Awakenings

“I see,” Anselm said, his voice abruptly grave. “That does put a new spin on things.” He stood and raised his voice. “Korolev, come over here for a moment.”

A thin, boyish man with hair so pale it was almost white set down the buckets he was carrying and came over. He glanced toward Phelan, Marin, and Neve with a curious look before turning his attention fully to Anselm. “What is it?”

“Get two of the others and sweep the area outside of camp, all sides, the ravines and flatlands both. Report back as soon as you’ve finished.”

The other man blinked, but nodded, as if he’d decided arguing wouldn’t gain him the explanation he craved. “Of course.” He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Should we split up to cover more ground?”

“No,” Anselm said. “Now go, and be quick.”

Korolev nodded and darted off, the buckets forgotten in his haste. Phelan shoved himself to his feet and went to retrieve them, frowning.

“Not to judge, but shouldn’t you have sent more of them if you’re sending them? They’d cover more ground.”

Anselm shook his head slowly. “I imagine that whatever attacked Cariocecus is biding its time. My men will find traces of the perpetrator, but likely not the perpetrator himself—or herself.”

“You sound awfully certain of that,” Neve said, edging closer to Marin, who didn’t look much steadier than she had before they’d seated themselves.

“If whatever attacked him was hanging about, they’d have hit your borders by now like a hammer. No. Cariocecus was a warning. They want you frightened and not thinking clearly.” Anselm smiled faintly. “They think you weak, which is an advantage to us. They don’t know that you don’t frighten easily.”

Phelan set the buckets down near the fire, a shiver creeping down his spine. Perhaps no one knows us as well as they think.

Anselm glanced back, a brow arching delicately as he spotted them lagging behind. He slowed his pace slightly. “Something the matter?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Nothing more than usual,” Phelan said, injecting a measure of cheer into his voice that he knew he didn’t really feel. Anselm’s brow arched higher, but he seemed to decide to let the lie pass—at least for now.

The huntsman’s tent and fire was a relatively modest affair, disturbingly modern in their design, given Anselm’s age and stature. The tent itself looked like it had probably come from army surplus within the past few years, sturdy and compact but providing good shelter and enough room to move around in. Piles of books, a cot with a bedroll, and a lantern were easily visible within its confines. Anselm’s fire crackled cheerfully, small enough to be manageable but large enough to throw off a decent amount of heat. Anselm seated himself on a clear patch of ground in front of his tent and gestured for them to seat themselves on a pair of logs forming a V on the other side of the fire.

“Your brother seemed rather perturbed by recent events, Seer,” Anselm said quietly as they settled in. “I imagine there’s more to tell than what he’s already said?”

Marin winced. “That depends on what he’s already told you. Then again, I don’t think he saw you recently enough to tell you about Cariocecus.”

“What’s that minor nuisance gotten himself into now?” Anselm asked curiously, his brows climbing again. The Hunt knew about the godling’s association with the settlement, though their interaction had been limited to a few glimpses here and there, nothing more.

“That’s just it,” Marin said, gnawing at her lower lip. “We’re not sure, and if he doesn’t survive the wounds something left him with, we won’t know until it’s too late.”

Phelan’s hand closed around Marin’s arm. It was a rare thing to be sure, seeing her so oddly shaken by sudden conviction. She’d gone abruptly pale, the blood draining from her face, and she seemed unsteady on her feet.

What in the name of all the powers that be did she see—and what is it that she suddenly can’t remember?

His brows knit. I don’t like this one bit.

It was far too soon.

He’d spent too many of his long, aching years gathering stories and prophecies, trying to piece legends and lore together into a road map, a tapestry. That was his sacred duty as the Taliesin, like his cousin before him, their grandfather before them. The girl whose arm he held was special, had a destiny unlike others who had come before her. She was an integral thread. There were too many stories, too many legends, too many foretellings.

But it’s too soon.

Phelan felt sick.

Anselm was saying something, but he didn’t quite catch what it was. Mercifully, Neve intervened.

“Yes, a seat by your fire would be very welcome while we discuss this,” his cousin said, tossing both he and Marin a concerned look before she trailed after Anselm toward his tent and cookfire.

