasure of encountering.”
            “I’m not permitted to say more on the matter,” Constance warned.
            J.T. waved a hand.  “I’m not going to ask more.  I’m fine with knowing what I’ve already been told.”  And if it’s a maiden, then it’s not the Morrigan again.
            Of course, that means there’s some other death goddess watching us and that should make me really, really uncomfortable.  So why the hell doesn’t it bother me?
            Because stranger shit is happening to us lately and I’m a big boy and I can roll with the goddamned punches.
            Phelan gave him a gimlet-eyed look, then shook his head slightly and sank down onto the edge of Neve’s bed.  “If she’s here to watch over my cousin, then whoever she’s serving can’t be all awful.  I’ll just have to trust her on this one.”
            “You’re the one who’s told me to trust the ghosts I knew,” J.T. reminded him.
            “I did,” Phelan said quietly, staring down at his cousin.  “But that was well before one showed up to purportedly keep death watch over my cousin.”
            “They kept death watch over you, too,” J.T. said.  “Back when killing Vammatar almost got you killed.  I didn’t realize it at first, but they were there the whole time.”  On the edges of camp, watching and waiting.  Then she came and they drew near again.  As if it was suddenly safe again.
            Phelan sucked in a deep, ragged breath.  “You never told me that.”
            “You never asked,” J.T. said, following his friend’s gaze to the pale face of the woman in the bed.  “All of you people have guardian angels watching over you, y’know that?
            “So do you guys,” Phelan said softly.  “It’s just half of them are the flesh and blood kind.”
            J.T. frowned.  “Speaking of those, where did Cameron go?  He was here before you got here and he stepped out for a minute and he hasn’t come back in.”
            “I imagine he’s with Marin and Thom, getting grilled for information in the oh-so-delicate way they go about that sort of thing,” Phelan said, sounding weary.
            A faint whistle reached both of them in the same moment.  Phelan cursed under his breath as J.T. stood up abruptly.
            Horror was etched on Constance’s ghostly face.
            “You’d best hurry,” the ghost whispered.  “Your enemies are legion and some are knocking at the door.”

            Thom stood very still, thoughts reeling.
            How would she know that I’d need that kind of message?  There’s no way for her to—unless he knew.  How could he know, though?  How is that possible?
            And if they knew, why didn’t they tell Phelan before they left him?
            “That certainly sounds like her,” Phelan’s voice said wearily from behind the stunned pair of Seers.
            Marin turned toward Phelan, nose wrinkling slightly as Thom tried to collect his thoughts.  “Where were you?”
            Phelan held up his kit of herbs and odds and ends.  “Was sound asleep until about fifteen minutes ago.  I think some of Carolyn’s little friends decided my head would make a good dance floor, though.  That’s what it feels like, anyhow.”
            Thom shook himself and looked at Phelan.  “Something tells me the way that your head feels has quite a bit more to do with what you and Marin did to that thing out there, not any faeries tangoing on your face.”
            “Probably right.”  Phelan looked past them to Cameron, who was staring at the three as if they’d each grown a second head.
            “Christ,” Cameron muttered.  “Is everyone who lived through the end of the world batshit crazy?”
            “Just most of us,” Phelan said with mock cheer before he slid past Marin and headed for the door behind Cameron.
            Cameron just stood there and watched before he glanced at Thom.  “Is he always like this?”
            “Except when he’s being depressed, usually,” Thom said.  He nodded toward the door.  “We were coming to check up on everyone.  Is it going to get insanely crowded if we step inside, too?”
            Cameron grimaced.  “Probably.”
            Marin’s fingers slid into Thom’s.  “We could head over to the cook fires and have something hot to drink.  How long has it been since you had a cup of coffee, Cameron?  It’s Cameron, right?”
            “Right.”  He smiled weakly.  “And it’s been a long time.  I don’t think I’d say no to a cup at this point.  You guys actually have some?”
            “Everything that the local stores and coffee shops could furnish us with,” Thom said, grateful to be back in control of something, at least temporarily.  “And we’ll keep on having it until we run out or it somehow becomes undrinkable.”
