“Marin, wait. Marin!”
Matt ducked Thordin’s whistling axe and turned toward the sound of Phelan’s shouting, holding up a hand to forestall another assault. Behind him, Thordin frowned slightly and took a step closer, cocking his head to one side.
“What’s the matter?”
“You don’t hear that?”
Thordin snorted. “Of course I do, I just didn’t think anything of it.”
Mat shook his head slightly, watching as his sister came marching into view with a look of horror mixed with terror etched on her face, Phelan’s voice chasing her. “This isn’t something you ignore,” he muttered, then handed his axe to Thordin. “I’ll be back.”
Thordin snorted again and shook his head. “Lead on. Time I learned something myself.”
“Marin!”
Matt winced at the tone in Phelan’s voice—a slight edge of panic he couldn’t quite remember hearing, especially directed at his sister—and jogged downhill to catch up with Marin, who was moving at a fairly quick pace toward the rest of camp. He picked up his pace slightly so he was sure to catch up with her before Phelan did.
He put a hand on her shoulder and she whipped around so fast he was shocked she didn’t have whiplash. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she met his gaze.
“Matt.”
“Worried I was Phelan?” he asked, falling into step with her, setting a pace that was a little slower than the clip she’d been moving at a moment before.
Marin shuddered and shoved her hands into her pockets. “No. Worried you were the thing following him.”
Thing following…? He glanced back over his shoulder, beyond Thordin toward where Phelan was trying to catch up, J.T. at his heels. “Mar, last time I checked, J.T. was not a thing.”
“Not J.T. There’s a ghost with them.”
“Oh.” Great. More ghosts. I guess I shouldn’t complain, given how many times they seem to show up just in time to save our asses… “That’s never made you wig out like this before.”
“That’s because they’ve never said what this one said before. And before you ask, no, I really don’t want to talk about it.”
Matt blinked at her. “Uh, okay?”
Thordin fell into step with them on the other side of Marin. She barely glanced at him, just kept her head down and kept right on walking.
“Something eating at you, skjöldur mær?”
She glanced at him, blinking. “What did you call me?”
Thordin hitched a shoulder in a shrug. “A pet name for someone I knew long ago.”
“There’s a very large part of me that doesn’t want to be called by the old nicknames for her, Thordin,” she said. “Especially not right now, when it’s her past that’s haunting me today.”
Matt frowned, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying something. As if visions of the future weren’t enough, she’s haunted by a past that may or may not be hers. He looked away. Who am I kidding? I’ve dreamed enough to know it’s hers—and mine.
At least I haven’t outright admitted that to anyone yet, though. The longer I can keep that under my hat, the better off we’ll all be. At least for a little while longer. The longer at least one of them from that innermost core at least appeared not to completely buy into the magic that everyone seemed to be somehow infected with, the better off they all were.
That was the thought, anyway.
“Where are you going?” he asked his sister after a momentary silence.
“I have no fucking clue,” she said, then sighed. “Probably to catch up with Thom. Of course, he’s probably done fighting with Tala about meals for the next four days anyway, so I’ve got no idea where I’m going or why.” She stopped and looked at her brother. “It’s Yule.”
“I know. I was there when Phelan brought it up and Thom had some kind of brain drizzle over it and bolted. You guys trying to find a way to make us celebrate the season, then?”
“That was the idea.” Her gaze drifted toward Phelan, who was still heading toward them. She blew out a quiet breath. “I’m not going to be able to get away, am I?”
“Camp’s not big enough for it,” Matt said.
“Right.” Her jaw firmed. “The ghost told me that I’m going to have a baby sometime in the near future, Matt.”
He rocked back against his heels, blinking. “Seriously? How likely is that?”
Marin’s lips thinned and she met his gaze head-on. “I’m a week late.”
