Awakenings

                Twenty minutes later, the four of them crowded into the small office off the lodge’s main room.  Terézia slowly unwrapped her mirror and laid it on the desk.  Her gaze drifted to Aoife for a moment and her brows knit. 
                “Are you sure that you want me to do this?”
                Aoife looked at her like she was crazy.  “Of course,” she said quietly.
                Terézia nodded firmly and planted her hands to either side of the mirror.  She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.  Her fingers drifted to the edges of the mirror.  “I don’t know if you’ll be able to see anything,” she said quietly.  “I wasn’t that good at this before the end, and since the end no one’s really looked at the mirror while I was working.”
                Gray looked away, frowning.  “Sometimes I could see flickers when I was watching you,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet.  “I tried not to look most of the time.”
                “You never said anything,” Terézia said quietly.
                “I didn’t see a reason to,” he said, looming protectively over Aoife.  He rested his hands on her shoulders.  “It wasn’t quite my business, was it?”
                Only slightly, Terézia thought, lips thinning.
                Aoife sighed.  “Enough.  Let’s do this.”  Anxious tension had set her rigid in the chair, her eyes looking darker, haunted.
                I wonder how long it’s been since she saw him—her brother.  Hell.  I wonder how long it’s been since she’s seen anyone in her family.  Probably a long time.
                Kes slid into a chair at the side of the desk and watched as Terézia drew a deep breath and let her eyes flutter closed for a moment.
                She murmured a few Latin words under her breath, her focusing mantra, and forced her body to relax.  Her fingers slid over the edges of the polished silver mirror and she felt her hands and arms begin to tingle.
                So much power tonight, she thought briefly, then forced herself to focus.  Phelan O’Credne.  The Wandering One.  Aoife had murmured that appellation during her fevers, and Kes had been able to confirm that Phelan was, indeed, the Wanderer—she’d asked Aoife flat-out once, and that information had come back to Terézia.
                A few heartbeats later, the reflection of the ceiling above them went white, misty.  The mists began to part slowly, resolving itself into the image of a red-haired man staring up at the night sky, leaning against a staff.  There were two other figures standing with him, a dark-haired woman and a dark-haired man.  All three were silent, just staring at something beyond the range of Terézia’s scrying.
                Aoife sucked in a breath and swallowed hard.  Terézia winced as the image wavered.
                “Careful,” she said quietly.  “It’s hard to hang onto the image without them feeling me watching.”
                “Michigan, you said,” Aoife whispered.  “How can you be sure?”
                “Crystal on a chain with a map,” Terézia said.  “It got a little easier once I knew who I was looking for.  You kept saying his name while you were sleeping and all, so I got curious and started looking.”
                “And that’s the same group as the one that threw acid in your face and set your hands on fire?”  Gray asked.
                The image wavered again as Terézia glared at him.  “Yes,” she said, jaw tightening for a moment.  “Though none of them were involved.”
                “Teca, I think they’re starting to notice,” Kes said, her eyes glued to the mirror.  Sure enough, the trio there were starting to look wary—and mostly at the sky rather than anything else.
                “Break off,” Aoife said, sounding pained, her eyes still on the image of her brother.  They never wavered, even as Terézia let go of the image and the mirror faded to white, then to clear again.
                She was almost afraid to ask, but she did anyway.  “That was him, wasn’t it?”
                Aoife nodded, leaning back.  “It was,” she said.  “He looks…tired.  More tired than I feel.”  She scrubbed both hands over her face.  “I think I know who our cousin sent him to, but I’m not quite sure.”
                “Who?”  Kes asked, drawing one knee up to her chest, her heel catching on the edge of her chair.
                “I think he sent Phelan to see to his wife’s cousin.  I’m pretty sure of it, actually, but I could be wrong.”  She rested her head against Gray’s chest and sighed.  “Can you show me on the map where he is?”
                “I think so.”  Terézia wrapped up the mirror again and stood up.  She snagged a rolled-up map of North America from one of the side tables and spread it across the desk.  Now where…Lake Michigan coast, so that was the western side…  “Here.”
                Her finger rested on a point near the shore of Lake Michigan, somewhere between Holland and Grand Haven.
                “It’s not entirely an exact science for me,” Terézia said, “but it’s a good educated guess.”
                Aoife shook her head.  “Either way, there’s no way to get to him before the worst of the snows.  Assuming I was even strong enough for the journey.”  She smiled a wry little smile.  “And assuming that anyone here would let me leave.”
                “There is that,” Gray said, smiling down at her.  “I think Elton would tie you to a bedpost to keep you here if he had to.  He’s been complaining about how long you’ve been taking to heal up.”
                “Just the nature of the beast sometimes,” she said softly, starting to get up from her chair.  “How much of that stew was left?”
                “Enough for seconds,” Terézia said, standing as well.  “Did you want some?”
                “I think—”
                A wolf howled, somewhere close.  Close enough that there was barely an echo.  A second answered a moment later.
                “What the heck is that?”  Kes moved toward the window, covered with a heavy shade.  “There aren’t any wolves this far south.”  She lifted the shade.
                A man with amber eyes stared right back at her through the thick glass.  Kes shrieked, joined by Terézia and Aoife.
                Where the hell—
                The man stared at them for half a second, then spun away, melted into the form of a wolf, and ran off into the night.
                What the hell was that?
                Aoife sprinted for the door.

                “Are they still out there?”  Terézia asked as she spooned lukewarm stew back into the pot by the fire.
                Peering out the window, Kes nodded slightly.  “Still there.  He’s still holding her, but I don’t think she’s crying anymore.”  She turned away from the window, back toward her friend.  “Is there a lot left?”
                Terézia nodded.  “Plenty.  They won’t starve.  It might even still be hot.”  She added another log to the fire.  “It’s starting to get cold out there.  Think they’ll come in soon?”
                “Probably,” Kes said, settling cross-legged on one of the benches near the fire.  “They’ll come in when it starts to get too cold to stay out there.  All they’ve got is that blanket, and the sky’s clear as a bell.  It’s not going to take long for the temperature to go through the floor.”  She watched as Terézia glanced toward the room where she kept her mirror and her other scrying tools.  Kes smirked.