            Cameron nodded, glancing over his shoulder again toward the doors.  He tugged them shut almost reverently and turned back toward Marin and Thom.  “There’s a fire where we’re going, right?”
            “Decent-sized one, yeah,” Thom said.  “We still do most of the cooking over open flame, but I think Tala said she’s almost ready to test the oven.”
            “She said it yesterday,” Marin confirmed.  She looked at Cameron as they began to walk toward where the cooking fires still burned.  “You guys had a hard road to get here, huh?”
            His lips thinning into a tight line, Cameron nodded.  He’d been so interested in getting his lover, Neve, taken care of that there had only been the chance for the most perfunctory of introductions and questions.  Thom couldn’t blame him.  He’d have done the same in the former pilot’s place.
            Oh yes, he’d very much noticed the flight suit that had been in the other man’s saddlebags.  He wasn’t above snooping when lives might be at stake.
            “Yeah, we did,” Cameron said quietly after a moment, “but we’re here now and we’re safe.  Now I just have to figure out why I was drawn here in the first place.”
            Drawn here, huh?  Interesting.  We’ll have to run that one by Phelan, I think.  “Probably to even the odds,” Thom said.  Marin elbowed him sharply below his ribcage, the impact enough to send ribbons of fire across his chest.  “Goddammit, Mar,” he said as his eyes started to water.  “Those still aren’t in one piece, remember?”
            She swore under her breath and shook her head.  “I’m sorry.  You okay?”
            “I think so.”  He gingerly touched his side to check if anything seemed out of place, but everything felt relatively normal.  “Seems like.”
            Cameron stared at the two of them.  “How many walking wounded do you have around here?”
            “Fewer now than we did a couple weeks back,” Thom said.  “Trust me, we’re a lot more solid now than we were before.”
            Cameron shook his head slowly.  “Seems like it’s been rough all over.”
            “You could say that,” Marin said as she pulled Thom’s arm around her shoulders.  They stepped out of the main ‘building’ of the settlement and into the tent where they still did all of their cooking around one of two fires that stayed tended day and night.  Greg was sitting by the main fire and lifted a hand in greeting.
            “A little late for you to be up, isn’t it?” he asked as they joined him by the fire.
            “Couldn’t sleep,” Marin said before Thom could say something about the strange vision she’d had and then barely talked about.  The fact that she’d said as little as she had about it meant she was well and truly unsettled by whatever she’d seen.  “Cameron hasn’t had coffee in forever, so we came out here to talk.”
            Greg nodded with a wry smile.  “Good thing I just put a kettle on, then.  Was going to have some tea myself.”
            “A very good thing.  You want coffee instead?”  Marin began hunting for the current canister of grounds and the coffee press.
            “Please.”
            Cameron just shook his head in bewildered wonder as he sank down to the dry ground near the fire.  “How many of you are there?”
            “Thirty or so,” Thom said as he seated himself.  “Room for a few more at this point.  We started out with more, but we terrified some so badly they left.  After everything that keeps happening, I can hardly blame them.”
            “Most of the survivors here were students at the university,” Greg added.  “Very bloody clever students.”
            Marin grinned as she came back to the fire with mugs, the press, and a canister of coffee.  “We had to be, Professor.  Otherwise, we weren’t going to make it.”
            “True,” Greg said.
            Cameron shook his head.  “Couldn’t have been easy.”
            “It wasn’t,” Thom said.  “But neither was your road to get here.”
            Cameron winced.  “We were going to talk about that, weren’t we?”
            “Yup,” Thom said.  “We were.”
            Cameron heaved a heavy sigh and stretched before he resettled, edging a little closer to the fire.  “Fine.  What do you want to know?”
            Marin settled in next to Thom.  “Why don’t you just start at the beginning?”
            “Oh.  All of it, then?”
            “All of it,” she said, giving him a warm, sympathetic smile.  “Don’t worry.  You tell us yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
            Thom smiled wryly.  “We’ll tell you ours, she means.”
            Cameron took a deep breath, nodded, then started to talk.

            “The balance shifts,” one voice said softly.  “It no longer favors one or the other.  There are chances now.”
