Storm Warrior

With Jay’s help, Morgan managed to phone or e-mail every veterinarian, animal shelter, kennel club, groomer, and pet shop in the northwestern United States. Jay found a pair of mastiff breeders in the state that Morgan hadn’t known about, although calls to them revealed that their dogs were all brindle, not black. In fact, they insisted that mastiffs were never black. The breeders were happy to pass the information on to their association, however. There were ads running in two different Spokane newspapers and one in a tristate publication. Jay had even placed an ad in a couple of paranormal e-newsletters and several online forums that Morgan had never heard of. A week had gone by, then two, and still no one seemed to be missing a giant black dog with an expensive collar. It made no sense at all.

“Well, Rhyswr, that’s it,” she told the dog as she snapped her cell phone shut. She was sitting on the floor and decided she had little hope of getting up. It wasn’t just that the oversize city yellow pages weighed heavily in her lap—the dog was dozing with his massive head resting on her leg. He might as well have been a pony. “I don’t think there’s anyone left on the planet I can contact.” Morgan stroked the dog’s velvety ears, worked her fingers into the thick glossy fur of his neck, and smiled as he nudged his head back in a clear signal for her to continue. “I’m really sorry that your owners have been so careless with you. But you’re welcome to come and live with me. What do you think about that?”

The dog thumped his tail without opening his golden eyes.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I know you’re still stiff and sore, but it’s time to get you out of my office. It’s starting to smell kind of doggy in here, you know? You’ll like my place. I’ve got some land and a whole lot of trees, just right for a big fella like you.” His tail thumped again and she smiled. “Somehow I can’t picture you in my car, even if I open the sunroof, so I’ve got the keys to the clinic van. If that doesn’t work, well, I guess there’s always the livestock trailer.”

Transporting the dog proved to be easier than she expected. She’d been afraid that the step up into the van would be difficult for the injured animal, but she’d forgotten how tall he was. Although his wound made him slow, Rhyswr walked into the van almost effortlessly and sat calmly with his nose at her shoulder as she drove to her home in a rural area north of the city limits. When she’d bought the run-down farm two years ago, she’d wondered if she was making a mistake. The commute would be long, and while the sprawling old house was in much better shape than the barns and outbuildings, it had still required a great deal of upgrading. But the farm had rapidly become her sanctuary. And for a king-size canine, it would be heaven on earth.

Morgan pulled into the long, winding driveway and was soon standing in the grass with her new four-legged roommate. She’d looped a leash around the heavy metal collar, but it wasn’t necessary. The mastiff looked to her for his cues, moved when she moved, his great head level with her waist. “Well, Rhyswr, this is the place,” she said as she unlocked the front door. “But I’m sure not going to carry you over the threshold.” She stepped inside and held the door open. Here, the dog hesitated. He lowered his head and peered inside, uncertain.

“Come on, boy, it’s okay. You can come in,” Morgan coaxed. “You belong here. This is your new home. Come on home, Rhyswr.”

The great animal chuffed and stepped forward. But as the dog cleared the doorway, the air was filled with a bell-like clanging that made Morgan cringe and cover her ears. When the metallic tones finally died away, the silvery collar lay on the floor. “Omigod, all I did was tie a leash around it!” Kneeling, she tried to pick it up and was surprised to find that many of the finely woven coils had shattered. She was staring at the broken links in her hands when an enormous wet pink washcloth blocked her vision. “Hey!”

His tail wagging furiously, the huge black creature was almost puppylike in his sudden desire to wash her face with his tongue. “Stop that. Yuck! No licking, no licking!” It was a challenge for Morgan to regain her footing—not just because the dog was so big and kept knocking her off-balance but because she was laughing so hard. Finally, she braced herself against a wall and gripped the dog’s wrinkly muzzle with both hands. She didn’t have a hope of holding those giant jaws closed, but at least only her fingers were getting wet. Finally, the dog got the message and settled for nuzzling instead.

