Epilogue
“Blizzard!”
The whole family rushed forward the instant she led the husky into the police waiting room. There could be no doubting that they really were the dog’s owners.
The white husky went mad with joy, leaping and licking every face. His family huddled around him, laughing and crying, taking it in turns to hug him.
Tamsin stepped back, grinning. “Now that’s what I call a happy ending.”
At her side, Betty smiled too, watching the joyous reunion. “Nice when it all works out, isn’t it?”
The husband broke away from the group, coming over to seize Tamsin’s hand. He was a huge, tough-looking guy with a bristling beard, yet unabashed tears stood out in his eyes.
“I can’t ever thank you enough.” He had a broad Highland accent. From what Tamsin had gathered, the whole family had leaped in their car and driven all the way down from northern Scotland the moment they’d received her tentative message. “We were all just devastated when Blizzard disappeared, especially the wee bairns. But how did you ever track us down?”
Tamsin exchanged a small, secret glance with Betty. “Oh, well. We have our ways. And Blizzard was determined to find you too.“
Blizzard’s ears perked up at his name. Shaking off clinging toddlers, he came over to push his big wet nose into her hand.
Tamsin scratched him under the chin, smiling. “He’s a very special dog. And clever.”
Yes,Blizzard said in her mind. His tail wagged. Good boy, good boy Blizzard. Can go home now?
As always, it wasn’t exactly words. Her own brain did that, her magical gift turning the dog’s inner thoughts into human language. Blizzard’s idea of home was mostly smell-based—sheep and hay and wet heather, and the complex, individual scent of each member in his ‘pack’, as he thought of them.
But he’d been able to supply her with enough images of his owner’s car to let her pick out the license plate number. After that, it had been a simple matter for Betty to look up the address in the police databases.
“Yes,” Tamsin said to Blizzard. “You’re going home now. Betty, do you need me to help with the paperwork?”
“Nope,” the police officer replied. “I can handle it from here, if you need to take off.”
“I do, actually. Got another appointment.” Tamsin smiled again at the Scottish farmer. “It was nice to meet you. I’m so glad I was able to help Blizzard find his way back to you.”
It still took nearly twenty minutes to extract herself from the family’s hugs and tearful expressions of gratitude. By the time she finally slid back into the driver’s seat of her car, she was rather rumpled, and also late.
“Sorry about that,” she said to Cuan, a little breathlessly. “Got delayed.”
“I passed the time comfortably enough.” He turned a page in his book. “I wish I could send this to Aodhan. Though I am not sure whether he would be amused or infuriated by the depiction of mage-craft.”
She checked the cover, and grinned. Ever since Betty had sorted Cuan out with a fake id, he’d been tearing through the local library at a phenomenal rate. Apparently he’d moved on from the history volumes.
She pulled out of the parking lot. “So Harry Potter isn’t accurate, huh?”
He glanced wryly across at her. “I hope I am not very much like a house elf.”
“Well, you do do a lot of chores.” She smirked. “But apart from that, no, not really. Guess J. K. Rowling never took a trip to the fae realms.”
“Mmm.” He turned another page, fingers skimming down the text thoughtfully. “Though I must say, there is the occasional startling passage that does make me wonder if the borders between our worlds are not quite as securely-guarded as I thought.”
“I hope that’s true. It would be nice to be able to visit Aodhan and Motley in person occasionally, rather than just talking through a portal.”
“The sidhean may be closed to us now, but I trust that Motley will find some other place where our realms lie close together eventually.” Cuan sighed, just a faint breath. “As long as he does not forget.”
She patted his knee reassuringly. “He has my button, and something of yours too, right?”
“A silver ring, yes. The only token I ever had from my unknown phouka father. I gave it to Motley when we first met.”
She cast him a startled look. “That was quite a gift.”