“Did you tell Phelan any of this?”
“No,” Ériu said. “No, I didn’t have a chance. He was still fencing with Leviathan.” She huddled next to me, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Do you know what he was, Marin?”
“I can imagine,” I said, my tone bone-dry. “One of the former powers-that-be in Canaan, I’m going to guess.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, like that, but…worse in some ways. But he’s like Thordin—he was supposed to be dead and gone, nothing more than a distant memory.”
“But he’s not,” I said grimly.
“No, he’s not.”
I stared at her for a long moment before I sighed and got up to make myself a hot drink. “So you think he’s a threat?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Ériu admitted softly. “Gods know that I wish I did.”
I wish you did, too. I frowned darkly, staring into the fire. “I wonder if that’s what her warning was about,” I muttered.
“Whose warning? What warning?”
“The Morrigan,” I said. “She warned me that Seamus had to go with Thom and Cameron. I wonder if she told me that because she knew either he or Leviathan would react badly to each other.”
“Anything’s possible,” the ghost’s whisper-thin voice said. “Short of asking her, we can’t know for sure.”
“Right.”
“What’s right?”
I startled at the sound of my brother’s voice, spilling hot chocolate all over my hand. I swore and grabbed a rag, mopping the scalding liquid up off my skin and sleeve. “Dammit, Matt!”
“Touchy,” he said brow furrowing. “Who were you talking to?”
“Ériu,” Phelan said. “She’s sitting right there, and looking none too happy. I take it Leviathan’s ranks left you as unsettled as our conversation with him left us?”
“Not all of them were real,” she said, looking up at Phelan. “This isn’t good, Uncle. Not at all.”