                “You want to go in there and try to look for people,” she said, unable to wipe the smirk off her face.
                The look Terézia tossed at her could have melted steel.  “No,” she said gruffly.  “I don’t want to look for anyone.  I want to look at Eva’s brother.”
                “I wasn’t aware that you knew where he was,” Kes said, tilting her head to one side.  “How’d you find that out?”
                Terézia’s face flamed.  “Trial and error,” she said quietly.  “I made sure Gray was busy and Eva was sleeping so no one would notice what I was doing.  I think I already found him.”  Kes started to express disapproval, but Terézia rushed on, cutting her off.  “I was careful, Kes.  Nothing tossed in my face or anything like that this time.  It took me all this time, since she came, but I think I found him.”
                “Where?”  Kes asked despite herself.
                Terézia laughed weakly.  “You’re not going to believe this.”
                “Not going to believe what?”  Gray asked as he and Aoife eased in from outside, bringing with them a gust of cold air that made the flames in the fireplace flicker and dance.  Aoife was tucked under his arm, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, a blanket still clutched around her shoulders.
                Terézia blushed more, moving quickly to the fire to start spooning out two bowls of stew.  “How good this stew is.”
                Kes choked on a laugh.  Aoife snorted quietly.  Her voice was thin an reedy as Gray guided her to the benches.
                “You’re a terrible liar, Teca,” she murmured as she sank down onto the bench, wiping her eyes on a corner of her blanket.
                Terézia’s attempt to look innocent was a good effort, but doomed to failure.  Gray took one look at her and just shook his head.
                “What have you been doing that you don’t want to tell me about?” he rumbled.
                Kes shrugged as Terézia looked at her for help.  “Don’t look at me, Teca.  I’m not taking sides.”
                She sighed, shoulders slumping.  “I’ve been scrying again,” she said, glancing at Aoife and Gray.  She set one of the bowls of stew down near her knee.  Kes got up and collected it and a spoon, then brought both to Aoife.
                “Scrying for what?”  Aoife asked as she nodded her thanks to Kes.
                Terézia flinched a little, looking pained as she said, “Your brother.”
                Aoife went very still for a moment, body rigid.  Her hands trembled until she tightened them around the bowl and spoon.  “D-did you find him?”
                “I think so,” Terézia said quietly.  “I’m not sure, but I think so.  In Michigan, near the lake.”  Her cheeks went red and she glanced at Kes and Gray.  “I think he’s with that group that I first looked at when Eva sensed me scrying and came here.”
                The corner of Gray’s mouth twitched slightly. He looked at Aoife and murmured into her hair.
                “See?  Fate did have something to say about all of this.  Maybe more’s meant to be than you suspected.”  He ignored the strange looks that Kes and Terézia aimed in his direction and asked, “Have you looked?”
                “Not yet,” Terézia said softly.  “I was about to, then you two came inside.”
                “Well,” he said quietly.  “Let us eat, then let’s get down to business.”

                Aoife held the blanket lightly around her shoulders as she perched on the lodge’s porch rail, watching the sun go down over the trees.  The chill in the air was the familiar breath of winter, not the sunny, smoky feeling of autumn.
                It’s too early for that.  Too early for winter.
                Too early for a lot of things.
                Too late for others.
                The floorboards creaked behind her.  Her fingers tightened around the edges of the blanket.
                I’m not ready for this.  I can’t do this.
                I have to.  Be gentle, but be firm.  This can’t keep going the way it is.  Something has to change.  You have to tell him.
                You don’t have any choices left.
                “Supper’s ready,” Gray said softly from behind her.  “Kes said you haven’t eaten all day.  Not going to let you get away with that.”
                “Just not hungry,” she said, staring out at the trees.  Why couldn’t you all let me leave when I said I wanted to?  This isn’t where I’m supposed to be.  I’m not supposed to feel what I feel.
                This isn’t where I’m supposed to be.
                Gray leaned against the rail next to her.  “You’re not, huh?”
                She shook her head.  “No.  Not at all.”
                “Are you in pain?”
                Yes.  The pain wasn’t the physical kind, though.  That, at least, had faded.  “No.  I’m just not hungry, Gray.”
                “You have to eat,” he said firmly.  “If you don’t, you’re just going to get sick again.”
                A shiver wracked her and she touched the mostly-healed wound in her side.  It had taken too long to mend.  She’d been too weak.  Then the shock of Phelan…
                She closed her eyes.  He’s fine.  He must be.  He’s strong.  He’ll be safe.  Doesn’t matter where Teague sent him or what he got asked to do.  Everything will be fine.
                The tears still came.  Tears she didn’t want Gray to see.
                His arm closed around her shoulders and she squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, bowing her head.
                “This is a mistake,” she whispered.  “You can’t be in love with me.”
                He stiffened slightly.  It was the first time she’d been able to say the words and it made her feel like she’d just ripped her own heart in half.
                Gods and monsters.  This shouldn’t be happening.
                “Why not?” he asked.
                “Because I was sent to find someone else.”
                Gray’s fingers, impossibly gentle, tucked under her chin.  He gently guided it up, turned her face toward his.  “Open your eyes, Aoife.”
                The sound of her name on his lips made her shiver.  She almost didn’t dare look at him.
                But she did.
                Gray brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb.  “Does it matter?  Can’t we change our fates?  Make our own choices?”
                She felt tiny and too young, too fragile as she stared into his eyes, saw the concern, love, devotion rising and falling like the tides.
                “What if it’s the wrong choice?” she whispered.  “What if it ruins everything?”
                “What would it ruin?”  Gray asked.
                “The future,” she said, her voice tiny.  “The king.  The kingdom to come.  Everything.”
                His brows knit.  “Then I would say that perhaps it wasn’t meant to be the way you think it was.”  His thumb brushed along her cheek again, carrying away another tear.  She felt a chill, then warmth.  No one had ever touched her that way, made her feel the way he did.  It was terrifying and comforting all at once.
                “You wouldn’t have been brought here if you weren’t meant to choose your own fate andmake your own choices, Aoife,” he said softly.  “Follow your heart.”
