Awakenings

            We’d gone a dozen steps through the muck when an unfamiliar scream began to echo through the ravine—but coming from ahead of us, not behind us, where I’d expect it to come from.
            I stopped dead in my tracks.  “What the hell?”
            “Keep moving,” J.T. said, not missing a step.
            I almost tripped over myself catching up again, glancing back over my shoulder.  Nothing there.
            We whipped around the bend in the ravine heading up toward Little Mac and found the source of the screams almost as soon as we did.
            Leah, on her knees in the middle of the creek, fingers hooked into claws, held her head between her hands and screamed at the top of her lungs while Drew and Carolyn tried to haul her back to her feet.
            Carolyn’s frightened gaze met mine.  “There’s something going on down here!”
            Tell me about it.  I nodded.  “We know, we just don’t know what.  What the hell is this?”
            Drew shook his head, still trying to pull Leah back to her feet.  “Don’t know.  We’d come about four steps before she dropped and started screaming.  She’s terrified.”
            Leah shook off his hands, rocking back and forth, eyes wide.  I glanced at J.T. and Rory.  Rory swallowed and shook his head a little.
            “I don’t know, Mar,” he said hoarsely.
            Neither do I.  But if Drew can tell she’s scared, then something’s really wrong.  I went down to one knee in front of Leah, water and muck soaking into the knee of my jeans as I grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a firm shake.  “Leah!  Snap out of it.”
            I had to shake her a second time before her gaze locked with mine.  Her jaw set and she whispered through gritted teeth, “Tell them to stop.”
            “What?”
            Holding onto her was like holding onto a high-tension wire.  “The shadow from my dreams and the pale lady.  Make them stop.”
            Fuck me sideways.  “Leah, get up.”
            She started to shake her head and I squeezed her shoulders so hard I was sure I was going to leave marks on her.  She made a weak, pained sound and tossed her head, eyes squeezing shut.  “They’re fighting.  They’re yelling and they both want me to help them and it’s hurting my head and I can’t make them stop.  I want them out.  I want them to shut up and go away.”
            An otherworldly shriek echoed from somewhere behind us and I cursed.  “Leah, there’s no time for this.  Get up.  We need to go.”
            “I can’t,” she whispered.  “I can’t, they won’t let me move.  They’re too loud.”
            I stood, trying to pull her up with me.  She just stayed where she was, sobs beginning to wrack her.  Carolyn tugged at my sleeve.
            “There’s no time,” she said.  “We have to go, whether she’s coming or not.  They’re coming.”
            My arm was burning with cold, confirming what she already knew, probably thanks to Longfellow and his brethren.  I swallowed hard and nodded.  “Get Rory out of here.”
            “You have to come, too,” she said, as if she could read my mind.  “If we leave you behind out here, Thom will murder me and you don’t want to know what he’ll do to J.T.”
            “Pick her up, Drew,” I said, pointing to Leah.  “We’re leaving.”
            Drew grunted as he leaned down to try to pick her up.  “Easier said than done.”
            Leah was rigid, which made my plan difficult to execute.  I muttered a curse and grabbed a nearby branch.
            The screams were getting closer.  The cold burning had traveled up my arm from the mark all the way up past my elbow, inching toward my shoulder as the danger grew closer.
            God forgive me.  I swung the branch clocked Leah soundly above the ear.  She went down like a sack of rocks.  Drew scooped her up and we ran.
            We scrambled through the mud and fallen leaves up the edge of the ravine, almost in the same place Drew, Rory, and I had scrambled up on that day weeks before, when we’d been attacked by the greys.  Unlike that day, no one was waiting for us there.
            I turned back once we made it to the top, looking up and down the ravine.  A distant screaming cry echoed from somewhere beyond the trees, the branches and trunks and the earth itself distorting the sound.  I couldn’t see anything.  The cold ebbed slightly now that we were at the top.
            Carolyn touched my arm.  “Come on.  Let’s get across the ward lines.”
            “What do you think we should do with Leah?” I breathed, starting to catch my breath, my heart rate starting to descend toward something closer to normal.
            “Tie her up and talk the others,” Carolyn said quietly.  “I heard what she said the same as you.  How do you fight that?”
            I wish I knew.  Is it possible?  I shook my head slowly.  “I don’t know.”
            She tugged on my sleeve.  “Let’s go.”  Drew and J.T. had already taken Leah and Rory toward the ward lines, leaving Carolyn and I alone.
            I shivered and nodded, casting one last look toward the ravine.  What was going on down there?  Why had the greys ignored us, and what had Leah meant when she’d said that they were fighting?
            There were too many questions and not enough answers.
            “I need to talk to Phelan,” I muttered.
            Carolyn squeezed my arm.  “He was up by the forge with Thom and Matt.  We’ll go to him now.”
            I nodded mutely and let her lead me away.

            We found Rory exactly where I was afraid we might, just on the edge of the swampy meadow down in the ravines, between Little Mac and the paths down from the back end of the arboretum.  He was sitting in the grass, propped up against a fallen tree, and pressing a handkerchief against his hairline.
            Much to my relief, he looked more annoyed than hurt, though his fingers were bright with blood that was starting to soak through the handkerchief.  A decent pile of wood and Leah’s herb basket were sitting next to him.
            “Fucking branch,” he muttered as J.T. and I got closer.
            “Are you all right?”  I asked.
            “Yeah, it’s just bleeding like crazy and I was dizzy for a few minutes after it happened.”  He gestured to a branch not far away, about as thick around as my wrist.  “I’m lucky it didn’t fall from higher than it did.  Broke off from that one there.”  He pointed to another fallen tree, one that leaned at a precarious angle against several more trees.  It was hard to tell how long they’d been that way, but I remembered some of them being in that position when I’d come down here with Phelan a few weeks before.
            “I heard it start to crack and looked up, then bam!”  He shook his head a little and let J.T. move his hand aside to have a look at the wound.  “I guess it’s better than getting it in the eye.  I’ve got a headache now, though.”
            “Did you black out?”  J.T. asked.
            “No.  Just dizzy.”  Rory’s eyes rolled toward me.  “When you and I get back up to camp, we need to talk.”
            “About what?”  My stomach sank.  It was a dumb question—I already knew what Rory wanted to talk to me about.
            About Leah.  What else went on down here other than an accident with a falling branch?
            “She said you slipped, you know,” J.T. said, digging a wad of gauze out of his back pocket.
            Rory snorted.  “Yeah, after the branch hit me.  My ass is covered in mud.”  He leaned back again, holding the pad against the cut.  “How bad is it?”
