They found Phelan and Marin sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on a slab of concrete, not nearly as far from the tents as Thom had expected them to be. They were quiet, staring off into the distance, though Phelan twitched as he saw them approach, straightening slightly. Marin startled and followed his gaze.
Her brows knit as she caught sight of the look on her husband’s face.
“What is it?”
“It’s Matt,” Thom said. Marin’s eyes widened.
“He’s not—”
Phelan put his hand on her arm. “You’d know if your brother was dead, leánnan.”
Would she? Thom swallowed hard. “There’s no evidence of that,” he said, voice starting to sound strangled, as if his throat didn’t want to let the words out. “But he’s gone. He wasn’t at the forge.”
“Maybe he—”
“His axe was.” The words came out barely audible.
Marin covered her mouth with her hand. She shook her head hard, eyes wide and bright with gathering tears. “No,” she said, her voice muffled. “No, no.”
Thom couldn’t speak. He just wrapped his arms around his wife and lifted her, hugging her tightly to his chest. Her shoulders shook, her forehead pressed against his neck.
“What happened?” Phelan asked, his voice strange and dangerous—a mingling of fear and anger with concern.
“Seamus thinks she took him,” Cameron said.
Phelan blinked at him slowly. Thom tightened his arms around Marin as she stiffened.
“Who?” his wife breathed, slowly tilting her tear-stained face up to meet his gaze. “Who took my brother, Thom?”
“The Hecate,” he whispered. “We think the Hecate might have taken him.”
Marin swallowed hard. “How? Why?”
“He lied,” Phelan said, his voice bleak. “Déithe agus arrachtaigh, he lied. He remembered. He knew.”
Marin twisted free of Thom’s grip even as Thom’s stomach dropped.
“The Ridden Druid,” Thom said, his mouth dry. “He remembered being that. That’s what you’re saying.”
“There’s no other explanation,” Phelan said. “And more than that, he probably still has Cíar’s power besides. There’s no reason for her to want him otherwise.”
“Why would he lie about it?” Marin pressed herself back, leaning into Thom’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held on, leaning back, each holding the other up. “I don’t understand.”
“He probably had a good reason,” Thom murmured, squeezing his eyes shut. At least, I hope he did.
“The reason’s not important,” Cameron said quietly. “How do we find him?”
“That’s the real question,” Phelan said as he leaned down to pick up his staff. “But I’ve got some ideas about that. Come on. Let’s get out of this rain and get to work.”
At least Thom isn’t throwing stones there.