Awakenings

Phelan’s fingers tightened around her shoulder even as he reached his free hand back to catch Jacqueline’s hand. “We’re not going to let him go that easily, and he won’t give up the fight, Sif. You know him.”

“He’s so tired,” she whispered, head bowed. “I know it would be easier for him if he just…drifted away.”

“He won’t,” Phelan said, injecting every ounce of conviction he’d ever felt into his voice. Gods and monsters, this is the last thing we need right now. This is worse than Marin or Thom’s angst—worse than mine, too. Damn. “He’s stubborn, Sif, more stubborn than even me.”

She laughed bitterly and shook her head. “Stop trying to comfort me, Wanderer. You’re terrible at it.” She sighed and looked up at him, a tear making a slow trek down her cheek. “Leave us. I’ll call if something changes, though I’m not entirely confident it will anytime soon.”

Jacqueline squeezed Phelan’s fingers as she peered around him at Sif. “We’re doing everything we can, Sif.”

“I know you are,” she said. “And you’re a fine healer, Jacqueline, as is Jameson, but I don’t know that it will be enough. When he—the last—” She broke off, jaw tightening. “Even the last time he faced a lindworm—the sire of the one we faced on the ice—it went badly. We never spoke of it because to speak of it would display weakness that his father found unacceptable and forbade us from revealing, but it nearly killed him then. I don’t know if he was stronger then…or now.”

Phelan winced, dread coiling in his belly.

Probably then, physically. In other ways… He took a deep, slow breath. “It’s going to be okay, Sif.”

“Aye,” she said. “Keep lying to me, Wanderer. Keep lying to me. Perhaps at some point I’ll begin to believe it.”

Gods and monsters, I hope so.

Damn you, Thordin. Don’t make a liar out of me. I’ll drag you back from the other side to kill you myself if you do.

                Gods and monsters—what are we going to do if I’m wrong?

The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach grew as he realized he didn’t have an answer.

“Am I interrupting?”

Phelan stiffened, jerking back from Jacqueline even as his head swiveled toward the voice. Sif stood in the doorway, looking tired and drawn, her face pale in the lamplight. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater, looking far more like an off-duty model than the deadly warrior Phelan knew she was. He managed to smile and shook his head, giving voice to the lie.

“No, it’s all right. I thought you were sleeping.”

“It’s hard,” she said, slipping past he and Jacqueline to slump into the chair Jac had abandoned. “I just keep seeing him every time I close my eyes and I feel guilty that I’m not right here.” She scrubbed a hand over her eyes and stared bleakly at her onetime lover, looking more lost and afraid than Phelan had ever seen her before. “I know where I need to be, Phelan, and it’s with my ass in this chair.”

Jacqueline sighed, leaning against Phelan. “Sif, it’s not going to do either of you any good.”

“How do you know that?” Her gaze flicked up to regard Jacqueline warily. “How do you know how much good it’s going to do either of us? I’d rather sleep in this chair. I need him to forgive me. Don’t you understand that? I need him to forgive me and tell me that everything’s going to be all right. I don’t care what happened in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore.” Sif looked away, looked back to Thordin, asleep in the bed, unmoving except for the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. “I just need him to forgive me for what I did and then maybe we can start over.”

Phelan touched her shoulder. She flinched, then reached up and covered her hand with his.

“You still love him,” Phelan observed.

“How could I stop?” Sif asked. “It wasn’t in me, Phelan. His brother and I…that was only to save his son. I never would have betrayed him otherwise. Never.”

She shut her eyes against the tears that suddenly welled up in her eyes. “I can’t lose him. Not again. I just can’t.”

Jacqueline stood, turning her back to Thordin and sliding her arms around her lover’s waist. “You’re worried. Why are you worried, Phelan?”

He sighed and closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers. How could he describe the nameless, formless fear that had begun to coil itself around his heart? The unsettled feeling he knew was there but couldn’t shunt aside, couldn’t forget. Jacqueline’s arms tightened around him.

“It’s okay if you don’t know,” she whispered, then titled her face up to his. Their lips met and Phelan reveled in the all-too-brief moment, savoring the taste of her lips against his. He drew her tight against his chest and exhaled a ragged breath.

“Nothing I can name,” he breathed against her hair. “Just a feeling.”

“Oh.” She rubbed his back gently, comfortingly. He relaxed a fraction, inhaling the scent of lavender from her hair.