            “Head wounds bleed more than they have any right to,” J.T. said, shaking his head.  “It’ll maybe need a stitch or two, but it doesn’t look that bad.  We’ll wait for Leah to bring whoever else she’s bringing, then we’ll get you up top and they can handle the wood and whatever.”
            “Sounds like a plan,” Rory said.  After a momentary silence, he looked at me and asked, “Has Leah asking you anything about the wards?”
            That can’t be good.  “No,” I said.  “Why?”
            “She was just asking questions about them while we were down here getting wood and she was picking her herbs, that’s all.  And then she asked me why we planted all those holly bushes and I told her it was because they’re a living protective barrier—sacred to the druids or something—and she asked me if I believed in all the crap Phelan had been spewing and I just looked at her funny.”
            J.T. snorted.  “Do you believe all the crap that Phelan’s spewing?”
            Rory shot him a shit-eating grin.  “About as much as you do, Jay, and we both know how much you do.”
            J.T. grunted and sat down on the log.  I shook my head slightly and looked around slowly.  Everything seemed normal.  The birds were singing, the sun was shining.
            But the mark on my arm the greys had left me with burned faintly with cold, like I’d been holding an ice cube against the spot for too long.
            “Does anything feel weird to you guys?”  I asked quietly.  Maybe we should just leave the wood and go back up.
            “No weirder than usual,” Rory said.  “But my head’s still ringing a little.”
            I shivered.  “Jay?”
            He seemed to consider the question for a moment before he drew himself up a little straighter, looking beyond me.  “Turn around.”
            My heart began to beat a little faster and for a split second, I debated not doing as he asked.  After a moment, I turned slowly and saw a figure limned in dim, misty sunlight hovering over one of the streamlets that wended their way through this section of the ravine.
            I sucked in a breath, my hand closing over the cold spot on my arm, which felt strangely warm against my palm even as it froze on the inside.
            “Can you see her?”  J.T. asked in a bare whisper.
            I nodded mutely, unable to speak.  His ghosts?  She must be one of them.  She was taller than I was, dressed in a Michigan State T-shirt and blue jeans, her hair long and probably blonde in life—it was hard to tell, misty and translucent as she was.
            The ghost stared at the three of us, then looked to her left, deeper into the ravines and toward the river.
            All three of us looked in that direction, following her spectral gaze.
            Just at the edges of my sight, I could see the greys rising, but they didn’t seem interested in us.  They swarmed deeper into the ravine, where the shadows deepened and sunlight became more rare.
            My heart was going double-time now and it was only when I gasped in a breath that I realized I’d been holding mine.
            Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the ghost mouth something, then fade into nothing. 
            J.T. stood abruptly and started hauling Rory up with him.  “Come on.  We’re going.”
            I scrambled to help.  “What did she say?”
            “Run.”

            “You know, it would have been festival this weekend,” J.T. said quietly, staring out over the ravine, which was ablaze with the colors of autumn.  He was carrying his claymore slung by a strap across his back, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
            I frowned a little and shook my head.  “You’re keeping track of the days, Jay?”
            “Someone has to, right?” he murmured.  “Carolyn and I decided it would be us.  She’s been drawing new calendars at night, writing down birthdays and everything as best as we know.  Time still has meaning.”  His expression hardened.  “It has to.  If it doesn’t now, it will eventually.  You and Thom are going to want to know what day you got married.  Tala’s going to want to know when her baby’s birthday is.  If we don’t keep the calendars, keep the records, how are we going to know?”
            I suppose he’s right about that.  I do kind of want to know what date is when Thom and I get married.  I smiled wryly and squeezed his arm.  “Don’t forget Leap Years.”
            He grunted.  “We agreed they were dumb and were thinking about forgetting them regardless.”
            I snorted softly and shook my head.  Wind rustled the drying leaves, swirled past us back toward the rest of camp.  “Hard to believe it’s been that long since the meteorfall, isn’t it?”
            “A little,” he said quietly.  “But then I look at all the progress we’ve made and I stop being as surprised.  Of course, we’re going to have to hope that we’ll get more construction done before the snows fly.  It can’t be long now, right?”
            “Probably not,” I murmured, remembering my vision from weeks before.  “But I think Greg would know better.”
            “Greg.  When did we stop calling him Professor Doyle?”
            Probably about the time he started to defer to us.  I laughed weakly.  “I don’t know, Jay.  I don’t think he minds, though.”
            “Guess not,” he said quietly.  “We’re all on the same playing field now anyway, each have our shit that we’re in charge of.”  After a moment of silence, he looked at me sidelong.  “Your brother wanted me to teach him how to hit things with a sword.  I tried to say no.”
            I blinked.  “He does?  You did?”  Matt never really wanted to have anything to do with any of that—part of why he didn’t fit in that well with my friends in the first place.  What changed his mind?  “I wonder if it’s about that forge thing.”
            “I have no doubt it’s about that forge thing of his,” J.T. said.  “I overheard him talking to Thom and Phelan about it.  Phelan was going on about how you had to know how to use a blade so you could forge one.  They didn’t know I was listening.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose between two meaty fingers.  “Thom overheard me saying hell no to your brother, though, and we about ended up in a knock-down, drag-out over it.”
            “Really.”  Those two are really beginning to surprise me.  They must have declared some kind of cease-fire that I didn’t know about.
            He grunted.  “Yeah.  Said if I didn’t start teaching him the basics, he was just going to have to do it himself because one way or another, Matt was going to need to learn this shit.  I just looked at him like he was crazy and then we started yelling.  I don’t know, I think I might have actually agreed to teach your brother something by the end of it, but I don’t actually remember.  All I wanted was for Thom to knock it off.”
            “Well,” I said quietly, “we both know that’s how he wins arguments sometimes.”
            “Yeah.”  J.T. shook his head slowly.  “You’re not angry, are you?”
            “About what, that you’re going to teach my brother how not to hurt himself with a sword?  No, I’m not mad.  Hate me for it if you want to, but Thom’s probably right about him needing to know at some point.  Better to get them all started sooner rather than later.  We’re not going to have working guns forever, and if you listen to Phelan sometimes, you start to get the distinct impression that guns might not be very effective against some things we’ll go toe-to-toe with going forward.”
            He nodded, brow creasing.  “I’m just not sure what to make of all of it sometimes.”  He took a step away from me and drew the claymore, its edges catching the daylight that streamed through the trees.  “I’m not even sure how I knew how to do some of the things I did with this that day, Mar,” he said softly.  “How am I supposed to start teaching anyone anything?”