Phelan hesitated for a moment and kept his voice low as he spoke to Marin. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she whispered. “I think I’m very not okay, but I don’t think it matters, either.” She sucked in a breath and drew herself up a little straighter. “Come on. Can’t keep them waiting on us, right?”

“Right,” Phelan muttered, frowning. “That’d be a bad thing.”

Marin’s hand found his and squeezed. She gave him a brave smile, but he knew her well enough to recognize the fear in her eyes, the slight tremor in her jaw.

Just keep your shit together for the moment and we’ll figure it out later. We always seem to.

They followed in Anselm and Neve’s wake.

Together, the three of us threaded our way through most of camp, out toward a small, lesser gate that we’d put together in the aftermath of the Hunt’s arrival, north of the well and near another cluster of ruined dormitories where the Wild Hunt had begun their efforts to build their homes. Anselm had been among the Hunt to linger here with us, minding most of his fellows and liaising with us as needed—which was rarely enough, since the Hunt tended to keep to themselves with Seamus away.

Anselm was already on his way toward the gate as we emerged from it. He lifted his hand in greeting, expression grim.

“I assume you’re here regarding some manner of new threat?” he said, his tone mild—too mild. I grimaced.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “I probably shouldn’t ask how you know.”

“Your brother has been down here already,” Anselm admitted as we drew within arms’ reach of each other. “He was seeing to an increase in the patrols. Leviathan, then?”

“Leviathan,” Phelan confirmed before I could. “He claims if we leave him alone, he’ll leave us alone, but I’m not sure that I believe that.”

Neve’s nose wrinkled. “It’s never been the case before, why should it be the case now?”

Her cousin grimaced and glanced at me. I rubbed at my temple. “What else did Matt tell you?”

“Didn’t seem like there was all that much to tell,” Anselm admitted. “Regardless of anything else, we’ll increase our patrols while you and yours see to the settlement’s more stationary defenses and the watches.” He looked vaguely thoughtful for a long moment before he said, “Perhaps I’ll see if there are any volunteers who want to ride out to the lakeshore and—”

“Don’t,” I blurted.

Anselm blinked at me. “Why not?”

A sick feeling rose in the pit of my stomach. “I—I don’t know,” I whispered. “I really don’t know.”

“What the hell is this?” Neve asked as we unceremoniously deposited Cariocecus near the fire. “What happened?”

“If he doesn’t bleed to death, we’ll find that out,” I told her evenly. “Do you know where Jac is?”

“Right here.” My friend’s harried voice came from somewhere to my left. “I was checking on Thordi—what the heck, Marin? Why is Cariocecus—is he bleeding?”

“Something attacked him,” I said. “Do what you can. I have to talk to the Hunt.”

“I’ll come with you,” Neve said.

“We both will.” Phelan crossed his arms, grimacing only slightly at the blood on his sweatshirt. “I’m sure they’re already restless because of our little tête-à-tête with Leviathan.”

I winced. We probably do need to talk to them about that, too, especially because he sensed them. “Yeah, we need to talk to them.” I glanced around, frowning. “Or did Leinth—”

“She went to lay down,” Neve said. “And Matt went to double up the patrols. He’s worried, too.”

“Tell me something new,” I muttered, then shook my head. I glanced at my hands. There was a little bit of blood on them and I grimaced. “Right. Come on, then. Let’s go find Anselm.”

Anselm was one of the oldest members of the Hunt and with Seamus away, he was our best contact with the Hunt. Congenial and scholarly, I got the sense that he was happy to have found himself in a spot where he had hundreds of books within easy reach.

Sometimes, I wondered what he’d done before he was drawn into the Wild Hunt.

We kept an easy pace so we wouldn’t leave Neve behind. She’d gotten rid of the crutches—finally—but she still moved slowly, carefully, and I knew that her leg still bothered her more than she liked to admit. Phelan’s gaze drifted between the two of us, his jaw tightening.

“Are you two sure you wouldn’t rather I just—”

“This is something we should do together, Phelan,” I said.

I wasn’t going to let him do the dirty work this time.

“Hell,” I swore, though the words that ran through my head were much, much fouler as I reached for him. “Phelan, help me.”

“Blood loss?” Phelan reached down to help me lift Cariocecus, tucking himself under one arm while I took the other.

