[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]
“They’re not here,” Thom said, his expression blank, belying the sudden increase in his heartrate, the sudden drop of his stomach past his boots to about six feet underground.
“He lies,” the flag-bearer hissed. “You can feel her the same as I, uncle. You can sense them both as I can.”
A flicker of something—rage, annoyance, perhaps both—flickered through Pluton’s eyes. He didn’t move, just stood silent and still for a moment until his companion fell silent. Thom watched them, scarcely daring to breathe.
Shit. What the hell is this?
He felt sick but forced himself to maintain his cool, expressionless mask.
Don’t give an inch. Something tells me the two behind him will take a mile.
“If they are not here,” Pluton said slowly, “then where have they gone?”
“Damned if I know,” Thom said, slowly crossing his arms, being certain not to make any sudden movements that might somehow spook them—especially the man and the woman behind Pluton. The woman’s eyes narrowed at Thom as if she didn’t believe him and the man openly scoffed, though silently, as if Pluton’s iron control didn’t quite go far enough toward frightening him into good behavior.
Who are these bastards?
“You might well be,” Pluton warned, his voice still mild, though Thom could sense the promise underlying his tone. This was not a man you crossed lightly.
Too bad it seems like we’re already on opposite sides of this. There’s no way I’d give him Matt—maybe Hecate, but not Matt.
“Why do you want them, anyway?” Thom asked. The question was a risk, but it was one he felt like he had to take—anything to keep their new apparent enemy talking, anything to buy time. “What the hell did she do to you?”
“Can you not hear?” the flag-bearer snapped. “She belongs to us. We want her back.”
“She’s a person, not a thing,” Thom answered even as Pluton spun to face the flag-bearer. A chill permeated the air, one distinctly centered on Pluton.
It was the chill of the grave and it sent a shiver worming its way down Thom’s spine and through his veins.
Wait…
Oh. Oh. Oh shit…
Perhaps a little too late, Thom realized he was facing a lord of the dead—perhaps at the peril of his very soul.
