Awakenings

            J.T. roared.  It was too much, far too much.  Marin grabbed and thrown, Thom going for her, getting grabbed, crawling like a dying man toward water…
            And the thing that must be Angie’s Shadow Man kept moving, moving toward Thom.
            “Step off, you freak!”  He plunged toward the strange, cloaked man that seemed to flicker in and out of his vision, sword held high.
            The mists made of ghosts surged around him.  Something grabbed him, as if to stop him.
            “No, Jameson, please.  You’re not ready for it!”
            Constance, now isn’t the time.  I can’t let them die.
            “He’ll kill you!”
            He tugged free of her ghostly grip.  “Fortes fortuna adiuvat, Connie,” he growled.
            J.T. threw himself forward, howling some battlecry from a long ago battlefield he never fought on.
            At the very last second, the Shadow Man turned and caught the descending claymore between both hands.  J.T. could only see darkness and glinting red and gold inside the shadows of that dark hood—and the glint of sharp teeth as it smiled, an expression that promised torment before a slow death.
            His heart seized up, arms strained as his fingers tightened around the blade’s hilt.  It wasn’t cutting the thing’s hands.  How was it doing that?
            He grit his teeth.  If I hold it here, it’s not killing them.  It’s not hurting anyone else.  Just keep it busy until Paul and shove a shotgun against it and pull the trigger.
            Another shotgun blast echoed off to his left.  Paul—and Davon—were clearly still at work.  Drew and Carolyn were shouting.  J.T.’s pulse quickened.
            So eager to join the ghosts you see, Spiritweaver?
            A jolt went through him, like he’d been plunged into Lake Michigan in the dead of winter.
            He almost dropped the blade—almost.
            The Shadow Man sneered.  You and the Old Soul already belong to us.  You just don’t know it yet.
            “No,” J.T. whispered.  It was token denial, but necessary.  Dread coiled in his belly, coupled with nausea.  What if it was right?
            Oh yes.  Oh yes.
            J.T.’s arms trembled.
            Something smacked into the side of the Shadow Man’s head.  A clot of mud and sod thumped to the ground.  He roared and looked toward Carolyn, who stood nearby, hefting a cast-iron skillet in her free hand.
            “That’s right!”  She yelled at it.  “Start picking on someone else for a change.”
            Somehow, laughter that sounded like broken glass and cicadas became a rich, rolling laugh that shot shivers down J.T.’s spine.
            She’s trying to save you.  How touching.
            “Jay!  Down!”
            J.T. didn’t think—he dropped, rolling to the side.  The Shadow Man looked just in time to see Paul and Davon pull the triggers on their pair of shotguns.  The narrow-spread mass of shot caught the thing in the chest and it roared in pain—
            —and vanished into thin air.
            The mists surged forward, starting to swallow the remaining Greys and shadow-creatures.
            Someone was shouting in the distance.  J.T. recognized Tala’s voice, and Professor Doyle’s.
            Then the shadows were on them again.  One loomed over J.T., snarling, but he found himself strangely numb to fear.  He groped for the fallen sword, sucking air into his lungs as he drove a booted foot up toward the creature’s stomach.  His foot connected and the creature snarled, stumbling back.
            That was all the time he needed to roll to his feet and get his hands on the sword.  He straddled Thom’s fallen body and brandished the weapon, feeling strangely like someone out of one of the Lord of the Rings movies.
            “If you want them,” he panted, “Come and claim them.  But you’ll have to get through me first.”

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            Marin hit one of the stacks of furniture just inside the boundary of the tents with a sickening crunch mingled with the sound of splintering wood.
            No, no, no, no.  Not this, not now, I can’t.  I can’t.
            All pain forgotten, Thom ran toward her.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rory slump over, collapsed in a heap with Jacqueline and Kellin.  His own heart was in his throat.
            He could only see the vague outline of whatever had thrown her, but he could see it just the same.
            It turned.
            A voice exploded inside of his head.
            Seer.  I know your face, I know your measure.
            Thom hit the shadow and bounced off, sent sprawling, fires igniting in his ribs.  He coughed and agony ripped through him, but the pain in his head somehow overshadowed that.  He blinked at the shadow, eyes tearing.
            “Get out of my way,” Thom rasped, looking toward the pile of broken furniture where Marin was.  I have to get to her.  I have to.
            The voice laughed.  No.
            Thom growled, forcing his way back up to his feet.  His body didn’t want to cooperate, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
            Pain like this is temporary.  Losing her would be forever.
            His breath rattled in his chest as he made it to his feet and started moving again, slowly but surely.
            Something took his arm, claws digging in painfully, burning.  He looked.
            All he could see were wavering shadows that rippled, roiled like heatwaves off blacktop.  For half a second he stopped breathing altogether, just staring at the creature as his entire body went from burning agony to ice, so cold his teeth began to chatter and his muscles tightened painfully.
