Twenty-seven – 04

Posted on March 23, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

They found Phelan and Marin sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on a slab of concrete, not nearly as far from the tents as Thom had expected them to be. They were quiet, staring off into the distance, though Phelan twitched as he saw them approach, straightening slightly. Marin startled and followed his gaze.

Her brows knit as she caught sight of the look on her husband’s face.

“What is it?”

“It’s Matt,” Thom said. Marin’s eyes widened.

“He’s not—”

Phelan put his hand on her arm. “You’d know if your brother was dead, leánnan.”

Would she? Thom swallowed hard. “There’s no evidence of that,” he said, voice starting to sound strangled, as if his throat didn’t want to let the words out. “But he’s gone. He wasn’t at the forge.”

“Maybe he—”

“His axe was.” The words came out barely audible.

Marin covered her mouth with her hand. She shook her head hard, eyes wide and bright with gathering tears. “No,” she said, her voice muffled. “No, no.”

Thom couldn’t speak. He just wrapped his arms around his wife and lifted her, hugging her tightly to his chest. Her shoulders shook, her forehead pressed against his neck.

“What happened?” Phelan asked, his voice strange and dangerous—a mingling of fear and anger with concern.

“Seamus thinks she took him,” Cameron said.

Phelan blinked at him slowly. Thom tightened his arms around Marin as she stiffened.

“Who?” his wife breathed, slowly tilting her tear-stained face up to meet his gaze. “Who took my brother, Thom?”

“The Hecate,” he whispered. “We think the Hecate might have taken him.”

Marin swallowed hard. “How? Why?”

“He lied,” Phelan said, his voice bleak. “Déithe agus arrachtaigh, he lied. He remembered. He knew.”

Marin twisted free of Thom’s grip even as Thom’s stomach dropped.

“The Ridden Druid,” Thom said, his mouth dry. “He remembered being that. That’s what you’re saying.”

“There’s no other explanation,” Phelan said. “And more than that, he probably still has Cíar’s power besides. There’s no reason for her to want him otherwise.”

“Why would he lie about it?” Marin pressed herself back, leaning into Thom’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held on, leaning back, each holding the other up. “I don’t understand.”

“He probably had a good reason,” Thom murmured, squeezing his eyes shut. At least, I hope he did.

“The reason’s not important,” Cameron said quietly. “How do we find him?”

“That’s the real question,” Phelan said as he leaned down to pick up his staff. “But I’ve got some ideas about that. Come on. Let’s get out of this rain and get to work.”

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Twenty-seven – 03

Posted on March 21, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

His stomach sank deeper and deeper toward his boots as he trudged back toward the tent, trying to find the words to explain to Marin what had happened. His heart sat like a lead weight in his chest, pressing on his lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe.

“How do I tell her?” he whispered to the misting rain. He stopped halfway between the forge and the tents, just standing there, breath ragged, chest tight.

It’s my fault. I should have made him stay with me instead of letting him run off.

“Thom, wait.”

“For what?” He glanced over his shoulder toward Cameron, feeling a slight pang as he watched his friend limp toward him. “Waiting isn’t going to make this any easier.”

“No,” Cameron agreed. “But you won’t be alone that way, right?”

Thom exhaled and shivered. He felt cold, chilled to the bone. Part of it was probably from the damp, but he knew it wasn’t entirely the weather.

“Right,” he murmured. He reached over and grasped Cameron’s shoulder, managing a weak smile even though he felt sick to his stomach. “Thanks, Cam.”

“Yeah. Just remember this when I need backup when I go to tell Neve something that may or may not be traumatic and upsetting.” He threw an arm around Thom’s shoulders.

“I’ll try not to forget,” Thom said, swallowing bile. He took another deep breath. “I don’t even know where she is.”

“Then we look,” Cameron said quietly. “You’re the one who marched out here to look for her.”

“I know.” Thom sighed. “I know, I know.”

He turned toward the ravine, toward the bridge, and started walking. If had to guess, he’d think that Phelan and Marin had probably headed in that direction.

Each step was an effort, like his boots were made of concrete.

This was the worst sort of news he could be carrying to his wife.

At least he’s not dead.

A little voice whispered in the back of his head: Not that you know of.

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Twenty-seven – 02

Posted on March 18, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

“Shit,” Cameron breathed, wide-eyed and staring. Thom closed his eyes for a long moment, trying to steady himself.

He was shocked by how calm his own voice sounded as he asked Seamus, “Any sign of a struggle?”

