Jan Delima - Celtic Moon

A look of disgust crossed her florid features. “Somewhere tropical? You . . .” She made a choking sound. “You are such a frivolous . . . stupid . . . girl !” A shadow passed behind her eyes, turning blue to orange, a color that most definitely was not human. “We must stay put until the Guardians make—”

“—Enid,” Porter interrupted, “control yourself. And hold your loose tongue!”

A warning Enid obeyed—but not Francine. “Don’t ever speak to my daughter in that tone!” Sauce flew in spatters as she brandished her wooden spoon. “Stupid and frivolous,” she muttered, pointing the spoon toward Enid’s chest. “ You obviously didn’t take the time to get to know Sophie when she lived here.”

Enid blinked, much like a chastised dog when sprayed with water; a pattern of red dots stained the front of her white sweater. A moment of shock, but just a moment, before the scent of elements filled the room, pungent and disturbing.

Oh, God. “ Mum . . . put the spoon down.” When that didn’t work, Sophie repeated more gently, “ Please put the spoon down. You’re getting sauce everywhere.” She stepped between the two women, handing Enid a clean dish towel, aware now that Dylan hadn’t been entirely forthcoming. “Why must we stay put? What about the Guardians?”

With her weapon still in hand, Francine asked, “Who are the Guardians?”

“Enid . . .” Porter warned again.

“I misspoke,” Enid said. The tension in the room gradually receded as she accepted the towel. She dabbed the front of her sweater and kept her gaze to the floor. “I assumed you were in Dylan’s confidence. You must ask him your questions.”

A door slammed shut from the hallway, putting a halt to the conversation. A scamper of paws on wood was the only warning before a large white dog came bounding into the room.

The dog’s tail wacked against the wall in an excited rhythm as he waited to be addressed.

Sophie stared, dumbstruck for a moment until she found her voice. “Tucker? Is that you?” In response, Tucker tapped his paws and then nudged her hand. She rewarded him with a long stroke down his back.

Enid backed against the wall. “It cannot be,” she countered in a low voice laden with fear.

Very odd, Sophie thought, from a woman who had, in all likelihood, just come close to changing into a wolf.

Dylan entered the kitchen, his features harsh and unreadable. Dark eyes scanned the occupants of the room, only to settle back on her. “Where’s Joshua?”

“Luc brought him into town. Joshua wanted to take a look around and meet everyone again properly.” Her chest tightened, but not due to his surly tone. “Is something wrong?”

“Why must you always assume something is wrong? I was just inquiring about my son.”

Taken aback, Sophie tilted her head toward Tucker. “Oh, I don’t know . . . maybe because I never know what to expect when I’m around you.”

“Maybe you should be around me more often then,” he replied with sexual undertones that sent her cheeks aflame.

Feeling unnerved, Sophie began to understand that she was the source of his irritation, for reasons not appropriate in present company—or in any company, for that matter.

Acting oblivious to the undercurrents, Francine shimmied around the counter to assess their familiar visitor. “If that’s Tucker, then Matthew must be nearby.”

“He was ,” Dylan confirmed. “But he chose not to stay.”

“He left without saying hello?” Francine frowned, clearly confused. “Do you know where he went? Is he staying nearby?”

Dylan sighed as if calling to the gods for patience. “Your Matthew doesn’t answer to me, Francine. I have no idea where he went or where he’s staying. All I know is he wanted my wife to have that . . .” His head nodded toward the dog.

“He did?” Sophie exclaimed, too pleased to listen to her misgivings, at least for the moment. “I hope that’s okay with you, Tuck?” As if he understood, he jumped toward her. Instinctively, she caught his paws, forcing him to balance on his hindquarters. Still, he managed to reach a large wet tongue across her cheek. “Okay,” she laughed, getting thoroughly slimed. “I missed you too.”

An odd sound came from Porter’s direction.

As an afterthought, she turned to Dylan, well aware how intrusive Tucker could be. “You don’t mind if he stays here . . . do you?”

“This is your home, Sophie. If it’s your wish to keep the . . . er . . . animal, and if you can control it, then do so.”

“Thank you.” She settled the dog back on the ground. “Did you hear that, Tuck? You can stay.” He wiggled his rear end. “Are you hungry?”

Another wiggle and a soft “ Woof .”

“Do you want a treat?” She knew her tone had gone soft and silly, but she didn’t care who heard or what they thought—because she had missed this dog. Tucker tapped his paws with adoration in his eyes. “You do? My boy wants a treat?”

Another “ Woof .”

“Bugger me blind,” Porter choked out, “if I’m not seeing a hound from hell do an arse jigger in our kitchen.”

“Your hell has no relevance here, Porter,” Enid responded gravely, “for that is a creature from the Otherworld.”

A slight hesitation before Francine asked, “What is an Otherworld?”

“I’ll explain later, Mum.” Sophie cut a piece of crust off a loaf of bread on the counter, dipped it into her sauce and fed it to Tucker, who inhaled it in a loud gulp. She remained silent through the hushed banter, thankful her mother had the good sense to follow suit.

Interestingly enough, Enid’s initial reaction to Tucker began to make sense. According to what Sophie knew of Celtic beliefs, a hound from the Otherworld served their gods, an animal that crossed between worlds, human and Other .

In Celtic lore, the Otherworld was the place of magical beings, the land of faery, and the home of their deities. Not necessarily a nice, happy place either. However, it was easy for Sophie to understand how time, humanity, and different faiths, had led to the misinterpretation of the old Celtic faery tales. At one time, those stories were told to frighten children from wandering too far from home.

“’Tis blasphemy to feed it that concoction,” Enid muttered in a strangled voice.

A soft vibration hummed against Sophie’s hip, followed by a menacing growl. Startled, she looked down. Tucker assumed an aggressive stance, teeth bared in Enid’s direction. The woman had, after all, threatened his food supply.

“Heel,” Sophie ordered softly, placing her hand on his neck until he resumed a sitting position. Regardless of what Tucker was, or where he came from, she was keeping him. And he needed to behave.

“It obeys you?” This from Porter.

“I earned his loyalty,” Sophie said. Again, through food, but she kept that secret to herself. “ His name is Tucker.” She ruffled Tuck’s pointed ears, a silent reward for listening. “He just needs some time to adjust to his new home, that’s all.”

“You agree this is your home then,” Dylan said, his voice a low timbre of approval.

An immediate denial lodged in her throat. Old instincts were difficult to ignore. Even so, she had come to accept that her son belonged here, despite what dangers lingered beyond these stone walls, or even within. And with that acceptance came a fundamental shift of her attitude. Moreover, Joshua had made it painfully obvious that he was going to live with his father, with or without her, whether she liked it or not.

Denial was no longer an option.