            Forsake the rest, and we will spare you.
            “No,” Thom whispered.
            Forsake the rest, and you will live.
            Thom shook his head slowly, willing his body to move again.  All he could do was twitch feebly in the grip of mass of shadows, something dark and wrong that he couldn’t see, could only feel.
            The kind of thing he’d spent the past eight months denying existed.
            Forsake the rest, and we will spare her.
            He froze.
            “What?”
            The thing laughed.  It sounded like it was gargling glass and grasshoppers at the same time.
            If I can—
            But she wouldn’t—
            But she’d be—
            She would hate you, Thomas.  She could never forgive you.
            But she’d be alive.
            He squeezed his eyes shut.  He saw himself in some future time, battered and bloody, holding her hand like a lifeline.  She was saying something, something he couldn’t quite hear…
            I can’t live with her hating me.
            His eyes snapped open.  For a brief moment, he could see the creature, see the outline of smooth face hiding in the shadows of a deep hood.  He saw the glint of gold, reflective eyes in the shadows.
            Thom set his jaw.  “I said no.”
            He drove his fingers into those eyes, hooked for gouging.  They hit something sensitive inside those shadows, and the Shadow Man dropped him, roaring in pain and reeling backwards.
            Thom hit the ground like a sack of rocks and gasped in pain as he felt something in his chest pop.  If his ribs had only been bruised before, one of them was certainly broken now.  He rolled feebly, onto his stomach, then uncurled and started to crawl toward where Marin was.  He could see her hand outside the pile of furniture.
            Darkness nibbled at the edge of his vision.
            I have to get to her.  Have to.
            Only inches from where Marin lay, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck starting to stand on end once again, skin prickling with the telltale sign of something very, very not right.  He risked a glance backwards.
            The Shadow Man strode toward him.  Thom could see the thing’s hands now, dark flesh with claws like obsidian.  One hand dripped blood.
            Thom glanced at his sleeve, bloody and shredded.  That blood was his.
            The Shadow Man stopped a step away from where Thom struggled.  He delicately licked the blood from his claws and stared down at Thom.
            So be it, Seer.  So be it.
            His vision clouded further.  Thom sucked in a breath and lunged for Marin’s hand.  If he was going to go, at least he wanted to touch her one last time.
            His fingers brushed against her palm, and then he ceased to know anything at all as the blackness swallowed him whole.

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            The voices scraped against the inside of his brain, like fingernails on a chalkboard, like sandpaper against stone.  Rory tried to ignore them, but they made his skin prickle, tried to ruin his concentration.
            Ruining his concentration wasn’t something he could exactly afford at the moment.  He was skating along the razored edges of his control, holding onto an ability he didn’t quite understand yet and had never really wanted to.
            He was glad to have it, though, as he elbow-checked a Grey in the face as it advanced on Jacqueline, who still knelt over Kellin, a strange glow surrounding them both.  Jacqueline was wavering on her knees, face as pale as Kellin’s blood-streaked one.  They were both oblivious to everything around them.  It made them the perfect target.
            End them, Old Soul.  End them!
            Rory flinched, spinning away from the women, putting his back to them before his arm lifted to strike.
            Get out of my fucking head, you crazy whatsits!
            His lips curled in a snarl, a shudder running through him.  The heat beneath his flesh built even higher.  He forced it back down again to manageable levels, scything his gaze left and right to look for more threats heading toward his self-appointed charges.
            J.T. plunged into another pack of Greys, which started to scatter in his wake.  One started to go after Carolyn, then jerked and fell as if it’d been tripped.  Either her small, winged friends were watching out for her, or she had more guardian angels—or abilities—than they were aware of.  Brandon was swinging a branch wildly in front of him, backing slowly toward the tent proper and the bonfire at the other side, clearly unable to see anything headed toward he, Matt, Angie, and Stasia.  Drew was making a beeline for Marin, Thom moving faster than should have been possible in the older man’s wake.
            Where are Davon and Paul?  Rory wondered with a start.  He looked around quickly, seeing no sign of either man.
            Join us, Old Soul.  Come to us.  It would be so easy…
            I told you to shut up and leave me alone!
            He heard the voices laugh and he shuddered again.
            Something slumped against his legs.  He turned to see Jacqueline sliding to the muddy ground, hands as bloody as Kellin’s shirt.
            There wasn’t a rent across her throat anymore, though—whatever that glow had been surrounding Kellin and Jacqueline, it’d dealt handily with the claw-slash.  The only sign of its passage, other than the blood, was a raised line of scar tissue across Kellin’s throat.
            Rory sucked in a breath, staring at Jacqueline at his feet.  What did you do, Jac?
