Winter – Chapter 28 – 06

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Phelan took him by the arms and gave him a little shake.  “Tell me your wife isn’t pregnant.  For the love of powers above, below, and sideways, tell me that Marin isn’t pregnant yet.”

Thom blinked at him. “If she is, she hasn’t said anything to me yet, and if she hasn’t said anything to me yet, that’s because she doesn’t know.”  His gaze turned wary.  “What brought this conversation on?  Do you know something I should know?”

Déithe agus arrachtaigh, I hope not,” Phelan said with a faint shudder, glaring at his cousin.  “The tides of time and prophecy are shifting rather seriously right now and I’m not sure how many more surprises I can handle.”

“If Seamus handled us when we were young, you can handle whatever’s coming at you now,” Neve muttered, her glare shifting from him to the fire instead.  “It’s not like this baby is going to spell the world’s doom.”

Thom glanced between the two of them, his brows knitting.  Phelan heaved a sigh.

We can hope it’s not—pray it’s not.  “What did you need, Thom?”

“I just went looking for Jay and Carolyn told me he’s sick.  What the hell is going on?”

Phelan winced.  Of course no one told him.  But wait, wasn’t he bleeding last night, too?  “You’re not sick.”

Thom’s brows knit.  “Why would I be sick?”

“Didn’t one of the hags get a piece of you last night?”  Phelan’s heart started to beat a little faster.  If they had and Thom wasn’t feeling the effects, that was either a very good thing or a very bad thing.

He’s got as much of our blood as anyone.

“You mean that gash on my arm?”  The Seer flushed and shook his head.  “No, that wasn’t from them.  I snagged myself on some scrap I was helping Matt with before the fight started.  Didn’t realize I was bleeding until after we were done with the fight.  Marin disinfected it for me.”

“Let me see it,” Phelan said, his heart in his throat.  It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the other man, but he needed to see it for himself, to prove to himself that what Thom was saying was true.

“The gash?”  Thom frowned but shrugged out of his jacket.  “You sure you’re okay, Phelan?”

“Fine,” he muttered.  “Just show me.  Didn’t need a stitch or anything?”

“It wasn’t that deep,” Thom said as he yanked off his shirt so Phelan could get a good look at the four-inch cut on his upper arm.  “Just stung like hell, that’s all.”

Phelan studied the cut, ran his finger bare millimeters from its edge, then breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It looked normal, as if it was just what Thom said it was—an accidental cut he’d gotten while helping his brother-in-law.  “Sorry,” he muttered.  “Just a little paranoid.  With Cariocecus coming so soon, we—”

“Believe me, you don’t have to tell me that we’re in the shit,” Thom said.  “I know we’re in the shit.”

“What the hell does he want with all of you anyway?”  Neve asked suddenly.  “What did you do to piss him off, Phelan?”

“Point of fact, it’s not Phelan’s fault,” Thom said, turning to Neve.  “Vammatar and a possible attack by Swedish werewolves might be, but Cariocecus isn’t his fault.”  A shadow passed over his expression, settled across his eyes.  “That bastard’s after Marin and I.  I couldn’t even begin to tell you why, though.”

Neve’s eyes flicked toward her cousin, who winced and turned away.

“Put your shirt back on, Thom,” he muttered.  He was momentarily worried and at the same time thankful as he belatedly noticed that Thom was still taping his ribs.  Better to be safe with those than sorry, I guess.  Maybe Marin’s got a little more control of that situation than I ever thought she did.

But with what happened to her yesterday…

Phelan swallowed bile and tried not to think about what Marin’s collapse could mean.  It wasn’t because she’d overdone it, no matter how many times it was said.  In the pit of his stomach, he knew that it was more than that, worse than that.

Worse yet, he suspected she knew it, too.

If she knows it, odds are she doesn’t want Thom to know it, either.  Did he ever tell her why he was so afraid?

Did he ever tell her that he tried to run away from his own abilities because his visions were showing him her death?

“Phelan, what the hell is he talking about?”  Neve asked, her tone growing more insistent.  “Vammatar came after you?  And now Cariocecus is knocking at your door?”

“Their door, not mine,” Phelan mumbled, unable to quell the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.  Thom didn’t need to step up like that.  Cariocecus is my problem, too.

“And Vammatar?  I suppose they pissed her off somehow?”

“No.  That was all me.”  He glanced at Thom.  “And they’re just Scandinavian, not Swedish.”

“Sorry,” Thom said, gaze narrowing for a moment.  “It’s all Greek to me.”

Phelan snorted humorlessly.  “Clever, Thomas.”

“Stop changing the subject, Phelan,” Neve said.  “I have a right to know.  Something pulled Cameron here and he could be dying because of it.”

“So could Jameson,” Phelan snapped.  “And we both know that the Dirae and the Hecate didn’t show up here to tangle with me.  They were after him.”

“But she knows where you are now and she’s always had a hard-on for you.”  Neve started to struggle upright.  Thom bent down to help her, wincing slightly as he did.

“Careful,” he murmured quietly.  “I know what it’s like to have busted ribs and a busted leg.  Easier to stay put even if you don’t want to.”

She shook him off once she got the crutches under her.  “I don’t need to be careful right now.  I need answers.  Bloody hell, Phelan!  I thought we’d be safe when I realized you were here.  That we were here because there was something you needed to teach Cameron, or to tell him, or something.  But no, apparently we’re here and there’s some kind of war about to break out and now Cameron might be dying and there’s not a goddamned thing I can do about it so just tell me what the hell happened with Vammatar and why Cariocecus is coming here soon to pick another fight!”

“Vammatar’s dead and I killed her,” Phelan said flatly.  “That’s all there is to that.”

Neve sucked in a breath through her teeth.  “Now her sisters are going to come after you, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are, but they’ve got to find me first.”  He glanced sidelong at Thom.  “And it seems that there’s a group of friendly skinwalkers trying to put their hounds off my scent.  They showed up to warn us that they’d be coming, but something’s kept them from finding us thus far.”  And I’m continually thanking my lucky stars that they haven’t shown up here yet.

“And the fucking war god?”

“Was here before I was.”  Phelan glanced sidelong at Thom, who winced slightly.

“It’s true.  He had his minions chasing Jay and Care and Drew weeks before Phelan got here.  He almost killed Marin and I.”

Neve’s expression softened for a moment.  “So he really is after you, not Phelan.”

“Apparently so,” Thom said.  He shook his head slightly.  “We’re still trying to figure out why, but that seems to be the case.  On my wedding day, he gave us until Midwinter’s Eve and promised he’d be back then.  For some kind of reckoning, I guess.”

Her lips thinned.  “Cameron isn’t going to be better by then.”  She looked at Phelan. “Neither is Jameson, is he?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Phelan murmured, expression darkening.  “We’ll just have to find a way to fend the bastard off without them.”

“Can you do that?” she asked.

Thom was the one who answered with a grim, wry smile.  “We’re going to have to.”

Phelan just nodded, staring at the sun as it reflected off the fresh snow beyond the tent’s walls.

If the world’s going to survive with something close to a soul, we certainly will.

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This entry was posted in Book 2 and 3, Chapter 28, Story, Winter, Year One. Bookmark the permalink.

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