Sixteen – 09

“What the hell is this?” Neve asked as we unceremoniously deposited Cariocecus near the fire. “What happened?”

“If he doesn’t bleed to death, we’ll find that out,” I told her evenly. “Do you know where Jac is?”

“Right here.” My friend’s harried voice came from somewhere to my left. “I was checking on Thordi—what the heck, Marin? Why is Cariocecus—is he bleeding?”

“Something attacked him,” I said. “Do what you can. I have to talk to the Hunt.”

“I’ll come with you,” Neve said.

“We both will.” Phelan crossed his arms, grimacing only slightly at the blood on his sweatshirt. “I’m sure they’re already restless because of our little tête-à-tête with Leviathan.”

I winced. We probably do need to talk to them about that, too, especially because he sensed them. “Yeah, we need to talk to them.” I glanced around, frowning. “Or did Leinth—”

“She went to lay down,” Neve said. “And Matt went to double up the patrols. He’s worried, too.”

“Tell me something new,” I muttered, then shook my head. I glanced at my hands. There was a little bit of blood on them and I grimaced. “Right. Come on, then. Let’s go find Anselm.”

Anselm was one of the oldest members of the Hunt and with Seamus away, he was our best contact with the Hunt. Congenial and scholarly, I got the sense that he was happy to have found himself in a spot where he had hundreds of books within easy reach.

Sometimes, I wondered what he’d done before he was drawn into the Wild Hunt.

We kept an easy pace so we wouldn’t leave Neve behind. She’d gotten rid of the crutches—finally—but she still moved slowly, carefully, and I knew that her leg still bothered her more than she liked to admit. Phelan’s gaze drifted between the two of us, his jaw tightening.

“Are you two sure you wouldn’t rather I just—”

“This is something we should do together, Phelan,” I said.

I wasn’t going to let him do the dirty work this time.

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