            End them now, Old Soul.  End them now before they turn on you.
            “Shut up, damn you!”  He growled aloud.  “And leave me alone.”
            It would be so easy for you, Old Soul.  Join us, like the first one did.  Join us and you’ll never have to worry again.
            He swallowed bile.
            It all came together.  Kellin had been right, someone had been screwing up the wards, but it hadn’t been nearly as innocent as they’d hoped.  Someone had been deliberately disrupting them, probably knowing that what they did was going to leave all of them exposed to…to…
            Well, this.
            But who could it have been?
            He shook his head slowly.  “No,” he whispered.
            Something shrieked, an angry, highly pitched sound.  A shadow tossed Brandon and Stasia aside as if they were toys, then advanced on Matt and Angie.  He could see the tears on the girl’s face as she clung to Matt’s leg, but she was silent.  Matt looked around wildly for the source of whatever had just thrown Brandon and Stasia.
            He seemed to see the shadow at the last moment before it knocked him sprawling.
            “Angie!”  Paul shouted from somewhere inside the tent, “get down!”
            The girl dropped flat against the ground as Paul emerged, a shotgun leveled at the shadow-creature.
            “Leave my sister alone,” he growled.
            The shotgun went off, and all other sound was momentarily obliterated by that and the sound of the shadow creature screaming.
            It went down hard, twitching and writhing as if Paul had just dumped a vat of acid over it, wisps of smoke rising from its body.
            Its screaming built into a howl between Rory’s ears, loud enough that he started to see spots in front of his eyes.  He grabbed his head, hunching with a moan for a moment.
            The howl abruptly turned to laughter, scraping, clawing laughter that seemed to come from somewhere to his left.
            Rory looked and saw a shadowed, cloaked man advancing toward Marin’s back.  One clawed hand shot out from under its cloak and grasped her by the back of the neck.  She went rigid as it lifted her, one-handed, then turned slowly toward where Rory knelt.
            The seers will die.  And so will all the rest of you.
            Marin clawed at the hand that held her.  Thom shouted, running full-tilt toward the creature.  It looked at him, then stared at Rory.
            You’ll regret your choice, Old Soul.
            It flung Marin like a rag doll.  Stars exploded behind Rory’s eyes and he crumpled.  The last thing he heard was Thom’s anguished cry before blackness stole his consciousness away.

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            Breath burned in J.T.’s throat as he came after the shadow creatures with his old but never-used claymore.  He knew how to use it, but he’d never had the opportunity.
            Not until today, and it wasn’t nearly as fun as he’d always imagined it would be.
            His body knew how to move, though, and it was different from fighting with kendo sticks and wooden staves, as they had in practice for exhibition matches at the renaissance festival.  Wielding the longer, heavier sword was much, much different than those shorter, lighter weapons.
            And yet, his body knew.
            He didn’t know how many of them there were, but it seemed like a lot.
            Kellin went down, scream ending in a gurgle.  J.T. plowed into that circle, blade flashing, and passed through to the other side.
            The ghosts in the mist shrieked, falling on Grays and shadow-creatures.
            Marin ducked under his arm and behind him as he cleaved one of the shadow-creatures through the shoulder.  The blade stuck for a moment.  J.T. cursed, lips curling back in a snarl.
            No time!
            He yanked the blade back, feeling it catch, hearing the rasp of blade on something hard—bone, metal, something—and he cursed again.  It was stuck, and stuck fast.
            Damn it all!
            Another shadow filled the void left behind by the one he’d already felled, the one with his blade stuck in it.  Its ugly face split into a cruel parody of a grin and it lunged, clawed hands starting to uncurl.
            Claws.  Avoid them.  Dodging to either side wasn’t going to do the trick.
            J.T. counter-lunged, driving at the thing’s chest.  He avoided the claws, but he didn’t have enough momentum to push the thing back.
            It shoved him down onto his back.  He hit hard, shoulders first, all the wind knocked out of him by the impact.  The creature loomed over him, now snarling.  It pinned his arms and legs, not that he could struggle to do anything but breathe for a few agonizing seconds.
            Well, he thought as he tried to suck air into his lungs.  I guess this is it.  Had a good run, right?
            Something dark gray sailed into his range of vision.  It caught the creature alongside the head with a loud ringing sound and the creature roared, spewing salvia and other things that burned onto J.T.  It collapsed sideways, twitching, its weight half pinning him.  His eyes widened and he just stared for a moment, stunned.
            The thing’s head was half crushed from a simple cooking tool, heavy though it was.  A shudder went through him.
            Carolyn dropped the cast iron dutch oven and grabbed his arm with both of her hands, starting to haul him to his feet.  “Get up, Jay!”
