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Gwyn paced across the rug, clasping and unclasping her hands, which she held close to her chest. So many things could go wrong. She wanted to tell Torin about his son after their nap, but after their boisterous supper, he had to leave on patrol, and her chance had disappeared. Of course, if she were being honest with herself, the real reason was because she was a giant chicken.

She exhaled, filling her cheeks with air as she slowly let it out. What should I do? She paced around the room, finally noticing her chilled skin. Glancing at the fire, she growled in disgust. She had let the fire die.

Throwing several logs on top of the cinders, she stuck a thin stick into the deepest part of the ash, waiting and hoping there was still enough heat.

She had never been able to start a fire without magic, but the mundane action was relaxing, temporarily taking her mind off her dilemma. She pulled out the stick and blew on the end as it flared brilliant orange. She tucked it between two pieces of dry wood. A tiny spark popped as the logs caught on fire.

Stepping back, she wiped her hands against her jeans, a slow curl of satisfaction blooming. She had lit the fire—without magic. Small flames licked and curled over the wood, and her hands automatically clasped over her abdomen.

It amazed her that in just a matter of days, she had outgrown her only pair of pants. At least her shirt was a bit large, so no one noticed she now wore them with the button undone and the zipper halfway down.

She began pacing again, her nerves growing by the minute. Glancing down at the slight bulge over the stretchy fabric of her bra, she sighed. If her breasts grew any bigger, she would have to special order her bras. She already wore the largest cup size in most stores and had no clue what the next size up even was.

Her gaze moved back to stare into the fireplace again. How would Torin react? With all the chaos going on, this was the last thing she wanted to do to him, but she had to believe he would be happy. He was going to be a father of not one but two babies.

The thought of having her own family was both exhilarating and terrifying, but carrying two babies… She exhaled. Who was she kidding? It was more than terrifying.

As far as she knew, Torin seemed to want to be with her and had accepted one baby, at least as much as she could tell. For as long as she could remember, she dreamed of finding the perfect man who would give her a relationship like her parents.

She would never forget how they looked at each other—love in every glance. The small, constant touches and whispers. She and Morgan had never lacked affection. Both parents showed each other and them just how much they were all loved.

Right now, she would give just about anything for one of her mother's hugs. She desperately needed her reassurance. She needed to know that after all of this was over, she and Torin could have that too.

"You look so very serious, mon ange. What's running through that fascinating mind of yours?"

Gwyn jumped at Torin's voice, one hand covering her racing heart. Her heartbeat slowed when she saw him casually leaning against the rock-carved entryway. His hair was tucked behind his ears, and, for the first time noticed how long it had gotten. The ends no longer curled around his collar but brushed the tops of his shoulders.

He had changed clothes, again dressed in a black shirt and tight leather pants. The man was sex on a stick, but she really needed to work on his wardrobe colors. It wasn’t that she didn’t like black, but as an everyday thing, it got a little old.

She recrossed her arms over her chest and faced him. She licked her lips. "We need to talk."

He pushed himself away from the wall and sat on the sofa, patting the space next to him. "Come sit down. From how you’re gnawing on your lip, you are either starving or worried about something."

Her heart flip-flopped when he gave her a small smile. She knew if she sat beside him, he would pull her into an embrace, and her resolve would fly out the window. She shook her head instead. "No. I need to get this out, and if I'm anywhere near you, I'll lose my nerve."

He frowned. "Gwyn, honey, you can tell me anything."

A nervous giggle escaped her pinched lips, and she gripped her arms a bit tighter to stop their shaking. "I'm not so sure about that."

His eyes narrowed, the growing wariness holding his body as still as a statue. "Just tell me then and get it over with."

She took a deep breath, blurting out the words running through her mind. "I'm having twins."

The air around them exploded. He leaned forward, an incredulous expression on his face. "What?”

"Morgan took me into town yesterday morning to see my doctor. The sonogram showed twins. I'm carrying two babies...your babies, Torin."