“No,” Seamus said quietly. He stooped to pick up Matt’s battleax, left lying on the floor between the door and Matt’s anvil. “There’s nothing.”

A shiver wracked Thom and he stepped away from Cameron, leaving the other man standing and staring in the doorway as Thom entered the forge. He took the ax from Seamus, his throat so tight it was hard—too hard—to breathe.

“He wouldn’t have just left this,” Thom whispered, fingers tightening around the wood. “He wouldn’t have left without it.”

The man is my brother and I’ve failed him.

The thought wouldn’t stop echoing in his head.

He barely noticed Seamus’s hand on his shoulder until the other man spoke. The sound startled him, badly enough that he nearly dropped his brother-in-law’s weapon.

“I sincerely doubt that he had a choice.” There was a grim certainty in Seamus’s voice and Thom’s stomach roiled, bile bubbling up to beat like waves against the stone lodged in his throat.

“Are you saying that—” Cameron broke off, swallowed hard, then started again, his voice weak. “Are you saying that you think the Hecate took him?”

“Her or another opportunist.” Seamus sat down slowly near one of the grinding wheels, his face half-shadowed in the forge’s dim light. “Anyone who could have figured out who he once was might want him for their own.”

“What he once was,” Thom echoed, feeling numb. He sat down slowly on the bench near the door. He realized he was shaking and set the ax aside, leaning it against the wall next to the door. “You mean the Ridden Druid.”

Seamus inclined his head slightly. Thom swallowed hard, trying to force the lump in his throat to go away, to disappear.

“Matt doesn’t have any power,” Thom whispered, his voice broken, like bits of glass shattered on the ground stirred by someone’s toe. “It died with the Ridden Druid.”

Unless—

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to force the memory from his mind. The radio, Matt’s face, his hand.

Unless Cariocecus or the Greys caused that. Unless that wasn’t some kind of freak accident. Unless there was a reason for it happening, and happening to him.

Unless it wasn’t a coincidence, random chance.

“Dammit, Matt.”

“What’s wrong?” The door swung closed behind Cameron, enfolding the three in darkness. “What are you thinking, Thom?”

He didn’t say anything, just buried his face in his hands.

Dammit, Matt. Did you know?

What haven’t you been telling us?

Whatever it was, it was too little, too late to ask.

He was gone and Thom didn’t know where to even start looking—if Matt Astoris could be found at all or ever again.

Seamus took a slow, quiet breath. “If she has him, we’ll find him. We’ll find them both. I promise you that.”

“Not soon enough,” Thom mumbled, lifting his face from the cradle of his hands. “I have to tell his sister.”

How am I going to break the news to Marin?

Matt had been his ally in protecting her—had been the only one to know his real fears at first. It had been that day, that moment after the radio had exploded in Matt’s face.

Goddammit, I should have known. I should have figured it out then.

But his brother-in-law had always been steadfast in his denial.

So was I, once.

Thom swallowed hard. “I have to tell her,” he said again, then stood up.

“Are we sure she took him?” Cameron asked, hesitant, his voice worried—perhaps a bit afraid.

“He wouldn’t have left his axe behind like that if something hadn’t,” Thom said. He scrubbed his hand over his face, wiping away the last of the rain’s damp and the tears that stung his eyes.

Her brother. My brother.

“I have to tell Marin.”

Thom walked out into the mist.

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Twenty-seven – 01

Posted on March 16, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

The head count was off by one.

“Where’s Matt?” Thom asked as he swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. Cameron looked at him, blinking slowly.

“When he didn’t show up in the tunnel with you and Marin, I figured he was out holding the line,” the other man said as he gingerly pushed himself to his feet. “Are you saying he didn’t do that?”

“He went back up to the forge,” Thom said. “Something about extra blades. I thought I told him we didn’t need them, but either he didn’t hear me or he ignored me.”

“Maybe he stayed up there after the all clear was sounded,” Neve suggested. Even with the hopeful words, though, Thom could hear a note of doubt creeping into her voice—the same sort of doubt that was coiling alongside dread somewhere deep in his gut.

I don’t like it. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. He checked his sword and exhaled quietly. “If Marin and Phelan come back and they’re looking for me, I went up to the forge.”

“Would she have had a reason to go after him?”

Thom winced at Aoife’s question. Seamus grimaced and Leinth hissed.

“She wouldn’t have,” Leinth said, but this time there was doubt in her voice, as if something had just dawned on her, as if she’d suddenly realized they’d made a grevious tactical error.

He was the Ridden Druid once upon a time and he and Marin come from Teague Vaughan’s bloodline.