            He blinked rapidly as he shoved the thing off of himself, using her arm to scramble to his feet.  He managed to take another couple breaths as he steadied against Carolyn’s side and watched Marin, who was there with her.  Marin planted her foot against the shoulder of the creature-corpse with his claymore stuck in it, wrapped her hands around the blade’s hilt, jiggled the weapon, then slid it free.  She held the heavy sword out to him one-handed, point down, her expression grim.
            “We’ve got work to do.”
            J.T. grasped the weapon as if it was some sort of talisman.  Carolyn grabbed the dutch oven again and started to dart off in Marin’s wake, toward another knot of shadows and Greys.
            He grabbed her hand before she was out of reach, spinning her back toward him.  Carolyn blinked.
            “Jay, it’s not—”
            “I know,” he breathed.  “Just be careful.”
            She smiled, nodded, and squeezed his hand.  He let her go, gulped in a few more breaths, and launched back into the fray a few steps behind.

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            “Next time you volunteer us to go help look for someone, make sure you ask if they’re in the ravine first,” Davon grunted as he hauled Jacqueline up over the muddy lip of the ravine.  “And if they are, tell me before you volunteer us.”
            “Oh, stop whining,” she grumbled as she dusted herself off as best she could and looked around at the thick mist surrounding them.  “You didn’t say no.”
            “No, I didn’t say no.”
            Jacqueline frowned.  She could hear something faintly beneath the rolling thunder.
            “But I should have said no.”
            “Shh!”  She waved a hand to shut him up, squinting through the mist and listening harder.  What is—no.  Oh no.
            The air around her turned to ice and something swatted both of them down into the mud, she half on top of Davon.
            “What the hell?”  Davon shouted, mostly at her.
            Jacqueline scrambled to her feet.  “Someone’s screaming.”  She slipped in the mud as she pitched forward, stumbling the first few steps until she hit a dead run.
            “Screaming?”  Davon said, slipping as much as she was.  She scrambled across the mud until she hit less sodden ground, working her way through the churning mist toward the tents.
            It was like she couldn’t move fast enough, something urging her to get there faster, knowing in her pounding heart that something wasn’t right.  “Yes,” she shouted back at Davon as she ran, “screaming.”
            After that, she saved her breath to keep on running.
            She could almost feel a sense of oily blackness licking at the very edges of her perceptions, skin crawling, prickling as the mist writhed and churned around her.  Those mists parted almost reluctantly as she dashed toward the blue and white tent, opening a clear path a few feet ahead of her at a time.
            Jacqueline tripped over a pile of rocks and went down.  The feeling of pins and needles shot through her foot and calf as fell.
            She blinked in surprise, glancing toward the now-scattered pile of rocks.  I don’t know what that was, but it was something.
            Davon caught up with her and hooked his hands under her armpits, hauling her back to her feet.  Jacqueline nodded her thanks and started running full-tilt toward the tents again.
            Someone screamed and she uttered a rare curse under her breath.
            A man was shouting, too, among the screaming.  Then there were other sounds, sounds she couldn’t quite identify.
            Whatever they were, the sounded mean.
            And hungry.
            “What the hell is going on up there?”  Davon shouted.
            “Don’t know!”  It was wasted breath, and she almost regretted it.  They were so close now…
            A short, gray blur blindsided her, plowing into her hip.  She stumbled sideways into the mist, half spinning around and going down to one knee.  Behind her, Davon cried out and hit the ground with a thud, struggling against something she couldn’t quite see.
            “Get off!”  Davon shouted as he struggled.
            She couldn’t see anything there, and from the look in his eye, she could tell he couldn’t see anything, either.
            Something clouted her over the ear so hard she saw stars.  Darkness nibbled at the edges of her vision and something started trying to shove her all the way down to the ground.
            The mists surged around them, shrieking.
            The pressure vanished.  She came to her feet again and pounded onward toward the tents.
            Huge, ugly shadows that felt wrong were near the tents, moving with speed shadows never had.
            What are those?
            She heard another scream, saw the source.  Marin and Kellin were facing those shadows, just shy of the tent’s perimeter, being slowly forced back to back, and surrounded.  Kellin was yelling something to Marin that Jacqueline couldn’t quite hear as she kept on coming.
            More shouting came from the far side of the tent.  Jacqueline could recognize J.T.’s voice, now, along with Matt and Thom’s and Carolyn’s.
            Then one of the shadows struck Kellin.  Her cry of pain and surprise ended in a gurgle.
            Everything went into slow-motion.
            Marin whirled toward Kellin as she collapsed.
            J.T. came barreling toward the shadows, waving a claymore that once upon a time only saw the light of day during Renaissance festivals.  Their circle scattered, though only slightly, refocusing on J.T. and the others running to the rescue.
