Thirty-three – 04

Posted on June 1, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

I sighed, watching as Aoife walked away. I crossed my arms tightly against my chest and wished that I didn’t feel as sick as I did. “We’re going to have to lock her up or something to keep her from doing this, Seamus. We can’t let her do it. She’ll just make things worse.”

“You’re right,” he murmured. “She will.” He massaged his temple, closing his eyes for a moment. “I can’t believe she threw that back in my face.”

“You gambled and lost,” I said, reaching over to touch his arm. “It happens. It was worth the shot.”

“I guess.” He shook his head, then patted my hand gently. “We’ll stop her. Hell, I’ll stop her. I’ll tie her up myself if I have to.”

“I don’t want to have to do that,” I admitted. “I’d rather she come to her senses, you know? Otherwise we’ll…we’ll always worry. We’ll always have to worry because we’ll never be sure that she’s not going to go off and make things worse.”

“You realize that’s why she wants to go after Hecate in the first place,” Seamus said, glancing at me. “Because of the uncertainty she’s feeling, because she doesn’t trust that Hecate’s not going to come after us again.”

“Of course I realize that.” I sat down heavily, staring broodily into the cookfire. “I am more than fully aware of that because it’s a legitimate fear. This having been said, I have to believe that whatever Matt is doing now is working and we’ll be safe. I have to trust him. He’s my brother.”

Seamus smiled crookedly. “And she’s thousands of years old and incredibly damaged.”

I choked on a weak laugh. “What do you want me to say, Seamus? That Matt’s working miracles? I don’t know. I don’t know anything except that she has him and he hasn’t come home yet.” I swallowed hard. “I just have to believe that he is.”

His voice came softly and I found it strangely reassuring.

“Considering it’s your brother, he might well be.”

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Thirty-three – 03

Posted on May 30, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]

“You’re not the head of our clan,” Aoife said, her voice suddenly like ice. She pulled herself up, as if she was trying to make herself appear taller. Seamus didn’t seem impressed and truth be known, I certainly wasn’t, either. “You gave that up when you were supposed to be dead, when your father passed and Teague took the crown. He is the head of our clan, Seamus, not you.”

Seamus seemed completely unphased as he stared at her and his tone remained mild—if chilly, like hers. “Do you really think that Teague would think for an instant to gainsay me in this?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. He knows exactly what kind of threat Hecate is and how much damage she’s done. He wouldn’t stop me.”

“Teague isn’t here,” I said quietly. “Seamus is—we are—and I’m pretty sure all of us have been telling you not to go through with this.”

“I don’t understand why you’re against this,” Aoife said, rounding on me, her tone almost desperate. “Marin, why can’t you see that this is the right choice? Stopping her will make everyone safer. Your brother will come home! Why can’t you see what I want to do as a good thing?”

“Because it’s not a good thing,” I whispered. “Because it’s going to put more people in danger. Can’t you see that? Don’t you understand how many people you could hurt?” I scrubbed my hands over my face, my throat tight, my heart like lead in my chest. “Hecate is crazy, Aoife—certifiably nuts. I don’t know what damaged her originally, but the fact of the matter is that all of you have been dealing with the fallout from that for centuries. Right now, all I can assume is that she’s stable and my brother is safe. You go after her now and she could snap and could leave all of us and a lot of other people dead or worse. Do you want that on your head?”

She stared at me for a long moment, then spun on her heel and walked away.

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Thirty-three – 02

Posted on May 27, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]

“Stop you from doing what?”

Neither of us had heard Seamus’s approach, much less realized that he’d jointed us just in time to hear Aoife’s stubborn declaration. She stared at him, startled, her eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

She hasn’t discussed it with him.

Idly, I wondered who else she hadn’t made her intentions known to.

Does her boyfriend know?

Whether or not Gray knew and whether or not he thought it was a good idea wasn’t my problem. What she wanted to do, though—that was.

“Aoife’s decided to go after Hecate whether we want her to or not,” I said quietly, staring at Seamus.

For a long moment, he just stared back, blinking slowly. Then his gaze shifted to take in his cousin, who stood in front of him with a stubborn set to her jaw.

“Is that true?” he asked softly.

“I am not going to let her come after any of you again,” she said, sounding almost petulant, like a child who’s been caught with their hand in a cookie jar after they’ve been told they’ll spoil their dinner.

Seamus stared at her for a long moment before he shook his head slowly. His voice was mild, almost chiding as he spoke. “I won’t allow it, Aoife. It’s too dangerous, regardless of who you’ve managed to recruit to come along.” A brow arched. “Who have you convinced to come along?”

She glared at him. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I think I can,” he said quietly, stepping away from her and walking over to the fire to check the pot I’d been tending. “Stew, Marin?”

