Awakenings

A girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen was the one to bring the bread and tea, a big, dark-skinned man holding the door open for her as she slipped in. They looked enough alike that Thom guessed that they might be brother and sister. He gave the man a slight nod in acknowledgement and smiled at the girl as she laid out the platter of dark bread and a blue enameled pot that smelled like bergamot and orange. Lara watched his face for a moment before her gaze flicked away, toward J.T., Cameron, and Seamus in turn.

“I imagine that your community is a bit larger than ours,” she said calmly, moving toward the girl and the teapot.

“Mildly,” Thom agreed, crossing his arms.

“Quite a bit, actually,” Seamus said quietly. “Considering the Hunt is quartered with us now.”

Lara’s gaze sharpened. “You speak of them as if you’re not of them.”

“I’m not anymore,” Seamus said. “I’ve been granted release from my obligation to them. My life is once again my own.”

Her brow arched delicately and for a moment Thom thought she would press for more information, but she surprised him by shrugging and starting to tear the loaf of bread into chunks. “How did you know anyone was here, anyway?” she asked as she handed out the bread, leaving the teenager to hand out cups of tea. The mugs were battered, looking as if they’d seen a lot of wear over the years.

“Phelan told us he’d sheltered with people here,” Thom said as he took one of the mugs. “In this general area, anyhow. It didn’t take a lot of guessing to figure out it was probably here.”

“You know Phelan?” the teenager asked, her dark eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and excitement. “He only stayed here for a night, but he was so nice. Where did he go?”

“A good question, Celeste,” Lara said, giving the teenager a warm smile before the expression turned frosty as her attention shifted back to the men. Thom sat down slowly.

Hot and cold, this one. We’ll have to tread carefully—her trust is tenuous, I think. “We found him south of here in the middle of a fight.”

“He was lucky we found him,” Cameron said. “I’m not sure what might have happened if we hadn’t.”

“Nothing good,” J.T. rumbled as he accepted a piece of bread from Lara. “But that’s par for the course when it comes to him, isn’t it?”

Seamus smiled. “He has an aptitude for trouble. He always has.”

“You know him,” Lara said.

Thom nodded. “Very well, Miss Duchnes. Our home is his home.”

She frowned. “He said he was a traveler when he spent the night here. That he had no home.”

“He was trying to protect them,” Seamus said quietly. “He thought that by staying, he was bringing trouble down on their heads. He was wrong, of course.” The former Taliesin smiled crookedly. “That happens more than he cares to admit, I’m afraid, but he means well. He loves fiercely and protects the people he loves in every way he can think of—even if he’s thinking wrong.”

Phelan took a pair of slow, quiet breaths, trying to will his suddenly racing heart back into regular rhythm. Jacqueline’s fingers flexed around his again and his heart started to slow, settling back into something at least close to normal. Sickness settled in his gut, like a ball of lead. Seamus. She’ll go after Seamus, too. He swallowed bile. And Cameron.

“Details, Cariocecus,” Phelan managed to rasp. “What do you know? Anything?”

“I know that she’s done licking her wounds,” he said, amber eyes gleaming in the afternoon sun. He stared off into the distance, his expression grim. “I still have contacts, you know. Some that will still send a whisper.” Cariocecus shivered slightly. “They should have killed the girl, you know.”

Tendrils of ice danced along Phelan’s nerves. “Who? Which girl?”

“The dawn’s get with Seamus the Black,” Cariocecus said. “The insane one who sundered you. You lot should have had the Hunt tear her apart for what she did. She’s a danger, Phelan. She’ll doom you all.”

His throat constricted. “You’re no seer, Cariocecus. You don’t know that for certain.”

“No,” the former war god agreed. “I don’t. But it wouldn’t make you so fearful if the thought hadn’t crossed your mind as well.”

Damnation.

Jacqueline shook her head. “If she becomes a problem again, her life is forfeit. It’s as simple as that.”

“After she does how much damage?” Cariocecus gave them a sad, regretful smile. “You people…so many enemies, too much mercy given.”

“Watch yourself,” Phelan said. “That mercy is the reason you’re still breathing.”

“And for that, you have my gratitude and my loyalty, such as it is.” He sketched a bow. “Heed my warning, Taliesin. You know the spirit in which it was meant.”