            And from the back came Jacqueline, breath burning in her throat and heart pounding so hard and so fast she thought it was going to burst right out of her chest.  She skidded to a stop and dropped to her knees next to Kellin, whose shirt was already covered in blood, her mouth moving as if she couldn’t draw air into her lungs.
            Marin’s hands were plastered over Kellin’s throat and her frightened eyes met Jacqueline’s.
            Oh crap.  Oh crap.  Oh crap.  Blood welled through Marin’s fingers.
            Kellin stared up at them both, panic and resignation in her eyes.
            No.  No, not here, not now, not when we still need you!  So help me god, this isn’t going to happen today.
            Jacqueline shoved Marin’s hands aside.  “I’ve got this!  Go help the others.”
            Marin blinked mutely at her for a moment, then scrambled to her feet and was gone.
            The wound was deep—she could feel that much under her hands—and bloody.  Whatever had cut it had gone deep.  A killing wound, but not instant.  Not deep enough for that.
            A bleed-out, then, or suffocation.  Whichever happened first.
            Jacqueline shuddered at her own clinicism.  But it was forcing clarity on her, which she needed.
            Not on my watch.  Please, God, help me now.  I’ve never asked for anything like this, so I hope you’re listening now.  Please help me do this.  Please.
            Kellin’s lips were moving now.  Jacqueline strained to make out the words as she felt warmth growing inside of herself, from her heart and spreading out through the rest of her.
            “Let me go,” Kellin was saying.
            “Not today, Kel,” Jacqueline said as light chased down her arms toward her friend’s slashed throat.  “Not today.”

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            Thom was the first up.  He lurched to his feet, crutches forgotten as he started to limp toward the sound.  Rory had the presence of mind to tuck himself under his arm, ignoring the forgotten crutches as the five—Angie included—abandoned the fire and headed out into the thickening mist.
            “Who’s that screaming?”  Angie asked as she kept up with them, right behind Rory and Thom.
            “Don’t know, kiddo,” Thom said.  It’s not Marin.  I know what that sounds like and that’s not her.  It was only a minor relief.  It sounded like a woman screaming, and if Marin wasn’t the one screaming, then Kellin wouldn’t be screaming, either.  That left two women out there in the woods—Leah, who everyone was looking for, and Stasia, who’d gone looking for her with Paul.
            Angie’s brother Paul.
            Goddamnit.
            “Angie, stay right with me, and Mr. Thom, okay?”
            Good call, Matt.  If this is a fight, we’re as big as a liability as she is.  Thom spared half a second to kick himself for darting off toward the sound, then they were pushing through the mist toward a mass of human-shaped shadows clustered together.
            Something moved in the mist, past the four and almost through them, and they heard the scream again, accompanied by male shouting.
            “Drew!”  Rory shouted.
            “Over here!”
            The mist around them parted.  Stasia was shaking in Brandon’s arms, eyes wide and darting.  Drew was breathing heavily and Paul had a branch as thick as his arm in hand, holding it like a baseball bat.  His eyes widened as he spotted his sister peeking around Thom’s legs.
            “What the hell are you doing out here, Angie?  I told you to stay with the others!”
            “What’s going on?”  Thom shouted.
            “Something pushed me down the hill,” Stasia said, voice starting to normalize.  She was spattered in mud, leaves and other debris in her hair, and was shaking in Brandon’s arms.  “I didn’t trip, something pushed me.  Then it tried again up here, tried to knock me down and drag me off!” 

            It was as if someone had swept her legs right from under her.  Leah went down hard with the sound of air escaping from her lungs.  Then something unseen seized her by the ankle and started dragging her off.
            She screamed, and hers was joined by others, and cursing, seconds later.
            Something hit him square in the spine and he almost toppled, too.

             Thom’s heart thudded against his breast.
           “Thom, snap out of it.  Here and now, man, we need you.”  Rory shook him and Thom blinked, sucking in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d lost.
            “Is he okay?”  Brandon asked.  His eyes were as big as Stasia’s, though he looked like he was trying to hold it together.
            “We need to get back to the fire,” Thom said, swallowing hard and leaning more heavily on Rory.  The bad feeling was growing worse and he was starting to feel sick.
            Something unseen forced its way between him and Rory, who let go, stumbling back with a shout.  Thom went down hard, his entire side numb until he hit the ground, when his ribs suddenly sent fire shooting through his chest and robbed him of breath again.
            Stasia screamed and Brandon spun her away from something unseen.  A shrieking wind surrounded them, forcing them to cluster closer together.
            “What the hell is this?”  Matt shouted.
            Drew and Carolyn exchanged a look.  Carolyn swallowed hard and crouched down to help Thom up.
            “Thom’s right, we need to get back,” she said.  “Give me a hand here, Matt.”
            They hauled Thom back up to his feet.  He could hear something faintly through the shrieking wind—the sound of laughter.
            Malicious, angry laughter.
