“Marin.”
I winced, trying to ignore the sound of Ériu’s ghostly voice. I glared into the fire, as if that would make the kettle of water I’d settled over it boil faster.
I’d left everyone else to deal with that Leviathan character and whatever was going on beyond the walls. Maybe Phelan and Thom were right—sometimes, you had to let someone else deal with the problem for the sake of your own sanity.
This had been one of those moments, I’d realized as soon as I’d stepped through the gates. It was time for me to let someone else fight a battle for once.
“Marin, please. Don’t ignore me.”
I could feel a chill, heralding her nearness. I exhaled a heavy sigh, tilting my head toward the sound of her voice, unable to keep weariness out of my voice. “Why, Ériu?”
“I’ve lost two mothers already, Marin. I don’t want to lose another.”
A shudder ran through me and I couldn’t suppress my flinch. “That was low.”
“At least you’re listening now.” I could see her, faint in the firelight, translucent and ethereal, looking like a seventeen-year-old version of herself even though she’d died well after that age. She knelt next to me, her spectral lips thinning as she pressed them into a hard line. “They’re not all real, Marin. They’re not all real, they’re not all ghosts, and they weren’t all human.”
I blinked at her. “What?”
“Leviathan’s army! The spirits he brought with him. Not all of them are real, not all of them are ghosts, and they’re not all human.”
“What does that mean, Ériu?” I asked, my heart starting to beat a little faster.
“I don’t know,” she said, her tone bleak. “But I know enough to know that I don’t like it and there’s something going on here that’s not going to end well for any of us.”
OK…
Even paranoids can be right sometimes.
Phelan might be onto something.