I nodded, glancing from him to Aoife. She just stood there, staring at him, as if she was waiting for an explanation. Just when I thought it wasn’t going to come, Seamus glanced back at her.

“I’m the head of our clan, Aoife. For the good of our surviving kin, you’re going to leave well enough alone. Am I clear?”

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Thirty-three – 01

Posted on May 25, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]

“I honestly can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

Aoife’s expression hardened as she stared back at me over the cooking fire. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I think you lost a few marbles between here and Pennsylvania.” I stood up, drying my hands on the seat of my pants. “We all talked about this. We’re leaving it alone. If my brother can hold her in check somehow, then we’ll let him do it—and I’m not going to let anyone endanger him by launching some kind of offensive.”

“Do you actually mean to tell me that you think it’s safe to leave her alive?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.” A dull pounding rose behind my eyes. Had she actually thought that I’d think her plan was a wonderful idea? “Unless or until she becomes a threat—”

“She will always be a threat, Marin.” Aoife’s eyes blazed as she marched around the fire to stand toe-to-toe with me. “She will never stop. You know that.”

“No, I don’t,” I said, my voice quiet and my heart sick. “I don’t know that, Aoife. I wonder how you seem to think you do.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her jaw tightening. “Because that’s how it always happens,” she said, her voice flat and cold. “We think we’re safe. We think she’s not coming back. And then all of a sudden, there she is, trying to do something to one of them. Trying to hurt our family in any way she can. I don’t know what we ever did to her or what she’s ever wanted, but we’ve had a target painted on our backs for centuries that we can’t seem to wash away. So you’d better believe what you’re hearing because no one is going to talk me out of this. No one is going to stop me. Do you understand that?”

My stomach sank. “You’re wrong.”

“You can think that,” she said, turning away. “But I know I’m not. Help me or don’t help me, Marin, but you’re sure as hell not going to stop me.”

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Thirty-two – 05

Posted on May 23, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Thordin’s point of view.]

Thordin watched the metal shift slowly from a dull orange closer toward bright white, shifting his weight every so often to pump the bellows, adding oxygen to the flames, fanning them to greater heat. It was an old, familiar rhythm that he’d hoped would take his mind off his friend.

It wasn’t working, but working at least helped the time pass.

He didn’t hear Phelan enter, but he did see him out of the corner of his eye and shook his head slightly.

“If you’ve come here to talk about your sister’s cockamamie plan—”

“Ah, so she’s gotten to you, too.” Phelan sighed, shaking his head and stepping in out of the spring sunshine. The Taliesin leaned his staff up against the wall near the door and sat down on one of the benches, reaching for a sword and a whetstone. “I don’t know what she’s thinking.”

“She’s not, not really—not clearly.” Thordin straightened, looking at him with a slight frown. “But I think she’s dead-set on this. How are you going to stop her?”

“I’ve never been able to stop her from doing anything in my life,” Phelan said, staring at the sword resting across his knees. “What makes you think that I’ll be able to do it this time?”

“Maybe because it’s a matter of life and death?”

“That has never made a difference before and I really don’t think it’s going to now.”

Thordin stared at him. “Are you going to sit there and tell me that you’re not going to do anything to stop your sister from going out there and probably getting herself killed?”

Phelan looked up. “I’ve already done several things, including telling her that I think she’s carrying this too far.”

“I assume she didn’t take it well.”

“She never does.” Phelan started honing the blade, his expression grim. “I love my sister, Thordin, but I can’t control her. She’s a grown woman who probably won’t learn her lesson this time until I let her make a mistake.”

“And if it gets someone killed?”

“I’m hoping it won’t get that far.”

Thordin shook his head. “And if it does?”

Phelan winced. “Then the fates and powers forgive me for not being strong enough to stop her myself.”

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Thirty-two – 04

Posted on May 20, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Thordin’s point of view.]

It was cool inside the forge, the fire long burned out in the firebox. Thordin sighed softly, not relishing the prospect of getting it going again. There was a reason they’d always banked the fire instead of letting it burn out completely. Thordin took a few breaths and nodded to himself—he had his work cut out for him, that was for certain.

Have to start somewhere, though.

He propped the door open and started to clean out the firebox, grimacing as a mostly healed spot tugged uncomfortably.

“I should have dragged Phelan up here to help me,” he muttered, scraping the ashes out of the firebox.

A shadow crossed the doorway, and Thordin’s heart made an abortive leap—abortive because he heard a distinctly feminine tread instead of Matt’s hoped-for steps.

Not Sif’s, either.

He was about to turn when she spoke.

“I’m going to deal with her once and for all, Thordin,” Aoife said softly. “You won’t have to run his forge for long.”

He sat back on his heels, looking at her, silhouetted in the doorway. “You’re going to deal with her,” he echoed quietly, far more calmly than he thought he should have sounded. “You say that as if you’ll just kill her and there won’t be repercussions. Like killing her will be easy in the first place. Like the only thing that will matter is that she’s gone and won’t be able to come after your brother or your cousins again.”