            “The same way you guys did when you started teaching people for faire.  They just won’t pull any strikes when it’s time for the real deal.”  I put a hand on his arm and squeezed.  “We’ll be okay.  You’ll be okay.  Phelan and Thom can help you when they’re better, Tala can help with the basics until she’s too big to move, and some of the others are pretty clear on the basics.  It’s just some of the staffers and Matt and Paul and Greg that you’ll really have to worry about.”  I smiled wryly.  “And me.”
            J.T. snorted and put up the claymore, then slid an arm around my shoulders.  “You’ll pick it up fast enough.  I don’t know about anyone else, but I think Thom would be happiest if you were at the back and outside of harm’s way.”
            “That’s never going to happen, Jay.”
            He smirked.  “I know.  But we can hope.”
            Boots crunched on fallen leaves and acorn husks, coming from the direction of the ravine to our right.  I frowned, turning.  I don’t remember anyone going down there today for anything.
            Leah appeared through the brush, slightly mud-spattered and a little bedraggled.
            She was also alone.
            “Leah, what the he—”
            “I didn’t go alone,” she said firmly, glaring at me.  “Rory went with me for firewood.  He slipped and hit his head on the way back so I came for help to get him and the wood back to camp.”  She walked past J.T. and I, then turned back. “You know, if you’ve got something to accuse me of, I wish you’d just stop screwing around and just do it so I can stop walking on a bunch of fucking eggshells.”
            My mouth went dry.  “What the hell, Leah?”  She knows?  Of course she’s got to know that something’s going on, that something’s up, but what does she thinks she knows?
            She shook her head.  “You guys have all been looking at me sideways since that thing happened with Phelan.  I get it, I screwed up.  I said I was sorry.  I didn’t know.  But nothing I’ve done warrants the level of suspicion you guys ratcheted up in the past two weeks.  You’ve leveraged paranoia into a fucking art form.”
            “Where’s Rory?”  J.T. rumbled.  I’d almost forgotten he was next to me—and almost forgotten about Rory hitting his head.
            I’m a goddamned one-way street, aren’t I?
            “Just past the curve in the ravine heading down behind the arboretum.”  Leah’s expression softened momentarily.  “It’s not a serious knock, but he was dizzy enough that I didn’t want to make him climb by himself, and he’d be useless to help with the wood.  I can’t help him and carry all the wood by myself.  I figured we might want both to make it back to camp.”  She exhaled, seeming to calm down a little.  “I’m going to go get some more help—it’s a lot of wood—and I’ll meet you guys down there if you want to go ahead.”
            J.T. was moving before I could respond.  Something was screaming in the back of my head that this might well be a terrible idea, but I ignored it.
            Rory needed help, probably down in the swampy meadow where we’d fought the greys and where the camazotzi had jumped Thom, Drew, and I that might years before.  Whether or not we were being paranoid about Leah for no reason, she’d left Rory out in the ravines alone in a decidedly dangerous spot.  J.T. and I didn’t have any time to lose.
            The fact that it could be a trap never crossed my mind.

            Fevers brought the strangest dreams, Cameron reflected as he took a few uneven breaths, shaking off the lingering vestiges of one such dream.
            His wounds still burned, still felt like they were open and weeping.  The blankets over him felt almost too heavy, too hot.
            Dim light splashed across his eyelids and he groaned softly.  It felt like he was stabbing himself in the eyes with icy daggers.  Trying to throw an arm across his eyes to shield them made him nauseous with pain.
            In the end, he squeezed his eyes more tightly shut and tried to curl in on himself until the dry heaves stopped.
            “He’s awake.”
            A cold hand touched his cheek and he shivered, exhaling a little gasp.  “Fuck all,” he croaked.  “Your hand’s cold.”
            “That’s because I’d estimate your fever at about a hundred and three,” a woman’s voice said.  She was close.  The pain in his head ebbed enough that he risked a look.
            Her body shielded his eyes from the light streaming in through an uncovered window.  Dawn light made a halo of auburn hair that had won loose of a ponytail and firelight cast her features in flickering shadows, but Cameron saw enough to know she was a stranger.
            And yet…
            “I saw you,” he said quietly.  “I saw you in a dream.”  One of his fever-dreams, but a dream nonetheless.
            The woman glanced over her shoulder toward a man nearby.  A jolt ran through Cameron as he met his gaze.
            “You,” he whispered.
            More light flooded into the room and Cameron choked on a curse as it sent a flash-frozen spear between his eyes that exploded into fresh, searingly cold pain.
            “Close the door, Neve.  He’s awake.”
            Neve.  Cameron sucked in a few ragged breaths, eyes squeezed shut until the light abruptly winked out again.
            “I thought you said it’d be at least another day or two,” Neve said with an accusatory edge to her voice.
            The man answered, his tone dry.  “Apparently I was mistaken.  We both know this isn’t precisely my area of expertise.”  His voice dropped.  “That dubious honor went to Seamus.”
            “Well, he’s not here and never will be,” Neve snapped.
            Her hands were cool and damp when they touched his face.  Cameron exhaled and sagged, opening his eyes slowly to stare up at the Black Irish girl who’d saved him on the road.
            “Neve,” he murmured, thoughts starting to tangle.  How had she known where to bring him?  Had it been an accident?  Why had she followed him instead of taking her own path as she’d originally intended?
            And the sword.  Why had she given it to him—and how had he known how to use it?
            “It’s all right,” she whispered. “You’re safe here.  We’re both safe here.”  She glanced toward the other woman.  “Kira, could you slide that basin over here?  The fever’s breaking.  He’s starting to sweat.”
            A chill swept through him and he shivered. Pain lanced through his arm and shoulders; red-tinted darkness nibbled along the edges of his vision.  The two women crowded around him.  Neve wrung a rag out over a wide bowl filled with water and began to sponge his brow and neck.
            How long have I been sleeping?
            He felt the absurd desire to suck on that rag and realized he had to be hellishly dehydrated.
            “What day is it?” he asked.
            “Does it matter?”  Neve asked softly.  “Got somewhere to be?”
            He looked away, watched the flickering fire, whose light didn’t seem to hurt his eyes like daylight did.  It struck him as strange, but he pushed the thought aside and sighed softly.  “No.  I guess it doesn’t matter.”
            “Here.”  The man he’d seen in his fever dreams, the man his gut told him he’d been looking for, pressed the nipple of a sports bottle against his lips.  “Drink and try to keep it down.  You’ll be all right now that the fever’s broken.”
            A clever retort slipped through Cameron’s metaphorical fingers.  It didn’t matter anyway.  He twitched one arm reflexively, intending to take the bottle and was rewarded with fresh and blinding pain for his efforts.
            “Don’t move,” the man said.  “I’ll hold it, you just drink.”