                He sounds like Mairéad did all those years ago.  Mairéad, Teague’s first love.  Mairéad, who he’d had given his life and his crown for.
                Mairéad, dead for thousands of years, drowned in a tarn as her grandson watched.  Phelan had been too late to save her.
                Will you be too late again, big brother?  Or is it already too late for us all?
                “What if I’m wrong, Gray?  What if we’re wrong?”
                A shrug.  “We’ll find out sooner or later.  Will you come in, please?  Eat something.  All of us will feel better if you eat something.  You’ve got to be starving.”  His palm skated along the side of her face, tender, concerned.
                She leaned into his chest and started to weep without knowing why.
                He gathered her into his arms and held her as the sun went down and the ghosts began to whisper in the trees.  It was a night for spirits and shadows, secrets, dreams.
                The ways between the worlds were thin that eve, and that left more than enough room to let old, dead hopes in.
                Hope that she’d promised herself she’d never dare to feel again.
                Gods and monsters, she thought as she pressed her face against the soft flannel of Gray’s shirt.  Am I ever in trouble now.
                With his arms tight around her, she decided she didn’t care.

                “Daniel.”  Drew stepped past us and walked toward the man and the four wolves milling around his bare legs.  “What the hell are you doing here?”
                More importantly, where the hell did you learn to do that?  My fingers dug so hard into Thom’s arm that he winced.
                “Steady, Mar,” he breathed.
                “What the hell was that?”  I murmured.
                “Don’t know,” Thom said, voice low so only Phelan and I could hear him.  “But I’ll trust Drew enough to find out.”
                “Standing here naked, apparently,” Daniel said, his hands moving to protect his modesty.  “For the love of God, Andrew, I need some pants.  Or maybe a towel?”
                Someone behind me choked on nervous laughter.  It might have been Carolyn.  I couldn’t be sure.
                Drew sighed, glancing back at me.  I jerked my head slightly to the side.  He scanned the nearest edge of the circle, then said, “Care, there’s some sweats hanging to dry back by the laundry tubs.  Grab them, huh?”
                “Pull the lines in,” Thom added.  “But not too far.  Tell the sentries to stay put.”
                Carolyn looked momentarily confused by the term sentries but seemed to catch Thom’s meaning a moment later.  She nodded.  “I’ll tell them to stay up top.”  Her gaze flicked to me.  I tlted my head slightly in silent question.
                All clear?
                She nodded and moved away.  I exhaled a breathing I hadn’t quite realized I was holding and sagged slightly.
                One crisis averted—for now.
                I refocused on the current problem at hand.
                The man Drew called Daniel was taller than even Thom, lean and muscled.  A black tattoo that might have been of thorns or claws circled his left bicep.  His skin was parchment-pale, though, as if he didn’t spend much time outdoors—or simply turned red as a lobster when he did.  His eyes were big, bright blue.
                Gods and monsters, I realized with a jolt.  He has Drew’s eyes.  Or Drew has his.  They were shaped the same and were just as deep, fathomless.
                “All right,” Drew rumbled.  “Someone’s getting you pants.  Now what the hell are you doing here?  How did you find me?”
                “You never made a secret of where you were going to university,” Daniel said.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you weren’t happy to see me.”
                Drew took a few deep, even breaths.  “It’s not that at all,” he said slowly, gently.  “I just wonder why here and why now—and how you learned to take the shape of a gods-be-damned wolf, little brother!”
                It was as if someone had doused me with ice-cold water.  Little brother?
                “Oh,” Daniel said, glancing down at his lupine companions.  “That trick.”
                “Yes,” Drew said, voice straining.  “That trick.”
                “Complicated,” Daniel said.  Slightly more or less than why I’m here.”  His gaze drifted toward Phelan, lurking behind Thom and I.  “Wanderer?”
                Phelan flinched.  “Who gave you that name?”  He tensed behind us.  I touched his hand lightly, but that did nothing for the tension knotting his frame.  Thom glanced at him, brow furrowing slightly.  Phelan didn’t move, just stood there, hands knotted around his staff, barely breathing as he let Thom and I stand sentinel in front of him, living shields.
                If he hadn’t been so frightened, he probably would have been angry at us.
                “A woman named Cara O’Shea.  She still keeps a photograph of you on her desk in Cardiff.  Did, anyway, when I left.”
                Drew stared blankly at Daniel.  I watched Phelan’s face crumple like a tissue in a fist.  Oh shit.
                “I called her Kit,” Phelan said, almost too soft to hear.  “It was a long time ago.”
                Daniel kept staring at Phelan.  “She told me stories about you when I was a boy.  When the pack heard what we heard on the coast, we started running.  Hunting for you.”  His gaze flicked toward Drew.  “I’m surprised he’s here, Andrew.  Then again, perhaps I’m not.  You’ve got Grandmother’s gift as surely as I got mum’s.”
                I clamped my mouth shut, mind reeling.  What the hell is going on here?
                You don’t want to know, Marin.  You really don’t.
                But I needed to, whether I liked it or not.
                “What did you hear on the coast?”   Thom asked, voice heavy with dread.  His hand tightened briefly on my arm.
                Daniel met Thom’s gaze head-on.  “Who are you?”
                “The man who decided whether or not we were going to shoot you or give you pants,” Thom said.  His voice was even now, impossibly calm.  “We give you pants, you answer our questions.”
                One of the wolves growled, showing teeth.  Daniel gave it an open-handed slap.  The wolf whined, then slunk back, tail curling under.
                Fuck, Thom.  You’re playing chicken with the pack’s alpha.  We don’t know what the hell we’re dealing with here.  What’s wrong with you?
                Phelan finally squeezed my hand back, his shock seeming to fade.  The look in his eye told me I needed to trust my husband.  Thom knew what he was doing.
                I hoped Phelan’s faith wasn’t misplaced.
                Daniel kept staring at Thom, breaking eyelock at last when Carolyn edged forward to hand him a pair of sweatpants and a jacket.  The big man sighed and shook his head as he started to yank the pants on over long legs.  “The Nordics have set hounds upon the Wanderer’s scent.  I don’t know what you’ve all done to piss them off, but they want you dead or theirs, one or the other.  I don’t think they much care which it is at the end of the day.”