Mouth dry, Phelan nodded. He knew all too well. “I understand,” he said, then swallowed again, turning toward Jacqueline. “I was going to walk out to the barrow, but maybe we’d better go back.”

“Are you sure?” she asked softly, running her palm up and down his arm. It was a comforting gesture and it calmed him slightly.

“Probably best,” he said, then sighed. “We need to talk to Marin. Need her to read the cards.”

Jacqueline shivered. “She hasn’t done that in a while.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“She might not want to.”

Phelan stared at the trees lining the ravines, their skeletal branches waving in the breeze. “I know. But I’m going to ask her anyway. The worst she can is no.”

“Or hell no.”

He managed to laugh. “Right. Hell no.” He slid his arm around her waist and squeezed his eyes shut. “Thank you, Cariocecus.”

“Of course,” the other man said softly, then nodded to them both. “Powers smile on you.”

Right. We can only hope.

The pair turned and walked away, back toward the safety of the wards and the settlement they called home.

A weight lifted from his heart, one he’d never noticed before but now, in its absence, he realized he’d been carrying for as long as he could remember. Phelan smiled, his bare fingers brushing against her cheek. She caught his hand and squeezed those fingers gently.

“Who’d have thought, huh?” she asked softly.

He laughed and rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t know, Jac. Gods only knew, if anyone.”

“Wanderer, I’m going to ask you a very, very stupid question,” a voice said from somewhere to their left. Phelan winced, recognizing Cariocecus’s almost-familiar drawl.

“Do you mind?” Phelan asked him, glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”

“Yes, yes, congratulations on your imminent nuptials.” The amber-eyed godling waved a dismissive hand. “This is important, Wanderer. Apologies to the fair angel.”

“I’ll decide whether or not to accept them once we hear what you have to say, Cariocecus,” Jacqueline said, planting one hand on her hip and giving their enemy turned reluctant ally a level stare. “Get on with it or leave us the hell alone.”

“Mm.” Cariocecus sniffed, then turned to Phelan. “I noticed that you’re out here without your staff. Why in the name of all the gods and monsters of this world and every other would you do something so stupid?”

Phelan blinked at him. “I’ve stepped beyond the wards without it before,” he said evenly. “Why should today be any different?” His eyes narrowed. “What’s out there, Cariocecus? What were you coming to warn us about?”

“She’s coming back, Phelan,” Cariocecus said softly.

Ice shot down Phelan’s spine. He didn’t need to ask who Cariocecus was talking about. His hand spasmed around Jacqueline’s and she winced.

“Hecate?” she asked in a whisper.

Phelan swallowed hard and nodded, unable to speak.

“She won’t give up on what she wants, Wanderer,” Cariocecus said. “You know that.”

“She can’t have him,” Jacqueline said, an undercurrent of threat in her voice. “I warned her once. That’s all the warning she gets.”

They each kept their peace as they wandered from the heart of the settlement slowly turning to stronghold, toward the edges where Marin’s wards still sent shivers through his senses and sent electricity racing through his blood. Now, though, he could sense the hands of others in the protections laid on their borders—his own, of course, but he could feel Kellin and Neve, Rory and J.T.’s ghosts, a faint and fading sense of Thordin, even Sif and Seamus—and Jacqueline, in traces and hints. A new shiver crept down his spine.

Angie’s been out here, too. I wonder who she came with. Kel, maybe?

His arm slid around Jacqueline’s shoulders and he drew her tight against his side. She glanced up at him and he cracked a smile, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“What’s really eating at you?” she asked as their boots echoed softly against the concrete and melting snow of the bridge across the ravine, beyond the safety of their ward-lines. “Or is it really just that you think Marin’s keeping something from you?”

“Mostly that,” he murmured. “A little part of me thinks I should have ridden out with the scouting party. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know. Just a feeling.”

Her arm snaked around his waist and she gave him a squeeze. “I think your protective and paranoid tendencies are kicking in again. They’re fine, Phelan. You and I both know that they’re fine, and even if they’re not, there’s nothing that your being there would change about the situation, so just let that piece go. They’ll be back sooner than any of us think.” She sighed, her gaze sweeping over the empty, silent arboretum, settling on the ruins of one of the lecture halls for a moment. “Besides,” she added in a whisper, “I wouldn’t have let you go anyway. Not after I came as close as I did to losing you. It’s too soon, Phelan. Hell. Maybe it’ll always be too soon.”