“I want you with me.”

Thordin turned back to the firebox and scraped some more ashes out into the dustpan in his hand. “Bad idea.”

“You’re good in a fight, and this might be one. I want you with me. You can do it.”

“Of course I could,” Thordin said, continuing his work. “But I won’t.”

“What?” Aoife stepped fully into the forge now, her eyes narrowed as she stepped around the anvil so she could at least try to catch his eye. “She’s a danger to all of us. She could kill us all. You know that the only predictable thing about her is that she’ll always come after my family somehow, at some point. The only way to make sure anyone’s safe is to eliminate her as a threat once and for all.”

“You don’t think Matt’s already doing that?”

“She took him against his will. She’s probably holding him against his will! Don’t you think he’d be back here if he could be?”

“I’m sure he’s had ample opportunity to escape,” Thordin murmured. “And he’s chosen his path. He doesn’t do anything without a reason.” He glanced up at her. “Besides, doing what you’re thinking about doing puts him in danger, now doesn’t it?”

Aoife just stared at him. “You’re not going to stop me.”

“No,” Thordin said quietly. “I can’t stop you. That’s up to someone else. But I’m not going to help you, either.” He straightened. “Now either make youself useful or get out of my way.”

“I can’t believe you won’t help me.”

“Think about it,” he said softly, then emptied the ashes into a bucket in the corner. “You’ll figure it out.”

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Thirty-two – 03

Posted on May 18, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Thordin’s point of view.]

The wall of the forge was cool against his back, the ground still damp from the rain that had come two days before. It was strange to see it quiet and cold, but with Matt gone for more than a month, now, Thordin knew he shouldn’t be surprised. There was no one else, not really—Davon had made noises about trying his hand at it, but his heart wasn’t in it.

All of them—including Thordin—were still silently hoping that one day Matt would just walk back into camp as if nothing had happened and life would get back to normal before they had to figure out what a new normal was. In fact, there had been a small part of him that thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d limp up to the forge to hear the sound of a hammer against an anvil and open the door to see his friend standing inside as if nothing had happened, as if the past few weeks had been nothing but a fever dream.

The sun was shining and the birds were singing in the trees that were starting to bud out, to sprout green leaves months later than normal, but the forge was quiet.

It hadn’t been some kind of nightmare.

Thordin stared up at the sky.

It didn’t feel right, but this was the way things were now, the way they’d be for the foreseeable future. He—and everyone else—needed to get used to it.

Somehow, he felt like he’d failed his friend, though. There should have been something he could have done, something he should have seen.

He hadn’t, and now he had to live with the consequences of his oversight.

“The new normal,” he muttered, then closed his eyes for a moment before he stood up slowly.

The smithing still needed to happen.

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Thirty-two – 02

Posted on May 16, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Cameron’s point of view.]

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes before she took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “So how are you going to tell them? With more delicacy than you used with me, right?”

Cameron made a face. “I’d actually planned to tell everyone a little more bluntly, to be honest.”

“Ah.” Neve rested her head against his chest. “I don’t think I’d do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because odds are pretty good they’ll try to argue you down. Loudly.”

Cameron leaned back, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “You think so?”

“You don’t?”

He sighed quietly, letting his eyes slide shut. “Not really. I mean, not if I tell them what I told you.”

“I don’t know, Cam,” she said softly, running her hand slowly up and down his side. “I just think that they’re going to fight you on it—especially if you say you want to go alone.”

Cameron winced. That was definitely going to be the hardest part—getting the others to agree to let him head off alone.

No one’s really allowed to go anywhere alone. What makes me think that they’ll let me?

I just won’t give them a choice—I’ll have to put it some way they won’t be able to refuse.

He wasn’t quite sure how he’d pull that off, but there had to be a way.

“I’ll find a way to make it work,” he murmured, resting his cheek against her head. Neve sighed.

“I know you will. You always seem to, somehow.” She looked up at him and smiled faintly. “I just wish you weren’t right about this. I’d rather keep you here.”

Cameron smiled weakly. “You know I’d rather have you with me.”

“That ship sailed a long time ago,” Neve whispered. “Around the time a firbolg threw me into a tree. I know I pretend it doesn’t hurt, but it still does.”

“Your leg?”

She nodded. “My leg, my back—all of it still hurts, sometimes worse than others.”

Cameron’s throat tightened and his heart suddenly felt like it had been trapped in a vise. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she said softly. “No one really knows except for Marin and Jac—mostly because Jac’s been helping me manage and Marin would have figured it out even if I hadn’t told her. I’m okay, it’s just that I still hurt. Maybe Ill forever, I don’t know. If I do, it doesn’t matter. I’ll figure out how to manage. I’ll have to. I’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.”