                “That’s exactly what I feared,” Phelan murmured.  I squeezed his hand with every ounce of my strength.
                “How much time do we have?”  Thom asked.  I could already see the numbers running in his head, the logistics coming together.  He would find a way to keep us safe—no matter what it took, no matter what it cost him physically.
                Not for the first time, I thanked whatever powers that were out there that he was still with us and prayed the cost wouldn’t be too high.
                “That’s the good news,” Daniel said.  “The lads and I knew what to look for.  We’re smarter than the louts they’re sending after you.  They don’t know where to start looking.  Could be months.  Years, even.”  His eyes narrowed.  “They’re working from the old scent, the ancient scent, not the new one.  They’ll chase false leads.”
                “False leads,” Thom repeated, a question latent in his tone.
                “Aye.  They’ll chase anything close for a while and move on when they realize it’s not him—or any of you.  They don’t have scents for you yet, but I imagine they eventually will if you can’t take them all out when they finally make it here.”
                “But we have time,” Thom said.
                “Oh, aye.  No idea how much, but there’s time.  We came to warn you.”
                “Will you be staying long?”  Kellin broke in, crossing her arms as she stood a few feet away from us, having listened quietly to the whole exchange, thinking, watching—waiting.
                “Not too long,” Daniel said.  “Two weeks, perhaps.  Then west or east, or south.  Depends on what Lord Tiv and Lady Cel require.”
                Kellin looked at Thom and I, then looked back at Daniel.  “Then you and your pack are welcome by our fire.  I think we’ll enjoy your stories tonight.”
                Daniel inclined his head.  Kellin turned and walked away.  Thom released me and stepped forward.
                “The rest are going to need clothes,” he said.  It wasn’t a question.
                Daniel nodded.  “Whatever you can spare.”
                “We’ll have a look,” my husband told him.
                Phelan’s hand spasmed around mine and I looked at him.
                “My sister,” he breathed.  “Teague, Kira.  Neve.  They’ll be in danger because I killed Vammatar.”
                “The alternative was worse, Phelan.”
                “Was it?” he whispered.  “Was it really?”
                “Yes,” I said, then slid my arm around his shoulders.  “Never let anyone tell you different, Phelan.  Ever.  Never doubt it.”
                He leaned against me and I led him back toward the fire.
                “Leannán,” he said after a few steps.
                I looked at him sidelong, saw tears in his eyes.  “What’s wrong?”
                “Nothing,” he said softly.  “Everything.”  He kissed my temple and murmured something in his native tongue that I didn’t understand, but my heart knew because it swelled up into my throat.  “Cinniúint roghnaigh go maith nuair a roghnaigh sé agat, a stór amháin. Go maith, go deimhin.”

                My brother and Paul vanished in seconds, rushing off to round up our shotguns.  Thom kissed me and murmured something about swords and staves, then disappeared in their wake.  A moment later, I stood by the fire with Kellin, Jacqueline, and Greg, all four of us staring at Phelan.
                He stood with eyes wide and staring at the fire, forehead pressed against the staff that abruptly seemed like it was the only thing keeping him on his feet.  His eyes slid shut a moment later and his lips began to move, forming silent words I couldn’t understand.
                Jacqueline swallowed and looked sidelong at me. “He’s praying, isn’t he?”
                I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from him.  All the steel that had been in his spine a few minutes before was good now—he seemed as young and frightened as the rest of us.
                We can’t keep doing this to him.
                “Jac,” I said slowly, “I need you to do something for me.”
                She shoved her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.  “Tell me.”
                “Get Tala and Angie and go down into the steam tunnel in front of Robinson.  Have Tala bring one of the shotguns.  Stay down there until we give you the all-clear.”
                “But you’re–“
                “One shotgun isn’t going to make the difference between us living and dying up here,” I snapped, speaking a little more harshly than I intended.  “But it could make the difference for the three of you.  Go.”
                She looked at me, then glanced at Greg and Kellin.  Kel sighed softly and jerked her head toward the tunnel.  “She’s right.  Go.  We’ll need you in one piece when this is over and that tunnel’s our best way to ensure that.”
                “What about Jay?”
                I snorted.  “Did you see him with that sword? We need him up here.  Go.”
                She glanced at Greg, making a last silent appeal, but he shook his head.  Jacqueline sighed out a breath and darted off, shouting for Angie and Tala.
                I looked at Greg and Kellin.  “What do you think?”
                “‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’” Greg said, shaking his head.  “This is yards above anything I’ve researched and I missed the day in shaman school where they talked about any type of werewolf that wasn’t a roleplaying game or Native American.”
                “Great,” I muttered.  “Kel?”
                “The same.  I’m tapped out,” she said.  “The wards might hold them back.  They might not.  Depends on the level of malevolence we’re dealing with.  If it’s just some kind of natural instinct to hunt, we could be completely screwed.”
                “That sounds reassuring,” Thom said as he appeared at my elbow and pressed my staff into my hands.  “The wards can sense the difference between something that’s going to kill us for food and something that’s going to kill us because it wants to?”
                “Something like that.”  Kellin caught her lower lip between her teeth.  “They’re not going to stop something natural.  They won’t stop something that doesn’t mean us any harm.  But they’re untested when it comes to stopping something preternatural that’s just got the instinct to hunt and kill.”
                “They might hold them and buy us time to respond,” Phelan said in a mumble.  He opened his eyes and straightened as he drew a deep breath.  “But it’s going to depend on how old and how strong they are.  The only section of the wards that’s gotten attention since the battle is the part that went down during it, aye?  That’s the strong point.  Are we going to gamble that they’ll hit us along the strongest part of our defenses?”
                “Fuck no,” Thom said.  “No one’s that dumb, but we’re not stupid either.  I’ve got the others setting up a ring with the fire as the center point.  Rory and Paul are up on the roofs.  We’ll at least see them coming, when they come.”
                “You know, I haven’t heard any howling,” Kellin said.  “Not since we scattered.”
                “That’s because they’re hunting,” Greg said quietly.  “Wolves aren’t stupid to begin with.  They’re apex predators.  That means good instincts.  Couple that with human intelligence…”
                “And you get killing machines,” Phelan said.  “He’s right.  They’re getting ready to hit us.  It’s a question of where.”
