[This post is from Matt’s point of view.]
They walked a dozen paces in silence before Matt glanced at Phelan. “I don’t think I’m as scared as I should be.”
Phelan blinked, looking at him sidelong. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I should be terrified,” Matt said. “Instead I feel…I don’t know. Numb, almost. It’s weird. This is the first time I’ve headed out on some kind of assault like this and it should be tying me up in knots and I should be flailing around trying to figure out why I came up with this insane idea for a frontal assault but I don’t feel that way. You told me not to do a stupid thing back there, right?”
“Right.”
“You knew what I was thinking about doing.”
“Oh yeah,” Phelan said, then smiled crookedly. “I had no doubts about what you were thinking about doing, Matt. I’m glad you hadn’t done it yet. It would have been a stupid, suicidal move on the same level as the ones I usually pull and that’s not a game you want to be playing. I’m damn lucky to have survived all the shit I’ve pulled over the years.”
“Did he ever do anything like that?”
Phelan paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “Are you sure you want to know the answer to that question?”
“I asked it.”
“You did.” Phelan exhaled, straightening his shoulders slightly before nodding. “He did. A few times, actually. He would usually scare the shit out of his sister and Finn, but he never really let that phase him.”
“So it was all through his life, huh?”
Phelan nodded. “Before, during, after—there were some things becoming the Ridden Druid, having been part of the Hunt and then escaped it—there were some things that didn’t change.” He smiled crookedly. “I guess maybe some of that survived to pop back up in you but with more sense.”
Matt smiled back. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or be offended.”
Phelan shrugged. “Sometimes both is good.”
Matt laughed at that. “Yeah. Sometimes.”
