[This post is from Phelan’s point of view.]
“Something or someone?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain steady. His mind reeled, shuffling through the possibilities rapidly. It was too much to hope for that it had been Pluton and his ilk, which would have meant the threat, though real two days ago, was ended now. Once he would have wondered if it was Hecate’s doing, but he was confident that it wouldn’t be her, not now—perhaps it never would or could have been.
“We’re not even sure of that.” Marin bit her lip, her fingers tightening around her mug. “He had a feeling, so we went. He was up at the forge this morning.” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as if to steady herself before she continued. “Something was digging in the dirt, with bare hands and claws and probably shovels, but it doesn’t look like they stuck around for very long either way. They didn’t get too deep, but it was like they were trying to undermine the wardings somehow.”
A shudder racked him.
Not good. Not good at all.
“It could be anything,” he murmured. “Anyone.”
Just what we need, right?
He closed his eyes.
“I’ll have a look,” he rasped after a moment, feeling sick to his stomach.
“Alone?”
“If it comes to that,” he said, shaking his head. “I doubt it will. I’ll take Thordin or Seamus. Someone.”
Hopefully one of them will have more insight.
Why didn’t I sense anything?
He sat down heavily next to Marin, chewing on his lower lip, the mug of tea he’d started brewing for himself sitting abandoned on the stones around the fire. She leaned against him and he shivered despite the warmth of the fire, reaching to wrap his arm around her tightly.
“What do you think it is?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But we’ll figure it out.”
“Matt said the same thing.”
Phelan closed his eyes again. “Well, he’s right. We’ll figure it out. And then we’ll figure out how to stop whoever or whatever it is. Once I get out there, I might be able to sense something familiar if it’s someone I’ve gone toe-to-toe with before—and if I drag Seamus along, he might be able to do the same thing. We’ll just have to see. I’ll go out there later, when the mist burns off.”
“What would they want our dead for, Phelan?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to think about it, leannán, and neither do you. It doesn’t matter, anyway. They won’t get them. Whatever they’re planning won’t come to anything.”
She set aside her mug and hugged her knees to her chest. Phelan’s lips thinned.
“I promise,” he added, his stomach twisting.
She looked up at him. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Phelan.”
“I try not to.”
The words tasted like ashes.
