He looked around the room, taking in his son, Zander, and Rae, looking past them for a big Shifter with a sword. Obviously, Ezra hadn’t told his father that the Guardian would be Rae.

Zander motioned Rae forward. Somehow knowing it was the right thing to do, Rae laid the case on the bed, opened it, and withdrew the sword. It rang in the silence, filtered sunlight coming through the shaded window to glitter on the silver blade.

Robert’s mouth dropped open. “She’s the Guardian? Are you having a joke, Moncrieff? Who the hell are you, little Lupine?”

Rae quickly spoke before Zander could answer for her. “My name is Rae Lyall. Lyall is my foster name—I don’t know my true family or clan. I was made Guardian of the Western Montana Shiftertown at the last Choosing.”

Robert continued to stare at her, then he turned an incredulous gaze to Zander. “Holy crap on a crutch, she’s serious.”

Rae swallowed but moved to Robert, stopping a few feet before his chair. “If you prefer another Guardian, arrangements can be made,” she said. “But it might be many hours before they can come.”

“I don’t have many hours,” Robert snapped. “You were pushing it to get here this soon. I swear I can smell the taint of some asshole Fae, just waiting for me to expire. I . . .”

Robert broke off, his sour nature evaporating as his body spasmed. He changed in an instant from crabby old man to a being in fear and pain. He clutched his belly, breath heaving in his chest.

Ezra dove for a bottle on the nightstand but Zander held out his hand, signaling him to stay back. Zander dropped to his knees in front of Robert, and Rae backed away, clutching the sword, her palms sweating.

When Zander spoke, he used a tone of kindness Rae had never heard in him. “I’m going to take away your pain,” Zander told him. “Don’t fight me. Be at ease.”

Robert coughed. “Not like this.” His voice rasped. “I came in as a wolf. I’m going out as one.”

“Don’t shift, Dad,” Ezra cried. “You’re too weak.”

Robert wheezed. “Shut your gob, cub. When I’m gone, you find yourself a mate, ye hear me? Bring in the cubs you would have if you hadn’t stayed here to look after me.”

“Dad . . .”

“Don’t argue with me, son.” Robert’s words ended in a half growl. “I love you, you know. Thank . . . you . . .”

His bones crackled and he began to shift. The blanket fell and Zander caught Robert as he slid from the chair.

Zander unfolded to his feet, his arms full of shivering gray wolf. He laid the wolf on the bed and stroked his fur, while Ezra folded his arms and leaned on the doorframe, fists clenched.

Zander knelt beside the bed and put his broad hands on the wolf’s side. For a moment, all was silent. Then a low sound worked from Zander’s mouth, a note so deep Rae was surprised his throat could make it. The note resonated for a long time, filling the room, until there was nothing to hear but that low vibration.

The intonation changed to words, Zander’s voice forming the chant to the Goddess in an ancient Celtic language from a time long lost.

Rae whispered along with him. “Goddess, Mother of the Moon, be with us.”

A calm stole over her. Zander’s chant was mesmerizing, his voice unraveling every knot of tension, every fear inside her. Peace trickled through the room, and warmth, until Rae wanted to bend her knees and slide into the cushion of sound.

Ezra also relaxed, his eyes closing. His grief seemed eased a little bit, Zander taking away all hurts.

Under Zander’s hands, the wolf drew a long breath and let out a sigh. His gray eyes cleared of pain and the look he turned to Zander was one of gratitude.

“Ezra,” Zander paused the chant long enough to whisper.

Ezra darted forward as Zander continued the prayer. His eyes wet, he laid his hand on his father’s head. The wolf sent up a look of love and reassurance, then his eyes slid closed, and a last breath left him.

Ezra moaned. He leaned down and pressed his face to the wolf’s, his back shaking with sobs.

Zander lifted away from the wolf but remained on his knees. His face was gray, his eyes full of pain, but he gave Rae a nod.

Rae went cold, her heart banging. Her hands were so sweaty she could barely hold on to the sword.

Zander watched her, not speaking, not reaching out to her. Rae had to do this herself and she knew it. She’d never felt so alone in her life.

But Robert had been correct. He couldn’t linger to give the Fae a chance to grab his soul. Daragh’s soul had been taken immediately, though his family hadn’t realized it. Daragh, it was true, had strong magic in him that the Fae had likely picked up on, but all Shifters carried Goddess magic to one degree or another.

Rae lifted the sword. She moved to Robert’s unmoving wolf body and touched the blade to his fur.

Panic suffused her. She hadn’t been able to pinpoint Zander’s heart—how would she find Robert’s? Especially with him as wolf?

Rae was Lupine but picturing herself in her wolf form didn’t help. When she was running around on all fours, she wasn’t worrying about exactly where her heart was in her chest.

Ezra, fortunately, didn’t notice her hesitation. His head was bowed, his hands curled to fists as he waited for the very end.

Rae moved the point of the sword to the wolf’s ribs, where she thought Robert’s heart would be. Zander, watching her, gave her the slightest shake of his head.

Bloody hell. Goddess help me, she prayed.

The Goddess remained silent. Rae slid the tip to the right and Zander shook his head again.

Show me, Rae sent the silent appeal to him.

Zander climbed shakily to his feet, looking ill, and gripped Rae’s shoulder to steady himself. He took a ragged breath, closed his hand around Rae’s over the hilt, and moved the blade a couple inches to the left.

Rae swallowed hard. She gripped the hilt tighter and gave Zander a faint nod. Strength flowed from him into her as she and Zander together sent the sword into the wolf with one swift push.

The wolf’s body jerked, then a breath like a sweet sigh flowed from him. Rae felt a shudder all the way up the blade, and the sword gave a sharp hum.

As the wolf dissolved to dust, Rae lost her balance and tumbled forward. She caught herself on the sword, whose point now rested on the bed.

The dust that had been Robert rose in a soft cloud then gathered itself and streamed toward the window, dissipating in a shimmer in the late afternoon light.