J.T. strode out across the bridge and away from the boundaries of the settlement, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket and shivering in the chill. The sun was bright, the sky bottomless and blue, the world quiet except for the sound of his boots on the snow.
This is insane. All of this is insane.
“Ériu,” he said softly as he reached the plaza beyond the bridge, “are you near?”
“I’m never far, brother,” her whisper-thin voice said. “Why have you called? You never call out to me.”
He winced, glancing at her with the corner of his eye as her spirit manifested to his left. It was true—in a lot of ways, he tried to avoid her as much as Marin did, though he was more used to her presence, more used to her being near, but they rarely talked. “Maybe I should do it more often,” he muttered. “But it’s hard for me.”
“Of course it is. It’s not an easy thing for anyone who can bind and heal spirits.” One corner of her ghostly mouth quirked toward a smile. “What did you need?”
“A favor,” he said, his heart starting to beat a little faster. She’s going to say no. She won’t want to abandon her watch over Tala and Neve and Marin. “Phelan’s gone.”
“I know. The damned fool—but my parents could never seem to talk him out of something foolhardy when I was alive, so I don’t suppose it should actually be that different now that they’ve been reborn.” She tilted her head to one side. “What favor are you about to ask that pertains to his idiocy?”
“I need you to get to him before his enemies do and warn him that they’re coming. If you don’t, I don’t know that we’ll see him alive again.”
Thank you. Dang Phelan. Stubborn stubborn stubborn…
Will keep watching for more. Good story.