            Fuck me.
            His throat went tight, as if someone or something had wrapped its hands around his neck and squeezed.  He struggled to suck in a breath and found he couldn’t.
            He flailed, knocking Carolyn away from him.  Matt hung on only a second longer, stumbling back himself with big eyes.
            Not real, not real, not real, not real, not real.
            It took a moment to realize that the thoughts weren’t his.
            “Get off,” he gasped against the pressure around his throat, clawing at unseen hands now.  He should be on the ground, laid out flat.  Why wasn’t he down?  He couldn’t feel the ground beneath the one foot that was on the ground.  “Get off!”
            Rory’s hand came flying through his peripheral vision, wreathed in a dim red glow.
            The pressure on his neck vanished and he sat down hard again, then flopped over backwards, gasping like a fish out of water.
            Blood roared in his ears, but he could still hear the shrieking of the winds in the mist.
            The mist that hadn’t gone away, blown away, despite the wind.
            If it wasn’t the wind shrieking, what was it?
            Somewhere in the distance was more shouting, more screaming.
            “Get up, Thom,” Carolyn said urgently, grasping his arm.  “Get up!”
            He rocked up more slowly than he would have liked, but faster than his ribs could take.  Dark spots danced before his eyes as he forced his way back up to his feet.  His tongue felt thick in his mouth as he mumbled, “We all okay?”
            “Here,” she spat, then hauled his arm over her shoulders.  “Come on, we have to go.”
            They’d gone three steps before he realized where the screams were coming from.
            The tent.
            The only one we left was Jay…
            Then he realized one of the screams was familiar.
            Marin.
            He ran.

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            “Did Kellin get to check the wards this morning, before they went off on this wild goose chase after Leah?”
            Thom hadn’t quite expected the reaction he got from both J.T. and Rory, who blinked at him, staring like he’d suddenly grown a second head.
            “What?”  He demanded, grimacing.  Okay, so maybe I believe a little that they do something.  Hell, maybe I just give a damn that her little morning ritual hasn’t been disrupted.  Either way, it’s not an invalid question.
            Rory looked at J.T., who shook his head.  “Don’t look at me,” the bigger man grumbled as he shepherded them toward the tent and the fire within.  “I was asleep until Matt came and poked me to tell me what everyone else was doing.”
            “I didn’t actually see her do it,” Rory said.  “She might have forgotten in all of the hubbub over Leah’s little disappearing act.  Why do you care, anyway?”
            Swallowing bile, Thom shook his head slightly.  “I think I’m starting to be one of the ones that likes the idea of them so I can sleep better at night.”  And function in daylight.
            A strange expression crossed J.T.’s face and Thom suppressed a wince and waved a hand.  “Never mind.  Do you know how to fix them?”
            Rory snorted and shook his head.  “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
            “Wouldn’t know where to start with what?”  Carolyn asked, dusting her hands off on the seat of her jeans as J.T. herded Thom and Rory into the light of the now-roaring fire.  Angie still sat there, huddled under Matt’s arm, and looked up at the three men with big eyes.
            Thom swallowed hard as he met her gaze.  She’s just a kid and we should be able to protect her.  Instead we’re about as useful as corn on the cob to a toothless geezer.
            “Kel’s wards,” J.T. rumbled, lumbering over to put the tea kettle on over the fire.  He glanced toward Carolyn as he got it settled.  “Watch, that, will you?”
            She caught his arm as he came around the fire, headed deeper into the tent.  “Where are you going?”
            “To find something sharp,” he said, then walked away.  Carolyn stood in his wake, blinking in confusion.
            “What was that supposed to mean?”  She asked, glancing toward Rory and Thom, since J.T. wasn’t going to answer.
            Guns won’t hurt what’s coming.
            Thom shuddered violently at the thought and hobble-marched to his usual spot by the fire, sitting down heavily and drawing one knee up to his chest.  He brooded there silently for a moment, keenly aware that Carolyn was looking at him strangely and that Angie’s eyes were on him, too.
            Where the hell did that come from?  How did I know that?
            He knew the answer, though.  It came from something he couldn’t remember—something he didn’t want to remember.  Intuitions that he’d been refusing to believe for fear of what they might mean.  They weren’t going away just because he didn’t want to believe them, but apparently he was getting much, much better at forgetting them.
            He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, but a little part of him was relieved that most of their number were across the ruins of M-45 today, though he couldn’t quite articulate why.
            The moment passed and Carolyn huffed softly, then looked Rory over.  “What happened to you?”
            Thom glanced up at Rory and frowned at the expression on the other man’s face.  There was a tense set to his shoulders and a pinched look to his features, almost furtive.
            “He doesn’t want to talk about it,” Thom said, then immediately turned his attention to the fire as Carolyn looked at him again.
