[This post is from J.T.’s point of view.]
The silver-blue haze didn’t waver at their approach and J.T. felt a faint chill in the air. By now, he knew too well what it meant, though it puzzled him to see it. The ghosts had been quiet, most of them moved on to whatever came next, and he’d been glad for them to find their peace.
The tiki torches that sat at each corner of the barrow had gone out and J.T. exhaled quietly, lips pursing for a moment as he fished a lighter out of his pocket. He hadn’t been down since the storms, so seeing them out wasn’t necessarily that concerning, considering the amount of rain they’d recently gotten. But that coupled with the haze—that was a little disconcerting.
“There’s a lot of energy up,” Leinth said softly.
J.T. nodded. He could feel it, a chill that was strangely reassuring, but one that puckered his exposed flesh, a current that skated over his limbs and down his neck and spine, setting nerves tingling with something he couldn’t quite name but almost felt like was anticipation. “What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know,” Leinth said softly. “Maybe we should have brought Seamus.”
His lips thinned. J.T. glanced at her for a few seconds, examining the planes of her face, the hint of something rare in her eyes. Leinth was worried.
She was afraid.
Maybe I should be, too. But I’m not. We made the right decision.
J.T. shook his head, moving to light the first torch. “No. No, we shouldn’t have.” The wick sputtered briefly as he set his lighter’s flame to it, then caught, the flame rising blue. J.T. took an uneven breath, staring at it.
Blue. He glanced toward the barrow, toward the haze. Nothing had changed except for the feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Something was stirring.
But what?
