The Cursing Stones Read online

  Chapter 59

  Ogham Wood – Night

  “Oh, Lachlan. I thought you’d promised not to harm me.”

  Pure ice filled Rain’s blood at the sound of the voice that issued from the woman, and she immediately knew Kieran had been right. Glynis was no more. The sound was horribly doubled, metallic and harsh — two distinct voices, the stronger of which was nothing like Glynis. And the mocking undercurrent was heavy with the promise of death.

  “Isn’t that the code you sad, mortal druids live by? First do no harm?” The woman who wasn’t Glynis moved toward Lachlan, practically purring now. “I, on the other hand, embrace doing harm. As much as possible.”

  Rain forced herself free of the shock, pivoted and jabbed the sword into the wolf’s side.

  The beast gave a sharp yelp and rolled away. She grabbed Kincaid, started dragging him toward the circle, and within seconds Brigid was there helping.

  “I’d not have harmed ye, Glynis,” Lachlan said loudly. Rain’s heart sank as she realized he was distracting her from what they were doing. “But ye’ve given me no choice.”

  The woman laughed. “What have you got there, druid?” she said tauntingly. “Hawthorn, agrimony, cinquefoil? Perhaps a willow branch? Oh, my. I’m so frightened.”

  “Might be.” Lachlan eased back as she advanced. “Like to come and find out?”

  Rain tore her attention from her father and focused on Kincaid. He was pale, bleeding, drenched in cold sweat. But alive. Brigid was rifling frantically through her kit, spearing glances at her brother. And the wolf had regained its feet and paced just outside the circle, emitting a constant warning growl.

  “You’ve got to kill that thing,” Kincaid gasped. “It’ll lunge again any second.”

  “I know.” She frowned, glanced at her sword. “I can draw it away.”

  “But can you kill it?”

  “Not sure,” she admitted.

  “Damn! Don’t you have any blue violet?” Brigid seethed under her breath.

  “Thought you did.”

  “Well, I don’t. I was going to put it to sleep—”

  “That thing isn’t going to sleep!”

  “Guys.” Rain dropped into a ready stance. “Whatever you’re doing, do it fast. It’s coming.”

  Just as she said that, the wolf leapt.

  She batted it aside, rolled from the circle and stood a good distance away. The wolf snorted and shook its massive head, then fixed red-rimmed eyes on her. She shuddered at the sight of the awful brand on its muzzle.

  And suddenly remembered her gift. She’d been stupid not to use it before.

  “She did that to you,” Rain said gently, even as her voice wanted to shake. “Didn’t she? You never wanted this.”

  A few whines punctuated the wolf’s constant snarl.

  “Will you stand down?” she said. “Can you?”

  Another whine, lower this time. Then a piteous bubbling sound rose from the wolf’s throat, and it pawed at the ground.

  She. This wolf was female. Rain felt her thoughts, keen and mournful, and received the impression of a den somewhere in the woods. Three tiny pups. Missing their mother, half-starved by her frequent absence.

  She stepped toward the wolf, and the snarl rose in volume.

  “All right,” Rain said in soothing tones. “We’ll find another way.”

  As her mind raced, trying to come up with anything that would spare the wolf, in the background she heard Kincaid and Brigid talking tensely about an Immobilize spell. If they did that, caused the animal further pain, she’d lose control. “No,” she hissed, not taking her gaze from the wolf’s pleading eyes. “Not that one. Purify.”

  The side conversation stopped. She had no idea whether they’d do as she asked — until Brigid approached with shaking steps, a smoldering bundle of wood betony held out before her like a shield. “Are you sure about this?” she muttered.

  “I’m sure.”

  “You really are insane.” Brigid rolled her eyes, but she started chanting, waving the smoke toward the wolf. At the end she tossed a packet of powder at the animal, blurted the close of the spell, and then flinched back quickly and threw her arms over her head.

  The wolf relaxed on her haunches, shuddering all over. Rain heard her thanks as a bright ribbon in her head, warm as the sun. “You’re welcome,” she crooned, lowering her bloodied sword as she approached. “Go on,” she said. “Go to them.”

  With a soft bark, the wolf bowed her head and licked Rain’s hand before bounding off into the trees, silent as shadows.

  “Bloody hell,” Brigid said. “How’d you do that?”

  She smirked. “I’ll show you sometime. Now—”

  A hoarse cry from near the cabin drew her attention. She looked toward it, and saw her father on her knees, with Glynis looming over him. In her upraised hand was a dagger — Lachlan’s spell knife.

  “Take care of Kincaid,” Rain shouted, running toward them. “I have to stop her!”

  She’d gotten within ten feet of her father when Glynis looked her way — and her gaze fell on the sword. Sheer rage flooded her face, an expression Glynis never would’ve been capable of in a thousand years. “You,” the woman thundered. “Always you! Well, you won’t stop me this time, highness.”

  Before she could react to those bizarre words, Lachlan lunged to his feet, bringing an arm around. And plowed a fist directly into her face.

