[This post is from Phelan’s point of view.]
A shiver shot through Phelan and he stiffened, his eyes snapping open. Marin’s hand closed around his wrist as he started to force himself to his feet, still feeling shaky after the ordeal that had begun perhaps an hour—had it only been that long?—before.
“Phelan—”
“I can’t stay down here,” he murmured, trying to make sense of that he could feel going on above them. “I need to be up there.”
“You have a death wish, Wanderer,” Cariocecus said, his eyes gleaming in the dim, curled on his side now on the stretcher he’d been brought to them on. “If you go up there, you make yourself a target.”
“I’d be a target down here, too,” Phelan said. Marin let go of his wrist, shaking her head.
“I can’t stop you,” she said simply, then glanced to Neve, who winced, her arms tightening slightly about baby Kurt, cradled against her shoulder.
“I feel it, too,” Neve whispered. “They’re here.”
“It’s more than just them,” Phelan said, wincing as he stretched limbs that were too tight, that were suddenly sore. “It’s more than just Olympium, Neve. Didn’t you feel her?”
His cousin bit her lip and bowed her head, silent for a few long moments. Phelan blew out a breath and headed for the ladder. “I’m not going to let them face this alone.”
Marin came to her feet faster than he expected of her in her current state. He stopped, blinking as she moved toward the ladder herself.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“If you think I’m going to let you go by yourself, you’re fucking crazy, Phelan.”
“Marin—”
“Don’t you dare tell me I can’t,” she said. “Don’t you dare. Not after what I did.”
His throat got tight and he looked down, swallowing hard.
“Right,” he whispered.
He turned away and started to climb the ladder. Marin was half a step behind.
You shouldn’t let her do this, Phelan. Thom’s going to kill you.
What would make him think that you’d have a prayer of stopping her, though?
“Angie, stay down here with Cariocecus and the little ones.”
Phelan froze, twisting. Neve met his gaze with a steely one of her own.
“You’ve got even less chance of stopping me, Phelan.”
He breathed a heartfelt curse and shook his head hard. “No. No, Neve, I can’t. Not—I can’t.”
“You can’t stop me, you’re right on that,” she said, her voice firm, brooking no argument. Still, he could see the fear in her eyes, not quite hidden by the steel.
I can’t let them do this.
What right do I have to stop them? I’m not Seamus or Teague. I’m not their father, not their brother. I’m blood for certain, but—
The earth around them shuddered and a keening wail began somewhere above them.
For a heartbeat, Phelan stopped thinking and clung to the ladder, his heart beating fast, too fast.
Then, dark laughter sounded in his ears and his vision started to dim again. He choked on words. The world was screaming, sobbing, as if it was as tortured as the women about to meet on a field somewhere above them, somewhere beyond them.
He heard Marin’s boots hit the floor of the tunnel before the sound of laughter and the wail swamped his ability to hear anything at all. His hands felt nerveless, fingers slipping from the ladder’s runners.
Marin and Neve caught him as he slipped, shaking from head to foot.
“I don’t know what she’s done,” he managed to whisper. “But I can feel lit to the marrow of my bones.”
As both of their arms closed around him, he realized he wasn’t sure if it was Hecate or Thesan he’d spoken about.
