Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

S itting down across from Heather at a window table in Espresso Books, Moya could swear her aching feet sighed with gratitude. What a long day.

She took a sip of hot chocolate, closed her eyes, and hummed in happiness,

"Listen to you." Laughing, Talitha flipped the sign on the door to CLOSED and joined them with her own food and drink.

There was nothing like having leftover pastries to snack on. "Hey, it was a long night, and my tail was dragging. I deserve to finish my workday with chocolate and sweets."

"Oh, no, she's using her puppy pout on us." Heather grinned and nibbled on the fruit tart.

"You know, it seems like forever since the three of us were together," Heather said.

"I miss our mini-pack days," Moya admitted.

"Me too." Talitha picked up her cinnamon bun. "Although I can't regret having Mateo and Alvaro as our cubs. Thank you both for bringing us together."

Heather smiled. "I'm glad you have them—and we appreciated you cub-sitting Sky and Talam last night. They sure didn't need to hear Bron screaming or see the hellhound."

"I wish I hadn't," Moya admitted. Seeing the monster chase the Chief. Its scream as it died. "Every time I think of that hellhound, I start shaking." Her drink made waves against the edge of the cup like a surf against a breakwater.

Heather held out her hand, showing her fingers trembling.

"Next time, you two should join us and the cubs at the house," Talitha said.

The thought was awfully tempting. Then again, how could she not be close enough to help if there was need?

"I think watching is almost harder than being out there," Heather grumbled.

"Sure sounded like it." Moya smiled at Talitha. "Madoc fed everyone breakfast and all the shifters who went up against the hellhound were comparing notes on what they'd done—and were laughing their heads off. I swear, those males are as crazy as a passel of pixies—and Bron is just as bad."

"I can't even imagine," Talitha muttered. "I'm so glad Eileen has a non-dangerous job."

Moya snickered. "As long as she doesn't annoy whatever animal she's taking pictures of. Didn't a real bear attack her once?"

"She's had a few near disasters. But she doesn't go out expecting to be in a fight." Talitha gave Heather a concerned look. "Are you comfortable with Niall being a cahir?"

Cahirs were the first defense for the Daonain against humans, feral shifters, and hellhounds. It was good the God made them bigger and stronger.

Heather set her hand on her stomach. "I get scared for him, but being protective is who he is right down to his soul and why Herne called him. How could I object?"

"Last night went great though. To success!" Moya held up her cup, and the others tapped theirs against hers.

"Speaking of which," Heather said, "a couple of cahirs from Cold Creek are visiting tomorrow to see the trap and talk over how the hellhound was funneled to the bait."

It'd worked so much better than the first time when Heather's foster-children, Sky and Talam, almost died. Moya shuddered and turned her thoughts to something happy. "Which cahirs are coming?"

"Ben—a grizzly—and he's bringing his lifemate, Emma, who is a bard. They're spending tomorrow night here." Heather smiled. "We wanted Emma to talk with Sky about being a bard."

"Wonderful. He's learned about everything I can teach him about playing the guitar. I'm sure no bard." Moya smiled, remembering the cub's enthusiasm. "Only Ben, or is there another cahir coming?"

"Owen—a cat—and his lifemate, Darcy."

Darcy. The name was familiar. "Patrin and Fell's sister?" Moya bounced in her chair. "Ooooh, I bet her brothers go all big-overprotective-littermates on her tail." Patrin would be full of bossy advice, and Fell might even speak a few more words.

"Of course they will." Talitha tapped her chin. "Heather, if we have a bard here, do you think we could get her to sing? Maybe we could have a kind of party—a post-hellhound one?"

"Oh, yes." Moya leaned forward. "Perhaps call it Celebrating Our Heroes . I know Bron and Niall are cahirs and expect to risk their lives, but they deserve thanks. And so do Madoc, Duffy, Patrin, Fell, and my brothers. They went above and beyond."

Heather tilted her head. "You know, you're right. André loves having reasons to bring the Daonain together for something other than Gatherings. Especially with the colder weather. A thank-you party to celebrate victory—with a bard and dancing? It's perfect.

"Tomorrow is Sunday, so the stores and the Shamrock and Bullwhacker will be closed. More people will be able to come."

"If we have it at Calon , we can restrict it to just shifters." Talitha rubbed her hands together. "We can open the entire warehouse up. The portable dividers for the rooms are easy enough to move."

The Cosantir had converted the warehouse behind the Shamrock restaurant into a Daonain community center. One of the Welsh-speaking Elders titled it something long and unpronounceable of which only the one word, Calon , meaning heart or center, had stuck.

Moya finished off her hot chocolate. "Among the three of us, we'll be able to get everyone invited. Ask people to bring food and drink, drop off decorations, and/or show up early if they want to help decorate."

After Madoc's giant brunch, Patrin and Fell had disappeared, but she could push a note under their door.

Would they come? What with having been imprisoned by the Scythe, they might never have been to a Daonain dance.

Even as scary as he was to her personally, Patrin was pretty sociable. Not Fell. Yet he'd looked different this morning when he woke up in the puppy pile. Less…watchful?

The shifter-soldiers had been isolated from their people for far too long. Now, she'd just have to grab them by their ruffs and pull them into another activity to show them another way they belonged.

Because they did, even if they didn't realize it yet.