His face went blank, a flush of pink rising beneath his collar, and he stood. With a searing glance, he strode from the room, the front door slamming behind him.

She stared after him, her hand covering her mouth. Deep sobs bubbled up as her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor. She cried until there were no tears left inside her.

A loud hiccup echoed in the room, and she wiped her eyes, only to have a light blue cloth shoved in her face. Glancing up, Fáelán's worried gaze hovered in front of hers as he crouched beside her.

"Nothing is ever as bad as it seems, my dear." He stood and held out a paw.

She stared at it for a second, then placed her hand in the center, noticing for the first time how large he was. She let him pull her to the sofa and waited for her to get comfortable.

"Now, tell me what has you so upset."

One glance into his soft hazel eyes and the words poured out like water. "I've ruined everything, Fáelán. Torin will never forgive me!" Tears again filled her eyes.

"Why? From what I've witnessed, he cares very much for you. Firstly, why would he need to forgive you, and secondly, why wouldn't he forgive you?"

"I just told him he was going to be the father of twins, and he walked out on me. He seemed so angry," she whispered. The accusation in his eyes had been like a dagger in her heart.

He sat back with a slight frown. "I'll admit, the news is, indeed, startling, but I still don't understand why he would be upset. Children are treasures, and to begin a life together with two immediately would be a dream come true for most men."

She nodded, swiping the tears as they fell unchecked. "That's what I thought...well, in between hyperventilating and being terrified." She pressed her hands against her babies with a sigh. "Then I realized I'm going to be a mother, which is a dream come true. With my family’s curse, I never thought I would have the chance. This sounds corny, but that night in the bar, when I looked at Torin from across the room, my heart sang."

Fáelán smiled. "And now? When you look at him, what does your heart tell you?"

"I love him so much it hurts and, yes, my heart and soul both sing when he's beside me."

His smile widened. "Then tell him. Go after him and make him listen to you."

She groaned, letting her face fall into her hands. "What if he doesn't feel the same way about me?"

Fáelán sat beside her and pulled her hands from her face. With the side of his paw, he lifted her chin. "Give him that chance. Like us, he tragically lost his family and has lived centuries without love. Oh, he's had us, but the love of brothers and friends is vastly different from the love of one's mate or children. Even one’s parents. But, he looks at you with love in his eyes, Gwyn. He just needs time to process things. He is a man, after all.” He gave her a wolfish grin, which eased some of the pain gripping her heart.

She gave him a small smile. "I see why everyone looks up to you. Thank you, Fáelán." She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed while he patted her back.

"I should be thanking you," he said as she dropped back into her corner of the sofa. "You and your sister have given us a tremendous gift. You allowed us to feel needed again. You have given us a purpose to be on this earth."

He placed his paw on her stomach. "You have given us back what we each have wished for the most. Family."

* * *

Gwyn curled her hand underneath the edge of her pillow and buried herself deeper under the warm blankets. From far away, she heard the wolves' laughter. Drifting back to sleep, her heart drew on happier childhood memories to ease her troubled mind.

In this dream, the room she and Morgan shared as toddlers appeared, the outer edges of the image remaining hazy and unfocused, as if she were watching a movie through an old-fashioned camera lens.

Her bed covers, as usual, were jumbled. Most of the quilt draped over the side of the bed and pooled on the dark wood floor between the two twin beds.

She glanced over at her sister, who looked about five or six years old and was sucking her thumb in her sleep. Her covers remained neatly tucked under her chin. The only imperfection in her bed was the small lump of her curled body beneath the covers.

She glanced back at her younger self, bouncing in the middle of her bed, a happy smile plastered on her face. Arms wide, she jumped to the floor and ran toward the door.

"Auntie!" young Gwyn screamed. "You came back for me!"

The young girl ran toward her, and adult Gwyn frowned. Turning her head, she saw her Aunt Nemain standing in the doorway and realized she was witnessing this memory through her aunt’s eyes.

Nemain pressed a fist against the sudden ache filling her chest as she turned her head back to her sister’s youngest grandchild. Morrigan was so proud of the two little girls.