            “The dead god joins them,” another voice said.  “But will be fight for more than the protection of a Wanderer, a Dragon, and a Lady?”
            “The Seers are powerful in their abilities to persuade,” a third voice added, traces of wry humor alive in the speaker’s tone.  “But his presence does not guarantee success.  Nor does possession of the sword.”
            “Ah yes, the fabled and fated blade.  Broken once and remade, will it happen again?”
            “Does the king rise again?  So soon?”
            “No,” the first voice said softly.  “There will come another.  The custodian is a guardian, nothing more.  A crownless king, a knight errant.  He is not the one.  Another will come.”
            “A crownless king.  Could he be?” the third voice asked.  “Could it come to pass?  Might he be the one?”
            “Not on his current path.  Not unless things change.”  The voice sounded vaguely sad.  “And I fear they will not.  He will not see his son as a man.”
            “You have said the same of many in the past.  You were oftimes wrong.”
            “I have been,” the first voice agreed.  “And I hope I will be again.  But I fear I am not.”
            “Then we share that fear and that hope, Lady.”
            “Perhaps if we hope hard enough, it shall come to pass.”
            “Someone is watching.”
            Eyes turned and the world exploded in shards of silver light.

            I jerked awake, gasping raggedly and soaked in cold sweat.  Thom stirred, one eye cracking open followed by the other.
            “What’s the matter?” he mumbled in the darkness of our room.
            “I don’t know,” I whispered.  “I saw something.”  I threw back the covers and started to get out of bed.  His fingers wrapped around my arm and squeezed gently.
            “Where are you going?”
            “To check on the newcomers,” I murmured.  Jacqueline and J.T. had Neve and Cameron cloistered in one of the nearby sheds.  “And Phelan.  He’s probably with them.”
            “Unless he’s drinking the mead that Rory made with Thordin,” Thom said, rolling onto his side and watching me for a moment as I yanked on jeans and a sweatshirt.  A moment later, he levered himself out of bed to join me.
            “You can go back to sleep,” I said.
            “And miss this?”  He smiled at me in the dim.  “Not a chance.”
            He was still getting dressed when he asked, “So what was it?”
            “What was what?”
            “What you saw.  What was it?”
            I frowned, thinking of the trio of voices—two women, one man—that I hadn’t been able to quite see.  But you could hear them and feel them.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was eavesdropping on the Morrigan and then that lady that showed up here and warned us about her many times son of her son or whatever.”
            Thom frowned and slid his arms around my waist.  “You’re sure?”
            “I can’t be sure of anything anymore,” I said, leaning against him and resting my forehead against his neck and jaw.  “As if I was ever really all that sure of anything I was seeing in the first place.”
            “You certainly sounded like you were.”  He squeezed me gently.  “Let’s go talk to Phelan.  Maybe he’ll be able to make heads or tails of all of it.  What were they talking about?”
            After a moment’s hesitation, I said, “They were talking about balances shifting.  I heard…something about us maybe having a chance now.  I think.  Maybe.”
            Thom blinked at me, then shivered.  “On second thought, maybe we shouldn’t say anything to Phelan.”
            “Why not?”
            “Because he’s worried enough about this whole Cariocecus thing as it is.”
            Bloody hell.  “I hadn’t thought of that.”
            “Didn’t think so.  Come on.  Let’s check on the newcomers.”
            We stepped out into the darkness of the makeshift hallway and headed for the pale sliver of light further down that marked where J.T. and Jacqueline were sitting up with our latest guests.
            The door opened as we approached and Cameron, the man that Neve had been asking for, the man with the bright silver sword, stepped out into the dim.  He stared at us for a moment, our faces illuminated by the glow from beyond him.  I could see his brows knit in the dimness.
            “I have a message for you,” he said quietly.  “Is there someplace we can talk?”
            “Why not here?”  Thom asked, tilting his head to one side.
            Cameron hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly.  “Your cousin…I think it’s your cousin, anyway.  Kira?  She wanted me to tell you something.”
            Thom took a sharp breath.  I squeezed his fingers tightly.
            “You’ve seen her?”  Thom whispered.
