Jan Delima - Celtic Moon

“Cormack,” Luc said, his voice thick with displeasure, “is probably with Elen.”

DARKNESS HAD FALLEN ON RHUDDIN VILLAGE, NOT ONLY in the few hours of night, but also in the hearts of his people. There were no voices or laughter as Dylan walked the shadowed streets toward Siân’s cottage, just a few faint whispers filled with concern. Most of the villagers had kept to their homes.

Siân lived on the outskirts of town, secluded by choice, her driveway obscured by tall pine trees. Gravel crunched under his boots as he made his way toward her front door. She had left the outside light on, revealing faded yellow paint and rotting posts as he drew near, neglected, much like the woman who lived within its walls.

As Dylan climbed the front steps he couldn’t help but wonder if the human mind was strong enough to withstand immortality, if the conscience was meant to handle a thousand years of unfulfilled wanting.

The door opened before he could knock, and Siân stood before him in modern jeans, a white winter vest over a navy sweater and hiking boots. The red hair of a Celt hung down her back in a long plait.

She gave him a sad smile, and stood back for him to enter. “I’ve been expecting you.”

He eyed the sparse room, and the four trunks lined up by the door. “You know why I’ve come, then?”

She cocked her head to one side, frowning at his calm tone, and looking somewhat confused. Thankfully, it was not an aberrant confusion; the glint in her eyes this night was lucid.

“I’m sure that woman has filled your ears enough,” she said.

“I’d like to hear your side.”

“Does it truly matter now, Dylan?” He expected anger, even defiance, but instead found sorrow. “I saw your son,” she whispered, her words barely audible, even to his ears. “He has your eyes.”

Her despondent attitude only confirmed Sophie’s accusation. “Tell me what happened the night my wife left me, Siân. Tell me what happened when you found her.”

As if he hadn’t spoken, she looked out the open door toward the woods, lost in the torrent of her own thoughts. “I know Sarah and Michael are out there. They’re watching me.” She remained quiet for a moment. “I used to laugh when that woman fought you for keeping her guarded, and here I am now, sharing her fate.” Her shoulders slumped, and her voice grew heavy with regret. “Except I don’t have you in my bed . . . or a child of my own.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

Her eyes glazed over then, and she was uncomprehending, or unwilling to answer. She had moved on to that other place, Dylan realized—her place of madness and avoidance. Was it a misguided sense of responsibility that her misery still provoked him? Perhaps it was, but he would rather feel compassion than hatred for a woman who’d once been his lover, and more important, his friend.

“Come here,” Dylan said and opened his arms. She turned back toward the room. She frowned at him, but then the haze of confusion cleared and a soft sob escaped her lips. Three strides and she fell into his embrace, tucking her head under his chin. She smelled like dried lavender and mint. He kissed the top of her hair, more like a father would a frightened child than an ex-lover. “I know why you did it, Siân. But it doesn’t change what I must do.”

“I understand,” she sniffed. “I can’t live here now anyway . . . I can’t bear it.”

“I had Alise create a new identity for you, with six hundred thousand dollars in two separate accounts, under the name Pamela Johnston.”

A soft growl grew close and Dylan dropped his arms, waiting for Siân to withdraw herself. She did so with some reluctance. He reached into his jacket and handed her a portfolio with her account information, her new birth certificate, her social security card and her driver’s license. She accepted the packet, hugging it to her chest, nodding without words.

Heavy padded steps fell across the porch as a red wolf prowled through the door. Cormack took a protective stance between Dylan and his sister.

Siân rested her hand on Cormack’s head. “It is all right, my brother. I’ll be okay.” But her voice cracked with emotion despite her brave words.

Dylan nodded to Taran as she entered and stood with her siblings. Taran took her sister’s hand within hers and waited.

Dylan found no satisfaction in issuing this judgment. “Siân is banished from my territory . . . and my protection, for her own personal actions. I’ve provided her with the means to make a fresh start.”

A low growl hummed through the room. Dylan pinned Cormack with a glare, letting his own wolf have a voice. Both sisters leaned against their brother in a silent bid for respect. In a fight, Dylan would dominate. Cormack broke eye contact first, but his stance remained arrogant.

“I don’t expect you to agree with my decision,” Dylan continued, “but I expect you to respect it. If you cannot . . . then you must leave with your sister.”

Taran nodded. “We’ll go with Siân.”

“No.” Siân shook her head, not willing to force her fate onto her siblings. “Cormack will never have a normal existence among mortals.” The wolf made a noise in the back of his throat, almost human, and clearly offended. “You are trapped in this form.” Siân stroked her brother’s neck. “The Guardians will kill you. And the humans . . . at best they will confine you. Here you’re free. Here . . . you’re safe.”

Cormack pushed up against her, releasing a mournful howl.

“No, I’ll have no argument with you on this.” There was vehemence in her voice and fire in her eyes. “You will stay here with Taran.”

Was it divine justice, or comeuppance , Dylan wondered, that he’d been given a final glimpse of the woman he’d once admired. She had petitioned him for sanctuary almost four hundred years ago, with a red wolf by her side and a young sister in her arms. Sane and selfless. The protector of her family. And eventually his lover, until her need for a child had driven her to other men, searching for the one who could give her what she’d longed for most: to be a mother .

She never conceived with him, or with any of the others. Over time her behavior turned erratic . . . desperate . She had started to worship fertility gods, in the old way of the ancient druids, with mating rituals and animal sacrifices, until he put a stop to the senseless animal deaths. By then, whom she’d chosen to take into her bed was not his concern.

For a while, Siân’s restlessness had seemed to settle into a form of acceptance, or so he’d thought.

Not long after that time, hardly even forty years, Sophie and her team of nature scientists had petitioned for temporary residence in Rhuddin Village. Dylan had agreed only to keep an eye on their efforts, and to sabotage them if necessary .

However, he hadn’t been prepared for Sophie herself, with her gentle nature and fiery conviction, or her innocence in a sweet woman’s body. She had taunted him, teased him, unaware of the wolf she aroused, with a need long denied.

She had conceived almost immediately.

His greatest joy had been Siân’s worst humiliation. He had little doubt that she had threatened Sophie and his child. And that offense—regardless of their personal history—was unforgivable. “You have an hour to decide.”

With a vile taste on his tongue, he walked out of the cottage. Elen and Luc waited on the front steps, supporting him with their silent presence. He turned to his brother. “Will you escort Siân out, and whoever decides to leave with her?”

“And if Taran stays?” Luc asked.

“Then she’ll need to prove her loyalty before returning to her position. I want you to watch her,” Dylan added for clarity. “ Personally. She accepted her sister’s banishment too easily.”