Gwyn was beginning to lose her baby fat and would someday become a beautiful young woman. Thankfully, for the moment, she still possessed the exuberance of a child. An innocent.

Nemain gathered her into a tight embrace and listened to her happy prattle. Finally, she held her great-niece at arm’s length. Gwyn's bright face, flushed pink in her excitement, made her smile.

"Darling, I’m afraid you can't come with me. Humans are not allowed in Tír na nOg.”

Gwyn puffed out a loud sigh and scrunched her little face into a frown. "I know, Auntie N. I just hoped this time would be different."

Nemain feathered her fingertips down the little girl's face. She forced her lips into a bittersweet smile. "I'm afraid I won't be able to visit you for a while."

Gwyn plopped down on top of the plush green comforter, her petite mouth pulled into a small moue. "Why?" she whined.

Nemain sat, tucking her long legs beneath her. She bit back her smile as little Gwyn mimicked her movements. "Now, are you going to pout like a baby or act your age and listen like a young lady—as the granddaughter of the Morrigan should?"

She watched her niece, each thought passing through her mind openly showing on her adorable face.

"I'm sorry. I will not act like a baby anymore. I want to be a lady. Like you."

"That's my girl," she said, tapping Gwyn's bare knee. "You know I love you very, very much, right?" Gwyn’s heart ached at the solemn expression on her childhood face as she nodded, as the adult Gwyn already knew what her aunt was about to say. Nemain took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, her thoughts pouring through adult Gwyn’s mind.

Who knew the love of a child could make her—the Celtic goddess of war—nervous?

Nemain leaned forward as if sharing a secret and whispered, "I want you to do something for me, little one. You must listen carefully. Okay?" Gwyn nodded again, her eyes wide and focused. "Do you still dream of being special, like your grandmother and me?"

"Oh, yes..." Gwyn whispered.

"Then you must do everything your mother tells you. Follow her every instruction. Trust in yourself. Both you and Morgan are strong and have great gifts. Magical gifts. Do you understand?"

Nemain smiled at her niece. "There is one more important thing you must remember, Gwyn. Unlike most others, An inner strength lies within you. I know your sister can be a bit bossy, but there will come a time when she will need your strength. No matter what happens, promise me you will take care of her. Like you, Morgan is strong, but you are stronger. Do you think you are up to this task?" Young Gwyn slowly nodded.

Nemain opened her arms wide for her niece's hug. With one last kiss on the top of Gwyn's dark red hair, she tucked her back under the covers and let her young niece drift back into her childish dreams of squirming wolf cubs and climbing trees with her sister.

As she stood next to the bed, adult Gwyn’s gaze followed the single tear as it slid down her aunt’s cheek as she watched the child sleep. "Remember, little one. Our future lies with you."

Gwyn frowned in her sleep and rocked from side to side, quietly mumbling. Finally, she settled and pulled the blanket over her shoulder, softly puffing as she fell back into a deep sleep, this time without dreams.

* * *

Torin approached the large front door of the DuBois home and used Gwyn's key to let himself in. Glancing over his shoulder at the pickup where Fáelán hid, curled up in the back seat, he entered the devastation.

His gaze moved through the dimly lit hall as he stepped over the brass frame of a large mirror. He pushed the twisted metal from a small table out of his way as he walked to the library.

Inside the doorway lay the shredded remains of a large picture. He pushed it to one side with his boot and inhaled. Jerking to a stop in the doorway, he coughed up the stench left behind by the Ironclaws, which lay heavy in the house's still air.

Cautiously, he ventured deeper into the room, listening for any sound besides his own breathing. A few feet inside, mounds of shredded material and smashed picture frames were scattered about.

Glancing in the opposite direction, he noticed piles of books strewn across the ground, while the shelves stood completely bare. The golden edge of a cover caught his eye, and the hum of magic wafted toward him.