“I love you,” he murmured, and meant it—meant it with every fiber of his being. Jacqueline rested her chin against his chest and looked up at him, smiling.

“I know you do. I love you, too.”

He swallowed and smiled faintly, letting the smile fade after holding it for a brief moment. “She saw the Morrigan, Jac.”

His lover stiffened and drew back. “What?” She cast a quick glance toward Thordin. Phelan’s grip tightened.

“She didn’t come for him,” Phelan said. “Don’t panic. If someone was coming for him, it’d be bloody Valkyries. You know that.”

“I don’t know anything for certain anymore,” Jacqueline said, then shot him a wry smile that faded as quickly as his had. “So why did she come to Marin, then, if it wasn’t…you know.”

“To warn her,” Phelan said. “To tell her that Seamus had to go with Cameron and Thom. I don’t know more than that. She wouldn’t say.” He looked at Jacqueline again and took a deep breath. “Stay close to her, Jac.”

Her brows knit. “Of course. She’s my friend.”

“I know she is,” he said. “But stay close to Marin. Please?”

“I will. I promise.”

Relief flooded through him, relief that he couldn’t explain, just as he couldn’t explain why he’d felt the need to ask her to stay close to Marin. Phelan drew Jacqueline tight again and buried his face in her hair. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“Been any change?”

Jacqueline looked up from the book in her lap toward Phelan, then at Thordin, who lay sleeping in the bed in front of her. She shook her head slowly. “No,” she said. “No change. Just sleeps.”

“At least he’s still breathing,” Phelan said, resting his hands on her shoulders, following her gaze toward his sleeping friend. “That’s something.”

Jacqueline sighed, leaning her head back and resting it against his chest. “Yeah. Sif’s been in and out. I told her to get some rest. Being ragged isn’t going to help.”

Phelan nodded. “Good.” He squeezed his lover’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss her. She captured his lips and wouldn’t let him go for a moment, despite the awkward positioning.

He blinked at her when she broke off the kiss. “What was that for?”

“Just glad it wasn’t you this time,” she said softly. “I wanted you to know that.”

He smiled weakly at her, feeling a pang of guilt. He still hadn’t quite recovered from the magic he’d called while they were out there on the frozen lake, still hadn’t realized what the consequences of his actions might be.

She’s right, though. It could have been me. For once, it wasn’t, but it just as easily could have been, and it might be next time.

“What did you guys talk about up at the forge?”

“How did you know I was there?”

“Because you smell like smoke.” Jacqueline shot him a playful grin. “And you’ve got that look. What’s going on now?”

“We were just talking about Thom and Cameron’s impending trip, that’s all.” Phelan leaned against her chair. “J.T. is going with them.”

“I know.”

“I know you know,” he said. “They don’t like it—Cameron, mostly. He doesn’t like that Seamus is going, either.”

“Seamus is going?”

Phelan nodded. Jacqueline watched him for a few long moments.

“Marin saw something, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” Phelan whispered. “Yes, she did.”

“All right, Matt,” Phelan said through tears of laughter. “We’ll leave it at that, then.”

Matt cast a hooded look at him and nodded slightly. “That’s where we’ll leave it.”

Thom arched a brow slightly at their silent accord, then shrugged and looked to Cameron. “I guess all we have to decide now is when we’re leaving.”

“Just like that?” There was a hint of wonder and disbelief in Cameron’s voice. “Just like that, we up and go.”

“Just like that,” Thom answered. “We’ll need to inventory what we’ll be able to take with us for trade on the first run, too. That’ll take a few days of sorting through.”

“Nails. Axes.” Matt glanced up from the anvil. “Not sure if you want to take any real weapons.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s not that many people out there that would be able to figure out how to use one of the swords,” Thom said, brows knitting. “Though you never know. You’re right, though. I don’t think we want to take any weapons for trade—not this time, not until we know what’s out there, who’s out there.”

“That’s a healthy level of paranoia,” Phelan said, crossing his arms. “The community down where Holland used to be seemed fairly…welcoming, I’d have to say. I didn’t really stay there, but they fed me.”

Thom snorted and shook his head. “Well, that says something, I guess.”

“Yeah, that we’ll start there,” Cameron muttered. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “How far?”

“What’s left of St. Joe or Benton Harbor, maybe,” Thom said. “Don’t want to go as far as the city.” He caught Phelan’s flinch out of the corner of his eye and grimaced. “Phelan said there wasn’t much to see.”

