[This post is from Neve’s point of view.]
Tory’s brow furrowed deeply. “My cousin? But—Mum. I didn’t think I had any cousins. Whose is he? Uncle Seamus or Uncle Teague’s?”
“Neither.”
Her son frowned. “But you—you only have two brothers, right? There aren’t any sisters…right?”
Neve reached over and rested her hand on his knee. “No, you’re right. There’s just my brothers and I. But we also have Phelan and his sister.”
His brow furrowed, nose wrinkling. “I didn’t know that Uncle Phelan had a sister.”
“We don’t talk about her,” Neve admitted. “Not anymore, not after what happened here.”
Tory leaned back, shaking his head. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s all right. You don’t have to.”
“Don’t I? Mum, you said one of them is my cousin like that was something important. Is it or isn’t it?”
She felt a stab of regret, a surge of momentary, old pain. “It’s both,” she said softly, then sighed. “The story is complicated, though. She came here once a long time ago. We made her leave before too long. She was…a bit more extreme in her reactions and beliefs than we were comfortable with.”
Her son frowned, staring at the floor for a few seconds. “Extreme?”
“She wanted to kill Hecate.”
He went rigid. “Why?”
“That part is a longer story.”
“Oh,” he murmured, his lips thinning. He shook his head a little. “But one of them is—is hers? Her child?”
Neve nodded. “Yes. And they’re seeking stories she told them—stories they’ve heard since they were children.” She paused and took a slow breath. “They’re searching for something—for someone—they know is out here somewhere. Someone that’s here.”
“Who?”
She closed her eyes. The words stuck in her throat and it felt as if she’d never be able to make them come. Then, finally: “For you and Merlin.”