He kneeled beside the pile and pulled the book out, reverently holding it in his arms. Standing, he turned and the toe of his boot hit something, sending it sliding across the hardwood floor. Glancing down, he noticed the small wooden box and smiled. "I came for one treasure and found two."

Tucking the box into his jacket pocket, he reached for the wrought iron door handle and stared at a shattered picture frame on the wall beside the front door. The crumpled images beneath the broken glass smiled back at him. He picked out the family picture and shook the glass off, carefully sliding the photo between the pages of the book.

No matter how unsettled he was about the news she’d shared, he couldn't leave such a treasure behind. He thought of his family, their faces nothing more than a dim memory and wished for his own picture.

He climbed into the driver's seat and started the pickup, laying the book and box on the passenger's side. "The girls won't be happy. From what little I saw of the house, not much will be salvageable."

"They will be thankful. Possessions can be replaced. They're alive and safe," Fáelán's muffled voice said from the back floorboard, a couple of the words strangled as the vehicle bounced over a few holes in the road where the cobblestones were missing. "Do you remember where the coven's manor house is?"

"I hope so. Otherwise, I just pulled into a stranger's enclosed garage. We were last here what… I remember—about twenty years ago, wasn't it?" Torin chuckled as he turned the ignition key off.

"Oh, be quiet. You know it isn't safe for us to get out often." When Torin didn't answer, Fáelán sat up and placed his paw on his shoulder. "I did not mean that disrespectfully, Torin. I realize you feel guilty for your shifting ability, but it's high time you got over it—we have. We are brothers in all forms."

Torin nodded. "Gwyn's helped ease the guilt. Her magic can be more potent when she feels strongly about something," he said with a smile.

"Interesting."

Torin nodded. "Yes. But now..."

Fáelán placed a paw on his shoulder, interrupting whatever he was about to say. "Gwyn is alone, very scared, and very pregnant—with your children. She doesn't have our years of experience, and her life has been turned upside down. The decision is yours to make about how best to deal with life, of course, but she needs you like you need her and are just afraid to tell her. Have you talked since she told you about the second babe?”

Torin shook his head. “It’s only been a day, but the way I stormed out? She will never forgive me. I can’t forgive myself.” He scrubbed his face with his hands, then let them fall into his lap. “The most disturbing part is I already knew. I have felt my daughter since Gwyn and Morgan healed me. At times, I’ve heard the barest sound of two heartbeats and on more than one occasion, the emotions from another child.” He glanced at the gray wolf in his rearview mirror. “What kind of person does that make me?”

Fáelán squeezed his shoulder again, then crawled out of the pickup with a groan. “It makes you human. Just talk to her. You will never get anything settled if you don’t. Now," he said with a loud sigh. "Let's find us a witch."

"How about the witch finds you, you old fart."

Rhona Símons bustled toward them, laughing beside the vehicle. When he climbed out of the pickup, she surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck. With her feet dangling, he grunted and swallowed his laughter at the woman’s vitality.

"Congratulations, my boy! Twins even!" she exclaimed. Before he could ask her how she knew, she dropped to the ground and pulled him through the breezeway door with Fáelán on their heels.

Torin stopped inside the kitchen door, noticing the young girl standing by the kitchen sink. It was the same one who had accompanied Rhona to Lysandra’s funeral.

She turned, her mass of blonde curls piled on top of her head, looking to him like a mop, and gave them a shy smile before returning to whatever she was messing with.

"Colette, bring in some coffee, please?"

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Follow me, mes amies .” Rhona led them into the sitting room. No sooner had they entered the room when Colette appeared with the coffee. She poured a cup for each of them, picked up a mug for herself, and headed back to the kitchen.

“Colette, hold on a minute,” Rhona said, stopping the girl in her tracks. “I know introductions weren’t done at the funeral, but my dear, these are two of my long-time friends.”

With a wave of her hand, she motioned to the girl. “You may as well come in here too.” The young girl longingly glanced into the kitchen and let out a soft exhalation before sitting on a small stool in front of the room’s large picture window.