            Cameron swallowed and nodded, then began to drink.  The water went down sweet and cool, sending good shivers down his spine even as his stomach quivered, still in rebellion against the pain of his injuries.  After the first few gulps, Cameron forced himself to slow down, to calm down.
            He was fairly certain he’d downed more than half the large bottle before he shook his head slightly and the other man lifted the bottle away.
            “Where am I?”  Cameron asked.  The riot in his belly was starting to slowly settle down.  As long as he didn’t try to move, maybe it would stay that way.
            “New Brunswick, such as it is,” Kira said.  “You’ve been down for the count for nine days.  Not bad, all things considered.”  She glanced at the man sidelong and he nodded slightly.
            Cameron stared at the man.  “You’re the one I was looking for, but I don’t know why.”
            Follow your gut, follow your heart, and I’ll follow mine.  Neve squeezed his hand.  He hadn’t even felt her take it.
            Why did she follow me after all?
            The man shook his head slowly.  “I can only speculate about why you were looking for me, and none of my ideas might be right.  The best I can come up with is fate.”
            “Fate?  Fate brought me here.”  Cameron stared at him.  “Really.”
            The man shrugged.  “Don’t believe in it?”
            “Not really,” Cameron said.  “But at the moment I’m not sure I’ve got a better suggestion, so we’ll go with that for now.  What about those things that attacked me on the road?  What were they and why the hell do I still hurt so damn much if I’ve been laying here for nine days like a lump?”  She said fever.  Infection?  Maybe.  God, I hope not.
            “They’re—well.  We’ve always called them Dirae,” Neve said softly.  “The Greeks called them Erinyes, but the Romans called them the Dirae and so do we.  They’re anger spirits made flesh.”
            Cameron stared at her, blinking.  “You mean they’re some kind of gang of chicks that are like anger spirits in the flesh.”  His heart started to beat a little faster.  First his gut, then weird dreams, a guy who said his showing up here was fate and now this?
            Did I die out there on the road and get sent to some really, really special brand of hell?
            Neve shook her head slowly.  “No, Cameron,” she said gently.  “I meant exactly what I said.  That pack started chasing you about two days after we started traveling together.  I thought they were after me.  I was wrong.”
            He started to feel sick again as he stared at her, read the pain and guilt in her eyes.  His mouth went dry.
            “I—I need to get out of here,” he stammered.
            “You wouldn’t even make it upright,” the man said.  “Believe me, I know.  I’ve tangled with them before.”
            I fell off my horse and into Crazy Town.  This is all a dream.  It has to be.
            Neve’s hand tightened around his so tightly he could feel her pulse through her thumb against his flesh.  “Please, Cameron,” she whispered.  “Don’t test your luck trying.  It’s going to run out sooner or later, and you’re going to need it later rather than sooner.”
            He shook his head weakly.  “Who are you people?”
            “Fellow survivors,” the man said simply, “who care as much as you do about what comes next.”
            What does come next?  Cameron closed his eyes.  “And what’s that?”
            “Survival,” the man said.  “And building a better world after the war’s over.”
            Cameron’s eyes popped open.  “War?  What war?”
            “The one that you became a part of the moment you survived the end of the world.”

            Neve took a deep swallow from her mug, letting the hot tea burn a path down her throat, warming her chest on its way down to her belly.  She gave a little shiver and stared at the trees where the sun was slowly disappearing.
            “How much has Teague told you about all of this, Kira?” she asked softly.  “About everything that’s been happening, about the things that hurt him, all of that?”
            Kira snorted softly.  “I’d like to say everything, but I’m not stupid.  He told me enough to keep me motivated but not scare the crap out of me.”  She took a sip of her tea.  “I know all about the reincarnation thing, though.”
            Neve nodded slightly, finding herself strangely unsurprised that Kira would know that much, at least.  Teague may be a bastard about some things, but at least he’s honest.  Maybe he even felt guilty when they first got together, because he was drawn to her because of who she’d been, not who she was.  “What did he tell you about the war?”
            “Just a little,” Kira said softly.  “That it’s almost as old as you guys, that it’s why most retreated to their respective corners for hundreds of thousands of years.  I wanted details, but he slept through most of the drive here and I’ve been pretty busy making sure this place is snug and secure since then.”
            “You did a good job on that count,” Neve murmured.
            Kira shook her head.  “They haven’t really been tested yet.  So why did you ask about what I knew?”
            Neve shook her head slightly.  “I just never know how much to tell.  I’m not as experienced with this as the others.  I never seem to know what to say, how much to tell.  Hell, before I rescued Cameron on the road and brought him here, he thought I was just some college kid who needed his protection on the road.  I don’t know what he’ll think now when he wakes up.”  She fiddled with her mug.  “All I really know is that he’s a good man and maybe that I should have told him the truth.  He deserves the truth.”
            “He’ll get it,” Kira said softly.  “When he wakes up, he’ll get it.  I already told Teague that he’s going to have to answer any question Cameron asks him, even if he has to make something up.”
            Neve snorted.  “Teague won’t know what to do with himself if he has to make something up.  That’s not his strong suit.”
            Kira arched a brow.  “Really?”
            “Really.”  Neve smiled wryly.  “Phelan makes up most of his stories for him in advance, and I used to run interference with Father when Teague would get into trouble so he wouldn’t have to lie.  Father could almost always tell when Teague was lying.”  But that’s long ago and far away.  “I didn’t get into as much trouble as they did because of that, though.”
            “Sounds like you regret it.”
            Neve shrugged slightly.  “Only a little.  There was a lot I think I missed out on because of what I did for Teague.  I’m kind of making up for it now, but it’s different.  Those were different times.  More innocent.”  She exhaled softly and took another long swallow of tea.  It was slowly growing cold in the evening’s deepening chill.  “Maybe  a time like that will come again someday.”
            Kira looked at her strangely for a moment, then nodded slowly.  “Maybe,” she agreed, squeezing Neve’s shoulders.
            Neve shook herself and straightened slightly, startling her sister-in-law.  “I’m sorry, Kira,” she said.  “I’ve got no idea what’s gotten into me.  I’m not usually like this.”  She huffed a breath and shivered, then relaxed into Kira’s hug.
            “You’re just worried,” Kira said.  “I am, too, but we all deal with it in different ways.  I’m sure Cameron will be fine.  Teague said he’s through the worst of it.”
            “But was he sure?”
            Kira shrugged.  “He didn’t look like he was lying, so he must be telling the truth to the best of his ability.”
            Neve choked on a laugh.  I shouldn’t.  I shouldn’t laugh.  But I guess Kira knows why I find that funny.  She took another swallow of tea to buy herself time to calm down.
            Kira smirked slightly and squeezed her again.  “Are you going to at least come inside to eat?”
