Awakenings

“Did you tell Phelan any of this?”

“No,” Ériu said. “No, I didn’t have a chance. He was still fencing with Leviathan.” She huddled next to me, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Do you know what he was, Marin?”

“I can imagine,” I said, my tone bone-dry. “One of the former powers-that-be in Canaan, I’m going to guess.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, like that, but…worse in some ways. But he’s like Thordin—he was supposed to be dead and gone, nothing more than a distant memory.”

“But he’s not,” I said grimly.

“No, he’s not.”

I stared at her for a long moment before I sighed and got up to make myself a hot drink. “So you think he’s a threat?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Ériu admitted softly. “Gods know that I wish I did.”

I wish you did, too. I frowned darkly, staring into the fire. “I wonder if that’s what her warning was about,” I muttered.

“Whose warning? What warning?”

“The Morrigan,” I said. “She warned me that Seamus had to go with Thom and Cameron. I wonder if she told me that because she knew either he or Leviathan would react badly to each other.”

“Anything’s possible,” the ghost’s whisper-thin voice said. “Short of asking her, we can’t know for sure.”

“Right.”

“What’s right?”

I startled at the sound of my brother’s voice, spilling hot chocolate all over my hand. I swore and grabbed a rag, mopping the scalding liquid up off my skin and sleeve. “Dammit, Matt!”

“Touchy,” he said brow furrowing. “Who were you talking to?”

“Ériu,” Phelan said. “She’s sitting right there, and looking none too happy. I take it Leviathan’s ranks left you as unsettled as our conversation with him left us?”

“Not all of them were real,” she said, looking up at Phelan. “This isn’t good, Uncle. Not at all.”

“Marin.”

I winced, trying to ignore the sound of Ériu’s ghostly voice. I glared into the fire, as if that would make the kettle of water I’d settled over it boil faster.

I’d left everyone else to deal with that Leviathan character and whatever was going on beyond the walls. Maybe Phelan and Thom were right—sometimes, you had to let someone else deal with the problem for the sake of your own sanity.

This had been one of those moments, I’d realized as soon as I’d stepped through the gates. It was time for me to let someone else fight a battle for once.

“Marin, please. Don’t ignore me.”

I could feel a chill, heralding her nearness. I exhaled a heavy sigh, tilting my head toward the sound of her voice, unable to keep weariness out of my voice. “Why, Ériu?”

“I’ve lost two mothers already, Marin. I don’t want to lose another.”

A shudder ran through me and I couldn’t suppress my flinch. “That was low.”

“At least you’re listening now.” I could see her, faint in the firelight, translucent and ethereal, looking like a seventeen-year-old version of herself even though she’d died well after that age. She knelt next to me, her spectral lips thinning as she pressed them into a hard line. “They’re not all real, Marin. They’re not all real, they’re not all ghosts, and they weren’t all human.”

I blinked at her. “What?”

“Leviathan’s army! The spirits he brought with him. Not all of them are real, not all of them are ghosts, and they’re not all human.”

“What does that mean, Ériu?” I asked, my heart starting to beat a little faster.

“I don’t know,” she said, her tone bleak. “But I know enough to know that I don’t like it and there’s something going on here that’s not going to end well for any of us.”

Leviathan regarded them for a long, silent moment before he nodded. “Then I presume that they pose no threat?”

“Our agreement is that they’ll defend us—and this place—if needed. It’s their home, now, too.”

Phelan crossed his arms. “But as you’ve said, you mean no harm to us if we mean no harm to you, and I am more than capable of assuring you that we mean you and yours no harm.” His gaze flicked toward the ghostly figures beyond Leviathan. He could see Eriu wending her way among them, a flaxen-haired wraith among all the drowned or frozen souls that Lake Michigan—perhaps all the lakes and connected waterways—had claimed over the centuries. She was one bright spot of color amidst their strange drabness. “Though harm is a thing I find myself questioning, considering the size of the army of spirits you’ve brought along.”

Is his power so great that he can command them, or is it more like me and the people here, where he’s earned their trust and respect, but it’s a choice to follow him?

“Curiosity and fear are powerful,” Leviathan said cryptically. He shifted his weight, smirking. “They make you uncomfortable.”

“Armies of anything at our gates make us uncomfortable,” Phelan fired back. “That hasn’t changed.”

Leviathan smiled and a chill shot down Phelan’s spine.

I still don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.

