Awakenings

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

Tory stared at her in silence, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, for long enough that she thought that she’d erred in telling him.  Finally, though, he cleared his throat and croaked, “Me and Lin?  Why the hell would anyone be looking for us, Mum?”

How could she put it in a way that wouldn’t result in complete and utter panic?  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been raised on all the same stories as the others—none of them had escaped that.  He knew enough about her history and his father’s that she hoped, at least, he’d be able to accept at least some of it for what it was, able to take some of it at face value.

But is that an assumption that it’s safe for me to make?

Her eyes slid shut for a moment.  She and Cameron had tried to shelter them as best they could without denying reality—and then there was an open question of how much Marin and Thom had known and not talked about.  She suspected—had always suspected—that it was much more than they realized.

Lin has all of their journals.  I wonder how much is in there that we never knew.

“Mum?”

She sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face.  “Because there are prophecies, Tory.  There are stories and prophecies that center around certain figures and certain bloodlines.”

“Like yours.”

“Like ours,” she corrected gently.  “It’s yours, too, Tory.”

He blushed and looked down.  “I guess so.  I just—I just don’t understand.  Lin said to ask you.  Why do I get the feeling that you’d love to tell me to ask him?”

Neve laughed.  “Because you’re not wrong.  I’m starting to wonder how much he’s already come to realize.”

“Knowing Lin?  A lot.  Should I bug Uncle Phelan?”

“Your uncle’s had a long day,” Neve said, shaking her head with a faint smile.  “Let him get some sleep.  You’ll meet our visitors tomorrow, I think.”

“Oh, so I’ll be able to ask them for answers.”

She reached over and squeezed his knee.  “If that’s what you choose to do, yes.  Yes.”

[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.”

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

“Who are the strangers, Mum?  Why are they here?”

Neve froze for a few seconds at the sound of her son’s voice, relief warring with sudden anguish.  Of course he’d have heard there were strangers, and of course he’d want to know more.  In that, he was like both of them—like both her and Cameron—and damnably so at that.  She set down the blanket she was folding and turned to face him where he stood in the doorway to her room, his expression just shy of anguished.  Her breath caught.

“Croí daor,” she said softly, beckoning him into the room she’d long shared with his father.  “Where were you two?  I was worried.”

“Fishing,” he said as he eased inside.  “Out at the lakeshore.  Didn’t hear any horns or sense anything amiss.  We wouldn’t have known anything happened if people didn’t keep asking where the hell we were.”  Artorius frowned.  “Lin said that you’d have answers.”

Not nearly so many as you’d like, I think.  Her lips thinned slightly and she nodded, waving for him to sit down on the bed with her.  Tory frowned, but sat, his gaze intent on her.

“That’s never a good sign.”

Neve choked on a laugh and shook her head.  “I suppose it’s not, is it?  I don’t have many answers and I imagine what I’m able to tell you will only spark more questions.”

“Right now all I have are questions, Mum.  Some answers would be welcome no matter what.”

That’s what you think now.  She sat down with him on the bed, drawing one leg up beneath her and watching his face, his eyes.  He looked so much like his father sometimes it made her ache, though she knew that Cameron saw more of her in his son than she did.  Perhaps each of them were just seeing what they loved in the faces of their children.

“So who are they?”

“One of them is your cousin.  The rest are his friends.”