Storm Warrior

said Leo. “In the winter now, I just close off the upstairs altogether. Since Tina passed on, I’ve taken over the bedroom behind the kitchen. I think you’ll do well in the north bedroom, on the right at the top of the front stairs. That was my son’s room. Could be a mite dusty now because my knees don’t enjoy the trip to the second floor, but that room usually stays cool in the summer heat. Though I expect we won’t get much more of that now that it’s September.”

“Grateful I am for your hospitality. Have you some work that I can do?”

Leo waved a hand at him. “No shortage of it. I’m behind on just about everything you can name. I’ll show you the yard if you’re curious, but for God’s sake, don’t feel like you have to jump right into it. You’ll make me feel guilty.”

Just then, a small spotted terrier entered the room. Age had whitened his entire face and his eyes had a blind bluish cast to them. “That’s ol’ Spike. He’s gone completely deaf now, so it takes him a while to realize I’ve come home,” explained Leo. “Usually I have him locked up if someone’s coming over.”

“Why?”

“He’ll bark at you for sure, but lately the little bugger bites. Just stand still, okay?”

Spike’s gait was unsteady but determined as he sniffed his way to his master’s side. Despite his small stature, when the dog laid his head against Leo’s leg and closed his eyes in bliss, he reminded Rhys of his father’s loyal old wolfhound. Suddenly Spike’s body stiffened as he belatedly realized there was a stranger in the room. Piercing staccato barks exploded from the small dog, underscored with snarls and growls.

“Damn it, Spike.” Leo made a grab for the terrier but was far too slow. Spike had already launched himself in Rhys’s direction.

Instead of trying to avoid the attack, Rhys simply waited. The snarling snapping teeth came within an inch of his leg—and then the dog abruptly quieted. The fur along his spine still standing up, Spike’s nostrils flared. Rhys lowered himself until he was kneeling on the floor, and the dog didn’t react except to sniff at his hands. Apparently satisfied, Spike climbed into Rhys’s lap, curled up, and began snoring almost immediately.

“I’ll be double damned,” said Leo, his eyes wide. “He must like you—I’ve never seen him do anything like that before. In fact, I’ve never seen him take a liking to anyone much, not even when family visits. What did you do, put a spell on him?”

“No magic.” Rhys stroked the spotted fur as the dog slept on. “My father taught me about animals. I like them and maybe I have a bit of a knack.”

“A knack he says.” Leo shook his head. “They say that animals are good judges of character. If that’s true, you just got a helluva reference from Spike.”

Rhyswr was nowhere to be found. Morgan spent hours searching the woods and the fields around her home, but there was no sign of the great black mastiff. She called her neighbors, put an ad in the paper, phoned the pound, but no one had seen the animal. Although she hadn’t known the dog for long, losing him hurt more than she’d expected.

Even less expected was her concern for the man who had claimed to be the dog. She didn’t believe for a minute that his name was really Rhys. That was just too much of a coincidence. But she found herself thinking about him a great deal, wondering if he was all right. Bill—Officer Richards—had assured her that Rhys’s fingerprints weren’t on file. She had breathed an enormous sigh of relief over that point. The man might be crazy but at least he wasn’t a criminal. Probably.

And he hadn’t been charged with indecent exposure, thank God, since he’d been on private property, and she didn’t wish to complain. Ha. Rhys was hot enough to bake cookies on. Tough to complain about eye candy like that! Yet according to Bill, no one had filed a missing persons report on anyone with his description. No one had showed up to identify or claim him. Not only did he have no idea where he belonged, he remembered no other name but his first one. And that was questionable.

In the end, since he couldn’t provide ID or even an address, Rhys had simply been written up for vagrancy and placed in a cell overnight. That surprised her. She thought the authorities would have sent Rhys to a psychiatrist or even a social worker, but the man hadn’t committed any real crime. His mental condition would therefore be his own business. And as Bill had pointed out, plenty of people were wandering the streets these days with far worse problems than Rhys.

Where he was now, though, was anyone’s guess. All she knew was that the man had simply left upon release. According to Bill, there had been no incidents of Rhys turning up naked in the streets.

If only Morgan could say the same about her dreams.

“Hold it this way. That’s it, you got it now,” said Leo. “We’ll make a handyman out of you yet.”

Rhys drilled a hole through the plywood and admired the perfection of the circle when he finished. He’d seen electrical tools before, of course, but had never touched them to see how they worked. His people had been adept with ironwork, and he himself was skilled with many hand tools—but even the most basic of tools looked and worked differently in this time and place. So many new things to learn…It was exhilarating to have so much to think about, and by all the gods, it felt good to use his hands again.

Best of all, Leo was unfailingly patient as a teacher. Rhys was truly thankful that the old man had been placed in his path, because he definitely needed a guide in this strange new world.

“I think I’ll take a break now,” said Leo. “Never used to need one, but now I find I gotta shut my eyes for a little while in the afternoon. Recharges the batteries.” He sniffed and chuckled. “Although they don’t seem to hold a charge for long these days.”

As the old man headed for the house, Rhys made his way to the garden. He’d built a wide and sturdy bench for Leo and placed it in a sunny spot near some enormous purple and white flowers called dahlias. It was a good spot for Rhys’s latest project too. He pulled out a large block of dark wood from under the bench and a handful of slender cutting tools from his pocket. Studying the piece, he began shaving away thin curls of wood and enjoyed the sun-warmed smell of them. Initially he’d begun carving the piece with a simple knife, but Leo had borrowed some very fine implements from a neighbor who made lifelike wooden ducks.

What Rhys held in his hands was not a bird. It would be a gift for Morgan one day, perhaps even a peace offering, if she would accept it. Just as he’d swapped one tool for the next, however, a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Rhys stilled, casting his gaze about for the source. There was movement in the middle of the garden, and yet he could see nothing but the rich brown earth he had spaded over earlier in the week. Some bits of straw, the dried yellowed stems of a few leftover garden plants poked up here and there—

Suddenly a strange brown bird stood up from the midst of the dirt and shook out its feathers. Rhys thought it was a grouse—until it turned bright-blue eyes on him. In a heartbeat, the bird became a tiny man with a wizened, coppery face. Brown leaves stuck out in all directions from braided brown hair and covered his strange little body. He frowned at Rhys, planting long twiglike hands on scrawny hips.

Then disappeared in a puff of dust.

An ellyll, thought Rhys. A stranger to this side of the waters and probably spying for the Tylwyth Teg. But then, had he truly expected the Fair Ones to leave him alone? Reason said they’d be watching, one way or another.

Waiting.

EIGHT

It was her turn to be on call, and Morgan felt she’d missed enough shifts. Jay and Grady had argued with her for most of the week in favor of continuing to cover for her. They’d both been overprotective after the attack, and doubly so after what was now referred to as the Naked Man Incident. Their concern was sweet and