“Now you’ve done it,” Forest growled.

Jack opened the blanket. The baby went perfectly still, staring up at Jack with dark, solid navy eyes. Then his little cherub face scrunched up, his arms and legs started to windmill, and he let out a bellow that rocked Jack right down to his soul.

“Soothe him,” Forest said frantically. “Hold him up to your chest so he can hear your heartbeat.”

Jack pulled his shirttail from his pants high enough to expose his chest and carefully lifted his son, cradling the infant’s face against his bare skin. He shuddered at the contact, and closed his eyes on a sigh when the boy started rooting against his skin.

He was holding his son!

Forest Dreamwalker sat beside Jack and shook his head. “Even this young, they know what they want. Give him your little finger to suckle.”

Jack did, eyeing his great-grandfather suspiciously. “When did you learn what babies want? You had one son, and I doubt you spent much time with him until he was five or six.”

“Ah, but I spent a great deal of time with Sarah from the moment she was born. Your mother was always wanting to be walked, and my son had no patience for pacing in circles to soothe her. That precious chore was mine.”

Jack knew his family history by rote, since he’d spent five years alone in the woods with Forest Dreamwalker. Forest’s son had found himself the sole parent of a three-month-old daughter when his wife had suddenly decided to move to Vancouver—with no husband or baby to cramp her new lifestyle. Sarah had been raised by her father and grandfather, and to this day Jack wondered how the two men had managed to keep a baby alive, much less raise her to become such an amazing woman.

“Listen up, Coyote,” Forest said. “This puzzle you’re grappling with is even more dangerous than you think.”

“Which one?” Jack asked, looking down at his son.

“Aye, you’re right. There are two distinct problems, with two very real dangers. You must tread carefully, Coyote, if you wish to keep your family safe.”

“Aye?” Jack repeated, looking at Forest in surprise.

The old shaman smiled proudly. “I’ve added a new word to my vocabulary in honor of your son’s Scottish heritage. The child has grown used to Laird MacKeage’s voice, and responds favorably when I also say aye to him.”

Good Lord, his kid was going to have some interesting dreams, with shamans and Highland warriors for ancestors. “He’s my son,” Jack said. “And I’m going to teach him to solve his problems with cunning, not might.”

Forest gave a pained sigh. “Thank the moon Greylen will be around to teach him the ways of a warrior.” He glared at Jack. “Are you going to listen to what I have to say or not?”

“I’m listening,” Jack said, though he dropped his gaze again, rubbing his thumb over his son’s soft cheek.

“Your woman has something Mark Collins wants.”

“What is it?” Jack asked, looking up.

“I’m not all-knowing. But I can tell you it’s something Megan isn’t even aware of.”

“Do you at least know what Collins is up to? What sort of business he was conducting out on the tundra?”

“It has to do with energy,” Forest said. “Oil or some other sort of fuel.”

Jack canted his head in thought. “Maybe she brought back samples or data that would prove there’s shale oil under that part of Canada. Collins might be trying to hide that fact from the government, and that’s why that man was killed.”

“Maybe. But Collins is the least of your worries right now. You need to keep a close eye on that Kenzie Gregor fellow.”

Jack looked up sharply. “So he is interested in Megan.”

“No,” Forest said with a shake of his head. “It’s not her heart he’s wanting.”

“Then what?”

“Her knowledge. But that’s not what you should be worried about. It’s Gregor’s connection to your break-ins that you must pay careful attention to.”

“So what’s the connection?”

Forest leaned closer. “Magic,” he whispered. “Ancient Celtic magic, Coyote. A very powerful kind.”

Jack gaped at his great-grandfather. “There’s more than one kind of magic?”

The old shaman nodded. “The drùidhs have been charged with protecting the trees of life, whereas people and animals are my thing. My duty is to a person’s more immediate well-being, so I was given the gift of helping individuals deal with daily life.”

“Is Kenzie Gregor a drùidh?”

“No, but his brother Matt is. And Megan’s sister Winter also possesses the power.”

Jack leaned back, splaying his hand over his son in a protective gesture. “Winter’s a drùidh? And Megan knows this?”

Forest nodded. “But you can’t let her know that you know. That’s something Megan must tell you herself.” He smiled. “When she does, you’ll know she finally trusts you and has completely forgiven you for what you said to her four months ago.”

“I acted on your advice,” Jack snapped.

Forest looked affronted. “I told you to send her away. The way you did that was your poor choice.”

“It was the only thing that would make her leave. I sure as hell didn’t mean it.”

“I know that, and you know that, but does Megan? What you said, Coyote, is not something a woman easily gets past—no matter how much apologizing you do.” Forest reached out to take the child.

Jack leaned away. “Wait. What about this magic business? How do I deal with Kenzie if his brother’s a wizard?”

“By staying well away from Matt and Winter Gregor. Catching their interest could prove dangerous. Instead, you need to…” Forest dropped his gaze to his lap as his mind turned inward in thought.

Jack knew this could take awhile, so he gave his attention back to his son. He leaned forward to cradle the boy in his hands and lifted him up to kiss his tiny forehead. “Don’t you frown at me,” he said with a laugh. “It seems like I’ve been waiting forever to meet you.”

The little bundle of joy he was holding stared up at Jack, the wisdom of the universe shining in his deep, dark, bottomless eyes. “Should we tell your mama she’s having a son?” Jack asked. “Or keep this our little secret for a while?”

“You can’t tell her,” Forest suddenly interjected. “How would you explain how you know?”

“The same way I explain everything you tell me—that it’s my gut instinct.” He grinned down at his son. “It’s worked for me for thirty-four years. I’ll teach you how to rely on your own gut, baby boy.” He looked up at Forest. “So, how do I deal with Kenzie Gregor?”

The old shaman squared his shoulders. “It’s not my job to tell you what to do. You must find your own path, Coyote. That’s what life is all about.”

Jack gave a soft snort. “That never stopped you in the past. At least give me a hint.”

Forest remained silent, true to his stoic Cree heritage—which he used only when it worked in his favor.

“Can you at least tell me what ran out of that store the other night and flew away?” Jack asked. “Was it man or beast?”

“It was both.”

“Both.”

“Aye, though I’d say it was more magical than real.”

“What do you mean? Are you saying a figment of everyone’s collective imagination is breaking into those buildings?”

“You’ll solve that mystery when you discover Kenzie Gregor’s secret,” Forest told him, raising his voice to be heard when the baby began to cry.

Jack laid his son back on his lap and quickly swaddled him in his blanket. The infant grew even more unhappy, and his crying got louder. Jack stuck his little finger in its mouth, but apparently his son wanted to exercise his lungs and muscles, because he kicked off his blankets and cried even louder. Jack held him up to his chest again, but that didn’t help, either.

“What have you done to my great-grandson?” Shadow Dreamwalker demanded as he appeared out of the ether.

Jack smiled up at his grandfather. “Grand-père pinched him.” His grin widened when Mark and Walker Stone also appeared. “Hi, guys. How was the fishing?”