            “Are you going to take over tending the fire and open some windows?”
            “Hey,” Kira said, still smiling, “I’m the one who told your brother that if it didn’t get cooler in there, I was going to go sleep in the barn.”  She started to stand up.  Neve grabbed her hand.
            “Kira?  When I have to explain everything to Cameron…you’ll be there, right?  To help?”
            Kira sat back down.  “I’ll make you a promise.  I’ll be with you when you and Teague explain everything to Cameron if you tell me about this war that what’s left of the world is being sucked into.”
            Neve considered the question for a moment, though it was mostly an act.  She hoped the relief didn’t show on her face when Kira offered her bargain.
            She nodded once.  “Done.”
            They went back into the cottage together.

            Kes squeezed his knee and stood up.  “If Elton said she’d be okay, Gray, she will be.”
            Gray grunted slightly and his head dipped toward his chest.  A moment later, a soft snore escaped him.  Kes smiled faintly and snagged an extra blanket from the end of Eva’s cot.
            “Sweet dreams, Gray,” she murmured as she covered him with the blanket.  She turned back to Eva afterward and adjusted the blankets over the sleeping woman.  Eva stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping her.
            “Shh,” Kes said softly, smoothing the blankets with a gentle touch.  “You’ll wake Gray.”
            “Is he finally sleeping?”  Eva whispered, rolling gingerly onto her side, tucking one arm beneath her pillow.  Her eyes were sunken into deep, shadowed hollows, her voice thin and soft.
            Kes nodded.  “How long have you been awake?”
            “Only a minute or two.  Every time I start to wake up, though, he’s here.”  The corner of her mouth quirked upward in a smile.  “Then I’d hear him or see him through my lashes and know I was safe so I’d just end up dropping right back off again.  I haven’t felt safe in a long time.”
            Kes smiled briefly.  “Gray can have that effect.”  She glanced back over her shoulder at Gray, who was still snoring softly, before she looked back at Eva.  “I think he likes you.”
            Eva laughed a weak little laugh.  “He barely knows me, though I appreciate the trust and the sanctuary.”
            “Are you going to stay long enough for us to know you?”  Kes asked, sitting down cross-legged on the wooden floor.
            “Well, you guys haven’t burned me as a witch yet,” Eva said, closing her eyes again.  “I think that bodes well for me staying at least a little while.  Until the snows, something.”
            Kes blinked.  “You wouldn’t leave once the snow flies, would you?  That’d be crazy.  Suicidal, even.”
            “I never told you I was sane,” Eva murmured, eyes still closed.  She tugged at her blankets, hauling them carefully up over her shoulder and curling in on herself with a slight wince.
            “Eva, please don’t do that.”
            “Do what?”
            “Wander out into the snow and wind, when it comes.  Stay with us here.”  Kes shook her head slightly.  “It’d be safer for you.”
            “We’ll see,” Eva said softly, starting to drift again.  Kes touched her elbow.
            “Eva?”
            She shifted uncomfortably on the cot.  “Mmm?”
            “You keep saying the name Teague in your sleep,” Kes said softly.  “Gray told me.  I know you mentioned him before, but who is he, really?  Someone important?”
            Eva let out a weak little laugh.  “He thinks he is.  Maybe he’s right.”  Her eyes flicked open again.  “I was saying his name in my sleep?”
            “A lot, Gray said.”
            Her brows knit briefly.  “I must have been dreaming,” Eva said softly, eyes focusing distantly for a moment.
            “You don’t remember your dreams?”
            “Not always,” Eva said.  “Not the past few.  They must not have been that remarkable.”  She tried to smother a yawn.  “Ungh.  Good-night, Kes.”
            “Good-night, Eva,” Kes whispered, then got up.  Eva was asleep before she’d ever turned her back.

•          •          •

            Neve sat out on the porch of the cottage, hugging her knees against her chest and staring out into the sunset.  She felt like she was suffocating whenever she was inside, with the cottage turned into a cavern somewhere in hell by heavy curtains and a roaring fire.
            It’s my fault.  A muscle in her jaw twitched as she rested her chin against her knees.  I should have been closer.  I shouldn’t have pretended to leave at the border crossing.  Self-recriminations flitted through her brain like fireflies on a summer evening, burning bright and then disappearing only to reappear a few moments later.
            The cottage door squeaked open softly and after a few seconds, Kira sat down next to her on the porch and nudged her elbow gently with a mug of something steaming.  Neve unwrapped chilled fingers from around her elbows and took the mug slowly.
            “You’ve been out here a long time,” Kira said softly.  “I thought you could use a hot drink.”
            Neve nodded silently, curling her fingers around the mug.  The fragrance of Irish Breakfast filled her nostrils and eased some of the tension in her shoulders.
            “I just needed to come outside,” Neve said quietly.  “It’s so hot in there and so dark.  I just needed to breathe some fresh air.”  And stop staring at Cameron.  It’s my fault.
            “I know how you feel,” Kira said, sliding her arm around Neve’s shoulders.  “It’s like something out of Dante’s Inferno in there.  I told your brother that if he doesn’t bank that fire, I’m sleeping in the barn tonight.”
            Neve laughed weakly.  “Really?”
            Kira nodded.  “I know that it might be slightly less comfortable for Lieutenant MacKenzie, but maybe the discomfort will make him want to wake up instead of continuing to sleep.  There’s no reason the rest of us should be suffering, too.”
            “You sound like Phelan.”
            Kira smirked.  “I learned that from Phelan.”  She slid her arm around Neve’s shoulders.  Neve leaned into Kira’s chest, a little more tension draining away.  “It’s not your fault, Neve.”
            “Yeah it is,” Neve whispered.  “But thanks for telling me it’s not.”
            Kira squeezed her gently.  “Anytime.”

            She marched resolutely across the grass and swatted her brother in the back of the head, ignoring the serious conversation he’d been having with Teague and Seamus.  Phelan yelped, putting a hand to the back of his head as he glared at her.
            “Gods and monsters, take your rings off when you do that!”
            Aoife snarled at him.  “What did you get Neve and I mixed up in?  Uncle’s forbidden us to go to the villages. I don’t even know what we’ve done!”
            Phelan put up his hands.  “It wasn’t me, Aoife.”
            “No,” Seamus said, shaking his head slowly.  “It wasn’t.  Father’s forbidden all of us from going, not just you two.”  He looked sidelong at Teague, his expression growing dark.  “There is a war in the making, Brother.”
            “I won’t forsake her, no matter what Father wants.”
            Aoife stared at them.  “The chieftain’s daughter?  Have you bedded her yet?”