His eyes stung as he pulled her even closer, squeezing her tightly against his chest. Neve took a shaky breath and exhaled slowly, as if she was trying to steady herself.

“You could have told me,” Cameron murmured. “I would have taken it okay.”

“You would have worried too much,” Neve said softly. “You’re still going to worry too much, but it’s not fair of me to keep that secret. You needed to know.”

“You’ll tell me if it gets worse instead of better?”

“Of course.”

Cameron nodded. “Then you’re forgiven.”

Neve smiled up at him and leaned up for a kiss. Cameron smiled back and lost himself in the taste of her lips against his and the feel of her in his arms.

I love you, Neve, and I always will.

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Thirty-two – 01

Posted on May 13, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Cameron’s point of view.]

“We’ve kept them waiting too long. We said we’d be back in a couple of weeks. It’s been more than a month. Someone has to go back.”

Neve frowned, leaning back against the wall, her legs dangling over the edge of their bed. “And you intend to volunteer to be the one to go? Do I get a vote in this because I feel like I should get a vote.”

Cameron turned, meeting her gaze. “You’re worried.”

“I’m always worried. So’s Marin. So are half the women in this bloody village. Can you blame any of us for that?”

“Of course not.” Cameron sat down next to her on the bed, his brows knitting. His wounds were mostly healed, now, and it had been mercifully quiet since the Hecate had snatched Matt from under their noses. There was a part of him that wondered if that was borrowed time, but he was glad to have had it either way. “Would you rather someone else go? Your brother? Thom? J.T.? Phelan? Because that’s the short list of people who know where we’d be going and the short list of people who actually talked to Lara.”

Neve closed her eyes and exhaled a sigh, her fingers questing for his. Cameron took her hand and squeezed.

“Why does it feel like it’s always you or Thom?” she asked softly.

Cameron sighed softly. “Because it usually is me or Thom. Somehow, he or I end up shouldering responsibilities like that. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s what we’re called to do.”

Neve stared at him for a long moment, then leaned against him, resting her head against his chest. Cameron wrapped his arm around her and hugged her tightly.

“I shouldn’t get so upset about it,” she murmured. “I knew what I was getting into when I fell for you. I should suck it up and deal with it, but it’s hard. I love you and I sure as hell worry when you’re away.”

“I think I’d be upset if you didn’t.” Cameron leaned down to kiss her gently. “Everything will be okay, though. I promise.”

“Okay,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Promise me something else, though?”

Cameron quirked a brow, looking down at her. “What is it?”

“Always talk to me about it first, before you decide to tell everyone you’re going to do something?”

He laughed and nodded. “Your wish is my command.”

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Thirty-one – 07

Posted on May 11, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Matt’s point of view.]

Hecate gave a startled little cry, blinking at him. “Where are we going?”

“Inside,” Matt said as he carried her up onto the porch. “Where else would we be going?”

“I—I don’t know. This is a little sudden.” She rested her forehead against his jaw, her arms tightening slightly around his neck, balancing herself. “Weren’t we fine where we were?”

Matt smiled crookedly. “Maybe. But I can think of better places.”

Her brows knit and she looked up at him again. “Like where?”

“You’ll see.”

He carried her through the living room, back toward the bedrooms. Her eyes widened as he bypassed the kitchen and its stairs down to the basement in favor of that other little hallway.

“Matt,” she whispered.

“Shhh,” he hushed gently, stepping into the room he’d guessed had been her bedroom once upon a time—before she’d started hiding herself away in the basement of that little house by the water. Tears pricked Hecate’s eyes and she covered her mouth with one shaking hand.

“Why here?” she asked in a bare whisper. “Matt, why here?”

“It’s time for this to be home again.” He kissed her ear and set her on her feet. She stared at him, biting down hard on her lip.

“Why now?”

“Why not?” He gave her a crooked smile and brushed his fingertips along the side of her face. “Why not now?”

Her hands shook as she wrapped them around his arms, squeezing hard. “There should be a thousand reasons, but I’ve lost them all—they’ve scattered like shards of glass against a slate floor. I just—Matt, I—are you sure? Really, really sure?”

“As long as you are.”

Hecate sucked in a breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay. As long as you’re sure.”

Matt kissed her again. She leaned into his chest, squeezing her eyes shut as tears welled up behind her lashes. He stroked her hair and she shivered, her arms sliding around his waist.

“Just remember that I’m not him,” he murmured.

“Of course not,” she whispered against his lips. “Of course not, you’re you. I know that.” She put a hand against his chest, breaking the kiss so she could meet his eyes, her own sparkling with unshed tears.

“Take me to bed, Matthew Astoris,” she said softly. “Make me feel real again.”

Matt’s voice was gentle. “With pleasure.”

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