[This post is from Phelan’s point of view.]
Phelan smiled faintly, cradling his mug in both hands. He sipped slowly, savoring the heat and ignoring the bitterness that the herbs lent to the brew. “You might be right,” he said after a few sips, still thinking on what she’d said.
“Of course I might be right,” Hecate said with an almost defiant air. “Of course, I could also be dead wrong, but I don’t think I am. It’s what makes sense and if we’d stopped to think rather than react, we’d have realized that much sooner.”
“You know Matt’s still in knee-jerk reaction mode,” Marin said quietly.
Hecate snorted softly. “I’m aware. That’s why you and I went to talk to Seamus while he took Thom to go war council with the Hunt. We’ll see how that all went soon enough.”
Phelan winced. “He went to what?”
“He’s got a plan,” Marin said, shaking her head again. “It might work, but not without their help. I guess we’ll see how it shakes loose.”
Phelan frowned for a few seconds. A plan. I’m almost afraid of what it might be. He sighed quietly. “Something tells me it’s dangerous.”
“Probably no more dangerous than sitting back and letting them come,” Hecate said. “Which I think is probably the alternative and not one any of us are very excited about. We still don’t have enough defenses in place and three days wouldn’t be enough time for us to get defenses we’d need in place—at least not enough to bunker in without a major fight and probably a lot of people hurt, maybe even killed.”
Phelan winced. He wasn’t sure if it was the matter-of-fact tone or the idea that maybe, just maybe, someone could get killed this time. Of course, that was always a possibility—it just wasn’t one he ever liked to consider.
He never had and likely never would.
