Phelan took a pair of slow, quiet breaths, trying to will his suddenly racing heart back into regular rhythm. Jacqueline’s fingers flexed around his again and his heart started to slow, settling back into something at least close to normal. Sickness settled in his gut, like a ball of lead. Seamus. She’ll go after Seamus, too. He swallowed bile. And Cameron.
“Details, Cariocecus,” Phelan managed to rasp. “What do you know? Anything?”
“I know that she’s done licking her wounds,” he said, amber eyes gleaming in the afternoon sun. He stared off into the distance, his expression grim. “I still have contacts, you know. Some that will still send a whisper.” Cariocecus shivered slightly. “They should have killed the girl, you know.”
Tendrils of ice danced along Phelan’s nerves. “Who? Which girl?”
“The dawn’s get with Seamus the Black,” Cariocecus said. “The insane one who sundered you. You lot should have had the Hunt tear her apart for what she did. She’s a danger, Phelan. She’ll doom you all.”
His throat constricted. “You’re no seer, Cariocecus. You don’t know that for certain.”
“No,” the former war god agreed. “I don’t. But it wouldn’t make you so fearful if the thought hadn’t crossed your mind as well.”
Damnation.
Jacqueline shook her head. “If she becomes a problem again, her life is forfeit. It’s as simple as that.”
“After she does how much damage?” Cariocecus gave them a sad, regretful smile. “You people…so many enemies, too much mercy given.”
“Watch yourself,” Phelan said. “That mercy is the reason you’re still breathing.”
“And for that, you have my gratitude and my loyalty, such as it is.” He sketched a bow. “Heed my warning, Taliesin. You know the spirit in which it was meant.”
Mouth dry, Phelan nodded. He knew all too well. “I understand,” he said, then swallowed again, turning toward Jacqueline. “I was going to walk out to the barrow, but maybe we’d better go back.”
“Are you sure?” she asked softly, running her palm up and down his arm. It was a comforting gesture and it calmed him slightly.
“Probably best,” he said, then sighed. “We need to talk to Marin. Need her to read the cards.”
Jacqueline shivered. “She hasn’t done that in a while.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“She might not want to.”
Phelan stared at the trees lining the ravines, their skeletal branches waving in the breeze. “I know. But I’m going to ask her anyway. The worst she can is no.”
“Or hell no.”
He managed to laugh. “Right. Hell no.” He slid his arm around her waist and squeezed his eyes shut. “Thank you, Cariocecus.”
“Of course,” the other man said softly, then nodded to them both. “Powers smile on you.”
Right. We can only hope.
The pair turned and walked away, back toward the safety of the wards and the settlement they called home.
Not much encouragement there for anyone. They need to start cleaning up the slate of all these crazed ghost-people. They add to the story in a major enthralling manner, I’ll give ’em that.
Well done.
“The worst she can is no.”
say?