Ten – 01

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

“Someday, I hope you’ll trust him as much as you trusted me.”

Matt blinked away tears that threatened as his sister’s voice echoed in the back of his head. The words had come a long time ago—long before there was any real indication that Lin had inherited any of his parents’ gifts.

As if there ever could have been any doubt that he would.

Carolyn glanced at him sidelong, her voice coming as a murmur. “Longfellow and company are confirming what Lin said about the riders. Of course, they’re also confirming what Kailey said. They’re armed, six of them, one in fairly rough shape.”

“They can’t give me what their intentions are, though,” Matt murmured, staring straight ahead, toward the gap where the riders would appear.

“Don’t we all wish,” Carolyn said, then smiled weakly. “You believe him, don’t you?”

Matt’s chin dipped in a nod. On the other side of him, Phelan smiled wryly.

“We’d be fools not to,” he said softly. “All things considered.”

Matt glanced at him for a second, then shook his head. “Every time you say that, I get shivers down my spine.”

“Even this time?”

Matt shook his head again. “You’re impossible.”

“Always,” Phelan said, still smiling. “But tin this case, my gut’s telling me he’s right. They’re looking for something or someone and they need our help. Possibly his help.”

“His help,” Matt echoed, deadpanning at Phelan as they drew to a stop about a hundred yards away from the gates. “With what?”

“With whatever quest they’re on,” Phelan said quietly, then shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Seeing the future was your sister and Thom’s power. Mine’s just trying to piece together a thousand stories and prophecies into a patchwork that almost makes sense.”

“Almost,” Matt said, swallowing a sigh. “Usually.”

“Sometimes,” Phelan said, then grinned.

Matt shook his head again. “Sometimes.”

Liked it? Take a second to support Erin on Patreon!
This entry was posted in Ambrose Cycle, Book 8, Chapter 10, Story and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Got thoughts?

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.