“I saw Jay taking Phelan back…what happened?” Marin’s brows knit as she headed for the warding lines. “I go to wake people up and all of a sudden everything’s taken care of except for Phelan apparently wearing himself out.”
“The Taliesin didn’t wear himself out,” Sif said, crossing her arms. “Someone’s done him harm.”
“Huh?” Marin’s gaze flicked to Thom and he winced. Her eyes narrowed. “Thom?”
God help me. “Someone’s taken his–what the hell did you call it, Seamus?”
“His anima,” Seamus said, glancing toward the bridge, his hand, still clutched in Leinth’s, drifted toward his hip and the horn again. His lover held him fast, keeping him from his first instinct. “We can’t waste time. Every moment we wait, she–”
“What?” Thom asked, feeling his chest tighten. “She could what, Seamus?”
“Best to leave it unsaid,” the former Taliesin murmured, his eyes fluttering shut. He tried to tug free of Leinth’s grip and failed. She turned with him as he oriented toward the bridge. “Come on. We need to move quickly.”
Thom turned to follow him. Marin grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, making him pause. He hesitated to meet her gaze but eventually lifted his eyes to hers when it became clear that she wasn’t letting go.
“What happened to Phelan?” she asked softly.
“Seamus’s daughter is an evil crone,” Thom whispered. “She’s using Phelan’s soul as some kind of bargaining chip.”
All the color drained from Marin’s face and for a moment, Thom thought she might fall. She wavered for a moment and he caught her by the shoulders to steady her. His wife stared at him, taking a deep, rasping breath.
“How the hell is that possible?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“Damned if I know,” Thom said. He wanted to gather her into his arms and hold her tight against his chest. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll get him back.”
We take care of our own. We always have and we always will.
He took her by the hand and followed Seamus to the bridge.
