The Cursing Stones Page 6

  “Ye killed it, then,” her father said after a brusque interrogation to make sure they were unharmed.

  She nodded. “Took its head off.”

  “With one blow,” Kincaid put in. “Damned impressive, if you ask me.”

  “Didn’t ask ye,” Lachlan grunted. “All right. Let’s bring the rest down, and we’ll burn the body.” He tromped off toward the path up the rocks.

  Kincaid shook his head. “Bloody old goat, that one,” he said. “Now I see why you left our happy little family.”

  “Yes.” She sighed and stared after her father. “The worst of it is, I think I’m starting to understand him. At least a little.”

  “Good on you, then. Because I don’t get him at all.”

  She shrugged. “Come on. I want to get back and shower all night, and then sleep for a week.”

  “I hear that.”

  They trudged back up to the cave. Inside they found a contained blaze in the corner, and Lachlan lifting Aidan Campbell off the floor. “Master Nolan, bring the woman down,” he said. “I want Rhiannon to stay here with Ewan while I take this one.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Is something wrong with him?”

  “Nae. Something’s right.” Her father’s face softened. “He’s waking.”

  “Poppy!” She raced over and knelt beside her grandfather, taking his cool hand in hers. “Everything’s all right now,” she said. “It’s over. You’re alive.”

  He stirred slightly, and his familiar brown eyes fluttered open. He blinked several times. “Rhiannon?” he rasped slowly. “It cannae be…”

  “It’s me, Poppy.” Her voice shook as she squeezed his hand. “I came to save you.”

  His sudden smile brought tears to her eyes. “Oh, my girl,” he whispered. “My girl, I’ve missed ye so. Ye cannae know how much.”

  She sobbed and embraced him. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  By the time she composed herself enough to help him sit up, her father had come back into the cave. “Ewan,” he said gruffly, offering a curt nod. “Good to have ye back.”

  Ewan looked up at him. “Aye. And someone’s got a story to tell, here.”

  “Later. There’s others to tend to.”

  “I’ll tell you the story.” Rain smiled and stood, wiping her eyes. “But not here. That’s not the cheeriest campfire to hang around.”

  Her grandfather raised an eyebrow and glanced around at the burning body of the beast. “Must be a long story,” he said.

  “It is.”

  She held out a hand and helped him to his feet. With her on one side and Lachlan on the other, he managed to walk slowly. It still took a good ten minutes to reach the halfway point of the rock shelf. “I ought to carry ye down the rest of the way, Ewan,” her father said.

  “Try it, and I’ll hex ye into next week,” Ewan said with a smirk. “I’ll keep what dignity I’ve got left, thank ye kindly.”

  “All right, then. Bit tetchy, are we?”

  “Ye try bein’ snacked on by a great bloody spider. See how cheerful ye are.”

  Rain couldn’t help laughing. “You two haven’t changed at all,” she said. “Still fighting like an old married couple.”

  “Aye.” Ewan winked. “And he loves every minute of it.”

  “Keep it up. See who hexes who into next week.”

  “Ach, yer bollocks at hexing.”

  Lachlan sighed. “Less babbling. More walking.”

  They finally reached the bottom, where Kincaid met them with a grin. “Evening, Ewan,” he said. “Fine night for a barbecue, isn’t it?”

  “Long as I’m not on the menu.” He smiled back. “I’ll thank ye now, young Nolan. Ye’ve done a treat with the healing. Feels better by the moment.”

  “Well, you’re likely to need a few more rounds. The others more so.” A grim expression settled on his face. “I nearly lost the MacCallan boy.”

  “But ye didn’t. Ye’ve done well.”

  Kincaid coughed and stared at his feet. “Aye, maybe,” he said. “This time.”

  Rain shivered a bit as her father’s words the first night she was here came back to her. Whatever took Ewan … it’s only the beginning. Would there actually be more creatures like that one, coming here from a place that shouldn’t exist? And who was going to stop them? She’d killed this one, but it wasn’t a solo effort. She never could have done that alone.

  What if this really had been just one battle, in a war no one was prepared to fight?

  As she helped her Poppy toward the truck, she remembered something important. A quick pat of her pockets confirmed it. “My phone,” she said. “Think I left it in the cave.”

  “I’ll get it,” Kincaid said.

  “No, it’s all right. I know where I dropped it.” She glanced at her father. “You’ve got this?”

  He nodded. “Go on.”

  “Be right back.”

  She flashed a quick smile and headed back to the path. The climb didn’t take long, and she found her phone fast enough. She walked out glad to be leaving the sickly-sweet smell of roasting monster behind and took the path at a casual pace, enjoying the fragrance of the sea and the clean night air.