“No,” Phelan agreed quietly. “There wasn’t. Maybe something—someone—survived on the outskirts, or the ‘burbs, but the city itself…” His voice trailed away and his eyes grew distant, pain lurking there, pain he so often kept hidden. Thom patted his shoulder.

“That’s a trip for another time,” he said. “We’ll network with the folks that are closer first. Then we’ll go from there.”

“It’s a good plan,” Matt said.

“I like to think so.” Thom set aside the whetstone and leaned back. Hope I’m right, because if I’m not, everyone may end up paying the price.

“Your faith in our ability to not get into trouble is wonderful, Phelan,” Cameron said, crossing his arms. “We don’t have any intention—”

“Calm down,” Thom said. “It’s not that we’d be finding any trouble—it’s trouble finding us. Same as always.”

“Same as always is right,” Matt muttered, drawing the axe-head back out of the fire and lifting his hammer. “If I were you, I wouldn’t complain about J.T. tagging along. He’s good in a fight and better at putting you back together again if needsbe.”

Cameron frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“We don’t have to like it,” Thom said, picking up a whetstone and one of the blades Matt had finished that was still in need of honing. “We just have to deal with it.”

Cameron sighed and shook his head, looking toward Phelan. “The Morrigan, huh? Is she on our side?”

“Such as it can be,” Phelan said, leaning back. “She’s not exactly the type to take sides, but she’s always had a soft spot for…certain people.”

“When he says that, he means him,” Matt said without looking up from his work. Phelan shot him a glare and Matt smiled wryly. “Don’t give me that look, Phelan, you know it’s the truth.”

“Sometimes I wonder how much you may or may not be lying about remembering Cíar’s life, Matt.”

Matt just smiled and kept to his work. Thom gave him a long, appraising look, whetstone and blade half-forgotten in his hands.

A good thing to wonder.

He wouldn’t ask, of course—not yet, anyway. Matt would probably talk to him about it eventually if he gave it enough time. It’d come up sooner if sharing meant Marin would be safer.

As rocky as their beginnings had been, he and Matt had found common ground when it came to Marin. The day Matt had gotten his scars—the one on his face, the one on his hand—had been the day that alliance had been forged.

Thom had shared his fears that day, his secret, and Matt had kept his end of the bargain.

“There’s not much to think about,” Matt said softly. “Not when it comes to him. He lived, loved his sister and her children, and died.”

Phelan stared at Matt for a long moment and then began to laugh.

“She says he goes with us. None of us are getting a vote.”

Cameron frowned, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall next to the forge’s door. “Did she say why?”

“When the Morrigan gives a warning, you don’t argue with her, you just do what she says,” Phelan muttered, his gaze on the coals.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Cameron said, his gaze scything from Phelan to Thom and back again. “Why the hell would she be talking to Marin anyway?”

“She’s been looking out for Marin Astoris for a long time,” Phelan said softly, bowing his head. “Since before I knew her, honestly. She had a soft spot for Finn and Ciar and Brighíd, too, but that was a long time ago.” His voice grew quieter. “Halfway to forever, actually.”

Thom gasped his shoulder and Phelan looked up, smiling wryly.

“I’m all right, fear fiach, and we’ll be all right without him here.” Phelan glanced at Cameron. “I know that you two talked about him staying here to keep an eye on Neve, but let’s be honest about this. My cousin’s completely capable of taking care of herself, especially now that her leg’s nearly healed.”

“She’s pregnant,” Cameron said.

“Yeah, she’s pregnant, not an invalid,” Matt said, tossing his two cents into the pot for the first time in the last half hour. He slid the axe-head he’d been working on into the embers to heat and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “They’ll be fine, Cam. She’ll be fine. We’ll be fine, since I’m staying.”

Thom arched a brow. “You’ve decided, then?”

Matt nodded. “One of us does have to be here. Might as well be me—between Phelan and I, think we’ll keep things well in hand.”

“And J.T.,” Cameron added.

“No, he’s going with you, too,” Matt said, peering into the fire, watching the metal slowly grow brighter. “He and Carolyn talked about it, I guess, and decided that he should go along just in case.”

“Just in case of what?” Cameron asked.

Phelan snorted. “In case of disaster,” he said. “That’s what.”