His throat tightened and he glanced down at her. In that moment, he realized he loved her more than he’d loved anyone in his life.

“Marry me,” he whispered, the words coming without conscious thought. “Stay with me for a year and a day or however long we’ve got, Jac.”

She was silent for a long, aching moment, then looked up at him and smiled.

“Forever, Phelan. Forever.”

Jacqueline wrapped her arms around one of his and let him lead her out of Thordin’s sickroom, down the hall tunnel and finally out into the afternoon sunshine. She took a few slow, deep breaths before she glanced at him and smiled.

“Seems like we’ve got a few hours before dinner,” she said softly, her arms tightening slightly. Phelan laughed quietly and nodded.

“Seems like we might,” he agreed. “Do you want to take a little walk? Out to the bridge, maybe?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Need to clear your head?”

“A little,” he admitted. “Can you blame me?”

“Never.” Jacqueline pecked him on the cheek. “Let me get my jacket.”

Phelan nodded and stood in the slowly melting snow, staring up at the sun that grew brighter and warmer each day, as if it were trying to fight off the post-apocalyptic winter’s grip with the power of its light alone.

Sif and Jac are right. I should talk to Marin. It’s like she’s going to bite my head off.

Well, she might, but we’ll both get over it. He closed his eyes, letting the chill breeze wash over him as the sunshine warmed his face. Spring was coming at last.

And a good thing it is, too. Growing season’s going to be short enough as it is, I’m afraid, and we’ll need every second we can get to grow enough food for another winter—especially if more people find their way here.

The addition of the Wild Hunt had strained their supplies slightly, but their guests had worked hard to make up for the resources they’d used, and the extra hands at building, patrols, and scouting weren’t unwelcome at all.

“Ready?”

Jacqueline’s voice shook him from his reverie and he smiled at her, fingers sliding into hers and squeezing. “Absolutely. Let’s go.”

“You should talk to her, then, Wanderer, before you lose the nerve to do it.” Sif’s voice was rough from behind them, and Phelan twisted, brows knitting. There were dark circles under the warrior-woman’s eyes, her face drawn and pale in the lamplight. Jacqueline had said she’d been resting, but Phelan very much doubted that was actually the case.

His eyes drifted to the tattered bandages still wrapped around Sif’s palms. How long had it been since she’d let anyone change them? Since she’d let anyone see the self-inflicted wounds there, born form her hands gripping the edges of her blade?

“You look like hell,” he said, gaze unwavering. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him.

“As well I should,” she growled, stalking forward. “You’re in my chair. Move, if it pleases you, Wanderer, or I’ll move you myself.”

He quirked a brow at her but got up. Sif maintained her glare as she slipped past him and collapsed into the chair he’d vacated, her gaze softening as she turned to regard Thordin.

“Do you want us to go?” Jacqueline asked her quietly.

“Stay, go,” Sif murmured. “It doesn’t matter, engill stúlka. It’s not as if you’re disturbing anyone.”

Jacqueline squeezed her shoulder and rose from her seat. “Still. I know you want to talk to him, and I’d rather not have you stay young tongue because we’re here—because I’m here.”

The ghost of a smile touched Sif’s lips and she nodded, gratitude in her eyes as she looked up at Jacqueline. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Jacqueline glanced at Phelan. “Do you want to go and try to talk to her?”

“No,” Phelan said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “None of us are ready for that conversation yet. When the time’s right, I’ll ask. It’s just a matter of time.”

It’s always just a matter of time.

Jacqueline gave him a gentle, reassuring smile and seemed to suck some small measure of tension away. She leaned up, her lips brushing his briefly as her fingers stilled against his cheek. “I wish I could do more.”

“Later,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “Later you will.”

She squeezed his knee. “Why does Brighíd being so close to the surface in Mar worry you so much?”

A shiver crept down Phelan’s spine. He slid his arm around Jacqueline’s shoulders, desperately needing the touch of something—someone—warm and real and solid in that moment. She squeezed his knee again and pressed a kiss against his jaw.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice still quiet, worry starting to bleed in around the edges. “Why’s that getting you all tied in knots?”

“She already lives with one foot in the future,” Phelan whispered. “She shouldn’t have to live in the past, too.”