                Rory’s voice echoed off rubble and trees.  “West southwest!  West southwest!”
                They’re here.
                I spun and plunged toward that section of our loose defensive circle.
                West southwest was Little Mac and the ravine.
                Greg ducked after me, flanked by Thom as we ran.  We didn’t need to go far—a dozen yards and we were there, slipping between Drew and my brother to get a better look.
                There were five wolves—gray wolves if I was any judge, though their pelts ran the gamut from gray to black to brown and red.  They paused for a moment at the ward lines, as if sensing the power there.  They milled around just shy of them.  One gave a soft whine.  Their ears were up, eyes of amber and blue open, bodies taut but two of them let their tongues loll out.  Thiers were the only visible teeth.
                Greg put a hand on my arm.  “Something’s not right.  The display’s too mixed.”
                I started to snap something at him, but Phelan interrupted.
                “No, he’s right.  There’s something strange about all this.  It doesn’t feel right.”
                I couldn’t tell whether or not the situation felt right, but I could feel the pulse of power coming off of Phelan as he took up position at my shoulder, peering between Thom and I at the small pack beyond the wards.
                At least one of us is ready for a fight.  I knew I wasn’t, not really.  Dread still coiled in my belly, uncertainty holding me captive.
                What am I going to do if they come at us?
                Then one of them, a brindled gray wolf, big and sleek with huge blue eyes, crossed the ward line.
                And reared up on its hide legs and changed.
                Someone yelled in surprise.  Drew made a choked sound.
                “I know him,” he said.
                A slender, dark-haired man smiled at us, stark naked with the rest of the wolf pack starting to mill around him.
                “Hullo, Andrew,” the man said, his Welsh accent as thick as overcooked oatmeal, “might I trouble you for a pair of pants?”

                He came to his feet with eyes blazing and was on Rory in a heartbeat.  One hand fisted in the front of Rory’s shirt, bunching the collar tight enough to make breathing difficult.  Phelan’s other hand grasped his staff so tightly his knuckles were white against the wood, the tip of the stout shaft hovering dangerously close to Rory’s head.
                I took half a step forward before Thom jerked me back and shook his head almost imperceptibly.
                Wait.  His eyes told me.  Watch.
                “Do you think this is a joke?”  Phelan asked, vice a low rumble, like thunder from a distant storm.  “Do you think I’d joke about this?”
                Davon cleared his throat nervously as he came to Rory’s defense.  “You have to admit—”
                “I would not joke about something as serious as this,” Phelan said through clenched teeth.  “This is our lives, our safety—your lives and your safety.  You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.  You would know if I was joking.”
                Another howl echoed in the sudden silence.
                A muscle in Phelan’s jaw twitched.  “I am not joking about this,” he whispered harshly, then threw Rory to the ground in a gesture that was both dismissive and surprising because Phelan didn’t look nearly strong enough to do that to anyone.  He stalked back to his spot by the fire and stood with legs akimo, the butt of his staff planted firmly in the parked dirt.
                “Vammatar and her sisters have called the hamrammr before,” he said.  His voice sounded strange, slightly unfamiliar.  My hand found Thom’s and he squeezed it, leaning toward me.
                “Let him talk,” Thom murmured in my ear.  “Kira told me about this—she saw it happen once, except Teague was on the receiving end of that.  It’ll pass, just let him get it all out in the open.”
                “But he sounds different,” I hissed in a whisper.  I don’t like that.  Makes me start to worry—a lot.  “That doesn’t concern you?”
                Thom squeezed my hand again.
                The fact that you’re not that worried is slightly encouraging, Thom, I just wish that this didn’t feel so damned wrong.
                “After the nose-bloodying we gave her a few weeks ago, it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if her kin wouldn’t have called them again to exact some revenge—maybe even claim this as her territory.”
                “What the hell is it with all of you people and power plays and territory grabs?”  J.T. muttered, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, bright eyes hooded under bushy dark brows.  “What does it matter?”
                “It doesn’t to me,” Phelan said, his voice softening slightly, losing some of the strange, hard edge that had entered it moments before.  “The only thing that matters to me are you guys.”
                “And right now, we hold the high ground and that’s a defensive advantage we shouldn’t give up if we can avoid it,” Thom added.
                Phelan made eye contract with him and nodded firmly.  Thom never flinched.  That shot shivers down my spine.
                Leadership qualities are rearing their fair—or ugly—head.  And why shouldn’t they?  He was as much responsible for everyone and everything here as anyone else—and he was more qualified to lead than the rest of us.  At least that’s what I keep thinking—and I’m sure he’s thinking it, too.  A quick glance at the rest told me that their thoughts were starting to parallel mine—at least where Thom was concerned, anyway.
                “How many?”  I didn’t realize I’d spoken until everyone looked at me.
                Phelan glanced toward Matt and Thom, a brow arching almost delicately over one eye that blazed with blue-green fire.
                Matt shook his head slowly.  “Three of them sounded distinct.  Can’t be sure there’s not more than that, though.”  He looked at Thom for confirmation and got it when Thom nodded.
                “I only heard three,” Thom said.  “But you’re right, there could be more.”
                “But werewolves?”  Jacqueline chaffed her hands over her sweatshirt-clad arms.
                “You’ve seen something pretty damn close to a demon, haven’t you?”  Carolyn said, glancing sidelong at her.  “Why should werewolves be that much more of a stretch?”
                Jacqueline grimaced, but she shrugged.  “I guess you’re right.  How dangerous are they?”
                Do we really want to know the answer to that question?
                “Dangerous enough,” Phelan said, voice grim again.  “I’ve only known three men to go up against them and live.  And one woman.”  He straightened slightly.  “I’ve never gone toe-to-toe.  Conventional wisdom is to hit them hard from the sides and the rear and pray.  Pray hard.”
                The next howl we heard was practically on top of us.  Hairs on my arms and legs stood on end and I shuddered.
                “And if that’s not an option?” I asked.
                “Get the guns, get the swords, cluster tight and start praying that we make it out of this alive.”

                Thom met us partway.
