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Gwyn's stomach rumbled with nervous knots as they waited in the too-small pickup. The night had turned chilly in the last thirty minutes, and she was glad Morgan remembered the bags. She liked being prepared for anything, and anything was usually what happened.

Her mind, however, was not on the job at hand but on the ancient vellum page. They had run out of time while looking through their parent’s library and hadn’t discovered anything more about the page.

She pulled her fleece-lined jacket tighter around her, inhaled the crisp air, and let out a cough. "Someone's sewer must be backed up. It stinks."

Torin sat in the cramped back seat, his arms draped over the front, but said nothing. Gwyn glanced back and couldn't help but smile. He looked so uncomfortable. "It shouldn't be much longer. Michel said he'd text when they were ready. Evidently, someone brought in an emergency."

She forced the smile from her face and stared out her window again. "Maybe next time someone offers to sit in the back, you will take them up on it?"

Torin shook his head, catching Morgan's gaze in the rearview mirror. "Is she always like this?"

Morgan nodded. "Pretty much. You ought to hear her when she's really ranting?—"

"Morgan!" Gwyn snapped, giving her sister a glare, before glancing back at the pet hospital. "Look! The back door's finally opening." She grabbed her bag and opened her door. "Come on, let's go."

Gwyn stopped a few feet from the blackened interior, her body uncontrollably shivering. "Michel! We're here!" She hollered, but no one answered. She could barely make out the dim outline of the kennels inside and turned a worried frown on her sister. "Where's Michel? And why is the light off?"

The hair on her arms stood on end, and internal warning bells were going off. From a distance came the dogs' scared whines. "Something is very wrong, Morgan."

"Gwyn," Morgan whispered in her ear. "Something's in there. The negative energy is practically hitting me in the face. What if Michel?—?"

"I know, I feel it too." She reached for her sister's hand. "Michel has an uncanny knack for sensing danger. He'll be all right. I'm more worried about the dogs—we can't leave them. They're terrified. Torin..."

She looked around behind them. Torin was gone. "Well, he just lost major points. What kind of guy leaves when the females are in danger?"

"What?" Morgan asked, her gaze still focused on the room in front of them. "Trust him, Gwyn. I don't think he's the love-'em-and-leave-'em-to-be-killed kind of guy. You told me earlier you sensed something different about him. Just trust that it's a good different."

"Sometimes, your logic is frightening, you know that?" Gwyn whispered.

Nearby, a lone wolf howled. The girls jumped, their grips tightening around each other's hands. Gwyn glanced around, but nothing moved in the parking lot or across the street. The dim yellow glow from the lanterns around the park only made the shadows spookier. Sinister.

She turned back to the hospital door and took a step back, then another. "This is so very bad, Morgan?—"

A deep snarl interrupted and one of the huskies yelped. Gwyn was close enough to the wide doorway to barely make out the other dog. His body was low to the floor, his lips pulled back over sharp teeth in a warning growl. Suddenly, the young pup lunged against the side of the kennel, snapping and snarling as a large shadow filled the girls' vision.

Towering over them stood a monstrous creature, like a wolf but standing on its hind legs. His arms and upper chest were as large as any bodybuilder’s, and his fur was matted and filthy. Gwyn's gaze fastened on the long black claws curling from the ends of his four fingers.

She forced herself to look up and gasped when she saw the blood-red eyes staring back at her. He snarled, one side of his black lips curling above large, yellow-stained teeth.

Gwyn pulled Morgan back another couple of steps, but she was too slow, and the beast lunged for them. Their high-pitched screams filled the air. Gwyn turned to run, but her arm was almost torn from its socket as Morgan was jerked from her grip. Skidding to a stop, Gwyn turned back to find Morgan lying on the ground, unmoving.

The lamplight gave the scene a surreal, hazy cast, but she saw the beast as it stood over her sister, trying to fight off two giant wolves. Strangely enough, the black wolf stood on its hind legs and brandished a sword with one clawed paw. His long hair flew from side to side as he darted in and out, slashing with his claws and sword.

The other wolf, as brown as dark chocolate, also wore his hair long and tied at the nape of his neck. He leaped at the massive barreled chest, his teeth snapping around the beast's neck, his golden eyes flashing in anger.

Torin .

Gwyn whimpered. She didn't know what to do. Morgan? Her sister didn't answer. From the way her body lay sprawled out on the concrete, she was badly hurt. Gwyn backed around the monster, mentally begging her sister to move.