“I’ll send them away,” Leviathan said. “Clearly, there’s no harm meant here, so there’s no reason for them to linger.”

“We could send them to their rest, if they’d like.”

Leviathan’s attention snapped to Matt. “What was that?”

Damn, damn, and damn. “In the old way,” Phelan rushed to say. “You’re familiar with the old rituals.”

“Only in passing,” Leviathan said, some of the tension easing. “Druids, women of the royal houses, that rot, yes?”

Phelan nodded, feeling sick to his stomach. Why the hell did you have to bring that up, Matt?

Leviathan’s gaze shifted to Leinth. “And you’d be doing the sending?”

Leinth, mercifully, kept her mouth shut. She shrugged eloquently. Phelan breathed a mental sigh of relief.

“I imagine most of them would pass on the offer, in any case,” Leviathan said. “Though I suppose I will let them know that it’s been made.” He took a slow step back. “I’ll take my leave, then.”

Phelan inclined his head.

The smile that Leviathan gave him left him chilled, but the other man withdrew, turning and walking back toward the sea of drowned souls beyond them. He disappeared into their midst and one by one, slowly, the souls winked out of visibility, drifting away like fog as it burns off under the sun.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Matt muttered.

“Me too, Matt,” Phelan murmured back. “Me, too.”

Leviathan’s brows went up. “I’d heard he was long dead.”

“Fate finds a way,” Phelan said by way of explanation, hoping against hope that he’d be allowed to leave it at that.

Leviathan squinted at him, but mercifully let it go. “So it was for him that you overreached.”

“I would have done it for any of them.” Phelan’s jaw tightened. And twice over for some of them—or more. “These people are my family, and if you’re of a mind to use that against me, go ahead and try. You won’t like the result.”

Leviathan’s brows shot up. “I’m not certain how to take that, Wanderer.”

“In the spirit in which it was intended,” Phelan said. “As fair warning.”

Leviathan stared at him for a moment, then laughed.

Leinth’s fingers tangled in his sleeve and Phelan glanced at her, brow furrowing.

“Don’t bait him, Phelan,” she whispered. “Do you really think we can afford more enemies?”

“I’m not baiting him,” Phelan hissed back, then turned his attention back to Leviathan, whose mirth was fading slowly. “What are your intentions, Yam? We’ve told you ours.”

“If no harm is meant to us, then we mean no harm to you.” The other man’s gaze flicked toward the walls. His brow furrowed. “Though, I sense…is it possible?”

Phelan winced as Leinth’s fingers dug into his flesh.

“If you’re asking about the Wild Hunt, then yes,” Matt said quietly, crossing his arms. “Yes, it is possible.”

“They ride,” Leviathan said quietly. His gaze flicked toward Matt, then to Phelan and Leinth before shifting back to Matt.

“Some of them,” Matt agreed. “And some stay behind here. It was their price.”

Oh hell, Matt, keep your mouth shut.

“Their price? Price for what?”

“For freedom,” Leinth said, shooting a glare toward Matt, a silent warning to say no more. “For one man’s freedom from their oath. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“Marin—”

Phelan sighed and put his hand on Matt’s arm. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “Let her go. She’s in a strange spot right now and it’s best just to let her deal with it however she feels is best.” I’ll deal with her being out of sorts later. Right now, I have this particular wrinkle to deal with. Phelan turned his attention back to Leviathan, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I take it that none of you noticed the dead lindworm?”

“Is that what that was?” Leviathan looked thoughtful. “We did notice something out of the ordinary, but I’ve been slumbering for so long, it’s hard for me to know what’s normal and what’s not.”

“Right,” Matt said, his tone dry. “Because they were common when you were running around wherever you were running around.”

Phelan barely suppressed a wince. Leinth didn’t bother to suppress hers. She looked at Matt.

“Mesopotamia,” she said quietly. “He figured a bit there.”

“A bit,” Leviathan agreed with a faint, wry smile. “Though I was chased out of Canaan soon enough.”

“That tended to happen when Jehovah’s followers began filtering in.” There was a trace of bitterness in Leinth’s voice—one Phelan noticed because he’d heard similar traces of bitterness in the voices of others.

“They weren’t common even then,” Phelan said, forestalling further discussion on the subject. “You know that as well as any of us, Yam, and I’m not sure why you would think things had changed so drastically.”

“It’s been a long while,” Leviathan said. “Things could have changed.”