“Hell,” Thom breathed in the heartbeat before he was on the move.

“Thomas—”

“Move faster if you’re coming with me, Seamus.”

He didn’t break into a run until he’d cleared the tent, though there was no doubt left in the minds of anyone that saw him that he was rushing, that some new crisis had probably reared its fair head and he was off to deal with it. Seamus caught up with him a dozen strides away from the fire and kept pace with him as they headed for the hill where the forge stood.

Cameron caught up with them when they were a few steps away from the door of the forge. Thom had hoped to hear the sound of Matt starting to wake the fires, maybe the sound of the sharpening stones or his hammer.

Instead, there was only silence except for the soft dripping of water from the forge’s roof down to the bricks they’d laid along the front of the small building, a steady but arrhythmic sound that might have been comforting if not for the circumstances.

“He’s not in there, is he?”

Thom’s heart gave a painful squeeze at Cameron’s words, this throat almost too tight to speak. He shook his head slowly and croaked, “I don’t think so, Cam.”

His hand was shaking as he reached for the door. Seamus took it gently and held it shy of the door.

“Let me,” the former Taliesin said quietly. Thom let his hand drop, nodding. He could taste salt on his lips from tears he hadn’t felt begin as they’d run through the misty rain to get to Matt’s forge.

He’s my brother and somehow I’ve failed to protect him. This is unforgivable.

Cameron grasped his arm as Seamus pushed the door open, as if he knew that Thom was abruptly unsteady.

She won’t ever forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself.

I should have made him listen, should have made sure he’d heard me.

Why did I let him walk away? Why didn’t I see the threat?

Thom felt sick, dizzy, light-headed.

There was no one inside.

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Twenty-six – 05

Posted on March 14, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

I sank down next to him, hugging one knee against my chest—as much as I could with my slowly growing belly. I wouldn’t be able to do that much longer. I scooted close to Phelan, close enough our shoulders touched. He closed his eyes, bowing his head.

“Sometimes I think that’s what siblings do,” I murmured, leaning against him. “But like you said, you love her, and she wouldn’t be so damn angry if she didn’t love you, too.”

“I know she does,” Phelan said softly. “It’s not easy, that’s all. Dealing with it—with her—being judged. Usually I’m long gone—or at the very least on my way out—before that starts happening.”

“But,” I prompted. Phelan smiled.

“That’s not an option this time,” he said, then slid an arm around me. “But it’s not going to make dealing with Aoife any easier.”

“We’ll help. I have a lot of experience in dealing with siblings, especially ones that don’t necessarily agree with your decisions.”

“I do seem to recall Matt having some issues with you and Thom being you and Thom.”

“That would be the big one, yes.”

“He got over it.”

“Mostly because we talked,” I said. “Matt and I talked and he and Thom talked. There was something thawing between them before you ever got here. I’m still not entirely clear on what it was. Maybe you just need someone—maybe Jac—to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with her.”

“Jac,” Phelan breathed. “I’m going to marry her, leánnan. Soon, as soon as we can, as soon as it feels safe to do it. I love her. She…it’s like she’s a missing piece.”

“I know how that feels.” I smiled and reached up to tousle his hair. He’d been letting it grow again, though I couldn’t decide whether it was affectation or if he simply hadn’t bothered to have one of us trim it for him. “But you know that.”

He nodded slowly. “I do. It’s strange, though. You and Thom are soul-linked across space and time. For me, it’s like she came out of nowhere.”

“You’re the one that’s always saying that fate works in mysterious ways.”

“True.” He smiled faintly. The rain had eased, shifting to a cool mist that left us more damp than soaked. Phelan squeezed me gently before he let go. “Go on back to Thom. I won’t be much longer out here.”

“I’ll stay until Jac comes for you,” I told him. “No reason you should be alone.”

“I don’t want you to catch your death out here.”

I smiled crookedly. “Somehow, I don’t think this is what kills me, Phelan.”

He got a haunted look for a moment, but he smiled weakly anyway. “I guess not,” he said, then took my hand and squeezed. I squeezed it back.

“You’re going to be stuck with me for a while longer,” I told him. “One way or another.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, leánnan. Trust me on that. We’d miss you too much if you went away.”

“You’re not going to miss me for a long time.” I leaned my shoulder against his and sat there, staring out through the mist at ink-black trees and the last fading remnants of winter, listening to the faint sounds nature and our camp and letting the stress of the day begin to ebb.

It was one last quiet moment before my world got tipped on its side again.