            Phelan snorted indelicately and Teague glared at him.
            “Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.  “We’re promised, no matter what Father has to say about it.”
            Seamus shook his head again.  “He won’t let it be, Teague, so leave off before you shatter the girl.”
            “She’s carrying my child, Seamus.”
            Everything went quiet and still for a few long, aching moments before Teague shook his head and turned to leave.
            “I don’t care what Father says about it, either.”
            Seamus grabbed his arm.  “Teague, wait.”
            Teague shook him off, but turned back anyway.  “Why?  So you can tell me what a great disappointment that would make me?  About how Father will have a fit to end all fits?”
            Seamus shook his face again, his face pale.  “No.  For once, no.”
            “That’s a relief.”
            Phelan looked at Aoife, then between the brothers.  He put his hand gently on Teague’s shoulder.  “Settle.  Let him talk.”
            “Teague, they know about the village.”  Seamus’s voice shook.  Aoife shifted uncomfortably, swallowing bile.  Seamus wasn’t scared of a damned thing.
            “Who knows, Seamus?”
            “The—the others.  The enemy.  The ones who are about to invade us and start a war.  They know about the village.  That’s why Father’s forbidden us from going.  He’s trying to protect us.”
            “What about protecting them?”  Teague hissed.  “Did he even think to warn them?”
            Seamus rocked back against his heels.  “I don’t know.”
            “Well, someone ought to.”  Teague started to walk away again.
           Aoife looked between Seamus and Teague, then turned to follow Teague.  “Teague, wait!”

•          •          •

             “How is she?”  Kes asked softly, rubbing her eyes as she drifted into the corner where Eva lay, whimpering and twisting in the midst of dreams.
            Gray just shook his head, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.  “No change.  Still having nightmares.”  He rubbed a hand roughly over his eyes.  “Elton said we were lucky—that she was lucky, actually.  If she’d collapsed somewhere without someone who had medical training, she might not have made it.  Bullet out and stitched up just in time.”  He stared blankly at Eva, then reached to pull one of the blankets down over her bare leg.  “Days,” he muttered.  “It’s been days and nothing.”
            Kes reached down and squeezed his shoulder.  “Are you okay?”
            “Yes,” he rumbled.  “No.  She understood, Kes.  In ways that no one else ever has, knows the things I’ve seen somehow without me saying.  I should feel like I’ve been violated but I don’t.”
            Her fingers tightened as he slumped slightly in the chair, still staring at Eva’s pale face, wreathed in limp chestnut curls.
            “She keeps muttering names, words in some language I don’t understand.  Wat said it sounded like Gaelic or Welsh or something.”  Gray shook his head slowly, then rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck.  “Maybe it is, with that story,” he murmured, leaning back.  Kes put her arms around his shoulders.
            Gray exhaled a sigh.  “Thanks, Kes.  I needed that.”
            “Thought maybe you would,” she said softly, giving him one more squeeze before straightening up.  “Are you and Teca still fighting?”
            “Mostly not speaking.  Her end, not mine.”  He closed his eyes.  “It’s not important.  She’ll get over it all soon enough.  Figure it out.  I just know she hasn’t scryed since Eva got here.  It’s a relief.”
            Kes shook her head slightly.  “You really don’t like the idea of her doing that, do you?”
            A shudder ran through Gray.  “No.  I just feel like she’s making herself and the rest of us vulnerable to—to—to I don’t know what.  To the other things that are out there, like Eva warned her.”
            Kes knelt down slowly next to his chair.  “There’s really stuff like that out there?  Like monsters and stuff?”
            “Call me crazy, but yes,” Gray said quietly.  “It’s out there, been out there, thumping around.  Sometimes I wonder if this isn’t all just some kind of game to Teca, because she’s never seen them before—from the sound, none of you have.  I have. I always have, they’ve always been there, lurking somewhere nearby, always just beyond my grasp.”  He shook his head again.  “I never talked about it because what the hell was the point?  All I could ever do was put out the fires after they started.  I guess I did a good job, because none of you ever seemed to catch on.”  He pressed his thumbs against his eyes.  “Maybe now that’ll change.”
            “Maybe,” Kes said, staring at Eva for a moment.  The other woman whimpered a name.
            “She says that one a lot,” Gray said.  “Teague.”
            “She mentioned him when she was telling her story,” Kes said.  “I remember.  Prince of Princes or something like that.  She sounded angry at him.”
            Gray nodded.  “And she never really explained who he was or why he was important or anything like that.  I’ve started to wonder.”
            Kes shrugged slightly.  “Hopefully she’ll wake up soon and we’ll know why he was important.  If he’s important.”
            Gray just kept staring at Eva, silent, nodding only after a few long moments.  “Yeah.  Hopefully.”

            Phelan shrugged slightly, going back to his carving.  “In any case, there’s just…things…that’s all.”
            “Things,” Thom muttered, then scrubbed both hands over his face.  Do I want to know what these things are?  Do I want to have any inkling of what they might be?  “Well, I think I’d rather have some of that be a surprise.”  He glanced at Matt, who nodded.
            As he began to shovel again, Matt asked, “So this Vammatar chick that worked you over and gave J.T. that black eye.  What kind of nasty would she usually bring in as backup?”
            “Eh?”  Phelan said.
            “Well, you said the camazotzi aren’t exactly her style, right?”  Matt heaved another shovelful of mixed dirt and clay to the side.  “What would be?”
            “Lone gunman.”
            Thom stared at Phelan, brows knitting.  “She usually works alone?”
            “Either alone or with her sister.  Loviatar, mistress of the nine plagues.”
            Matt frowned.  “Why is that name familiar?”
            “What does D&D have to do with this?”  Thom asked.
            Phelan laughed and shook his head.  “Nothing except names.  A few came from Finnish mythology.  Most folks don’t think about the people of Finland having their own myths, but they did.”
            “And their mythology is in part reality?”
            Phelan nodded and tapped his nose with a fingertip.  “You are correct, sir.”
            “Huh.”  Matt frowned.  “So this mistress of the nine plagues chick.  Do we have to worry about her?”
            Thom watched Phelan carefully as the other man considered the question and finally shook his head.
            “I hope not,” Phelan said quietly.  “Vammatar’s a force to be reckoned with, but her sister?  I don’t know if we’d pull through that.”
            “Why’s that?”  Matt asked.
            Phelan smiled wryly.  “I thought ‘mistress of the nine plagues’ would explain that.”  He stretched and leaned back a little, wincing slightly.  “Her purview is sickness.  Think about it.”
            Matt grimaced.  “Physical arms we have a shot against—or we will—but sickness is sickness.”
