“Is Kenzie Gregor a drùidh?”
“No, but his brother Matt is. And Megan’s sister Winter also possesses the power.”
Jack leaned back, splaying his hand over his son in a protective gesture. “Winter’s a drùidh? And Megan knows this?”
Forest nodded. “But you can’t let her know that you know. That’s something Megan must tell you herself.” He smiled. “When she does, you’ll know she finally trusts you and has completely forgiven you for what you said to her four months ago.”
“I acted on your advice,” Jack snapped.
Forest looked affronted. “I told you to send her away. The way you did that was your poor choice.”
“It was the only thing that would make her leave. I sure as hell didn’t mean it.”
“I know that, and you know that, but does Megan? What you said, Coyote, is not something a woman easily gets past—no matter how much apologizing you do.” Forest reached out to take the child.
Jack leaned away. “Wait. What about this magic business? How do I deal with Kenzie if his brother’s a wizard?”
“By staying well away from Matt and Winter Gregor. Catching their interest could prove dangerous. Instead, you need to…” Forest dropped his gaze to his lap as his mind turned inward in thought.
Jack knew this could take awhile, so he gave his attention back to his son. He leaned forward to cradle the boy in his hands and lifted him up to kiss his tiny forehead. “Don’t you frown at me,” he said with a laugh. “It seems like I’ve been waiting forever to meet you.”
The little bundle of joy he was holding stared up at Jack, the wisdom of the universe shining in his deep, dark, bottomless eyes. “Should we tell your mama she’s having a son?” Jack asked. “Or keep this our little secret for a while?”
“You can’t tell her,” Forest suddenly interjected. “How would you explain how you know?”
“The same way I explain everything you tell me—that it’s my gut instinct.” He grinned down at his son. “It’s worked for me for thirty-four years. I’ll teach you how to rely on your own gut, baby boy.” He looked up at Forest. “So, how do I deal with Kenzie Gregor?”
The old shaman squared his shoulders. “It’s not my job to tell you what to do. You must find your own path, Coyote. That’s what life is all about.”
Jack gave a soft snort. “That never stopped you in the past. At least give me a hint.”
Forest remained silent, true to his stoic Cree heritage—which he used only when it worked in his favor.
“Can you at least tell me what ran out of that store the other night and flew away?” Jack asked. “Was it man or beast?”
“It was both.”
“Both.”
“Aye, though I’d say it was more magical than real.”
“What do you mean? Are you saying a figment of everyone’s collective imagination is breaking into those buildings?”
“You’ll solve that mystery when you discover Kenzie Gregor’s secret,” Forest told him, raising his voice to be heard when the baby began to cry.
Jack laid his son back on his lap and quickly swaddled him in his blanket. The infant grew even more unhappy, and his crying got louder. Jack stuck his little finger in its mouth, but apparently his son wanted to exercise his lungs and muscles, because he kicked off his blankets and cried even louder. Jack held him up to his chest again, but that didn’t help, either.
“What have you done to my great-grandson?” Shadow Dreamwalker demanded as he appeared out of the ether.
Jack smiled up at his grandfather. “Grand-père pinched him.” His grin widened when Mark and Walker Stone also appeared. “Hi, guys. How was the fishing?”
“Give me the child,” Sarah Stone said, also appearing from the swirling light surrounding Jack’s dream. “Grand-père, how could you?”
“I didn’t pinch him! He just started in for no reason.”
The moment Jack’s mother cradled the baby to her bosom, the boy snuggled down with a contented sigh.
Jack looked around in awe. Five generations of Dreamwalkers were present, and his father and brother. How amazing was that?
Shadow Dreamwalker had died before Jack was born, but Jack had gotten to know his grandfather quite well in his dreams. One big happy family; except that they were all over there, and he was over here—alone.
He smiled at his eleven-year-old brother, Walker. It had taken Jack quite a few years to come to terms with feeling responsible for killing his family. It had been Walker who had persuaded him that all siblings engaged in petty fighting, and that their father’s stopping the car and making Jack sit under a tree in a time-out…Well, no one could have seen the accident coming. Fate, Walker had repeatedly assured Jack, did not lie in the hands of a nine-year-old boy.
Still, it was going to take more than a few imaginary conversations with his very dead brother to convince Jack that pacifism wasn’t the better path.
“It’s time to go,” Sarah said, gently rocking her grandson. “Megan is on her way back.” She smiled down at Jack. “I hope you saved her some lunch.”
“When will I see you all again?”
“When you need to.” Mark Stone leaned down and kissed Jack on the cheek. “You’ve found yourself a wonderful woman, son. Do whatever you must to keep her, even if it means getting beaten up a few more times.”
Forest harrumphed and stood up. “Megan MacKeage is leading you on a merry chase, and you’re letting her.”
“She earned that right, wouldn’t you say?” Jack countered. He lay back down on his jacket, laced his hands together behind his head, and gave his father a nod. “I’ll find a way to keep her.” He looked at his mother and winked. “Take good care of my son. You’ll have him to yourselves only for three and a half more months. Then he’s all mine.” He looked at his great-grandfather. “And he’s going to travel a peaceful path if I have to drag him down it myself.”
Forest Dreamwalker swirled his robe around himself with his usual dramatic flair, and vanished into thin air. Everyone else, with waves and cheerful good-byes, slowly turned and walked into the shimmering ether.
Smiling with deep happiness, Jack decided to continue sleeping, hoping to extend the memory of his son’s downy-soft skin pressed against his own.
Huffing and puffing with each step, Megan wondered how she’d gotten so out of shape. She was known for snowshoeing the full ten miles up and down TarStone Mountain in less than six hours, but today two miles in three hours was pretty much doing her in. The twenty-four pounds she’d gained in the last five months was obviously the culprit.
She was suddenly glad Jack had tagged along today; she was cold and tired and so hungry she could eat a horse, and the thought of returning to a cozy camp with a roaring fire and hot food was the only thing keeping her going. Though she knew she’d better not get used to it, that didn’t mean she couldn’t take advantage of Jack’s attentiveness for the time being.
She finally trudged into camp, only to find Jack asleep, the fire out, and the basket of food nearly empty. She bent over and scooped up a handful of snow.
“You throw that, you’d best be prepared for the consequences.”
“You ate all the food!”
“I saved you some,” he said, sitting up with a yawn.
“And you let the fire go out.”
“If you’re cold, I can warm you up,” he offered, patting a spot beside him.
“In your dreams.”
“You might enjoy my dreams,” he said with a chuckle, leaning forward to lace up his boots. “Did you find the deer yard?”
“No.”
“Are you sure this is the right area?” he asked, looking around. “There aren’t any cedar groves here.”
Megan plopped down on the snow and started unlacing her snowshoes. “There’s a large stand of it on the back side of the ridge, but the deer stripped it clean as high as they could reach several years ago. They must have found another yard.”
Jack pushed her hands away and finished taking off her snowshoes for her. He then unlaced her boots and took them off, then stood, scooped her up in his arms and plopped her down on his snowmobile suit. Before she could even yelp in surprise, he was already sitting down and putting on her snowshoes. “There’s a couple of sandwiches left, some crackers, and a full Thermos of hot cocoa,” he told her. “Why don’t you eat and then have a little nap?” He scanned the sky, then looked back at her. “We’ve got a few hours of daylight left. You mind snowmobiling after dark?”