  She smashed back against the cabin with a moan.

  Rain was incredibly impressed with her father’s right hook, but she didn’t have time to tell him that. Whoever this was, she wouldn’t be slowed long. She raced toward the shuddering figure, reaching her at the same time as Lachlan, and raised her sword.

  The woman lifted a trembling hand. “Rhiannon,” she whispered. “Been a long time.”

  “Oh, God,” she rasped. “Glynis?”

  It was awful watching her try to smile. She straightened a bit — then went stiff and loosed an anguished scream.

  “No!” Lachlan surged forward and grabbed her. “Back down, ye nasty bitch,” he snarled in her face.

  The screaming stopped, and Glynis blinked blearily. “Lachlan,” she murmured. “You must. Now.”

  “All right. All right,” he said hoarsely. As he drew the stone from his pocket, he glanced aside at Rain. “Don’t watch this,” he managed in a small voice that sounded nothing like him. “Please … turn away.”

  She did.

  It was over quickly. A few soft words, a muted gagging sound, and when her father stepped back to stand beside her, a loud snap and a sigh.

  Lachlan put a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s check on Master Nolan, before we get on with the rest of it.”

  She decided not to argue with that.

  Chapter 60

  Ogham Wood – Night

  Glynis hadn’t burned like the other cursed ones. Lachlan said it looked like swallowing the stone had broken her neck, and the sigh was thick black smoke pouring from her mouth as she died. Which, he assumed, was the spirit who’d possessed her.

  Rain wasn’t so sure about that — at least, the idea that it’d been a ghost. But she wouldn’t bring that up right now.

  They couldn’t bury her, or get her back through the thick woods. And none of them wanted to leave her body out for the animals. So they’d ended up burning her anyway, staying until the fire consumed her completely. Lachlan doused and cooled the smoldering ashes with feverfew and a modified air spell, and then carefully gathered her remains in Kincaid’s emptied salt bottle.

  Making their way back through the forest had taken considerably longer. They reached the Nolan cabin first, and Rain hugged both siblings — Kincaid more carefully than Brigid. Even her father murmured a gruff thanks and shook Kincaid’s non-mauled hand. When Rain mentioned they weren’t opening the apothecary tomorrow, no one protested.

  She and her father continued to his cabin and slowed, stopping by the entrance. He wouldn’t lo
ok at her. “Ye did well tonight,” he said in the general direction of the ground. “Ye’re welcome to stay here, get off yer feet instead of goin’ on to the shop.”

  “I’m okay to walk, actually,” she said. “But first, I have to say something about it.”

  His head came up, but he still didn’t meet her gaze. “About what?”

  “She called me highness.”

  Lachlan’s broad shoulders fell. “Aye,” he said miserably. “She did.”

  “Da’?”

  Finally, he focused on her without a word.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “I know you can’t tell me, and it’s okay. I understand.”

  “Ye do?”

  She smiled. “Yeah, I do. I’ll figure it out on my own,” she said. “In the meantime … it’s okay.”

  For the first time she could remember in her life, her father initiated a hug.

  She hugged him back and pretended not to hear the thick sound in his chest. When he stepped back, he was actually smiling. “Ye’d best go and get some rest,” he said. “Seems I’ll need a fair bit of that m’self. I may be too old to go traipsin’ about the wood at night.”

  “You’re not old. You’re well-preserved,” she said with a grin. “Goodnight, Da’. I’ll stop in tomorrow, all right?”

  “Right. Not too early, mind ye.”

  She laughed. “Have you ever actually slept in a day in your life?”

  “Never too late to start.”

  “All right, then. See you not-too-early tomorrow.”

  She hugged him again, and waited until he went inside to return to the path. But she didn’t head for the shop. Not yet. There was no way she’d fall asleep for quite a while tonight. Her body ached, but her mind was more alert than ever.

  She wanted to make sure it was really over.

  So she headed for the ash grove, the place where she’d found the faerie circle. Though she knew nothing about them, she was certain there’d be a sign that it was no longer working, no more a danger than any other patch of ground out here. Scorched earth, cracked stones, something.

  As she walked, her thoughts turned to the future — the nearest of it, at any rate. They’d stopped the deadly curses. She could probably go back to the States now, finish her degree. Get on with her life.

  But she didn’t want to leave. Not now, anyway. She still had a job at the castle, and her Poppy. And though she doubted they’d ever see completely eye-to-eye, she could come to an understanding with her father. He was gruff, tactless, often downright rude. Still, she loved him.

  There was also Kincaid. And the shop, the young girl’s ghost she’d inherited, the familiar who’d chosen her and seemed to think she needed him. There was even Brigid. And she still wanted … needed to know if Kieran would be all right. Whether she’d really helped him escape the nightmare he existed in. No, she didn’t want to leave the island yet.

  More and more, she was beginning to believe that she never should.

  The clearing was just ahead. And as she neared it, she heard voices. Two men conversing in low tones. Before long, she figured out who they belonged to.

  Bastien Loch … and Emory Darach.