            “Bingo,” Phelan said quietly.  “I’ve gone toe-to-toe with her once and that was enough.”  He glanced at Thom and held up a hand.  “Don’t ask.  I’m not in any state of mind right now to tell you what happened.”
            Thom closed his mouth and nodded.  Either he’s already got me figured out, or the curiosity was all over my face.  He wondered what had happened that last time Phelan had gone up against this purported mistress of plagues.  “Does it have something to do with what Vammatar said before Jay rushed her?”
            Phelan winced.  “Not quite,” he said softly.
            “Wait, what?”  Matt looked at both of them.  “What did she say?”
            “She asked if Phelan was gathering another tribe to fight and die for him, one that could be easily discarded.”  Jacqueline gave Matt a weak little smile as she set a big basket down next to Phelan.
            Matt gave Phelan a sharp look and the older man sighed quietly and shook his head.  “It’s not like that, Matt.”
            “No,” Matt said slowly, gazing warily at him.  “I suppose not.  What did you say to her?”
            “I didn’t,” Phelan said, staring at his hands.  “Jameson was on her before I could.  She was mocking him for caring, for stepping up.  It’s her way.”  He sighed quietly.  “She’s a force of suffering, after all.”  He glanced at Jacqueline.  “I didn’t realize you and Greg heard her say that.”
            Jacqueline shrugged as she sat down on the other side of the basket and pulled out a notebook and a pen.  “I don’t know why not.  We were there, weren’t we?”
            Phelan nodded.  “Aye, you were.”  He poked at the cloth over the basket’s contents.  “What’s in there?”
            “Herbs and bandages.  I figured I’d come up here and sit with you three and bundle them so I stop catching dirty looks from Leah.”
            Thom winced.  “She’s upset?”
            “A little.  She seems mostly okay about it, but I think she’s seething underneath.  She might realize we’re starting to be suspicious about her behavior.”  Jacqueline shook her head a little.  “I can’t tell whether it’s understandable resentment or malice, though.”
            Thom frowned and straightened up slightly, looking beyond Phelan and Jacqueline toward where the work continued on their defensive walls.  He could see Leah at one end, working with Davon laying broken concrete and stones, Rory a few yards away with a yardstick measuring the height of their accomplishments.
            “As long as she keeps doing what’s asked,” Thom said quietly, his voice trailing away at the end. Then what?  What if she really is a threat?  What do we do then?
            “What do we do if she doesn’t, Thom?”  Matt asked quietly, abandoning his shovel and following Thom’s gaze.  “What do we do then?”
            “I don’t know,” Thom said.  “I really don’t know.”
            “We can’t send her away,” Jacqueline said.  “It’d be tantamount to murder.  She wouldn’t have any resources, nowhere to go.”
            Phelan frowned.  “That’s not necessarily true.  I saw some signs of other communities while I was on my way up here.  Granted, I never got to investigate any of them, but there are other survivors.  Maybe not that close, but not that far, either.”
            But would we be endangering those communities by pointing her in their direction, or just letting her loose on the world?  Thom shook his head slowly.  “There’s no good options.”  Except to hope we’re wrong, that it’s all just coincidence.
            A sick feeling in the pit of his stomach warned him that he very well could be wrong.

            “You know,” Matt said as he plunged the shovel into the clay-laden dirt, “this would be a lot easier and a lot faster if you two could actually help with this part instead of just watching.”
            “Jacqueline said she would string me up by my toenails if I ripped my stitches,” Phelan said, sitting cross-legged in the grass nearby, carving knife in one hand and his staff across his knees.  “I thought Rory was going to help you dig.”
            Matt nodded toward Thom.  “He’s got him coordinating the wall building instead.”
            “I actually have him keeping an eye on Leah,” Thom murmured, leaning against his crutches and letting the autumn sunshine warm his back.  “He didn’t wake up to all of that stuff last night, so she’s not going to pay much attention if he’s the one watching her instead of say, J.T. or Jac or I.”  His nose wrinkled slightly.  “Besides, we can trust Rory not to pull any punches if he sees something strange going on.”
            Matt paused, frowning.  “Is it that serious?”
            “Yeah,” Thom muttered, glancing at Phelan.  “It’s that serious.”
            Phelan rubbed his neck and grimaced.  “I don’t understand it,” he said after a few minutes of silence between the three men, punctuated only by Matt’s shoveling and his carving.
            “What don’t you understand, Phelan?”  Matt flipped another shovelful of dirt off to the side of the space they’d gridded out for the forge.
            Phelan kept frowning, eyes distant as his hands fell still against his staff.  “The camazotzi attacked you guys before I made it here. Whoever disrupted the wards then was probably being influenced by them or by the Shadow Man you guys have told me about. Now, I’m not sure what or who that critter might be and I probably won’t figure it out until the eleventh hour if I do figure it out. Anyhow, nothing happens around here until Vammatar shows her ugly mug and then all of a sudden Leah is potentially trying to kill me and make it look like an accident.”
            Thom frowned. “Which part doesn’t make sense?”
            “Well, for one, Vammatar isn’t the type that shares well and I’m really not sure who she cold’ve formed some kind of unholy alliance with.  On top of that, she probably wouldn’t have shown up here so fast if I hadn’t been here– and gods and monsters, do not tell Marin that I said that because I think we’ll all end up in trouble.  Whoever his Shadow Man is seems to have claimed the area as his demesne and I don’t really foresee him being the sharing type, either.  So what the hell is going on here?”
             Matt frowned.  “When you put it that way…”
            “It sounds even worse,” Thom muttered.  He looked around slowly, half expecting Vammatar or the Shadow Man to appear out of thin air somewhere nearby thanks to their conversation.  “I don’t like this.”
            “I don’t think any of us do, Thom,” Matt said.
            Phelan grimaced and went back to his carving.  “We just have to be vigilant.  Keep our heads on straight.”
            “Is that all?”  Matt asked.
            “And watch and wait,” Phelan said.  “We have to be sure before we move.”
            Thom shook his head slowly.  “And keep her from figuring out we’re onto her, if it is her.  Was her.”
            Matt stared at Thom.  “And if it is?”
            Thom’s expression went slack.  “I don’t know, Matt.  But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.  It’s not just up to me.”
            “Not yet,” Phelan murmured, then ducked his head at Thom’s sharp look.
            “What’s that supposed to mean?”
            Phelan lifted his head and looked at both of them, gaze long and measuring.  It made Thom shiver, the way he felt like Phelan was looking into his very soul.
            “What did it sound like it meant?” he asked quietly, laying his staff across his knees.  “You tell me, Thom.”
            Thom swallowed hard, tasting blood where he’d bitten his tongue in surprise.  “Like you know more than you’re telling.”
