[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.]
She found a few knit dresses in the drawer, neatly rolled and lined up along one side of the drawer alongside his tee shirts. Hecate couldn’t be sure if they were his doing or someone else’s—Marin seemed likely, though J.T. was also an outside possibility—but she appreciated the gesture just the same. Ignoring the pain from her wound, she undressed, risking only one glance at the bandage taped over her stitches.
It was soaked with blood in a line as wide as her thumb, almost from top to bottom. She grimaced, touching it gently with a finger.
Dry, at least—for now, anyway.
She winced a little as she thought of how much it was going to hurt when J.T. changed it later, something she knew would be coming sooner rather than later. With a shake of her head, Hecate blew out a soft breath and tugged on the dress, biting her lip and glancing toward the door.
She hadn’t been through it since Matt had brought her in here—how many days had it been? She’d lost count. Had it been weeks? At least one, perhaps more.
It seemed like it was quiet outside except for the soft grumble of distant thunder, further away than she had originally thought. A shiver shot through her, heightening the chill she’d felt on waking. Something was out there.
Leviathan? Something else—someone else?
They had enemies. She had more—more even than the Wild Hunt or the Taliesin.
Hecate shoved her feet into her shoes, swallowed hard, and walked out the door. The corridor beyond was dark, empty. Her lips thinned into a fine line and she took a deep, steadying breath. Each step sent pain spiraling through her, pain she shunted aside as she limped toward the light at the far end of the corridor. Matt wouldn’t be far; he wouldn’t leave the camp without telling her first. He would know she’d worry. He couldn’t be that far away.
She could smell the rain on the wind. There was a storm coming, at the very least.
The murmur of voices reached her as she moved to the end of the corridor, accompanied by the quiet clanking of pots and pans. Her heart began to beat a little faster.
They don’t—
Was it just her imagination?
Maybe I was just dreaming. Maybe it’s just my imagination. Maybe I’m just too damned paranoid for my own good.
Powers above and below, it’s just my mind running away with me again.
“What are you doing up?”
Hecate yelped, startled at the sound of J.T.’s voice behind her. Unbalanced, she stumbled sideways, crashing into the wall, sending fresh pain shooting up and down her side. The medic cursed under his breath and reached to help her.
“Sorry. Come on, let’s get you—”
“I don’t want to go back to bed,” she said, her voice remarkably steady, surprising even herself. “I don’t. I want to go out there. I—I think I’m ready. I want to go out there and see…and see all of them.”