“Feels good to have that heavy thing off your neck, doesn’t it?” She rubbed behind the dog’s ears as he wagged his tail in apparent agreement. “Let’s get this cleaned up, and then I’ll give you a tour of the place.”

Despite his size, Rhyswr wasn’t clumsy in the least. Morgan had expected a bull-in-a-china-shop scenario, with visions of him bumping into her furniture as his great black tail swept things off tables and shelves. After all, that would be par for the course with most large dogs. However, nothing of the sort happened, even though Rhyswr was clearly pleased to be with Morgan. She could almost swear he was being deliberately careful, a quality unknown among most canines—their enthusiasm got the better of them most of the time.

She put together a salad at the kitchen counter for dinner, with the big mastiff sitting quietly next to her. He could easily see over the counter—and reach everything on it if he’d been so inclined. Instead, he was perfectly well behaved, happy to simply listen as she talked. That was a surprise to her too: how pleasant it was to have someone to talk to at the end of the day. She could definitely get used to it. “I always thought that being a vet meant I wouldn’t have time for a dog of my own, that I couldn’t offer it a good life. I keep pretty long hours—guess I should have warned you about that.”

The black dog simply thumped his tail on the floor.

“I’m glad it’s okay with you,” she continued, as she pulled up a barstool to the counter and ate her salad. “I’m thinking you should come to work with me as much as possible. Unless I’m out on a farm call or something. I just don’t want you to be alone all day, Rhyswr. I want you to be happy.”

The dog laid his enormous head on her thigh, and she rubbed his soft ears. Half an hour later, his head was in the same position as they sat on the couch and watched the news on TV together. Morgan had always loved animals, but Rhyswr had brought something new to her home, as if it was suddenly filled with life. A house is not a home without a dog. Or a cat or a bird or a goldfish. She didn’t understand how it worked, although she’d heard pet owners speak of the phenomenon many times. But now she was feeling it. Strange—she loved her house and had never noticed it lacking anything before. Now, because of the dog, there was somehow more.

Usually she did paperwork, caught up on reading veterinary medical journals, and did other tasks before falling into bed. Tonight, Morgan made popcorn—including a very small bowl that she left plain to share with Rhyswr—and put in a DVD. His behavior was impeccable. He didn’t jump up or get excited about the popcorn (and she’d seen plenty of dogs do backflips for it). Instead, he gently took pieces from her fingers as she offered them. The only time she had to tell the big mastiff to sit down was when he tried to lick the tears from her face during the sad parts of the movie. “You make a pretty perfect companion,” she said to him after the credits rolled. “You didn’t even complain that it was a chick flick.”

At ten, she almost changed her mind about having him sleep in the laundry room. Almost. If it hadn’t been for her certain knowledge of the volume of his snoring, she would have given in and let him sleep in her room.

The thick, comfy bed she’d made for him made the spacious laundry room look small. She hoped he’d be comfortable. Rhyswr obediently sat in the middle of the bedding, but his eyes looked alarmed as she went to leave the room. Morgan put her arms around his big neck and hugged him. “It’s just for tonight. If you really hate it, we’ll think of something else tomorrow, okay?”

Rhyswr thumped his tail and lay down, and Morgan headed off to her room. She knew she needed her sleep, needed every minute of it that she could get, but still it took all her willpower to leave the dog in the laundry room.

As she curled up under her blankets, she wondered why she hadn’t allowed herself to get a dog sooner. Her last thought before falling asleep was that she’d obviously been waiting for the right one to come along.

He’d known that the shattering of the faery-forged collar would summon the attention of the Tylwyth Teg, but Rhys hadn’t expected messengers so soon. Ancient beyond counting, beautiful beyond imagining, two beings stood in the room with him and banished the darkness with their living light. He squinted up at the Fair Ones, recognizing Tyne and Daeria of the queen’s own court, and waited.

Tyne studied the fragments of the collar that Morgan had placed in a box on the laundry table, then placed a single shard in the waiting palm of his consort. Daeria simply closed her delicate, long-fingered hand around it