[This post is from Matt’s point of view.]
Bowstrings sang, punctuated by the reports of rifles, the latter sound echoing as the former faded into the storm. They sailed over the field, the dark shafts lost against the stormclouds, fletchings bright and pale alike flashing briefly until they, too, were lost. The only reason any of them knew that the shots found their mark within the mists was because the screams began. Some were definitely human, cries of rage, cries of pain. Others definitely weren’t.
Ice sluiced down Matt’s spine and washed through every nerve in his body, leaving him chilled to the core. No. Dammit, no. “Are you hearing what I’m hearing?”
“Yeah,” Phelan said, his face ashen. “Yeah, I am.”
How the hell did they martial dirae to their side? The question rose to mind before he could fully process how it might have happened. How had Hecate martialed them in the first place?
Because Olympium taught her to and it was a trick she never bothered to forget. Why would she? Of course they’d have them at their call. Of course. Their loyalty wasn’t to her. They’re not loyal to anything.
He didn’t think his blood could run colder, but it suddenly did, like ice in his veins.
“Matt! Matt, snap out of it!”
His sister’s voice jarred him and he realized that his sudden horror must have shown on his face. He looked at her sidelong, grasping for her arm. Marin jerked slightly as a current passed between them and her breath caught.
“Matt,” she said again, more gently. “Stop holding it and let go.”
For a moment he thought she meant her arm and his fingers sprang open as if they were loaded on springs. She shook her head hard and fast.
“I don’t know what you’re drawing all this power for, but you need to let it go,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “It will eat you up if you don’t. Whatever you’re holding it for, make it your opening salvo. If that’s your one shot, that’s fine. We’ll be okay. Just do it. Please, just do it.”
