[This post is from Matt’s point of view.]
“Interesting,” Matt echoed, then shook his head. “How do you figure? Fucking terrifying is more like it.”
Gilad shook his head quickly. “That didn’t come out the way I intended it to, clearly.”
“Apparently not,” Hecate said, her tone dry as she leaned into Matt again, letting him wrap an arm around her shoulders in a gesture that was comforting and protective all at once. It didn’t matter that the nearest weapon was a kettle of water, that the Warhammer she’d been bringing him lay almost forgotten in the doorway to the kitchen. The gesture was enough. “Why don’t you tell us what you actually intended to say so we don’t make any more rash assumptions?”
Matt suppressed a wince, his arm tightening around her shoulders. At least she admitted that her reaction was rash. That’s a good thing, right?
Gilad took a breath. “I just—I’m surprised he came to you, that’s all—and with some kind of offer, it sounds like. That’s the interesting part. You know him, my lady—you know him as well as I do. He’s not much one for working with anyone else.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Hence my very apparent and very deep-rooted suspicions of his offer.” She glanced toward Matt, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly. “And my very, very real fear of what all of this means.”
“An incredibly rational fear,” Gilad agreed, then closed his eyes for a moment. The kettle began to hiss and Matt let go of Hecate, turning so he could tend to it. “He showed up there.”
“Matt told me,” Hecate said quietly, chafing her palms over her arms. “It makes me wonder at what sort of game Leviathan’s playing at. The long game, if I’m anyone to judge.” She exhaled a sigh and shook her head, slowly heading to the table as Matt started to make some coffee in the French press set near the stove. “A very bloody long game. I know that he’s no friend to Olympium but it still makes me wonder why he came to us.”
Gilad inclined his head. “Probably the same reason he came to the settlement. He’s trying to build some kind of army.”
“Another reason to be concerned,” Hecate said, her voice grim. “Especially because he told us that he wants the world.”
Gilad winced. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Because that would mean you’re far less intelligent than you actually are,” Matt said, carrying the press and three mugs to the table. “But this thing with Leviathan—it worries you.”
“More than anything I’ve heard recently. But that’s not why I’m here.”
Hecate’s hands curled into fists on the tabletop as Matt poured the coffee. “No. You came to warn us and to send us into the maw of hell.” She glanced toward Matt, then back toward Gilad. “Me, at least. I don’t know what your intentions for Matt are.”
“I’m not here to send you anywhere,” Gilad protested. “I’m just here to tell you what’s happening and that you can probably stop it before it gets worse. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“By handing myself over to them—by both of us handing ourselves over to them.” Hecate shook her head. “How can you expect us to do that?”
“I don’t,” Gilad said, and Matt could hear the stark honesty to his words. “I expect you to fight like hell by our sides. No one at this table wants them to win and no one at this table wants you in their hands again. I remember what happened the last time. I don’t want to see that ever again—no one should.
“Whatever they’re planning scares the hell out of me and I’m not even sure what it is. I’m pretty sure it scares you, too. So all I’m asking you to do is come with me and fight.”