  Her breath caught high in her throat. She darted behind a thick tree and eased her way forward, staying out of sight, until she could see them. Bastien stood just outside the largest stone with his back to it, watching the trees. There was a flashlight in one hand, and a gun in the other.

  Emory was inside the faerie circle.

  The terrifying black-robed man held a tall, crooked staff. He paced the inner circle, stopping to thump the staff against the ground at every standing stone. Dark violet light crackled into the earth with each solemn strike.

  “Hurry it up, will you?” Bastien called softly over his shoulder. “One of those druids is bound to notice something sooner or later.”

  “Well, if one shows up, kill it,” Emory snapped back.

  It was all Rain could do not to gasp aloud.

  Bastien snorted. “You know he doesn’t want us to.”

  “He’s not here, is he?” Emory thumped the ground again, producing another burst of purple lightning. “Personally, I think he’s gone far too soft. And what will you do, Bastien, if I decide not to honor his commands?”

  Fast as a snake, Bastien stepped into a gap between two stones and pointed the gun at the other man. “What do you think I’ll do?” he said flatly.

  Emory laughed. “Try it, old friend. See what happens.”

  “We’re not friends.”

  With a shrug, Emory returned to his circuit. “All right,” he said after striking fresh violet sparks from the ground. “You’d best step back.”

  Bastien complied quickly.

  As Rain watched, frozen in terror, Emory moved to the center of the faerie circle. He raised the staff high in both hands, then swung it around and slammed the upper knob against the hard-packed earth at his feet.

  The ground blackened and split with a mighty rumble she felt in her bones.

  After a long moment, Emory righted the staff and walked out of the circle. “It’s done,” he said. “And with the spells I’ve laid about this island, it can’t be undone. Ever.”

  Bastien raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure of that, are you?” he said. “Because they found a way around you last time.”

  “Positive,” Emory said, his tone dripping with venom. “Come along, you worthless excuse for a knight.”

  “After you, magician.”

  Emory snapped around in a flurry of robes and stalked in the direction of the castle, with Bastien a few steps behind him.

  It felt like a very long time until Rain could breathe again. What she’d just heard made little sense, but enough pieces had fallen into place to make one thing clear.

  This wasn’t over. Not even close.

  And she wasn’t going anywhere until she ended it.

  Chapter 61

  Bairnskill Cemetery – Midnight

  The rip in the fabric of the veil was so small, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to squeeze through. But it was there. He could do it, with her blood in his veins. They no longer needed the circle. And when he forced his way into the world, panting and gasping to land on the hard, cold floor of the crypt, he wasn’t sure he could get up again.

  But he did. He had to.

  The stone casket was ten feet from him — and at the same time, miles away. Every movement was agony. As the moon waned, the creatures of the Between became more active. Hungrier. The faolcù na marbh seemed particularly keen for his blood, since they took it on a regular basis. And they’d taken plenty this night, at the height of the new moon.

  He managed a few stumbling steps across the floor, but he was forced to crawl the rest of the way. Already her voice pierced him like nails, urging him on.

  “I’m coming,” he groaned, dragging his battered body onto the casket. “You’ve no need to Compel me.”

  A sudden, agonizing pain in his ribcage served as retribution for his tongue.

  He pressed his lips together and hauled himself up with a final burst of strength, collapsing lengthwise along the cold casket lid. And she spoke clearly in his head.

  “His precious flower has destroyed my vessel.”

  “Aye. I know.” He spoke carefully, with his focus on his thoughts — or rather, on keeping them from her. At least he could still manage that. “You’ll find another,” he said.

  “That one was strong.”

  “I’ll find you one stronger. You know I will.” A hoarse note crept into his voice. “I’m a bit of a wreck, here. Bleeding all over your casket.”

  “I know.”

  He swallowed the bright hatred that rose in him at her smug, mocking tone. “Are you going to make me beg?”

  Her frosty silence said she was, indeed, going to make him.

  He shivered and drew a splintering breath. “Please, heal me,” he said. “So that I may serve you better.”

  “Acceptable.”

&nb
sp; Her light was cold. Always cold. But it filled him, eased his pain, and he felt his wounds slowly closing. “Thank you,” he breathed when she’d finished.

  “Address me properly, child.”

  His stomach clenched. “You know I can’t.”

  “Fine. Sleep, then,” she said. “And when you wake, you’ll return to your preparations. You have gained her trust, have you not?”

  “Of course.” He fought to keep the fury from his voice. Betraying the girl who called herself Rain was wounding him far more deeply than any beast of the Between. More than even his bastard of a father and his damned pet magician had managed over the centuries. But he’d no choice in the matter.

  He’d no choice about anything. She had seen to that.

  “Sleep now, Mordred,” she crooned — and by the gods, his own name was a burning lance through his soul. He couldn’t even hear it spoken without pain. “Sleep, and dream of my vengeance. Our time is near.”

  Shuddering, he closed his eyes as his mother began to sing her poisoned lullaby.

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