[This post is from J.T.’s point of view.]
Phelan sat on the ground next to the barrow, blood dripping from his nose, holding his head between his hands. J.T. broke into a jog down the slope, suddenly glad that he’d grabbed his kit on the way out the door this morning.
“What the hell, Phelan?”
Matt came on his heels, looking as concerned as J.T. felt. Phelan’s eyes snapped open at the sound of J.T.’s voice, though it took a few moments for him to actually be able to focus on the other man.
“Marin told me,” he rasped, his eyes wide. As he and Matt got closer, J.T. could see that Phelan was shaking. “I came out to have a look. Someone had to.” He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands against them. “Fuck me. I didn’t expect it to be that bad.”
J.T. mumbled a few choice words under his breath as he dropped to one knee next to his friend, already digging around in his bag for some tissues to shove against Phelan’s nose. “Did something show up and smack you in the face?” he asked, his tone a little more caustic than he intended. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Matt wince.
Screw it. Too late to apologize now. “Move your hands, Phelan,” J.T. said as he found the tissues. “Here. You’re bleeding all over the place.”
“I know, I can taste it.” Phelan obediently took the tissues and held them against his nose. His voice came out muffled, still raspy, as if he’d been screaming—though he couldn’t have been, since J.T. hadn’t heard a sound. “It’s them. They’re coming.”
J.T.’s stomach dropped.
Matt was the one to ask the question.
“Who?”
“Her sisters,” Phelan said. “The hamrammr were here, but who the hell knows where they are now. They were digging here and they were here on their orders.”
J.T. rocked back, his head starting to ache. He sat down in the grass, earning a strange look from Matt, whose gaze shifted back to Phelan a moment later.
“Whose orders, Phelan?”
“The sisters,” Phelan said. “Vammatar’s sisters.” He sucked in a breath. “The tune is called and it’s time to pay the piper.”
