[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]
A quiet thud echoed off to Seamus’s right, the sound of Gray and Rory dropping the bar on the gates into place. Thom flinched at the sound, then exhaled a sigh.
“Are the scouts back?” he asked.
“No.” Seamus didn’t meet his gaze for a long moment, but he saw the younger man’s wince out of the corner of his eye.
“If they’re not back, why the hell did we close the gates?”
Seamus patted his shoulder gently. “Those scouts understand that we have to look to the whole of the community in this. They’re smart. They’ll be discreet but they’ll make it back safely as soon as they can, gates or no gates. They’re not going to risk giving away our position, though, not if they realize they’re being followed or tracked.”
Thom shook his head, his face pale and his expression stricken. “You’re talking like we’re not already a beacon for anything and everything supernatural, Seamus.”
A wry smile creased Seamus’s lips for a brief moment. “We may be at that,” he admitted. “But there’s no reason for those scouts to lead whoever’s coming directly to us. In my experience, the sense of a place like this can be hard to pinpoint exactly.”
“If you’re saying that to make me feel better, I appreciate it,” Thom murmured. He pulled the gauze away from his nose and checked to see if it was still bleeding. “I need to clean up before Mar sees,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he laughed. “What the hell is wrong with me? Something’s about to show up and try to kill all of us and I’m worried about getting the blood off my face before my wife sees and starts worrying.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Seamus said. “You have your priorities.”
“Mine must be pretty screwed up.”
Seamus laughed weakly and shook his head. “No. No, they’re not. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise, either.”
If they do, they answer to me.