“It’d be a lot, but hopefully it’s not anything more than that.” My jaw tightened. “He’s still got to tell us why he’s panicking all over the place.”

“There’s a lot of blood here,” Phelan muttered as we started hauling Cariocecus’s dead weight back toward the tent. “Something got a really good piece of him.”

“Once he comes to, we’ll find out what,” I said. “Do you think it’s related to Leviathan, too?”

“I’d say odds of that are pretty good.” Phelan’s lips thinned and he shook his head. “Too good. Makes me worried. Timing’s too close. It’s got to be connected.”

“He said something about Thesan.” My stomach twisted. “You don’t think—”

“No,” Phelan said, his voice flat. “No, I don’t think she has anything to do with this. The Hunt wouldn’t let her this close. Not after what happened, not after what she tried to do, what she would have done to Seamus. She’s got nothing to do with this.”

I didn’t mention to him that I could hear the fear in his voice, the fear he tried to hide. I swallowed hard.

Thanks for trying, at least.

“What the hell’s going on?”

I winced at the sound of Davon’s voice, glancing in his direction. “Get Jac,” I called back to him. “Tell her to bring her kit to the fire.”

“That’s—that’s the shadow man.”

“Cariocecus, yes,” I said.

Davon’s eyes narrowed and he slowed his approach, watching us warily. “What’s he doing on this side of the wards?”

“He came to warn us about something on the other side,” Phelan said grimly. “But if you don’t get Jac or help us haul him under cover, he might not live long enough to tell us what he was coming to warn us about.”

Davon grimaced and hurried to help.

I shook my head hard, then reached across the ward lines. “Come across,” I said firmly.

Cariocecus just stood there, blinking at my hand. Phelan grasped my shoulder.

“Leannán—”

“I know what I’m doing,” I told him, even though I didn’t. He knew it, too, but he let it go. At least this time, it seemed he’d realized that he needed to just let it go for now.

I had no doubt we’d talk about it later, though.

“Come across, Cariocecus,” I said, still holding my hand out to the amber-eyed man.

“They’ll burn me,” he said. “They have before.”

“Not if I’m inviting you across,” I said. “Take my hand. I’m letting you in.”

“You shouldn’t,” he protested in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

I swallowed the urge to swear at him. “You’re bleeding and I don’t think you’ve got any friends left besides us to patch you up again. Take my hand, dammit.”

“Listen to her,” Phelan said. “Take what she’s offering.”

“But I failed.”

“Standing at the edge of our wardings, bleeding and apologizing for whatever the hell’s left you bleeding that you couldn’t stop isn’t going to help us. You stitched up and telling me what the hell is going on will. Take my hand, Cariocecus. I’m not going to ask you again.”

He stared at me for a long moment.

He took my hand, squeezing hard.

I pulled him through the wards.

Cariocecus stumbled as he came across, eyes blinking wide in wonder, as if he hadn’t quite expected to survive the passage. He twisted, letting go of my hand once he was clear of the boundary. “That—that was strange.”

He turned back toward Phelan and I just in time for his eyes to roll up into his skull and for him to collapse in a boneless heap at my feet.

Cariocecus beckoned to me from beyond the wards. I almost didn’t see him, catching sight of him only out of the corner of my eye. Casting a quick glance toward Phelan, I changed direction, heading toward our erstwhile ally, wondering what had brought him so close to the border of our settlement, a border that had burned him at least once before.

“What is it?” I asked as I drew within earshot. It took a second, but I noticed that he was paler than normal, almost wan. I slowed down. “What’s wrong?”

“The girl,” Cariocecus said, his gaze flicking from me to Phelan and then back again. “Seamus the Black’s get. Have you seen her?”

Phelan came up behind my shoulder, a frown darkening his expression and his voice. “Thesan isn’t here.”

“Are you certain of that?” Cariocecus cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Are you quite sure of it?”

“Why the hell are you asking?” I crossed my arms, glancing between him and Phelan. And why the hell don’t you sound surprised by the question, Phelan?

I’d have to deal with that later, I decided.

“She’ll come back,” Cariocecus said, almost babbling. It was strange, seeing him so utterly unnerved. I frowned.