            Cameron nodded slowly.  “She said she loves you and she hopes that you’ll see each other again someday.  She also said something else—and this is the important part.”  Cameron took a deep breath.
            “She said that we all make our own destinies and nothing—nothing—is written in stone.  Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.
            “There’s always hope.  Always, always hope.”

            I stayed there, watching Jacqueline work for what felt like an eternity before I heard Thom shouting my name.  I looked up from the woman’s pale face and toward the sound, frowning.
            “Over here!” I called.
            His voice drifted back.  “I need you over here!”
            I glanced at Jacqueline.  “Is this going to be okay if I go?”
            She shook her head.  “Do what you need to do, Mar.  I think I’ve got a handle on this.”
            I nodded and shrugged out of my jacket.  I laid it on the ground and eased the woman down onto it.  “I’ll be back if I can.”
            “Sure.  If you can’t, send someone with a stretcher.”  Jacqueline’s jaw was firmly set.  “I’m going to need one to get her back to camp and someplace warm.”
            The woman caught my hand and squeezed with what seemed like every meager ounce of strength she had left.  “They found Cameron,” she whispered.  “I know that they did.  Bring him to me.  Please?”
            My mouth was dry as I nodded.  “Of course.” I had no idea who she was talking about, but I had a sick feeling I was about to find out and that it probably wasn’t going to be pretty.
            I met Jacqueline’s eyes again and she grimaced.  “Thom needs you.  Get going.”
            I nodded and jogged toward the sound of my husband’s voice.
            He and J.T. were crouched next to another fallen figure as Thordin and Kellin scoured the ground not far from them, seemingly looking for something.  “Thom, what did—”
            I stopped dead and stared at the man on the ground.  I knew him.  I’d seen him before.
            “Gods and monsters,” I breathed.  “He’s the rider.  He’s the Dragon.”
            “Right now, he’s had his bell rung and maybe some smashed ribs,” J.T. growled, waving smelling salts under the man’s nose.  “Phelan needs to aim his spells a little better.”
            “I don’t think this was entirely Phelan,” Thom said, his face pale—paler now that I’d named the man for who he was.
            He must have seen visions of him, too.  I wonder what he saw.
            “No,” I agreed softly.  “This doesn’t feel like him.”
            Thom gave me a strange look and shook himself.  “More than likely it was that thing burning over there.”
            The man at our feet groaned as he came around, blinked blearily at the gray sky.  He winced and put a hand to his ribs as he forced himself up on an elbow, looking at J.T., Thom, and I.  He took exactly two ragged breaths, staring at us before he swallowed.  “Where are Thordin and Neve?”
            “You should be asking where your damned sword is!”  Thordin growled from behind us.
            “To hell with the sword,” the other man said, sitting up fully with a slight wince.  “Where’s Neve?”
            “She’s over here,” I said, nodding in her direction.  “She’s asking for you.”  I looked at J.T.  “Jacqueline said we need a stretcher.  The girl’s in a lot of pain.”
            The man’s jaw tightened as he forced his way to his feet.  “No shit,” he muttered.  “She has been since that damned monster threw her into a tree a month ago.”  His gaze swept the field and eventually fell on the burning hulk, lingering there for a few achingly long moments.
            A triumphant ah-ha! came from Thordin’s direction and he marched back over to us and thrust a sword into his companion’s hand.  “You drop this again and I’m going to glue it to your hand,” he warned, eyes narrowed.  “It’s older and more sacred than anything you’ve ever held in your life.”
            “Not everything,” the Dragon muttered, even as he re-sheathed the blade.  He brushed past me and headed for where Neve lay with Jacqueline tending to her.  J.T. was quick to follow.
            “How many extra mouths for dinner?” my brother asked as he materialized at my shoulder.
            “Three,” I said, watching as the Dragon crouched over his lady.  “Though I’m not sure how much any of us will be eating.”
            His eyes narrowed.  “This is a talking night, isn’t it?”
            Without a doubt, little brother.  Without a doubt.
            Thom’s arm slid around my shoulders.  “Come on,” he murmured.  “Let’s take care of that stretcher that Jac asked for.”
            I nodded mutely and let him lead me away.