Phelan was fairly certain he felt a migraine coming on. He suppressed the urge to massage his temples. “Not that much,” he growled. “Trust me on that.”

“Out of completely morbid curiosity, who reached that deep?”

“I did,” Phelan admitted. “I knew that I’d overreached, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“The lady said it was a matter of life and death.”

“It was,” Phelan said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Whose?”

“Thordin,” Phelan said quietly. “It was to save Thordin.”

The gates opened.

Leinth tore her gaze from Leviathan, twisting toward the sound and praying she wouldn’t regret turning her back on the man before her. She watched Phelan stride through the gates, flanked by Matt and Marin. Something smoldered in the Taliesin’s eyes and Leinth hoped against hope that it wasn’t barely-masked fear.

That won’t help us now.

“Wanderer,” Leviathan said.

“Leviathan,” Phelan responded, lengthening his stride to join Leinth where she stood. “You’re a hell of a long way from Canaan.”

“It’s been more than a few lifetimes since I resided there,” Leviathan said. His gaze flicked from Phelan toward Matt and Marin and then back again. “You of all people should realize that.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Come now. You came here from the old world well before most of our fellows did. Could you blame one fading such as I for following your example?” Leviathan smiled a wry, faint smile. “I have slumbered here for centuries, Wanderer, undisturbed and bothering no one. The spirits of the deep blue have been my company and comfort.”

Phelan went white. Leinth reached a hand out to steady him even as Matt stepped forward to grasp his shoulder. “You—”

“Became the guardian of the great waters, yes.” Leviathan crossed his arms. “You seem surprised.”

For a moment, Leinth though that Phelan just might faint. Instead, he steeled himself, drawing himself a little straighter, some color washing back into his face. “I suppose I shouldn’t be.”

“Hardly,” Leviathan agreed. His expression grew hard. “This place is yours.”

“It’s theirs.” Phelan nodded to Marin and Matt. “And I’m theirs, too.”

Leviathan’s brows rose. “That’s unexpected.”

“What do you want?” Marin asked, slipping between Phelan and Leinth.

“To know your intentions, madam,” Leviathan said smoothly. “Power stirred the spirits and woke me. I would know what you intend to do with that power—and for what purpose it was mustered.”

“To save a man’s life,” Marin fired back. “And for the good of all.”

With that, she spun and marched back toward the safety of the settlement’s walls.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her approach slow, cautious. We all thought you lost or dead—not that it much matters at this point, considering Thordin. Perhaps he’s not the only one.

“I could ask the same of you.” His eyes gleamed like deep water. “Are they yours, the ones who dwell here?”

Leinth quirked a brow. “Do you truly think me capable of such a thing? No. They’re not mine. They simply suffer me to live among them.”

Leviathan nodded slowly, stepping away from the line of his ghostly followers to stop a few feet away from her. They stared at each other across a patch of bare ground, wary as cats in unfamiliar territory. “It didn’t feel like your power anyway.”

“My power?” she echoed. Her stomach dropped. What’s he on about?

“Mm. I’ve slumbered beneath the waters to the west. I felt the earth move, and still I slept. The water rose and I was content. It grew cold, but all was still well enough, because the waters were alive even despite the chill. I continued to rest at peace. And then I felt something.” Leviathan tilted his head to one side. “The spirits grew restless and the power that lives beneath the waters stirred. It woke the powers, and so I to awoke.”

“So you came here?”

“I can feel the power here,” Leviathan said simply. “Are you going to tell me that you know nothing of any of this?”

“There’s power here,” Leinth admitted. “Even a fool can tell.” Her gaze drifted toward the army of ghosts at his back. “Why do you bring them, Leviathan? Have you come for a fight?”

“I pray not,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “But if a fight there must be, then I intend to emerge victorious.”

Matt frowned, then looked out toward the mists himself, startling slightly. “Oh,” he said.

“You see him, then?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah. I see him.”

Leinth nodded. “Fetch Phelan. I’ll try to negotiate until he and your sister get here.” She shifted, swinging her legs over the far side of the wall. Matt blinked.

“Wait, what are you—”

“Trust me,” Leinth said, then dropped nimbly from the top of the wall to land in a crouch at its base. By the ancestors, I hope I actually do know what I’m doing.

She straightened slowly, shaking out the folds of her cloak as she turned toward the line of ghosts that stood sentinel two dozen yards away. She could see their faces, their clothing—men in Coast Guard uniforms, women in dresses a century and more out of date, teenagers in cutoff shorts and sweat shirts.

