“What the hell are you—”
“Move!”
The vehemence made both Seamus and Leinth flinch. Neve, startled and mostly limp in her cousin’s arms, peered over the once-druid’s shoulder toward the end of the bridge. There was something out there, something that made dread and sickness coil together in her belly to spawn something utterly awful.
Are those eyes? Something gleamed in that fog, faint and almost ephemeral, almost undiscernible in the darkness. Neve’s fingers tangled in the sleeve of Phelan’s jacket. A small figure emerged from the fog, then another, then a third.
Their baleful, hate-filled gazes made her blood turn cold.
Seamus saw her looking, turned, swore.
“I’ll hold them,” he said, drawing the blade he wore in a scabbard against his spine. “Get back inside your wards.”
“Fuck that,” Phelan said, spinning. He set Neve carefully on her feet and grabbed for Seamus’s sleeve. “We just found you. You’re not throwing your life away that easily.”
“He’s right,” Leinth said as she pulled Neve’s arm over her shoulders. “Can’t you feel it? Those things…what drives them…”
If it was enough to make Leinth shudder, any sane person should have run screaming.
Apparently, Seamus Vaughan was no longer entirely sane.
He shot his cousin a steely glare. “Get them out of here,” he growled. “I’ll hold them and join you.”
“Leinth, take Neve and get clear. Warn the others.” Phelan picked up his staff, fingers flexing around the carved wood. “I’ve faced these bastards before, Seamus,” Phelan said. “I’m not going to leave you here alone.”
Neve’s heart seized in her chest and when she looked at Leinth, she saw similar indecision in the other woman’s expression.
“We have to warn them,” Neve whispered.
“Idiots,” Leinth said, tears sparkling against her lashes in the darkness. She wrapped her arm around Neve’s waist and hauled her toward the end of the bridge and the wardlines beyond. “Fucking idiots.”
