Jan Delima: Celtic Moon

He had been forced to choose a sibling, and he chose Luc—the first of their clan born in wolf form. Dumbfounded, Dylan had ogled the black ball of fur mewling in his arms.

“Go to the high grounds of Gwynedd,” Cady had whispered as she tucked a wool cloak around the cub Dylan held. “There are others like your brother. Families. They will help you.”

His disappearance, Dylan knew, had harmed his sister more deeply than the metal spikes shoved under her skin.

“Justice has come full circle,” Elen whispered.

Dylan looked up, slogging his way out of old memories. “How so?”

“We were chased from our homeland and forced to settle here, across the ocean, far away from the rest of our kind.” A thread of melancholy weaved through her voice, despite her harsh words.

“Has it been so bad?” he asked softly. It had taken a long time for her and many others to accept that Cymru, now known as Wales, was no longer their home.

The Guardians had claimed Cymru, like maggots within a rotting carcass. Descendants with mixed lineage, or others considered beneath them, were forced to become servants or slaves. Or killed , if judged too feeble in power, unworthy of procreation, dangerous to a weakening race losing its ability to call the wolf with each new generation.

A few powerful shifters had rejected the Guardians’ demands. Some, like Dylan, had been unwilling to watch their loved ones suffer and escaped to new lands.

A gathering with those other leaders was long overdue.

“Of course not,” she chided. “And you’re missing the point. In our absence Cymru has become barren of wolves, overrun with sheep and empty hills, while we thrive. Our forest is rich with life. We have taken the precautions necessary to make sure that our land is protected against development. For some of us, wolves run through the trees once again. We are blessed.”

“Yes,” Dylan agreed. “Perhaps a little too blessed. It will not be long before we are challenged.”

“I know. I feel it too.” She sighed, as if the weight of their conversation was a tangible substance. “Luc showed me the banner. Our time of peace has ended. Forgive me if I’m not so eager.”

“I’m not eager,” he argued. “But I will not bow down to Guardian threats.”

“Like I would ever expect you to.” Elen gave him a sad smile. “Because of me you have become the leader of the unwanted. And you will defend our home at all costs.” She lowered her voice. “Even when your sacrifice is the greatest.”

Dylan purposely ignored her last comment. The sacrifice she referred to was not a place he chose to dwell. “No one is unwanted here.”

Over the years many had come for sanctuary, those in danger of Guardian judgment for either being too human or too wolf. Most stayed— for a price . Anyone who lived on his land, under his protection, must cut all ties to their old life.

Full loyalty or else they must leave.

No exceptions.

Not even for the one woman who had deserved leniency. A human, no less. An innocent in his dangerous world.

Sophie.

Again, her name whispered through his mind, muddling his thoughts with poisonous emotions. Anger. Temptation. Betrayal. Hatred.

Need.

He got up and poured himself another glass of scotch.

“You will find them,” Elen offered as solace. “She can’t hide forever.”

Dylan turned and frowned at his sister, more annoyed than angry at her insight. “When have I become so easy to read?”

“Only to me.” Her eyes fell to his glass. “I know what your loyalty to our people has cost you. Others don’t see. Or choose not to.” She shrugged. “Too many count on your protection.”

He shook his head, uncomfortable with her words. “Our numbers only make us stronger.”

Elen sighed, but allowed him to veer away from his painful memories, switching to hers instead. “That is not how the Guardians view me. Or others like me. To them, if we cannot shift then we are weak. Forsaken. To them, we will always be . . .” She whispered a word in the old tongue, “Drwgddyddwg.”

Evil Bringer. A vile name created out of fear by ignorant leaders.

Dylan growled. “ Never use that name in my house.”

Her profile did not conceal the mordant smile. “I’ve earned the right.”

Annoyance made his tone harsh. “We will be hosting a small gathering of leaders who have fertile land. Potential allies against the Guardians, those without loyalties to the old ways.” He gave her a moment to process that information, knowing that the news would unsettle her. And with good reason. “In numbers, our strength would be unmatched.”

She hissed, snapping to face him. “If word reaches Cymru that we’re even discussing this—”

“You think I have not considered those consequences?”

“Does Luc know of your idea?”

“Yes.”

Elen waited in reserved silence. Finally, with obvious hesitation, she asked, “Who are you thinking?”

Dylan had considered territories first—the ones that had the most to lose under Guardian rule. “New York, Montana, Idaho, Virginia, Ontario, Alaska and Minnesota.”

Elen counted off the leaders of each of the territories on her fingers. “Nia, Madoc, Ryder, Drystan, Daron, Kalem and Isabeau.” She held up her hands. “Seven. What about Llara? She will join us. I know it.”

“Yes, I don’t doubt that Llara will stand with us, but she has her own battle at hand. Her territory is inconvenient .” The humans in Russia were too observant of their surroundings, or perhaps more open-minded about old superstitions. When the Soviets were in power they almost eradicated the wolf population—and not all of them just wolves.

Elen frowned. “We should give her the choice. And the Himalayas? Both Mabon and Sioni will join our cause.”

“Let’s start closer to home. If all goes well, we can proceed from there.”

With a jerky nod, Elen picked up her glass, rolling it in her hands. Potential disasters raced behind keen blue eyes. “When are you planning to hold this meeting?”

“Five days from now. Messages have already been sent. I will call tomorrow to confirm. I don’t want to give them too much time to think.”

She let out a deep breath. “But enough time to respond.”

Dylan studied her face. “There will be powerful wolves around us, some who’ll remember.”

She met his eyes, unflinchingly direct. “I’m stronger than I once was.”

“I know that. They don’t.”

Her lips tilted upward, mocking. “Are you asking me to behave?”

“Do I need to?”

“No,” she clipped.

“Good.”

“And I don’t want you or Luc hovering around me either.”

“You’re our healer. We need you safe.”

She rolled her eyes. “That excuse has become tiresome. I can do more.”

Dylan shrugged, unapologetic. “Then prepare the clinic for what will come if this gathering proves ineffective.”

Her chin lifted. “I’m always prepared for the worst.”

“Of course.”

“We may need to add more beds in the future,” she conceded.

“I will defer to your judgment. Order anything you think necessary.”

A muffled ring came from her pocket. She smiled an apology, leaning to the side to retrieve her cell.

The unnatural sound was like acid on his nerves. “I wish you wouldn’t carry that thing.”

“You’re so paranoid,” she teased. “Porter keeps me protected. And this thing has freed me from living at the clinic. The convenience far outweighs the risk.” She looked down at the incoming number and raised her eyebrows. “Porter.”

Dylan stilled, his instincts on alert. Porter never wasted words— or his time. If he called, there was a valid reason.