Forty-one – 04

[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.]

Hecate exhaled.  “Thom.  What did you see?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, cradling his son closer to his chest and bowing his head, as if to avoid her gaze.  “Just go,” he whispered.  “Hell, Hecate, please just go before it’s too late.”

“I don’t see why you’re making this so difficult.”

“That makes two of us,” he fired back, head coming up with eyes blazing.  “Hecate, go.  They’re going to need you.  Trust me.”

“I do,” she said, swallowing bile.  “That’s why I want to know what the hell you saw that’s sending me there when Matt wanted me here and out of danger.”

“If you’re not there, he’s not going to see it coming.  He needs you—they all need you.  Go, Hecate.  For the love of everything holy and sacred, go.  I can’t lose them—and neither can you.”

Her breath caught and her eyes widened.  For a split second, she wanted to ask what they wouldn’t see coming but at almost the same moment realized that it didn’t matter because she’d know when she saw it—and only she would know when she saw it.  The bottom dropped out of her stomach.

Run.

Ice sluiced through her veins at the sound of Persephone’s whispered voice, heard for the first time in centuries.  She was off like a shot, running toward the wall.  Rain soaked through her shirt, her capris.  She slipped in the mud and nearly went down, caught her balance and kept going.

There was no time.

Shadows moved against the sky, against the clouds above, beyond the reach of Marin’s wards.  Hecate’s heart shot upward, lodging in her throat.  Her step faltered for a moment as she breathed a curse, then started moving again, faster.

No, no, no.  It can’t be.  They’re all supposed to be gone.  They were wiped out.

Except they weren’t, and now they were here, and Thom was right—no one else was going to see them coming.

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