I stood in a clearing, the ground covered in snow, trees all around me, looking like ink against the snow and sky. I knew it was cold, but I couldn’t—didn’t—feel it, standing there in my jeans and sneakers and a sweater. The sky above the clearing was bright with stars, the Milky Way a ribbon of light stretching across the vista of a moonless night.

                “You’re not afraid.”

                I went tense at the sound of the voice, achingly familiar and enough to send shivers down my spine.

                “Where are you?” I asked. “Where am I?”

                “Someplace safe.” She stepped from the trees, dressed in the same gray robes that swayed in a non-existent breeze as if they were woven of nothing but mist and shadow. Her amber eyes gleamed in the darkness, bright against her pale flesh. Starlight caught in her silver-white hair, setting the curls ablaze with pale flame. “Worry not.  Your physical body is still in bed with your husband.”

                “What warning do you have now?” I watched the Morrigan quietly as she came within a few feet of me, our eyes meeting in the darkness. Years ago, she’d whispered a warning in my ear—take a breath and wait to die—presaging the end of everything we’d ever known. It had just been more years in coming than we’d ever dared to believe.

                Why she gave a damn, why she watched over us, I still wasn’t sure about.

                She stood in silence for a long moment, watching me even as I watched her.

                Then she smiled faintly, berry-red lips quirking.

                “They need to take Seamus with them.”

                “What?”

                “You heard me, child.”

                I shook my head hard. “I heard you, but—”

                “No buts,” she said, turning away. “He goes with them or the fate that awaits you all is far worse than death.”

I still couldn’t sleep, not after my watch, not after the conversation with Thom. He drifted off and I lay awake, staring upward, listening to him breathe in the darkness.

We were lucky, he and I. Sure, we’d had our share of problems—we still did in some ways—but they were nothing compared to what was going on between Sif and Thordin.

Then again, it took almost losing each other to make us realize that being together was more important than anything else—that having the other with you was more important than any disagreement we’d ever had or ever could have, more important than any belief we might have held dear.

I rolled onto my side and pressed my face into his neck. Thom stirred, but kept on sleeping, his arm wrapped around my waist. He was right about there not being anything we could do, though, except wait. They’d have to solve their own problems, once Thordin woke up.

If he woke up.

A shiver shot through me and I pressed closer to Thom. Something was tugging on the edge of my consciousness, tickling the back of my brain. I tried to push it away. I was tired, even though I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t have the energy.

It didn’t go away.

“We knew it was only a matter of time,” Jac said softly, staring at her hands. “There were just too many signs pointing in that direction. We just didn’t want to believe it.”

                “Then you understand.”

                “No,” she admitted. “And I don’t like it, either. But sometimes you’ve got to let go. You have to step back and let the chips fall where they may—to let God or whatever’s out there make the call.” She gave me a brave, if weak, smile. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

                “No,” I whispered. “No, it doesn’t.”

Thom was dead asleep when I slipped into our room and stayed that way as I quietly changed into something to sleep in, but woke as I eased into bed with him.

“Any change?” he mumbled as he rolled over to make room for me to tuck myself against him.

“No,” I told him as I slid beneath the covers and cuddled against his chest. “Leinth says he sleeps, but there’s no real change.”

“I guess that’s the best news we can hope for,” Thom murmured into my hair, his arms sliding around me and drawing me close. I sighed and buried my face in his shoulder.

“He can’t die, Thom,” I whispered.

“Because we need him?”

“Because I don’t want him to.” I sighed, sagging and biting my lip. “Because it would be senseless, because goddammit anyway, it was stupid and he shouldn’t have tried to go alone and he shouldn’t have tried to deal with it without Sif with him.”

“What does she—”

“She needs him,” I interrupted. “And he needs her and they’re both too damned stubborn to see it. At least they were. Maybe she’s not anymore. Maybe he still is. Damn them both anyway.” I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling in the darkness. Thom reached up and ran his fingers through my hair.

“Marin.”

I drew a shuddering breath and exhaled it in a sigh. “I’m sorry, Thom.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he said, sitting up, the blankets falling away from his bare chest. “You’re upset and that’s fine. We can’t solve their problems for them, though. That’s something they need to do.”

“He needs to live if they’re going to do that, Thom.”

“I agree.” He leaned down, kissing me gently. “You know that they’re doing everything they can.”

“I know,” I whispered. “The waiting doesn’t get easier, though.”

“I know, Mar. I know.”