Thordin’s gaze strayed toward the windows as lightning lit the world outside a pair of heartbeats before thunder boomed. A gust of wind lashed rain against the far side of the cottage Matt and Hecate shared with their younger children.
“It’s growing,” he whispered, eyes growing unfocused for a moment as he cast his senses into the storm, fingers bunching in the fabric of his pants for a few seconds.
Sif still hadn’t joined them. Either her conversion with Neve was taking longer than anticipated, or she’d stayed with the other woman a bit longer to wait for a break in the storm.
A break didn’t seem forthcoming anytime soon, as far as Matt could tell, but that wasn’t exactly his wheelhouse, either. He leaned forward to rest his elbows against his knees, cradling the mug of tea Hecate handed him between his palms. “What does it mean?”
“Not sure yet.” Thordin’s brow furrowed for a few seconds as he squinted, his gaze still focused on something beyond their sight. “Do you want me to…?”
Matt glanced at Hecate, who winced, catching the inside of her lower lip between her teeth. The worry in her eyes, he knew, mirrored what was in his own. He exhaled slowly. “At what cost?”
“Shouldn’t be one,” Thordin murmured. “Maybe an extra hour of sleep tonight or tomorrow morning. Not unless I have to do anything more than just look.” He blinked once, then again, and suddenly he was fully there, turning a wry smile toward his worried friends. “Won’t know if it’s more than that unless I take the look.”
“Do you think it’s worth it?” Hecate asked as she slowly sat down beside Matt. “The risk that you’ll have to act?”
“Weighed against how quickly this is growing? I’m starting to think so.” The wry smile faded, his expression going slack for a few seconds. “It could be completely natural—it could be nothing to worry about.”
“Or it could be something subtle?” Hecate asked quietly. “A nudge, a tug, someone feeding it and guiding it with a light hand?”
The wry smile returned and Thordin nodded slowly. “It’s nice to know someone listens when I ramble on about it.”
“It’s been a long time since something like that happened,” Matt said, looking away from Thordin and toward the window. He gathered breath to continue, only for Thordin to say what he was already thinking.
“But with recent events, we can’t rule it out. Especially with the report from the Hunt, what happened to our guests, and the attack on Lin. We don’t even know who’s controlling them these days.”
“We don’t,” Matt agreed. “It’s been a long time since it mattered.”
“But it matters now,” Hecate said, setting her mug on the low table that perched in front of the couch where she and Matt had settled. For a few seconds, she stared at the inlay of the wood, the delicate carving. It had been an anniversary gift from Thom so many years ago. “If the peace is truly broken, then someone is coming. Perhaps all of them will be coming—and more. The old threats. New. Who knows what anyone’s learned about us and this place in eighteen years—and other places like this.” Her gaze flicked toward Matt for a second, then to Thordin. “It’s your choice, Thordin. Do what you think is best.”
Matt nodded, reaching to the side to capture her fingers in his, squeezing gently. “She’s right. And we’re with you on it. Whatever you decide.”
Thordin nodded, standing slowly. He set his mug on the table before he crossed toward the window, gaze already growing unfocused again. “If you see frost on my fingers—”
“We’ll pull you back,” Matt said. “No one wants you lost out there, Thordin.”
The ghost of a smile curved his lips and he nodded before he turned back to the window. He leaned against the sill, peering out through the glass at the raging storm. Then his eyes grew unfocused again as his friends watched, his senses thrown out and up into the storm.
Hecate’s fingers tightened around Matt’s. He squeezed back, perhaps harder than he intended to, gentling as he realized his knuckles had gone white.
“Are you afraid?” she asked in a bare whisper.
“Yes,” Matt whispered back.
“Me too.”
That fear felt different this time somehow—a surprise. Matt had thought after so much time, after so many threats faced and handled, that he’d learned every kind of fear that he could feel. Yet somehow, this felt different. There had been other times when the stakes felt much higher than they did now, but this felt like that and more.
But why?
Hecate’s shoulder leaned into his as his fingers flexed around hers again. He exhaled slowly, gaze fixed on Thordin—on his friend’s face, then his hands. If there was frost, he’d reached too far, was reaching too far, and there would be a threat of losing him to the storm.
It had come close to happening before and was an experience none of them were keen to repeat.