She got down on her hands and knees and crept forward until she was beside Morgan's still body. Throwing glances at the creature above her, she tugged on Morgan, easing her back one inch at a time.

Morgan moaned, moving her hand to her head, and Gwyn froze. Her eyes flew up. The creature half turned toward her, noticing for the first time his prey was trying to escape. He snarled at her and then let out a yelp when the black wolf's claws swiped across his muzzle, leaving four bloody gouges.

Gwyn's eyes widened when the brown wolf stood on his hind legs like a man and held out a paw to the black wolf, who threw him a crossbow. Where in the hell had they hidden a crossbow, and since when have wolves walked on their back legs and used weapons? They were a perfect union of man and animal.

The brown wolf fired three small metal arrows into the monster's chest and backed away. The black wolf also rose on his hind legs, holding himself as still as a statue while the creature swayed a couple of times and fell to the ground with a pained snarl, white bloody foam bubbling from its mouth.

The black wolf reached around his back and, in a fluid motion, swung a gun to the beast's head and fired. Squinting, she caught sight of a black holster strapped to the wolf’s back full of weaponry.

She scooted close enough to maneuver Morgan's head into her lap and stayed as still as possible, hoping no other creatures would arrive. While she believed the brown wolf was Torin, she had no idea who the black wolf was or if he was a good guy.

Gwyn clenched her eyes shut and muttered any prayer she could remember. A cough sounded right in front of them. Her lungs seized, terror numbing her limbs. She didn't want to die. Hugging her stomach, she knew it was a stupid thing to do, but couldn’t force herself to look at whatever was in front of them.

"Please just go away. Don't hurt us.” she begged.

The brown wolf shook his head then inched his paw to Morgan's shoulder, rolling her over just enough to glance at her wounds. "Makari!” he hollered. It was Torin’s voice but somehow wilder and deeper. “Bring me the kit. We need to get the bleeding stopped."

Her eyes widened at the gruff but familiar voice, and her eyes met his golden ones. "You...it's...what in the hell are you?” Terror for her sister seared through her, and she clutched at Morgan, trying to pull her limp body closer.

His golden gaze, steady and reassuring as he continued to hold hers, allowed some of her fear and adrenaline to fade away. The reasoning part of her brain recognized the wolf standing in front of her, but the terrified part refused to acknowledge what she saw with her own eyes.

"Gwyn, I'm not going to hurt her. The werewolf clawed her stomach. The wounds need to be treated, or infection will set in. They are not the cleanest of creatures."

She glanced over at the body of the werewolf—a creature she'd read about in fairy tales. She shook her head as the black wolf pulled items from a small, black bag, taking samples like a crime scene investigator with blood-filled tubes and pulling out small test tubes for hair and nail clippings.

She shook her head again in disbelief. "I'm dreaming...I must be. I feel like I’ve fallen into the Twilight Zone—you know that old television show about bizarre stuff?”

She glanced back at the brown wolf, only to find Torin squatted in its place, patiently waiting for her to allow him to help Morgan. Not even his nude body forced the numbness from her brain as she tried to understand. "How can any of this be real?"

"You are not innocent to magic, mon ange. You told me yourself you and Morgan are half Fae. I sense your magic wafting from you like a fine perfume. Your sister too. You both used it to heal me this morning, did you not?"

She nodded. "Magic is passed down from mother to daughter in our family. We rarely use it though."

"Like you, my brothers and I have special gifts—.” A low gurgle from the black wolf made her glance over at him. Was the wolf laughing? Torin tucked her hand in his, and the back-and-forth caresses of his thumb calmed her panic. "This is Makari—my clan brother and best friend. He's here because I asked him to guard you and Morgan. Please, let me help your sister?"

His plea sounded foreign to her ears, as if he never asked permission for anything. Again, she nodded and watched as he stood and pulled on a pair of jeans lying on the ground behind him. He gently turned Morgan over, and her gaze fell to her sister's chest and stomach. She struggled to bite back the gasp.

Five deep gouges had sliced through her breasts and abdomen, ripping through muscle and flesh. Bright blood pooled inside the wounds. She’d seen those same gouges on Torin that very morning. The realization drew her gaze to his. "This is what happened to you. Those are the same wounds you had."

The black wolf scowled at Torin. "You were injured? You should have returned to the caves."