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Twenty-six – 04

Posted on March 11, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

I put my arm around his shoulders and squeezed him gently. Phelan sighed and shook his head slightly, still staring at the sky.

“It’s never been easy,” he said. “Doing what I do, what Seamus used to do. It’s been lonely.” He sighed. “Even now that I’m not alone anymore, it’s still hard—harder than I’d like, but for different reasons. I’m worried about endangering all of you, I’m worried about what might come after you or me or all of us. I’m worried about what might happen out there in the wider world because I’m not out there to stop it, because I’m here.”

“That’s not why you tried to leave.”

“A few months ago? It was part of it.” He mopped the worst of the rain from his face as he glanced down toward our boots. “I was worried about the danger that came with me being here. I realize that I was being a bloody idiot when I decided that stumbling off in the middle of the night was a good idea, but my intentions were good.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, my voice quiet. I watched him for a moment before I risked changing the subject. “Is that why what your sister said is eating at you so much?”

Phelan swore softly and started walking again. I jogged a few steps to keep up, letting him chew over the question without my pressing it.

“I love my sister,” he said after a long silence and a dozen steps. “She’s my sister. I would give my life for her just like I’d give my life for anyone who shared my blood. But…” his voice trailed away and he sighed again, slumping to sit on a sodden piece of broken concrete that jutted up out of the ruins near the tents. “Sometimes I think she was born to eviscerate me.”

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Twenty-six – 03

Posted on March 9, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[Marin’s point of view.]

Aoife stared blankly at Seamus, her expression caught somewhere between slack and incredulous. Phelan growled and shook his head again.

“I need to take a walk,” he muttered.

“I’ll come with you,” I said. I glanced up at Thom, who nodded slightly and let go.

“Be careful,” he murmured, then kissed my ear. I smiled faintly.

“Always.” I squeezed his hand. “Tell Jac I’m with him when she finishes up with whatever wounded we’ve got, okay?” That way either she and Thom would worry together, or neither of them would get to worrying—I was hoping for the latter.

“Of course.” Thom stole another kiss before I let go of his hand and moved toward Phelan, who’d paused a few feet away to wait for me—a small favor that I honestly hadn’t expected.

Phelan gave me a weak, crooked smile as we began to walk away, headed toward the space beyond the tent. It was raining, but not too hard. I tugged the hood of my jacket up. Phelan didn’t bother to cover his head, walking out into the rain.

I suppose he’s used to that kind of thing. Getting rained on.

I wondered how many hours—days, nights, maybe even weeks—he’d spent on the road in the rain, bareheaded or otherwise.

He’s got a lot of years on all of us.

We’d walked about half the distance to the wall before he sighed and I glanced at him sidelong. “Did you just need to get away from your sister and the bickering and the blame, or was there something else going on?”

“It’s a lot of things,” he murmured, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “There’s a part of me that thinks she’s right and at the same time, I think the only thing that would have happened if I’d actually gone after the bitch was me getting myself killed.”

I caught his free hand and squeezed it. Phelan sighed again and tilted his face toward the sky, staring up at the rain and the clouds.

“But I don’t know that we’ll ever be free of her,” he said quietly. “And even if we were, someone would just step in to fill the void. I wish it wasn’t the case, but that’s just the way it is. I can’t change it. I just have to live with it.”

“We have to live with it,” I said softly. “You’re not alone. Not anymore—not ever again.”

He squeezed my fingers again. “Thanks, leánnan.”

“Anytime, Phelan.”

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Twenty-six – 02

Posted on March 7, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

“So let me get something straight,” Aoife said as she slowly seated herself by the fire, her gaze taking in all of us—me, Thom, Seamus, her brother. “No one has dealt with this Hecate problem yet? After thousands of years, that bitch is still out there and is still gunning for our family.”

Phelan stiffened next to us. “Unfortunately,” he said quietly. “She’d been out of sight and out of mind up until Teague started seeing Kira and I wasn’t exactly inclined toward kicking any hornet’s nests before that.”

I reached out to touch his arm but he shook off my comforting gesture, as if he didn’t deserve it.

“Maybe if I’d taken care of her during one of the other incidents where she was after me, we’d be in better shape,” Phelan continued, his voice dripping with bitterness. “But I was always more interested in keeping myself out of her hands. But by all means, go ahead and blame me for something else, little sister. I’m not carting enough around already, right?”

“Phelan—”

He shook his head and I went quiet, leaning into Thom, who held me a little tighter, his expression oddly blank as he stared at Aoife.