                “Did you hear that?” I asked as my hands closed around his forearms and he gripped my arms at the elbows.
                Another howl echoed off the trees.  A second howl answered it.
                Thom looked back both of us, head tilting slightly toward the trees.  “You mean that?”
                “Yes, that,” I said, glancing between him and Phelan.  I caught my lower lip between my teeth, hands tightening.  Wolves—or worse?  What kind of monster could be showing up now?
                “Could be wolves, right?”  I asked hopefully.  Please tell me a lie, Thom.  Please.
                Phelan shook his head.  “You people don’t get wolves here.”
                “Not this far south, no,” Thom said.  “It could be coyotes, couldn’t it?”
                I almost shuddered in relief at the suggestion, relief that was promptly dashed.
                “Coyotes don’t sound like that,” Phelan said firmly, then took both of us by the arm and dragged us back toward the remaining tent and cooking fire.  “If it’s wolves, they’re moving south fast.”
                But that’s not what he thinks it is.  “And if it’s not wolves?”
                “Then we’re either okay or we’re in deep shit.”  A shiver wracked him.  “Enough to take my mind off worrying about anything else, if that gives you an idea.”  He let go of us.  “Get Kellin, get Jameson, and get Carolyn, Jacqueline, and Rory.  Do it now and meet me by the fire.”
                “What are we dealing with?”  Thom asked.  “You’re not about to tell us that we’ve got werewolves on our hands or something crazy like that, are you?”
                “Maybe,” Phelan said evenly, his tone flat and gaze serious.  “Just get them and do it fast.”
                I squeezed Thom’s arm and dashed off.

•          •          •

                It didn’t take much to gather folks around the fire—the ones Phelan wanted and then some.  Everyone had started to hear the howls, even if they still few and far between, they sounded like they were getting closer.
                I crossed my arms, half glaring at Phelan as I came back to the fire with Rory trailing in my wake.  He’d been the farthest out, checking the foundations on the northernmost edge of the wall.  “All right, Phelan.  Do we get to know what’s going on now?”
                “What’s howling out there?”  Rory added as he squatted near the fire, shucking off his gloves and holding his hands out toward the flames.
                “Best case scenario is that it’s just wolves that have migrated down here from across the border or something,” Phelan said.  He sat cross-legged in front of the fire, his staff across his knees.  His gaze was restless, flicking from face to face, though he didn’t betray any trace of the nerves I knew he was feeling.
                You can’t fool me, Phelan.  You don’t think it’s wolves.
                Matt frowned.  “It’s not that cold yet, unless they really know something we don’t.  What’s the alternative?”
                “The alternatives aren’t good,” Phelan said, finally focusing on him.  A muscle twitched slightly in his jaw.
                “What are they?”  Kellin asked, squatting to feed more sticks into the fire, trying to make eye contact with Phelan across the flames.  He avoided her gaze for a moment before he sighed and shook his head.
                “I’ve encountered about a dozen varieties of skinchangers in my life, and almost all the werewolf-types aren’t the kind I’d want running around anywhere in my neighborhood.”
                Wait, what?  “Time out, Phelan.  Werewolves?”
                “Right now I’m laying pretty strong odds on hamrammr—Nordic types.  I could see them showing up here to avenge a certain blonde bitch’s death.”
                Fuck me, really?
                We all just stared at him blankly, as if all of us were trying to process what he’d just said.  I’d always known at some point Phelan would say something that would strike one of us—or all of us—as just past the point of credulity.  I got a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that he’d just gone tap-dancing over the line.  I was proven right a few silent seconds later.
                Rory started laughing at him.
                That’s when Phelan snapped.

                My fingers fell away from his arm and he started walking again, toward the bridge.  I watched him for a few moments in stunned silence.
                What’s he talking about?  A reckoning?  Losing everything to balance the sheets?
                “Phelan, wait.”
                He stopped walking this time, letting me catch up to him before he started walking again.  His knuckles were white around the staff in his hand.
                I sucked in a breath.  Damn.  His whole posture was strange—gone was the usual relaxed, easy-going Phelan, replaced by someone else.  His shoulders were tight, as if someone had screwed his muscles into a knot.  His jaw was tight, face all sharp angles—though the hardness of his jaw, the set of it let me see more than a small passing resemblance to Thom in his features that I’d never really noticed before.  Fine lines around his eyes and mouth deepened with his apparent stress and worry and when I put my hand on his arm it was like touching a block of wood.
                He flinched slightly away from my touch, then sighed, some of the tension draining from him as we walked out onto the bridge.  He looked at me sidelong, gaze tired and haunted.
                “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said quietly.
                “But you need to,” I responded, fingers tightening around his arm.
                Phelan sighed as we walked to the center of the bridge and stopped there, staring out over the ravine.  Water tumbled over the rocks far below us, light splashing through the dying leaves and bare branches to dapple the valley below.  “Why?”
                “Someone really wise told me that you shouldn’t bottle things up because you’ll rot out inside.”
                He snorted softly.  “Who told you that?”
                I shrugged.  “Don’t really remember.  It’s not important, since it’s true.”  I ruffled his hair gently.  “Now talk to me.  Why are you so upset?”
                “Just what you want to do tonight, risking her appearance.  It’s a risk and I’m afraid to take it.”  Phelan leaned against the railing, his jaw tightening again and his eyes distant.  “Is it so difficult to think that maybe I’m not ready to settle accounts?  I’ve watched enough of the people I love die, Marin.  Can you blame me if I don’t want to watch that happen to you and Jameson and Thomas and Matthew and all the rest?”
                “I thought that’s why you were here,” I said quietly, leaning against the rail next to him.  “To make sure that didn’t happen to us.”
                He rested his forehead against the chilly metal that separated us from the drop down to the ravine floor.  “I don’t know if I can,” he whispered.  “I don’t know if I can protect you, leánnan, and that scares the hell out of me.”
                Oh, Phelan.  I slid my arm around his shoulders, squeezing him against me.  “We never asked for that,” I said.
                A shiver wracked him. “You didn’t have to.  Blood of my blood, bone of my bone.  I belong to you as surely as all of you belong to me.  Call it patriarchal instinct.  Or are you going to gainsay me that?”
                “That depends.”