"He wouldn't have made it." Gwyn leveled her gaze at the black wolf Torin had called Makari. "If he hadn't shown up on our front porch, he would have died from his wounds, not to mention the blood loss."

"How then?—?”

"My sister and I have the Fae gift of healing," she said, cutting off his question. The black wolf grunted and then squatted beside Morgan, his black gaze staring at her lacerations. Confusion filled her as her gaze moved from Makari back to Torin, then back to Makari. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears.

Torin picked up a small, brown bottle labeled antiseptic and a gauze square. After pouring out the entire bottle over her sister's wounds, he wiped as much of the blood and gore away as he could.

"We need to get her to Fáelán."

"No! She needs a hospital!" Gwyn grabbed his arm, terrified for Morgan. "I can't heal her by myself!"

"A human hospital does not know how to treat this, mon ange . Our clan has a healer who can." He shook his head and wiped the blood from his hands. "Let me save your sister, Gwyn."

Her gaze dropped to her sister's face. Lying on the cold cement, her head turned in the opposite direction, but she saw the pained expression on Morgan's face as she let out a soft, mewling moan. Gwyn nodded, her eyes never leaving her sister. "Fine. Just save her. She's all I have."

He covered her bloody hand with his. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a small bottle and a huge bandage. Pouring the bottle’s contents over the many wounds, he placed the bandage on top, covering her lacerations as best as he could. The scratching rip of medical tape made her flinch as he anchored the gauze to her skin. Shoving the supplies back into the bag, he handed it to Makari, who dropped it onto the front floorboard of Gwyn's pickup.

From underneath the back bench seat, Gwyn pulled out a small blanket they kept for emergencies and spread it over the seat while Torin carefully lifted Morgan. With Makari's help, they got her settled onto the makeshift bed. Torin gave Makari a quick nod, and the black wolf jumped inside the pickup with Morgan and laid down on the floor in front of her to keep her from moving too much.

"Gwyn, honey, get into the pickup. We need to go."

She shook her head. "Will whatever you poured over Morgan give us some time?” Torin nodded. “Then I'm not leaving the huskies here. What if that thing injured them? They tried to fight those things to save us. I can’t just leave them here to die.”

She ran toward the building, and he followed, mumbling under his breath. She entered the room, talking in a soothing voice, and the closest male calmed, but Torin still heard the low growls deep in the dog's chest, and his eyes remained focused on the other dog, who lay on his side inside the pen. Gwyn opened the door and bit back a whimper.

The husky lay in a pool of bright blood, the gash across his abdomen wide enough for the intestines to push through. She knelt at his side, her hands hovering a few inches above him. "I don't know what to do," she sobbed. She glanced up at Torin with tear-filled eyes.

"He's dying," she whispered. "Torin, I can't let him die." She swiped the tears from her cheeks. Reaching for his hand, she placed it on the dog's hip. With a slight grimace, she placed hers over the bleeding wound. Holding out her other hand to him, Torin reached across the dog and wound his fingers through hers.

She focused, drawing on the healing powers deep inside her soul, and chanted the same prayer she and Morgan had used to heal Torin that morning. A pure white light glowed around them, brightening the longer she chanted in the ancient tongue of the Fae, asking the Morrigan to lend her the triad's power.

Time stilled, her only thoughts were of the injured dog. Slowly, the skin knitted together, leaving a raw wound underneath her hand. The dog twitched, but she kept chanting.

"Gwyn, you must stop. Honey, you saved him, but you need to stop." Torin's low voice pulled her back from the mists surrounding her, and she forced her eyes to open. All she wanted to do was curl up and sleep, but Torin's worried face loomed above hers.

Glancing around, she realized she was on the floor outside the cage, her body cradled against his. She liked the feeling of his arms around her. She felt safe. A heat pooled low in her abdomen, but she needed to put some distance between them before she did something stupid like throw herself at him and start crying. She squirmed, trying to sit up, but only managed to do so with his help.

"I'm fine. I need to check on the dog."

“Makari has already moved the dogs to the pickup. The uninjured male needs a bit of reassurance, though. I think Makari scared him," Torin said with a chuckle, trying to ease her fear. She made a mental note to add another check on the pro side of the rapidly growing list she created that morning.

She scrambled to her feet and would have fallen if Torin hadn't caught her. "I guess that took more out of me than I realized. I should have healed Morgan first, but I didn’t know I could do it by myself.”

"I'm not surprised. You were riding on a wave of fear and wouldn't stop. Even the most learned healers know better than to deplete their energy like that."

