“Listen to him, Phelan,” Ériu said, her spirit drifting closer to the bed, close enough that J.T. could clearly feel the chill of her presence through the heavy sweatshirt he was wearing. He suppressed a shiver, lips thinning slightly. The spirit didn’t seem to notice as her spectral hand grazed Phelan’s forehead. “They care for you, you fool. You’ll not put them off as easily as you put off Mother and Father. You never did put off Uncle, you just stopped listening.”
“I didn’t—”
“Phelan.” J.T. checked his tone, took a deep breath, then tried again. “I wouldn’t argue with her. Something tells me that hasn’t worked out overly well for you in the past, has it? I mean, the only ones who know what—” He stopped short, brows knitting as his mind slammed into a brick wall of possibility.
Marin and Thom might know. Marin was Ériu’s mother in a past life—or something. His lips thinned. If that was the case, didn’t it stand to reason that Thom may have been the father then, and Matt the uncle the spirit talked about?
“You begin to understand,” the spirit whispered. J.T. shuddered as he realized that she was talking to him, her gaze penetrating to the depths of his soul. “You begin to see the strands that bind us all together.”
“No,” J.T. murmured, though it was a lie. He was starting to see the connections, the interlocking threads. Something tells me she’s talking about something deeper than the connections, though—there’s something I’m not quite seeing yet.
I’m not sure I want to see what she’s talking about.
“You’ll learn,” she promised softly. Her spectral hand was on his arm, not burningly cold as he’d expected. There was something warm about it, despite the chill of her presence. “You have a Spiritweaver’s gift, a Spiritweaver’s burden. You’ll learn, you’ll understand. Then you’ll know.”
“Know what?” J.T. asked without thinking.
“How terrible and wonderful it can be,” Phelan said softly, his eyes focused on some distant point. “It’s a rare gift, Jameson. A rare curse.”
“It’s neither,” Ériu said softly. “And both.”
J.T. shuddered again, swallowed bile, and tried to concentrate on his work.
Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing.
cool beans covered in awesome sauce 😛
Because J.T.’s world is supposed to make sense.