Megan rubbed her arms as if chilled, though it had to be near eighty degrees in the cave. “You have my word that our baby will be normal, just like you and me. I don’t possess the magic, I’m only a child of it. As are Camry and all my sisters, except Winter. Winter is…she’s a…”
“She’s a drùidh,” Camry said. “And so is Matt. And the old priest who lives up on TarStone used to be a drùidh until he turned his power over to Winter. Father Daar’s real name is Pendaär, and he’s eighteen hundred years old. He’s also the reason we’re all here, if you ask me.”
“You told us your great-grandfather was a shaman, Jack,” Megan said, looking utterly vulnerable. “You must have seen the magic at work. Things had to have happened that you didn’t understand and couldn’t explain.” She gestured toward the dragon. “William is just one of those things. He shouldn’t exist, but he does. And for him to die as a dragon would be tragic.
“Please don’t kill him, Jack,” she whispered. “Help us save him, instead. If you possess even an ounce of your great-grandfather’s gift, or if you can just remember what herbs he used, please help us save William so he can live long enough to learn his lesson.” She reached out and touched Jack’s chest, tears running down her cheeks. “He deserves to die as a man, not as the nightmare he is.”
Jack blew out a deep sigh, wondering what had made him think he could have killed the dragon even if no one had been here when he found it.
“I won’t kill him,” he said, holding his rifle out from his side.
Megan threw herself against his chest with a sob of relief. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, hugging him tightly. “I’ve been an idiot for not telling you before now. I-I was scared.”
“Of what?”
She looked up into his eyes. “I was afraid you’d think I was…that I was too weird to love,” she said with a sob, burying her face back in his chest.
He tucked her head under his chin and held her, watching as Camry and Kenzie—who looked decidedly uncomfortable—got busy all of a sudden. Kenzie poured one of the buckets of water into a pot and set it in the fire, and Camry, making a disgusted face, picked up the dragon’s tail and stuffed straw under it.
O-kay. He wasn’t going to kill the beast, but was he going to help them save it?
“Megan’s been teaching me how to read,” Kenzie said, somewhat defensively.
“To read?” Camry echoed, spinning around in surprise. “That’s the big secret? But that’s not something to be ashamed of. You live in this century now, Kenzie, and if you can’t read, you’ll be at a huge disadvantage.”
Jack asked, “Gregor, what happens if I do manage to save your smelly friend? What’s to stop him from breaking into the shops again? I imagine a healthy dragon won’t be easy to control.”
“I’ve already decided to leave Pine Creek,” Kenzie said, his expression hopeful. “My calling is not here in the mountains. I’m afraid William Killkenny is only the first of many displaced souls who will be seeking me out in hopes I can help them transition back into human form.”
“Why would displaced souls think you can help them?” Jack asked in surprise.
“Because up until this past winter solstice, I was just like William. I’ve led countless lives as various animals, though never as a mythological creature.” He eyed Jack directly. “If I can get William well again, I intend to take him and the old priest with me, to find a new home of our own. Somewhere by the sea, I’m thinking.”
Megan broke free, catching Jack by surprise. “You’re leaving?” she cried. “But why?
“Because I must, lass. Destiny is calling me.” He smiled at her. “But Maine has a wonderfully rugged coast, I’ve heard, much like Scotland’s. I’ll still be close enough for you to visit.”
Jack slid back the bolt of his rifle, emptied the chamber and magazine, and put the bullets in his pocket. He slid off his backpack, took off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves as he walked over to where the dragon was sleeping.
He visually inspected the horse-size creature from nose to tail, noticing the slime oozing out from under its scales like sweat. It was a decidedly strange-looking animal, now that he was seeing it close up. It looked…well, it looked exactly like a nightmare should look.
The beast had pointed ears about the size of a man’s hand, with two short appendages between them similar to giraffes’. Its head was shaped like a horse’s, only its snout flared to huge nostrils. It had scales for skin, like a fish or snake, which directly contradicted the slime. Unless the foul-smelling stuff was a form of sweat, and the beast was already sick at the time of the break-ins.
Jack took hold of its nose and peeled back its lip to see inside its mouth. The gravely ill dragon never even opened its eyes. Jack sat down beside it, placing his hand on its side where he thought the heart should be. Feeling a strong, powerful thump, he slid his hand along its torso, stopping at its distended belly, and felt a violent, gurgling rumble under the scales. He wiped his hands on the straw before turning to the silent threesome watching him expectantly.
“Okay, Gregor,” he said, “I need you to find me a few things in the forest.”
When Gregor nodded, Jack looked at Camry. “How did you and Megan get here tonight?”
“By snowcat. It’s parked a couple hundred yards away.”
“Good. I need you to go to my house and get a few things. Under my bed is an old leather satchel. Could you get it and some of the old wool blankets in the closet in my bedroom?”
Camry nodded.
“And while you’re there, grab the six-pack of beer out of the fridge.” He eyed the dragon, then sighed. “I think we may be in for a long night.”
Camry ran out of the cave. Jack rattled off a list of plants that Kenzie should be able to find in the woods in the middle of winter. “You might have to dig in the snow for some of them. Will you recognize the plants I just named when you see them?”
Kenzie also nodded, grabbed the empty bucket, and strode out the cave entrance. Jack wiped his hands on his pants again as he walked over to Megan, and took hold of her shoulders.
“I intend to go to my grave claiming I’m not a shaman,” he told her. “But I do seem to…know stuff.” He pulled her into his embrace. “Thank you for trusting me with your family secret.”
“My father and Robbie would have told you before we got married,” she said into his shirt. She leaned back and looked at him. “We are still getting married, aren’t we?”
“Well, I don’t know,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. “I’m still waiting for you to propose to me.”
“For me to propose? But I’m a traditional girl. You have to do the asking, and I’m supposed to decide whether or not you deserve me.”
Jack choked on a laugh. “Traditional?” he sputtered. “There isn’t one traditional bone in—”
She grabbed his cheeks and squished them together to shut him up, and pulled his head down to give him a kiss that was anything but traditional. In fact, it was downright hot. And needy. And really quite demanding.
Deserve her? Hell no, he didn’t deserve her, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to tell her that.
A loud, rumbling groan came from the bed of straw, and Megan finally broke the kiss and buried her blushing face in his chest. Jack held her tightly against him and chuckled. “You want to know what’s really wrong with William?” he asked, gently rocking her back and forth as he eyed the restless dragon.
“What?” she asked into his shirt.
“William Killkenny is paying the price for his crimes. He’s got a bellyache.”
She popped her head up and blinked at him. “A bellyache? You mean he’s not dying?”
“I’m not saying he couldn’t,” Jack said. “If he truly is from the ninth century, then he’s not used to modern food, especially doughnuts and candy bars. Not only has he stuffed himself full of refined sugar, he’s taken in a fair amount of modern chemicals and preservatives, which his ancient system doesn’t know how to digest.”