            Phelan smiled briefly.  “It wouldn’t be the first time I’d been accused of that, or the first time that someone’s been right.  In case you didn’t notice, there’s a bloodline trait that we share.”
            “Wait, wait.  Bloodline trait?”  Matt grounded his shovel and leaned against the shaft, looking between Thom and Phelan.  “What do you mean, bloodline trait?”
            Phelan looked at Thom, who just shook his head.  Might as well tell him.  They both deserve to know, he and Mar both.
            Phelan nodded slightly, as if he’d heard Thom’s thoughts, then spoke quietly to Matt.  “Thom’s descended from my blood.  Specifically from a girl whose husband died.  She wanted a child more than anything, and more importantly, needed the child so her husband’s property wouldn’t end up going to some cousin of his—a real piece of work, that one.  The cousin, I mean.”  He sighed.  “I happened to be living in the village at the time and…well.  Don’t think that I’m wicked or awful, but I couldn’t say no to her when she asked me to play stud for her.  It was close enough to her husband’s death, and her hair was like mine, so no one thought anything of it when she had her son.  The boy ended up with his father’s holding, the girl had a child to love, and everything ended happily enough.”  He shrugged helplessly, flinching a little under Matt’s aghast stare.
            “You knew that?”  Matt asked, looking at Thom.
            “It came up,” Thom said carefully.  “We talked about a lot that day, Matt.”
            “Apparently,” Matt said dryly.  “Have you told Mar yet?”
            Thom shook his head.  “Not yet.  But I think you’ll agree with me when I say it’s not all that important to current circumstances.”
            After a long silence, Matt nodded slowly.  “Not yet, anyway.”
            “Right.  Not yet.”

            Thom was still digging around in the storage area for a jar of peanut butter when J.T. caught up with him.  He hung back for a moment, watching with a faintly amused expression as his friend lumbered around in the dim, hunting through the stacked totes of foodstuffs for his quarry.  Thom about jumped out of his skin when he turned around and saw J.T. blocking his exit.
            “Fuck, Jay.  Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something?”
            “I think it’d take more than me startling you to do that.”  J.T. shoved his hands into his pockets.  “Marin said you got a little banged up last night when you smacked Leah.”
            Thom shook his head, making his way back over to where he’d leaned his crutches against another pile of totes.  “Just bruises that look worse than they feel.  I lost my balance after I hit her and a shelf broke my fall.”  He made a face.  “Did she tell you to come looking for me?  I told her I’d talk to you about it later.”
            “Only part of it.”  J.T. crossed his arms.  “She said that I should come out here and talk to you about the Leah situation.”
            “It’s a situation now?”  Thom handed J.T. two jars of peanut butter, one creamy, the other chunky, both looted from the local grocery.
            “Really not sure what else you’d call it.”  J.T. held the tent’s flap open before following Thom out into the early morning light.  “There’s something you should know.”
            “What’s that?”  Thom asked as he started to head back to the fire.  J.T. took him gently by the arm to stop his forward progress.  Thom frowned.  “What?”
            “Just hold up for a second.”  J.T. frowned, looking around.  Don’t need anyone overhearing this.  Not just yet.  Satisfied there was no one around to interrupt them or overhear, J.T.’s voice dropped low as he started talking again.  “Rory heard something the day of the big attack, just like you and I did.”
            A shudder ran through Thom and he flinched.  J.T. shook his head a little.
            “I know, you don’t like to talk about it.”
            “I don’t like to remember it, Jay.  There’s a difference.”  Thom scrubbed a hand over his face.  “What was it?”
            The words tasted sour in his mouth even as he said them.  “The Shadow Man said that one of us already belonged to them.”
            He watched the words hit Thom like a physical blow, shock and horror washing over him, shifting his expression.  It took a moment before Thom seemed to master the ability to speak again, and even when he did, his voice emerged as a croak.  “What?”
            “After last night, I thought you should know.  Carolyn and I thought you should know.”
            Thom shook his head slowly.  “Christ on crutches.  Why didn’t Rory say something?”
            “He did.  The day that Phelan came, he told me and Care and Marin while we were out working on the wards.  I thought she’d tell you, but she told me she hadn’t.”  I guess there are still some things she’s trying to protect you from, bro.
            Thom shook his head slowly.  “No, she never said anything.  Of course, we don’t talk about it much.”  He swallowed convulsively.  “It’s not something I want to remember, you know?”
            J.T. grunted and nodded.  “Yeah, I understand.”
            “Does Rory have any idea who it was talking about?”
            “No,” J.T. said quietly.  “Up until last night, we’d all been hoping that it was someone who decided to leave.”  And then last night happened.  Leah knew about Phelan and antibiotics.  She was sitting right there when he said it.  And pinning him down like that?  There wasn’t any reason for it, or to do it in the middle of the night.
            “You and Care think it’s Leah, too?”  Thom looked incredibly uncomfortable.  J.T. had to strain to hear him.
            “We couldn’t think of anyone else it could be.  What happened last night non-withstanding, she’s been doing her own thing lately, flaunting the rules.  Remember how she said that she was going to go fishing that day?”
            Thom grimaced.  “I’d almost forgotten.  Yeah, I remember.  Then you guys found her out cold outside of camp after you’d gotten the rest of us settled.”
            “And we’d scattered to the four winds looking for her sorry ass in the ravines that day, too,” J.T. said.  His stomach soured and he grimaced.  I didn’t realize how bad it all really sounded until I started putting voice to it.  There’s a lot that we’ve been overlooking.
            “This just gets worse and worse,” Thom muttered, starting to move again.  “What are we going to do about this?”
            J.T. shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I figured I’d let Marin tell Kel first, then we’d go from there.”
            “Phelan wants Jacqueline to take care of him.  Only her.”  Thom glanced at him.  “Probably said that just to keep Leah from getting too suspicious.”
            Great.  So he suspects something’s going on, too.  J.T. grimaced and nodded.  “I’ll try to be appropriately nonchalant, then.  Let’s be honest, I’ve got my hands full enough with you and half a dozen other things.  Speaking of, when do you want to start the hand-to-hand and melee work?”
            “Soon,” Thom murmured.  “Really soon.  Let me get the walls situated and the forge started.  Then we’ll start on training and practice in the evenings.”  He smiled wryly. “Assuming that Kel and Marin agree it’s a good idea.”
            “They’re not going to disagree,” J.T. said.  “They know as well as everyone else that we’re going to need to be able to defend ourselves in close quarters.  Hell.  They may even know better than us.”
            Thom grunted.  “Yeah.  I’m afraid of that.”
            “Me too, man.  Me too.”