Ghosts of the lake, she thought, her lips thinning.

“Oh Leinth,” she breathed in her native tongue. “You’d best hope you’re not suddenly out of your league.”

“Leinth, don’t go anywhere. I’m coming down.”

She glared up toward Matt, who’d leaned over the edge of the wall to look at her. “You’re going to go find Phelan like I told you. Trust me, but hurry.”

Gooseflesh started to rise on her shoulders and arms, a chilly dampness sinking into her bones. She pointed in the general direction of the campfires. “Go. I’ll not say it again.”

Matt looked like he might be planning on arguing, but his head disappeared a moment later and she heard his boots hit the ground on the other side of the wall and retreat quickly, his boots crunching in the crust of snow that still lingers.

“What’s this, then?” a curious voice said from behind her. Leinth stiffened, abruptly breathless.

“Leviathan,” she said, eyes widening as she met the blue-eyed gaze of Yam Leviathan. Lean of build with deep, dark hair, he looked far more like one of the drowned teenagers than an ancient river deitiy.

“Lady Winter,” he said. “What a surprise this is.”

Will wonders never cease.

Ghosts.

Leinth’s lips thinned as she slowly approached Matthew Astoris from behind. She could sense what waited beyond the wall, the mist that had risen well outside the confines of Marin’s wardings. These were cold ones, frigid as the depths of winter, as the dark shadows of her soul before the day she’d met Seamus, the former Taliesin, all those long-gone yesterdays ago.

“Phelan really did reach too deep, didn’t he?” Matt asked softly, not looking at her as she climbed up the wall to perch beside him.

Leinth frowned, glancing at him before her gaze drifted to the mists, dark and bluish and chill with tendrils of gray and white lacing through it. It was hardly a natural mist, she knew that for certain. “What do you mean?”

“When we stopped the lindworm,” Matt murmured. “Phelan drew on something, said to my sister that he’d reached too deep. He really did, didn’t he? That’s why they’re here.”

A shiver crept down the winter goddess’s spine and her lips thinned. “You think so?”

“Why else would they be here?” He left the fact that they hadn’t attacked yet unspoken. Leinth could sense that the ghosts beyond the walls were waiting for something, but she wasn’t quite certain what.

And their Spiritweaver is afield. Poor planning on our part, isn’t it?

Something tugged insistently at the edges of her thoughts, something disturbingly familiar but elusive. She rocked back, frowning. “They’re waiting for something,” she whispered, not quite knowing where the words came from.

Matt looked at her askance. “What the hell would they be waiting for?”

Leinth glanced back toward the field. A flicker of blue-green caught her eye, a figure drifting through the mist. Her jaw tightened as her stomach sank.

Just what we need. Someone else wanting our throats torn out.

“Their leader.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked, finally daring to meet Phelan’s gaze. He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

“Do you want a lie, or the truth?”

I laughed weakly and shook my head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Probably not,” Phelan agreed, then smiled. “But regardless of how I know, it’s true. Matt knows what he’s doing.”

“I know he does,” I said, my throat tight. “I just worry, that’s all.”

He has to survive to watch over my son when Thom and I leave like we do—like we do in every vision I’ve had about it. Matt’s there. He’s there for Lin.

My eyes fluttered closed. Phelan squeezed my shoulder again.

“What is it?”

“Nothing and everything,” I murmured, then sighed, opening my eyes. “What do you think is out there?”

“Not sure yet,” he admitted. “But Leinth’s probably right. It doesn’t feel like the Hecate or the Grays to me, either.”

“So it’s something new,” I said.

“Or something old,” Phelan muttered. “Very, very old.”

He glanced back over his shoulder, toward the fire and the sheds beyond.

I shivered.

“Yours? Thordin’s?” I paused. “Neve’s.”

“Neve didn’t make many enemies,” Phelan said quietly.

“Many isn’t none,” I pointed out. I loosened my grip on the haft of my bow, realizing that my fingers had started to hurt.

I hadn’t heard another blast of the whistle since it had initially alerted us to something being wrong. My stomach felt suddenly hollow.

“I’m done waiting, Phelan.”

“Yeah.” He shifted his shoulders, letting his hand fall away from mine. “Yeah. It’s time.”

I hadn’t needed his permission, but something about knowing that I had his support made it even easier to square my shoulders and head for the gate, hoping against hope that whatever was out there was a far lesser threat than I feared.