                “On what?”
                I stared at him for a long moment, then reached over and ruffled his hair.  “How crazy you’ll make yourself if I don’t tell you to knock it off.  You don’t have to protect us.  Guide us, maybe.  Tell us when we’re about to do something stupid, definitely.  But you’re not our guardian angel, Phelan, and nothing that happens to us is your fault.  Never forget that.”
                His eyes squeezed shut and he exhaled a shaky breath.  “Thank you, leánnan.”  He sighed.  “Damn, but you sound like her.  Again.”  A smile ghosted across his lips even as a tear escaped from one eye to trickle down his cheek.  “Brighid would have seen a great deal of herself in you.”
                “You must have some pretty strong memories of her to keep talking about her the way you do,” I said, rubbing his spine gently.
                “Mmph.”  He rested his chin on the rail, staring at bare branches mingling with autumn leaves still stubbornly clinging to the trees.  “You and Thom remind me of her and Finn.  And your brother…I see glimmers of Ciar in him.  Sometimes I feel like my past and my present are blending into one great big tapestry where I can’t tell the beginning of one thread from the end of another.  It’ll pass eventually, I’m sure.  If it doesn’t…”  His voice trailed away.
                I shivered this time.  If it doesn’t, I’m not sure what it means.  Something good?  Something bad?  Nothing?  I caught my lip between my teeth for a bare moment.  Is everything really doomed to repeat itself?  Has everything really happened before, only to happen again?  I couldn’t remember where I’d encountered the turn of phrase, but it was always enough to send shivers down my spine.
                “I don’t mean to scare you, leánnan,” Phelan said.
                “I know,” I murmured, leaning against his shoulder for a moment.  His eyes slid shut as he rested his head against mine.  “But it’s better you talk to me, right?  Instead of keeping it all inside?”
                “Aye,” he said in a bare whisper.  “Aye, it is.”  He straightened slightly, looking at me sidelong.  “You know that you’re not supposed to have to do this for me.  Your husband, maybe.  Your brother.  But me?”
                “Who else could, Phelan?”  I asked softly.  “It’s me or Kellin, and she’s got her hands full with everything and everyone else.  She leaves me my boys—and you’re one of them, I guess.”
                A weak chuckle escaped him and he stared out at the ravine again.  “I suppose so.  Can you forgive my crises of faith?”
                “Crises?  More than one?”  I ruffled his hair.  “I only counted one.”
                This time he really laughed, and I watched light return to his eyes.  My heart lightened and I squeezed him gently.  Thank the powers that be.
                A howl split the air and we both froze.
                A wolf?  Here?  “Was that a–?”
                “I didn’t think you had those here,” he said in the same breath.
                I tugged his arm.  “Let’s get back.  See if anyone else heard it.  Someone else must have heard it.”
                “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little shaky now.  “Yeah, let’s do that.”
                We beat feet back camp.

                Matt waved to me as I came up the hill toward the forge, his face smudged with mud.  I waved back, looking around to see where Phelan had dragged Thom off to.
                They hadn’t gone far, just beyond the forge toward the edge of the ravine.  Their heads were bent close to each other’s; they were already deep in conversation when I joined Matt inside the hip-high brick-and-stone enclosure for his forge.
                “It’s looking good,” I said.  The oven—the heart of the forge itself—had another coat of clay drying over the original brick enclosure.  The bellows were mounted on either side already, propped up against wood and brick struts.
                Matt nodded, wiping his hands on the seat of his jeans.  “Yeah.  We’re hoping that we’ll get everything enclosed before winter really starts—that way we can get work done when the weather’s foul.  We’re going to need stuff, right?”
                “More than likely,” I said.  “Horseshoes, hammers, that kind of thing.”
                “Bullets and swords,” my brother added with a wry twist of his lips.  “I’m not stupid, Mar, and neither is anyone else.  We’re going to be fighting for a long time.”
                “I hope not,” I said quietly, looking away from him and toward Phelan and Thom.  “But I have a feeling I’m wrong.”
                Matt crossed his arms, following my gaze.  “What’re they talking about, anyway?  Phelan just kind of dragged him off when he got here and didn’t say why.  Not that I’m not used to that kind of thing happening lately, but still…”
                I shook my head.  “Just something we’re going to do out by the burials tonight, Matt.  Phelan wanted to be the one to tell Thom about it—maybe to try to get him to talk J.T. and I out of thinking it’s a good idea.”
                “What do you want to do?”
                “Just some rituals to honor the dead.  It’s that time of year.”
                “Almost November already?”  Matt shook his head.  “It’s easy to lose track of the days.  I guess we’d better work faster.  Maybe I can rope Rory into helping me up here so this shit can get done faster, before he first November storm.  We still thinking they’re going to come early?”
                “Probably,” I said, still watching Thom and Phelan.  Thom turned back toward the forge and smiled when he saw me, lifting his hand to wave.  I waved back.  Phelan, meanwhile, started to walk away from us, toward the bridge.
                Damn it, I thought, frowning.  I squeezed Matt’s arm.  “It’s a good idea, Matty.  Y’should talk to him.”
                “Where are you going?”  he asked as I hopped the wall and headed for Thom.
                “Hopefully to catch Phelan.”
                I caught up with Thom first, his brows knitting as I stole a quick kiss before I started to walk on.  He caught me by the arm, spun me back toward him.
                “What’s your rush?” he asked.
                God, they’re so frickin’ blue today.  I swallowed, trying not to get distracted by the brightness of his eyes in the sunshine.  “Phelan told you what we’re planning to do tonight, right?”
                “He wants me to talk you out of it,” Thom said, nose wrinkling.  “Wouldn’t tell me why, though.  He’s pissed off because I said I thought it was a good idea, risk or no risk.”
                That’s what I thought.  I kissed Thom’s jaw lightly.  “That’s why I’m in a rush,” I said.  “Something’s eating at him, and I’m not sure it has to do with what we’re going to do tonight, but I’m going to find out—one way or another.”
                “Oh.”  He looked over his shoulder.  “I guess you’d better hurry, then.  He said he was going to go take a walk.  Not down into the ravines, though—he gave me his word on that, but he said he didn’t want anyone to come with him.  Breaks the rules, but…”
                I squeezed Thom gently.  “I’ll catch up to him.  Think you can help Matt talk Rory into helping with the forge?”