Torin bit back a chuckle and gave the girl a nod. “I’m Torin O’Roark.” He motioned toward the quiet wolf standing next to him. “This is Fáelán MacGlinn.”

Colette gave them a shy smile before dropping her dark blue gaze back down to her cup, cradled in her hands. He wondered who the young girl was to Rhona but lost the thought when his gaze moved around the threadbare room. Nothing in Rhona's house had changed in the last twenty years, possibly since the turn of the century.

" D'accord !" She huffed to the sofa and plopped down on the lumpy-looking cushion. “Okay,” she repeated the word in English and waved at the two chairs. They looked more like kindling, not chairs sturdy enough to support a man's weight, much less a large wolf. "Knew you'd be comin' to see me today, so sit yourselves down and tell me what you need."

Fáelán's eyes narrowed. "Gwyn and Morgan are now staying with us. They need your help to learn how to use their magic.”

Torin sat back and let Fáelán do the talking. With the way Rhona looked at Fáelán, always giving him what he asked for, most of the time before he asked for it, Torin and the other wolves always believed she had a crush on him. Watching her now, from her unblinking brown stare, she still did.

He half listened to their conversation as his thoughts turned to Gwyn. He was such a coward for walking out on her like that, but he had panicked. His heart stuttered in his chest. Twins. She was carrying two babies, not one. He had always dreamed of having a family, so why had he panicked when given that chance?

He heard Rhona interrupt Fáelán a few times, her questions quick and intelligent.

"You don't seem very upset by these events. Why?" Fáelán asked, drawing Torin's attention back to the conversation.

Rhona's pleasant expression disappeared, replaced by sadness, then a quick anger. "My lovely sister was butchered by those beasts—damn that black-hearted Fae!"

Fáelán closed his eyes a moment, then opened them with a sigh. "I am sorry, Rhona. I meant to say something to you at the funeral, but... Lysandra was a wonderful person. No one deserves such a death."

"Thank you for letting me bury her in your beloved cemetery where she will be well cared for." Suddenly, she slammed her fist down on the table. "This has got to stop, Fáelán! Tournai is not a large city like Brussels or even Liège. Soon, we will run out of people. He will turn our pleasant town into empty buildings and an overflowing cemetery!"

She waved one hand toward the fireplace, and several candles lit up. After a few minutes, the light scent of honeysuckle filled the room, and he could almost see the stress rise from her shoulders and dissipate.

"I am not a young girl anymore." She pounded her chest with a fist. "But my magic is strong, so yes, I will help the girls learn what they need to know." Without a word, Colette hurried into the kitchen, the soft sound of clinking plates coming from the other room somehow comforting.

Torin wondered just how old Rhona was. For as long as he'd known her, she never changed. Her short body stayed pleasantly plump, and her white hair remained in the same long braid. Her pretty, light-brown skin remained as smooth and unblemished as a twenty-year-old's.

To him, she looked maybe ten years older than the other girl, which was impossible. She had been helping his clan for the last six decades, which would make her close to one hundred years old. If her hair was white then, that would make her much, much older.

Colette reappeared, carrying the same tray as before, loaded with a plate of cookies and three more cups of coffee.

Rhona leaned back in her chair, chewing on her bottom lip. "I'll be honest, Fáelán, I've never gone up against anyone quite as powerful as Fer-Diorich, so I'm a bit worried. With Beltaine only days away, I'll have my work cut out for me, getting those girls up to par with their magic. I'll be needing help."

"Rhona, may I interrupt?" Colette asked in a soft voice, never once looking up from her hands, which were clasped in her lap.

"Okay now, what's put such a serious expression on that pretty face of yours?"

Colette nervously wrung her hands, her face blank. "I need to speak to you about Lysandra and something I saw the night she died." Torin glanced at Fáelán but didn't say anything as the young girl continued. "At first, I didn't think anything about it, but now..."

She took a deep breath. “After hearing your discussion, I think you should know. My visions—stupid things always seem to happen just before the event, never giving me enough time to do anything to stop it." She closed her eyes and hung her head. "I'm so sorry. I loved Lysandra."