            Rory shrugged.  “He’s right, I don’t.”
            “Too bad, because you’re going to tell me.  Sit.”  Carolyn took Rory by the arm and manhandled him to a spot next to Thom by the fire.
            If he hadn’t been trying to fight down the strengthening feeling that something was going to go terribly, horribly wrong, Thom would have laughed at the absurdity of it all.
            Goosebumps started crawling along his arms again.
            “It’s a boring story,” Rory said.
            “Then you shouldn’t mind telling it,” Carolyn countered.  “Spill.”
            “Fine,” Rory grumbled, glaring at her, at the fire, at everything within his line of sight.  “But you’re not going to like what this old soul has to say.”
            Carolyn crossed her arms.  “Try me.”
            Rory opened his mouth to speak.
            That’s when they heard the scream.

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            The damp chill had started to settle into J.T.’s bones by the time Thom joined him out near the well.  He stood very still, watching the faces in the mist.  There were just so many of them, more than he remembered burying.
            Thom tapped his arm.  “C’mon into the warm and dry, man.  I’m sure the others are on their way in.  You don’t have to stay out here.”
            J.T. shook his head slightly.  “I’ll stay and wait.  Carolyn told you to get that fire up?”
            “Yeah, she’s still adding wood to it, too.  What’s going on?”
            “Nothing.”  Yet.  “Just waiting.  Thinking that maybe we didn’t need to send so many people out looking for Leah.  She was just going down to the river to fish.  That doesn’t require a search party, right?”
            Thom snorted humorlessly.  “You too?”  He shook his head, favoring one side as he leaned on his crutches.  “Part of me wishes I hadn’t said anything.”  He glanced at the sky, watching lightning knife through the darkening clouds.  “Of course, who knew this would all roll in.”
            Good to know I’m not the only one thinking that this was kind of a waste of manpower.  “Yeah, it was starting to burn off when you came in, Matt said.”  J.T. risked a sidelong glance at Thom, looking away again quickly.  There was a taut set to the other man’s shoulders, despite his attempt to look casual, relaxed.  He couldn’t fool him; they’d known each other too long.
            Thom was strung as tight as he was, and that wasn’t a good thing.
            Thunder grumbled as Thom nodded, crossing his arms.  “Yeah, it was.  Doesn’t make any sense.”
            Sure it does.  Just doesn’t have a rational explanation.  Tendrils of cold seemed to wrap around his wrists briefly, then dissipated.  J.T. suppressed a shiver and looked at Thom again.
            “Don’t stay out here, Thom.  You’ll catch death and then Marin’ll have to kill me.”
            Thom chuckled weakly, then winced.  “Not until you bring it in, too, bro.  I’m not going to leave you out here alone.”
            J.T. was a little relieved despite himself.  “You’re not going to play ball, are you?”
            “You know me too well.”  Thom sank down onto the rock next to the well, half leaning and half sitting on it.  J.T. crossed his arms and stared out into the mist.
            They were quite for a few long moments before Thom said, “I wish Mar hadn’t gone out looking with them.  One of them should have stayed behind.”
            J.T. looked back over his shoulder at him.  “One of who?”
            Thom stared blankly, peering out into the thick, dark mist, clearly seeking shadows that could harbinger the return of their friends.  “Marin or Kellin.  One of them should have stayed here.  They shouldn’t have gone together.”
            I don’t disagree on that one, but hearing it come out of his mouth is a little bit of a shock.  Was he finally starting to actually believe again?  If he’s at least accepting it all instead of acting like we’re all completely batshit crazy, that’s healthier, at least.  “Probably right,” J.T. agreed.  “You see anything?”
            He saw a flutter of movement out of the corner of his eye, gaze snapping toward it.  A pale, long-fingered hand disappeared into the deeper mist.  J.T.’s pulse quickened.
            What was that?
            “Not yet,” Thom grumbled.
            A figure appeared out of the mist, built of the mist, and stared at J.T.  He could hear its whisper, soft but insistent.
            “They’re coming.  You’re almost out of time.”
            He swallowed his question, standing very still.  He couldn’t answer it, not with Thom here.
            “What’s that?”  Thom asked, pointing.
            J.T. tore his gaze away from the mist-ghost to look at where Thom was pointing.
            A darker shadow moved through the mist toward them, and quickly.
            Fuck me, J.T. thought, tensing for a fight.  Is that what they were warning me was coming?  Are about to be…?
            Lightning lit the world and Rory broke through the mist to join them next to the well.  His clothing was singed and they both blinked at his somewhat bedraggled appearance.
            “What happened?”  Thom demanded, straightening up from his lean against the rock.
            Rory cast him a baleful look.  “You don’t want to know, Thomas.”
            J.T.’s mouth went dry.  He swallowed twice and looked at both men.
