Storm Warrior

trying to cut the coils, but Ranyon donated one of the throwing axes to the cause. Used as a hatchet, it quickly freed the wire from the fallen posts, and Rhys threw the tangled mess safely aside. The way was clear through the trampled grass if Lucy came this way again—and was brave enough to cross it. She had to be terrified of wire by now. But if she made it back to Morgan’s land, any lesser fae would be unable to pursue her farther.

“That’s all we can do for poor Lucy,” Rhys said at last and began jogging back the way they’d come. He caught hold of Ranyon’s twiggy hand and swung him up to his shoulder once more. “We need to hurry and prepare a fit welcome for the Fair Ones.”

“Aye,” said the ellyll, setting his hat low over his eyes. “Ya can wager I’ve a charm fer that.”

TWENTY-ONE

Morgan lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She’d expected to have trouble sleeping, but it wasn’t the massive dog’s snores that were keeping her awake. Fred hadn’t tried to climb in with her either, thank heavens. Instead, he seemed perfectly comfortable at the foot of her bed, on the giant dog pillow that had once been Rhyswr’s. Perfectly content too. At bedtime, he’d laid down immediately with what sounded like a happy sigh, and was snoring moments later.

A big day for a big dog, she thought, especially after so little activity for over a month. Traveling to what Ellen had charmingly called his forever home, and then exploring it, had tired him. Not to mention playing for an hour in the yard and then inhaling dog food as if he’d never seen it before. If he has his appetite back, he’s feeling pretty good.

She felt good too, at least about Fred. Everything else, however, was weighing heavily on her. Morgan was worried about Leo. And seeing Rhys at the Ren fair had bothered her more than she thought. As had that last encounter at the hospital.

Have faith in me, he’d said. Have faith in us…We have much to say to each other yet, anwylyd.

Tears started in her eyes, and she scrubbed them away angrily on the sleeve of her pajamas. She was so done with crying. Hoping for a distraction, she got up as quietly as she could and padded down the hallway in the dark. She’d barely reached the kitchen before Fred was at her side, an enormous shadow in more ways than one. He was quiet, however, and simply lay at her feet as she sat at the table.

Nainie’s photo in its oversize frame was illuminated by the kitchen night-light. It lent the picture a rich golden glow and highlighted parts not usually apparent in the daytime. Morgan turned her head slowly from side to side, studying the photo from different angles. The camera had reflected on a narrow glimmering line just inside the neck of Nainie’s dress. That had to be the chain of her necklace—the one that Morgan was now wearing beneath her pajama top. She patted the medallion beneath the flannel, chuckling a little at the silly cartoon cats and dogs that adorned the fabric. It was an irreverent setting for such exquisite jewelry. Yet Nainie had never spoken of the value of the necklace, at least not in monetary terms. She’d never cautioned her granddaughter to be careful of the priceless item, or to wear it only on special occasions, or to even hide it. It was clearly a tool and meant to be used. But for what?

Her eyes still on the photograph, Morgan drew the medallion from its resting place against her skin. It’ll help you to have faith…and show you truth…

Faith in what? The truth of what, exactly?

Rhys’s words came unbidden. Have faith in me. Have faith in us.

She studied the medallion in her hand, its glittering silver chain draped over her fingers. The mysterious central stone gleamed in the soft light. “Nainie, what am I supposed to do? What on earth is the truth in all of this?” she asked aloud. “I’m so darn confused.” Morgan knew, when all was said and done, that what she felt for Rhys was far more than just physical attraction. Though that itself was powerful, it wasn’t why she thought about him constantly. Why she was both furious with him and lapsing into crying jags at the drop of a hat.

“I love him. I want to be with him, even if he is crazy. And—even if he isn’t.”

There. She’d finally said it out loud. Confessed it before her grandmother’s photo that looked down from the wall like a kindly icon. Spoken the words before the great dog that lay at her feet with his guileless soul in his eyes as he looked up at her. The medallion, naturally cool, felt warm in her hand as she considered what she’d just said.

For the first time, she allowed herself to freely examine the strange events that had unfolded ever since she first visited Wales, and all the evidence she’d insisted on dismissing and denying. The mysterious arrival of her beloved black dog, Rhyswr, and his equally strange disappearance. The dog’s unique collar, created from soft silver made impossibly strong by unknown methods. The timing of Rhys’s appearance in her laundry room—not to mention his lack of clothing. Rhys’s uncanny proficiency with both animals and ancient weapons. And of course Morgan recognized her own work on Rhys’s body. It was as unique as a signature. Her instructors at veterinary college had always been able to pinpoint her tiny careful sutures, teasing her that she could have a successful backup career as a tailor. That the incision was now on a man’s body rather than a dog’s didn’t negate the fact that it was her handiwork.

She murmured Jay’s favorite quote, one from Sherlock Holmes that normally would have irritated her: “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth…”

Must be.

Which meant she’d been a complete and total idiot.

“Rhys. I have to tell Rhys!” A chill ran through her as she remembered she’d ordered him to leave—what if he were already gone? No. He wouldn’t leave the horse. Not without making sure I knew. So was he still with Leo, or was he right over there in the barn, sound asleep?

Hell, with Leo in the hospital, Rhys probably wasn’t getting much more sleep than she was. And maybe, just maybe, he was thinking about Morgan too. She hoped so. Damned if she wanted to be the only person in this relationship who was totally miserable…

Damned if she wanted to be the only person in this relationship, period.

She got up and found Fred at the window. She hadn’t even heard him move, but his body language clearly spoke of high alert. His muzzle was pressed against the glass, but she couldn’t see much outside herself. The yard light was on the pitiful side, with barely enough wattage to cast a faint greenish glow on the buildings. “Whatcha looking at, bud?” she asked and rested her hand on his broad back, but Fred didn’t move. The faint rumble of thunder told her that a storm was moving in, and Morgan wondered if the dog was afraid of it. He didn’t look very fearful, however—beneath her hand, the fur along his spine bristled up into a thick ridge. A deep growl resonated from his throat, but he didn’t bark.

“Did you hear some coyotes out there?” Although she’d never seen one on her own land, bears wandered the area too. Only last month, she’d been called in to help examine an enormous black bear that had been tranked by wildlife officials in the middle of a Spokane Valley neighborhood. There was no hint of movement in the farmyard, though—at least not anywhere the light shone.

Maybe Fred had sensed Lucy moving around in the barn? Or perhaps even Rhys.

“Shall we go check it out?” she asked the dog. Truthfully, she wasn’t the least bit concerned if local wildlife was paying a visit to the farm. What she really wanted was to talk to Rhys, even if it was the middle of the night —or well into the wee hours, as her nainie would say. Morgan sighed as she got dressed. Didn’t feel like sleeping anyway. Thank heavens she had a couple more days off. Maybe she could grab a nap on the porch swing later…

Fred followed her readily to the kitchen and watched as she tied her shoes. He seemed keen to go yet wasn’t frantic to get out the door as many dogs would be. Morgan talked to him about the importance of staying with her as she snapped on his thick leather leash, yet all the while she had a mental picture of being dragged into the forest at high speed if the two hundred–plus pounds of dog decided to chase something.

She needn’t have worried. Fred didn’t launch himself out the door like a rocket, nor did he even tug at the leash in her hand. Instead, he walked beside her. He was still on high alert, and he swung his great head back and