Rhona frowned, tugging at the oversized gold hoop earring dangling from her earlobe. “I know you did, my dear. Everyone loved her. What you saw could be beneficial, but Colette, I wish you'd told me sooner. Your visions happen for a reason."

"I know that, but it's still difficult. Seeing Lysandra after… The scene is burned into my mind and my brain replays it." Colette replied, letting out a shaky breath. "It's like reliving my worst nightmare over and over. I saw the attack through Lysandra's eyes. I felt her agony with each slice of their claws."

She laid her splayed hand on her chest where, Rhona knew, her sister had been eviscerated. “The feeling she had when the black mist floated into the store before they dragged her outside. She was terrified." At the mention of the mist, Torin sat up straighter but kept silent.

Rhona frowned. "A black mist? Could it have been a trick of the light? Why was she afraid of mist? That doesn't make sense."

Colette shrugged. "I don't know."

"Describe everything and don't leave out even the smallest detail."

"The door shattered inward as the werewolves broke in. She had the overhead lighting off, so the room was dim. Moonlight pooled just inside the entry, shining on the white floor tiles.

The werewolf's long arm swiped across her shoulder and chest, but the opaque black cloud held her attention—more so than the werewolf. The apparition bobbed up and down like a boat on a stormy sea."

Rhona shook her head, a heavy frown on her face. "I don't like the sound of that at all. No good, that's what it is. If my sister was afraid..."

"What do you think the cloud was?" Fáelán asked Rhona.

Her gaze met his. "I think it was our dark friend watching over his minions. That's what I think."

"Her last thoughts were of you, Rhona," Colette said with a small smile. "Leaning against the tree in the valley..." Colette turned her gaze on Torin. "You were there and so was the black wolf. She knew you wouldn't be able to save her."

She leaned toward Rhona, resting her elbows on her knees. "Please let me help with this. I have an awful feeling about what's going to happen. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do, but I believe I need to be there too."

Rhona's eyes filled with unshed tears. "Thank you for that, Colette. My visions are usually clouded and sporadic—like a fuzzy puzzle that needs to be put together."

She pulled out a small black charm from underneath her blouse and stared at it. "If I see someone I care deeply about during a vision, it can sometimes be overwhelming. Lysandra always helped me with that. I'm an empath, so I feel a lot of what others feel as well. As long as I wear this."

She glanced at the small obsidian trinket cradled in her palm, then dropped it back underneath her shirt. "I am shielded. Most of the time. The stronger emotions tend to seep through. Lysandra grounded me when the visions got too bad. I see what has yet to pass. You see only the present?"

Colette nodded. "It's so frustrating! No matter what I do, I always get there too late."

"The hard part about magic is knowing you can't always fix things. Life is precious and precarious. Like yin and yang, the bad stuff molds our characters, and the good stuff is our reward." Rhona looked at Colette with narrowed eyes, as if searching for something. "Yet, your vision was correct. Have you had any visions about Beltaine?"

Colette shook her head. "No. Why?"

"I have." She picked up a small pillow from the floor where it had fallen and placed it underneath her arm for support. "We have our work cut out this time, ma fille . We do, indeed."

“Rhona,” Torin interrupted. “Colette was right about the mist. I saw it twice around Lysandra that day, and it seemed to have some sort of power. Makari, however, didn’t see it.”

Rhona stared at the floor a moment before nodding. “I was right. Fer-Diorich isn’t corporeal in this world yet, but Beltaine may give him the power to break through the barrier sealing him in the Unseelie Court.”

The men finished their drinks in silence, letting her words sink in. Just before it became uncomfortable, Rhona wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and placed her empty cup on the tray. "Nothing better than a rich latté to settle the nerves and restore the body's energy. With a large grin and sparkling eyes, she leaned forward. "Now, what are we going to do about our nasty friends?"

Fáelán returned her smile with one of his own. "Can you come by the caves this afternoon for a meeting?"