[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]
Thunder grumbled in the distance as I knelt near the edge of the ravine, my palm pressed against the bare earth around the base of one of the holly bushes we’d planted months ago. The bushes were coming in full and thick, already crowding out some of the old brush that rimmed the ravine. I could feel Phelan’s magic laced through those hedges, but I could also feel Greg Doyle’s touch there, too, fainter but just as potent—just in a different way from Phelan’s magic.
Sometimes I wondered if he wouldn’t turn out to be the strongest of us all.
In the distance, something felt wrong.
I pulled back from strengthening the wards when I sensed it, sitting back against my heels. “What the hell is that?” I whispered.
Thunder growled again. My lips thinned.
You’re finally losing it, I decided. Probably just over-tired. Time to take a break.
I swallowed bile, looking around as I stood slowly, dusting grass and dirt from my knees and the butt of my capris.
Just paranoid.
“Marin?”
I must have jumped three feet in the air, my heart going at twice its normal speed. “God damn it, Phelan.”
His brow furrowed and he tilted his head slightly, staring at me. “What the hell was that about?”
“You startled me half to death,” I said, resting one hand against my belly. My son was reacting to my own state, moving and kicking inside me. I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, trying to calm down.
Everything’s okay. Everything’s fine.
Phelan put his hand on my arm, his frown deepening. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” I said, then swallowed hard. My heart started to slow down, but my son wasn’t getting any less active. “I know, it’s fine. What did you need?”
He looked like he was about to say something, but instead he shook his head. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “It’s nothing. Never mind.”
I just stared at him as he turned to walk away.