“Leave your brother alone,” Seamus said. Phelan opened his mouth—probably to tell his cousin to shut up, too—but Seamus held up a hand. “You don’t know the whole of the burden I foisted off onto his shoulders when I went away, Aoife, and you were always too hard on him. Apparently your relief at his survival and his relative state of well-being has worn off—a little more slowly than I thought it would, actually, to tell the truth—and we’re right back to where we always are with the two of you. Let me tell you something, though, Aoife, something you might not understand because you’ve never been what I was or what he is: carrying the mantle of Taliesin isn’t easy and it means more than being just yourself and doing things that you, personally, may think are necessary or right or need to be done for your family or your friends. It’s a duty and a calling and sometimes we don’t have a choice in what we do—we do what has to be done. Ending the Hecate has never been something that has to be done. Staying out of her clutches has been.”

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Twenty-six – 01

Posted on March 4, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

It was maybe another ten minutes before the all-clear sounded—and we didn’t leave the tunnel before that moment, either. There was fear in Phelan’s eyes, a nameless worry that tightened his expression and stretched in taut.

Maybe I had the same expression, but I doubted it. I hadn’t been doing a dangerous dance with the Hecate for centuries, managing to stay one step away from her grasp or going toe-to-toe with her when I couldn’t. Still, the idea that she’d go after one of us in order to get to him—or Seamus—was more than a little troubling, more than enough to make me a little sick to my stomach.

What would she do if she somehow managed to get her hands on me and my baby or Neve and hers?

I tried to push the thought out of my head as Thom and I walked back to the fire, his arm tight around my shoulders.

“I don’t want you anywhere near a fight until…” Thom’s voice trailed away and he glanced away. He swallowed hard, as if he was having a hard time with words, though I knew full well what he was going to say.

It just wasn’t something I wanted to hear.

I let him fight for the words, leaning against him. Truth be known, there was a little part of me that didn’t exactly mind the fact that he was going to tell me he wanted me to stay away from fights until after our son was born—there was a part of me that was completely okay with that idea.

It was at war with the part of me that felt like I needed to take care of everyone else, though, and it was hard to say which part of me was winning at any given time.

“I just worry,” he murmured, burying his nose in my hair and squeezing me close. “I don’t want you near a fight until after he’s born. For all of our sakes. Do you know what it would do to me if I lost you?”

“I don’t want to find out,” I admitted softly as we drew closer to the fire. “I hope we never do.”

I wished that was something we had control over, but in the end, we didn’t.

No one here did.

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Twenty-five – 05

Posted on March 2, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

Marin swore under her breath as Thom tugged on her hand. Phelan slipped past them, heading toward the entrance to the steam tunnel. They hadn’t found a better place for the kids to take cover yet, and if Phelan had to guess, they probably wouldn’t anytime soon.

It’s only a matter of time before Thom finally manages to make Mar start taking cover down there, too. He glanced back over his shoulder at the pair and the look of relief on Thom’s face told him that the day that happened was coming sooner than Marin probably would like.

Seamus was already cracking the hatch that led down into the tunnels and Leinth had nearly reached him by the time Phelan, Thom, and Marin came within sight of the tunnel’s entrance. Breath caught in Phelan’s throat as he caught a glimpse of his cousin’s expression, the other man’s face pinched and pale, as if he was already anticipating the worst.

Phelan couldn’t blame him, considering what he’d been through. He would have probably felt the same way.

“Are they down there?” he called to Seamus. His cousin ignored him in favor of dropping down into the tunnel below. Phelan muttered a few choice words under his breath and picked up speed, leaving Thom and Marin behind as followed Seamus—and then Leinth—down into the darkness.

If she’s taken them, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.

He slid down the ladder, his boots echoing dully against the concrete below. He twisted, looking for Seamus and Leinth in the dim—and any signs of violence.

A lamp flared to life.

Phelan breathed a sigh of relief.

Cameron met his gaze, his brow furrowing, then looked at Seamus and Leinth, who were clearly as relieved as Phelan was.

“Shouldn’t you be out there dealing with whatever was out in the ravine?” he asked, voice puzzled.

“Right now, nothing is more important than making sure you were all right,” Leinth said, her voice strangely tender—something Phelan could honestly say he’d never heard before.

Leinth wrapped her arms around Cameron then and hugged him tightly—leaving him looking as surprised as Phelan felt.

Phelan looked back at Marin and Thom, who’d just climbed down the ladder.

Thom frowned. “If she’s not down here and they’re safe, where the hell is she?”

“I don’t know,” Phelan said, feeling sick.

And that scares the daylights out of me.

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