“What if he doesn’t come back?” Matt whispered, giving voice to the words that had suddenly bubbled up from that dark well of fear.
“He will,” Hecate said, and the certainty in her voice was enough to silence that fear, at least this time. “If there’s one thing that holds true about him, he’ll let you pull him back. He learned that lesson and has remembered it well.”
Matt didn’t ask. He thought he knew what she was talking about, but he didn’t want to hear the confirmation. He knew the old story—knew the truth of the old story. If that was what she was referencing, it made sense. Given everything he knew about his friend, it made sense.
And if it wasn’t that, if it was about a battle on the ice in his lifetime, well—then it made even more sense.
There was no sign of frost on Thordin’s fingertips, though, even as the air around him seemed to crackle gently. Matt held his breath. The static electricity was nothing new, but it suggested exactly how powerful the storm might be, if it was gathering around Thordin even standing there, leaned against the windowsill.
Next to him, Hecate swallowed.
“Big,” she whispered. “Very big.”
“And powerful,” Matt whispered back, gaze fixed on Thordin’s hands.
“This may be more than we bargained for.” Her fingers flexed. “Maybe we shouldn’t have—”
Matt shook his head, silent, still watching.
No frost.
The air crackled. Thunder boomed nearby, setting their cups rattling. Rain lashed at the windows, driven by a wind that was beginning to pick up.
If it was a normal storm, it was going to be one of the worst they’d faced all summer.
A glimmer caught his eye. Rime started to gather along Thordin’s fingernails. Matt was out of his seat in a second, crossing the room, his own magic a simmer beneath his skin—already reaching. “Thordin—”
His friend gasped, reeling backward, stumbling back into Matt’s startled arms. For a few seconds, Thordin’s eyes rolled wildly, blindly, as if seeking both himself and who was with him, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Matt’s arms.
“I—I was deep and high,” Thordin gasped. “I could feel something. It’s not—something’s feeding it. Someone. Something. I couldn’t tell what. It’s too far. This storm is huge and it’s growing. It hasn’t stopped growing and something is feeding it.”
Hecate was at their side, then, helping Thordin straighten and steady even as the taller man leaned on Matt. “But you couldn’t tell what or who?”
“No,” he breathed, reaching to scrub at his eyes. “No, it was too far away. It could be—it could be anyone. Known or unknown.”
“Or anything,” Matt murmured.
Thordin met his gaze and nodded slowly. “Aye. Anything.”
The three looked at each other for a few seconds before Hecate shook her head. “Come on. Sit down. You said it was far.”
Thordin nodded again, fumbling into the chair they led him to. “Yeah. Miles and miles. West, I think, and south. Definitely south.”
Hecate took a breath, looking at Matt, then Thordin, then back to Matt again. “It might not be directed at us.”
“It might not be,” Matt said. “But we can’t pretend that it’s not, can we?”
“No,” Thordin said. “We can’t and we shouldn’t. But whoever it is—they’re strong and they’re trying to keep what they can do hidden. What they’re doing is subtle. They might not know how much they can do.”
“Or they know exactly how much they can do,” Hecate said, sinking slowly back into her seat. “And they’re being careful.”
Thordin nodded. “I couldn’t tell. Not without—not without risking too much.”
“It’s all right,” Matt murmured. “If they’re far, we still have time.”
“But how much?” Thordin asked. “Assuming that this is something targeted and aimed here.”
“I don’t know,” Matt said. “None of us can, yet. Sounds like we’re going to have to be careful with this, though.”
“And batten down the hatches,” Hecate said, her gaze on the window and the wind-lashed rain. “This is barely the beginning, isn’t it? Tip of the iceberg.”
Swallowing hard, Thordin reached for his abandoned mug. “Yeah. The worst is still coming. Still out over the lake.”
“Then we have time,” Hecate said.
“Time,” Matt echoed. He headed for where his old raincoat, patched in places, showing its age, hung by the front door. “Going to go check in on the Hunt and tell them to button up. And the sentries. You two stay here—I’ll be back.”
“Matt.”
He paused at her voice, turning even as he shrugged into the coat. “I’ll be careful.”
“Very careful,” Hecate said, her gaze direct. “Be very, very careful.”
The words balanced on the very tip of his tongue, but he didn’t ask the question. He just nodded. “I will.”
He pulled up his hood and stepped out into the storm.