“Oh.” Jacqueline ran her fingers through his hair, sighing softly. “I—Phelan, I think in some ways, seeing the past through Brighíd’s eyes gives her some comfort.”

“It worries me, Jac. I can’t tell you how much.” His arm tightened. “I’m afraid that she’ll lose herself in those memories the way that Ciar lost himself when he was possessed.”

“But Marin’s not possessed. She was Brighíd once. You said it yourself.”

“I know I did,” he said, throat tight. “I know that I did, but that doesn’t make me any less worried or make it any less of a concern. And then there’s the question of what could be drawing Brighíd to the surface—like some sort of protective spirit, almost.”

“Could it be Ériu?”

He’d wondered that before, but shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s something else—but I don’t know what.”

“Do you think she might?”

Lips pressed into a thin, white line, Phelan nodded. “Yes. Yes, I think she just might.”

But getting her to tell me will be far easier said than done.

“You look like you’ve been through a wringer,” Jacqueline said softly as Phelan ducked into the small room where Thordin slept, pale and still as death.

“I feel like I was,” Phelan murmured, staring at his friend before his gaze flicked over to her. “Neve told a story today.”

Jacqueline arched a brow, silently inviting him to elaborate on his statement. Phelan closed his eyes.

“It was about Ciar. I—Jac, I don’t know how Marin’s going to be the next few days.”

His lover blinked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Brighíd is close to the surface,” Phelan said, drawing a second chair toward Thordin’s bedside and collapsing into it. “It worries me. When I got there, I could tell that—well. I could tell.”

“You’re worried,” Jacqueline said, her fingers deft as she knotted off a length of thread. The patchwork of a half-started quilt was spread across her knees, a project she left in that room for when she spelled Sif in sitting vigil. For a moment, Phelan hoped that Sif would be returning soon. His own nerves were getting the better of him.

What the hell brought on that little storytelling session anyhow, I wonder?

Jacqueline’s fingers wrapped around his and squeezed.

“Fretting about it isn’t going to do you any good, now is it?”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “Probably not, but my brain isn’t exactly that obedient, now is it?”

“Mm. I suppose not.” She squeezed his hand again before letting go. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not yet,” he said quietly. “Maybe later, after the sun’s gone down and we’ve eaten and Sif is back on watch in here.”

Color flooded into Jacqueline’s cheeks and she gave him a little half-smile. “Is that all?”

“You make it sound like it’s nothing.” Phelan leaned over, his lips brushing her cheek. “Right now, what you and I have is the single most important thing in my world. Nothing else matters as much as that.”

She stroked his cheek, callouses catching on the reddish stubble across his cheeks and jaw.

“Love you, Phelan,” she whispered.

“And I, you, Jac,” he whispered back. “I love you, too.”

“But the war—that didn’t happen, right?”

I smiled sadly, glancing sidelong at Carolyn. “It did,” I said softly. “Though not the way they wanted or expected.”

Neve inclined her head. “She’s right. The war did come. It was a terrible, bloody, brutal thing that ended in more of a stalemate for people like me and Leinth and Phelan than a victory for any side. It’s part of what made most of us leave—what made our elders come to that choice and drag the rest of us with them.”

Leinth shook her head, expression growing dark. “Those of us who weren’t killed or driven away, anyway.”

I might have reached out to her if I’d thought that she would have appreciated the gesture. I met her eye and she stared back at me, shaking her head slightly.

“Dark times,” she said. “Dark times then. Dark times again now. It’s a cycle.” Her eyes half-lidded. “War comes again. Perhaps this time, we’ll win.”

A shiver worked its way down my spine. I hoped she was right—I hoped we’d win if war came.

Of course, I hope that war never comes, but somehow I think we’ve spent nearly our full measure of luck already.

“They got him back, though, Carolyn,” Phelan said, as if to reassure my longtime friend. “It just took time to do it. Even after he was given over to the Wild Hunt, Brighíd and Finn found a way to bring him back to them.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “It was before the end of the war, really, though nearer the end.”

Carolyn nodded. “You told that story once, about when you almost died. I remember him being there with you, sitting vigil over you as you slept, right?”

“Sleeping, comatose, whatever I was.” Phelan smiled faintly. “I’d done the same for him anyhow. I suppose he was just returning the favor.”