She pulled out of his arms and faced him. "I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself. I'd like to see how well you fare in my condition, not to mention having to heal a mortal wound not once but twice in a single day. You have no right to reprimand me."

The last four words out of her mouth were emphasized by jamming her finger against his muscled chest. She was so angry she didn't notice each jolt of pain. "So back the hell off, wolf man." She gave him one last glare, stormed off to the pickup, and slammed the door behind her.

* * *

Makari stared at him over the side of the pickup bed, one eyebrow raised in a knowing smirk.

“Don’t say a word,” Torin growled. Sliding behind the wheel, he put the pickup in drive.

A few miles from the edge of town, Gwyn glanced around in confusion. "Where are you taking us?"

"I told you, our healer, Fáelán will need to treat Morgan's wounds. I'm taking you to our home a few miles east of Tournai." With the tension and fear riding inside the pickup with them, Torin couldn't pull into the clearing in front of his house fast enough, sliding the pickup to a stop under the lean-to beside his Jeep. He jumped out, but Makari already had Morgan in his arms.

"I will take her to the caves. Follow behind with the dog. Surprisingly, he seems to be doing well. Your woman's gift is strong."

Gwyn stepped out of the pickup and scowled. "I'm not his woman."

Makari's only response was a heavy stare. With a slight shrug, he turned and walked down the path.

She jogged around the pickup, the husky behind her, and stopped beside Torin. "Where's he going with Morgan?"

"Makari is taking her to Fáelán. She'll be fine." He scooped up the injured dog and started after his best friend, not bothering to tell her to follow. He knew she would anyway. Gwyn's soft footfalls behind him made his tense muscles relax.

They exited the tree line, and he heard her gasp. Two metal lanterns glowed on either side of the front door, casting a soft yellow light across the stone facade. Looking at the individual statues through Gwyn's eyes, he couldn't help but think the carved mountainside was a spectacular sight to take in.

The door stood ajar, so Torin walked in. He could still smell the faint hint of the cinnamon stick Fáelán stirred his tea with. The fire popped, and a log fell, but the orange light in the room was peaceful.

"What is this place? Morgan and I have been all over Tournai and the surrounding area—or thought we had."

"This is our home."

"Then who lives in the house we drove up to?"

"I live there now," Torin answered.

"But you just said?—.”

"It's complicated." Hoping to deter any more questions, he walked to the back of the room and down three stone stairs. "Follow me."

She grumbled under her breath but followed him, jogging the last few steps to catch up. "You know, a 'please' would be nice."

He didn't bother answering and only walked faster. He didn't like how the dog shivered in his arms, nor his soft pants and whines. The animal was suffering, and it tore him apart. Moving past the bedrooms, he kicked open a door at the end of the hall and walked down another short flight of stairs into the caverns.

Knowing Makari would've taken Morgan to the small cave they used for surgery or any other sickness, he turned down the side path. The dim light flickering from the room's narrow opening confirmed his guess. Inside, he laid the dog on one of the cots and turned to find Fáelán's sharp hazel gaze looking behind him as Gwyn stepped forward and stopped at his side, unknowingly leaning toward him.

"This is Gwyn DuBois." He pointed to the cot where Morgan lay unconscious. "If you couldn’t guess, that is her twin sister, Morgan. She and the dog were both attacked by an Ironclaw."

Fáelán nodded, first to Torin and then to Gwyn. Torin was impressed with Gwyn's easy acceptance of Fáelán's appearance. The wolf's dark gray coat shimmered in the dim light, and the white undercoat tufted over the vee in his sky-blue robe. He looked better now than before Rafael had sent him to the heated pools. At least now, he wouldn’t scare Gwyn.

"I am honored to meet you, although it would have been better under different circumstances. Now, let's see what we can do for your sister." Fáelán turned back to Morgan and finished removing her blood-soaked bandage. "Torin, I sent Makari for more supplies. It's been a while since we've needed to use this room, and I neglected to restock the last time I treated someone."

He peered closer at the gaping wounds, his fingers lightly pulling and pushing shreds of skin out of his way. "I can honestly say I have seen worse. The problem is she's human. Humans are very susceptible to the poison lacing the claws and teeth."

Torin grasped Gwyn's forearm and led her forward. “She has a bit more than just human blood running through their veins. This morning, they somehow healed me, and tonight, without her sister's help, Gwyn healed the dog. Both wounds were mortal."