“What’s going on with you?” I asked, edging closer. “Wait a second. Is that blood?”

“Yes,” Cariocecus said, then apparently changed his mind about telling the truth. “No.”

Sure enough, there was blood seeping through a rent in the dark shirt he wore, a wound near his hip that he’d tried to keep hidden under the black wool of his cloak.

“What happened?” Phelan demanded.

“Nothing,” Cariocecus said, perhaps a bit too quickly. I could see the fear in his eyes and it left my already unsettled stomach worse off than it had been before.

“What are you so afraid of?” I asked in a whisper.

He met my gaze and shook his head. “You’re in danger, Seer,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You’re all in danger and I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it.”

“Well, sitting around isn’t going to help,” I said, gulping down my cocoa and coming to my feet. “Phelan, come with me. I’m going to go take a look at the wards.” I glanced toward Leinth. “Tell Neve what happened out there, let her tell Sif.”

“Are you sure we have to?” Phelan muttered. I glared at him.

“Yes on both counts,” I said.

“Have to what?” Neve had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her sweatshirt.

“I’ll let them tell you. Come on, Phelan.”

Phelan glanced between his cousin and I for a moment before he nodded. “Right. Neve, let Jac know I’m in one piece, okay? I don’t know that she’ll worry, but just in case.”

“What the hell just happened?” Neve demanded, rounding on my brother, who cringed slightly. I tried valiantly to smother my smile as I hurried away from the fire, not entirely sure I wanted to witness whatever was about to go down in the center of the tent.

“You’re a cruel woman, leannán,” Phelan panted as he caught up with me, shaking his head. “You left your brother to deal with that.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine.” I ducked back out into the open air on the far side of the tent, staring out across the hillocks and snow toward the edge of the ravine. “At least for the moment, he’ll be fine,” I amended.

Phelan squeezed my shoulder. “We all will be,” he murmured. “You know that.”

I shivered. “At least I think I do.”

I set off across the snow, leaving Phelan to trail in my wake. I heard him sigh quietly as he jogged to catch up.

The fact that he had a little more faith in my visions than I did was worrisome sometimes.

This was one of those times.

The last time I’d seen Phelan as pale as I saw him that moment was when Matt and J.T. had fished him out of the Grand River, half-drowned and bleeding from a half-dozen wounds—including the ones that had left the heavy scars on his hand, two straight lines where it looked like he’d grabbed a sword bare-handed and held on for dear life.

“Not real?” he echoed softly, staring at her blankly.

“And something other than human ghosts, too,” she added, casting a quick look at me. Bile bubbled up in my throat. I gulped down a mouthful of cocoa to force it down. The liquid burned its way down my throat but did little to settle my nerves.

“What’s she saying?” my brother asked. I shivered, forgetting that he couldn’t hear her—or at least had never admitted to being able to hear her, even when she wanted to be heard.

“She took a closer look at Leviathan’s army,” I told Matt. “She came across a few interesting things in the doing.”

“Illusions,” Phelan said softly, “and what else, Ériu?”

“Wraiths,” she said. “And worse, Uncle, things like I’ve not seen, but I can feel them.” Her gaze flicked toward Leinth, who drew up silently in Phelan’s shadow, a latecomer to the party, it seemed, for all that she was early for wrangling with Leviathan beyond the walls. “She may be able to identify the rest with more precision than I could.”

Leinth gave an uncomfortable grimace. “I would if I’d been paying more attention to the army than to him. I’m sorry. I just know that none of it felt right.” A visible shiver ran through her, her lips pressing tightly together in a thin, white line.

“This isn’t good, is it?” my brother asked, looking at Phelan.

“Not at all,” Phelan said grimly, shaking himself. “Not at all. I suspected that something wasn’t what it appeared, that it was somehow a little too good to be true…but this is a little more than I expected when I said I had a bad feeling about this.”

“It always is,” I said, staring into my mug. “So what are we going to do about it?”

Matt answered with a shrug. “Shore up the defenses, post a stricter watch, let the Hunt know what’s going on—and pray,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “A lot of praying. Whether that army’s illusionary in part or not, that’s still a lot of spirits and ghosts to contend with and I, for one, am not looking forward to that at all.”