            “Maybe you’re right, Thom.  We should get the hell out of this damp.”
            “There’s no safety in numbers, Jameson,” the ghostly voice whispered.
            A shiver shot down his spine.  There might not have been safety in numbers, but it would sure as hell be comforting.
            He hustled the other men back to the fire, casting glances back over his shoulder at the mist.  The figure standing at the edge watched them run with a sad expression.  It nodded once, slowly.
            Then it vanished into the mist as lightning flashed in the distance and the sound of rolling thunder shook the world again.

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            “Jay sent me back,” Carolyn said a few moments later as she approached the fire, arms full of wood from the pile at the other end of the tent.  Thom looked away from the flames and toward the slender woman, arching a brow.
            Sent her back?  He’s been protective as all hell of her lately.  Hell.  We’ve all been a little more protective lately, of everyone except ourselves.  “Did he say why?”
            She dumped the wood near the fire and crouched to feed a few smaller sticks into the flames.  “Just that he wanted you two to get the fire burning big and hot.  He thinks we’re going to need it.”
            “Because the Shadow Man is coming,” Angie whispered, pressed into the crook between Matt’s chest and arm.  “It won’t stop him, Miss Carolyn.  He’ll still come.”
            Carolyn stared at the girl for a long moment before her expression softened slightly.  “I didn’t think it would, Angie, but it’ll help the rest of us feel safe.”
            Angie hesitated before nodding.  Matt squeezed her gently.  Thom set aside his mug and struggled to his feet, limping over to start giving Carolyn a hand with the fire.  He watched Angie out of the corner of his eye, watching the little girl as her gaze flicked to something he couldn’t see before returning to Carolyn.
            “Miss Carolyn?”  A tremor went through her voice.  “When’s Paul coming back?”
            Thom winced, turning away to heft a log so Angie wouldn’t see his expression.  Maybe we shouldn’t have let him volunteer to go look for Leah.  For a brief moment, he thought that maybe they shouldn’t have sent anyone looking at all.  He glanced toward the sky as he settled a log into the flames.  Lightning licked through the sky in the distance, somewhere over the lake.  The sound of thunder reached them as Carolyn shook her head slightly.
            “I don’t know, Angie, but probably really soon.  I don’t think he wants to be out in the woods when that storm hits.”  Carolyn pointed west, toward the gathering darkness there.
            Angie smiled weakly.  “You don’t know my brother.  He likes storms.”
            But from indoors or outdoors?  Thom shook his head grimly, acutely aware of how much his healing ankle and ribs were aching, and not because he was abusing them, either.  “This looks like it might get bad.  I think he’ll be back soon, Angie.”
            He hoped they’d all be back soon.  After feeding another log into the fire, he looked at Carolyn.  “Where’s Jay?”
            “He stayed out by the well to wait for the others.  I think he’ll come back when the rain starts.”  The way she didn’t look at him when she said it spoke volumes.
            Thom suppressed a sigh.  Well, if that’s the way they want it, that’s the way they want it.
            Talk to J.T., his cousin’s letter said.  That wouldn’t do him much good if J.T. didn’t want to talk to him.
            Of course, Kira was also fighting a fight that she and Marin had both all but lost a few months back.  He glanced at Matt, the only one who knew why.
            Matt’s brows knit, but he kept his mouth shut.
            Thom limped over to retrieve his crutches.  “Maybe I’ll go out there, then.  You guys stay here with Angie and the rest.”  There were others, of course, some of them out in the storage and barn tent not too far away, and Greg Doyle had taken a dozen people with him earlier that morning to harvest whatever was ripe in the greenhouses across 45.
            A shudder went through him as he picked up the crutches, a chill.
            “Someone just walk across your grave, Thom?”  Matt asked.
            Maybe I’d have called it that before, yeah.  Thom nodded, numbness nibbling at his fingers and toes.  “Something like that.”  He glanced toward Carolyn.  I can’t believe I’m about to ask this question.  “Do you know if Kellin walked those wards of hers before she left?”
            She blinked at him, as surprised as he was that he’d asked.  “I…I don’t know, Thom.  It might’ve slipped her mind after you guys told her about Leah.”
            What if they really do work?  What if they really do something and they’ve been…broken or something somehow?  He maintained the deep urge to deny it was all real, but the crawling sensation along the back of his neck and down his spine was making that hard.
            Never going to understand any of this.  He got his crutches beneath him, shaking his head.
            Lightning flashed, still distant, but the thunder was loud enough and near enough that it rattled everything around them and shook the ground beneath their feet.  The mist still pressed inward, toward the edge of the tent, feeling less natural than the coming storm.
            Thom shivered again.  “I hope it didn’t.”  Placebo or not, I hope she didn’t forget them.
            “Yeah,” Carolyn said softly.  “Me, too.”

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