                Thom nodded.  “Probably.  Let me know what happened when you get back?”
                “Of course.”  I squeezed him again, then headed off after Phelan at a jog.
                Halfway to the bridge, I caught up with him.
                He glanced at me sidelong and blew out an annoyed sigh.  “Go back to camp, Marin.  I’m poor company right now.”
                “I realize that,” I said evenly, falling into step with him.  “But you’re not going to get rid of me that easily.  What’s wrong with you?”
                “I’m not sure I want to talk about it,” he said.
                “That’s just too bad,” I said, shoving my hands into the pocket of my sweatshirt.  “Because I’m not going to leave you alone until you talk to me.”
                He made a sound that was half sigh, half growl, shaking his head firmly.  “No.”
                My hand snapped out of my pocket and locked around his arm as I stopped walking.  He tried to jerk himself from my grip and failed, finally half-turning to glare at me.
                “Why is it so damn important, leánnan?  Can’t you just let it go?”
                “No,” I said.  “Something’s eating at you, Phelan, and I think I know you well enough now that if you don’t let whatever’s upsetting you out to see the light of day, it’s going to consume you.  If whatever’s bothering you consumes you, you’re not going to be of any use to any of us.  So tell me what’s wrong so we can make it right.”
                He turned away again, shoulders hunching.  “It’s happening too fast.  I’m afraid a reckoning is coming, and I’m not ready for it.”
                “A reckoning?”
                “Yes,” he said, his voice dropping to a bare whisper.  “And I’m not ready to give up everything I hold dear in order to balance the sheets.”

                J.T. slumped onto the bench next to me.  “Can’t you just…I don’t know, ask her to stay away?”
                “I wish it worked like that.”  Phelan’s eyes slid shut, his face still tilted toward the sky.  “Do  you think I have any desire to see her again so soon?  I swear I get white hairs every time she shows up, whether she’s coming for me or not.”
                Was she coming for you last time, Phelan, or had she just come to deliver a message?  I still wasn’t sure.  I’d turned her words over and over in my head since then.
                Someday you will pay a price….you are stronger than any I have encountered before…you have bent, but you have not broken.  That will not always be the case, mo milseáin.  I promise.
                “What will her price be?” I whispered aloud before I could stop myself.
                Phelan’s eyes snapped open.  “What?”
                I blew out a soft breath, shivering.  “She warned us that someday, we would pay a price for everything we’ve done.  Someday she’d come and ask us for something.  She didn’t say what or when, but someday…”  I shivered again, my arms tightening around the knee drawn to my chest.  “What does mo milseáin mean?”
                “Trust me, you don’t want to know,” J.T. said with a shudder.  “It’s too damned Wicked Witch of the West.”
                Phelan was momentarily distracted by the question, looking at J.T.  “Was that why you asked me what it meant?”
                “Where the hell else did you think I’d get Gaelic I didn’t understand to ask you about?”  J.T. snapped, perhaps a little more harshly than he intended.  Phelan just laughed, shaking his head.
                “All right, all right.”  He scrubbed a hand over his face, then looked at me, eyes growing serious again.  “So she spoke to you, did she?”
                “Phelan, she’s been speaking to me since I saw the first potential end of the world.”   Even as the words dropped like lead weights from my mouth, my spirit felt lighter, as if I’d just revealed the single most terrible secret I ever could have carried.  Perhaps it was.
                I glanced sidelong.  J.T. looked horrified.  I reached over and squeezed his knee.  “I only realized it after she came that night.  I never knew before, but I…I recognized her voice.”
                “Did you tell Thom?”
                I shook my head.  “No.  Why scare him even more than he already was?  I really haven’t told anyone about it.  I guess it didn’t seem important, especially after we decided that we weren’t going to talk about it.  How could I tell anyone I figured out who the voice was without telling everyone about that night, you know?”
                J.T. grimaced, nodding.  “Good point.”
                Phelan just stared at us both for a moment before he shook his head.
                “Bloody gods and monsters,” he whispered, shivering himself.  His long, scarred fingers tightened around his staff and he leaned forward slightly, pressing his head against the wood.  “Did you know, Teague?” he murmured, almost too soft for us to hear him.  “Did you know all of this when you sent me here?”
                I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, mindful of where the flesh was still tender and healing.  “Does it matter if he did?”
                One corner of his mouth quirked into a smile and he turned his head slightly to look at J.T. and I.  “Only when it comes to how big of a smack he’s going to get when I see him again.”  There was a latent if in his words that almost made me wince.
                We’ll make sure you see him again, Phelan.  Even if it is only so you can give him that smack for what he’s put you through—and us with him.
                “So are you still keen to do it, then?”  Phelan asked after staring at us for a moment.  “Even with the risk we run?”
                I looked at J.T., saw the steel behind his eyes, then looked back at Phelan.  “I guess we are.”
                “All right,” he said quietly.  “We’ll need those torches again, and I’ll have to see if I can harvest enough holly without killing those poor bushes.  If I can’t, I’ll have to improvise.”  He stood up, bouncing his staff between his palms.  “Do you two want me to talk Thomas into it?”
                J.T. and I exchanged another look.  J.T. looked momentarily pained.  I don’t know what he saw in my eyes, but he turned back to Phelan and nodded.
                “I think he needs to be there,” J.T. said quietly.
                “All right,” Phelan said.  “I’ll take care of that first.”
                He headed up the hill alone.
                J.T. frowned briefly and glanced at me again.  “Is he okay?”
                “I was going to ask you the same thing,” I murmured, pushing myself to my feet.  “What do you think?”
                “I think there’s something he’s not saying, but how would that be any different than usual?”  J.T. shoved his hands into his pockets as he got up, shaking his head.  “Seems like we traded him for Thom in some ways.  We got Thom to open up and Phelan shut down.”
                “Can’t have that,” I said, starting up the hill after him.
                “What are you doing?”
                “What do you think?  Once he’s done telling my husband what we’re planning, I’m going to figure out what’s eating Phelan O’Credne.”