  Then she reached the rock shelf — and stopped short when she caught sight of a figure standing a short distance away, staring at her.

  The man wore nothing but a stained cloth tied around his waist, and thick metal cuff-style bracelets at his wrists. He was deeply tanned and all hard muscle, with a fall of tangled black hair and green eyes bright as gems. And he appeared to be glowing. In fact, he was almost translucent in the moonlight.

  The ghost on the moors.

  Struck speechless, she could only stare as he advanced slowly with a wicked smile. His gaze drilled into her. “You,” he whispered. His voice was the wind rustling through dead leaves. “I know your soul.”

  Even as he spoke, he was fading. Then a cloud passed over the moon — and he vanished.

  She shuddered and hurried the rest of the way down, before he could come back. For some reason, she had a strong feeling that she never wanted to encounter that particular ghost again.

  If he was even a ghost at all.

  Chapter 14

  Druid Encampment – Finlay Cabin

  For the first time in weeks, Rain slept without dreams.

  She woke to strong sunlight behind the curtains and knew she’d slept much later than usual. Something about that seemed off, and it took her a moment to remember. Her father was an early riser — and she’d always been required to do the same.

  He’d let her sleep in. Maybe it was his way of acknowledging that she’d done something right for a change.

  She got up and headed for the main room, only to find it empty and her father’s work table cleared. Before she could panic, she heard sounds from the kitchen. She headed there to find Poppy seated at the table, and Lachlan at the stove. Cooking breakfast.

  He never used to do that, either.

  “’Bout time ye got up,” her father said without turning. “Coffee’s on the counter if ye want it. See if yer Poppy wants a warmer.”

  “I’m right here, Lachlan,” Poppy said. “Ain’t lost me marbles yet, ‘n I bloody well—”

  “Hush. Ye sit and rest, Ewan.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “Just today, though.”

  Rain smiled broadly. “Good morning to you too, Da’,” she said, heading to the table to kiss Poppy’s cheek. “And you should probably listen to him, for once. He’s right about needing the rest.”

  “Aye. Suppose he is.” Poppy returned the smile. “Guess I could use a warmer, then.”

  “Coming right up.”

  She went to the counter, grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it for herself, then brought the pot to the table and topped off her grandfather’s cup. “Need any help?” she said to her father.

  “Ye can get the juice out.”

  “All right.” She grabbed a carton of orange juice from the fridge. There were no glasses o
n the table, so she went back to the cabinet to get some.

  Before she could, someone knocked at the front door.

  “Huh,” she said. “You expecting anyone?”

  Her father grunted. “Those that need be here—”

  “Knows to come in. Yes, you said that.” She shook her head as the knocking repeated. “So are you going to answer it, or what?”

  “No.”

  “Then I will.”

  She was surprised that neither of them protested as she left the kitchen and went to the door. There was no peephole, so she just took a quick breath and opened it.

  A stranger stood outside, a young man in a white linen tunic and black pants. His hands were folded behind his back like a soldier at attention, and there was some kind of crest on the tunic. A blue shield with three crowns. “Miss Rain Finlay?” he said.

  She frowned. “Yes. Who are you?”

  “A messenger.” He brought an arm around and presented a cream-colored envelope. “From Aislinn Castle.”

  “Oh.” She reached out slowly and took the envelope. It was heavier than it looked, the paper smooth as silk. “Well … thank you.”

  He didn’t leave.

  “Um. Thank you?” she said.

  The messenger sniffed. “I’ve been asked to return with your response.”

  “To what, this?”

  “Yes.”

  She sighed. “Don’t they have phones up there? All right, hold on a minute.” She opened it. The interior was lined with gold foil, and it contained a single piece of paper the same color as the envelope. She unfolded it to find a handwritten note.

  Dear Miss Finlay,

  Please forgive my formal address. I am a bit old-fashioned, and as we’ve only met once, it seems fitting to retain a bit of formality.

  I hope you found what you needed in my library. As I’m sure you noticed, it is not the most organized of libraries, and it pains me to see my grand collection so neglected. The truth is, I haven’t had the opportunity to see to it properly — and sadly will not for some time yet.

  Which brings me to my proposal. Since you seem both interested and capable, I wondered if you might consider undertaking the task of cataloguing the library and restoring order to the collection. I’m sure you understand the true value of the volumes and information it contains, and I’d entrust the task to no one else. Of course, I’ll also pay you well for your time.

  Please send word with my messenger regarding this proposal. I await your response with hope.

  All my best,

  Duncan Aislinn

  She was breathless by the time she finished reading. This was more than a task — it was an immense project that would take months to complete. And it would give her access to the information her clan would need, if any more unheard-of creatures came through to terrorize the island.

  She couldn’t go back to the States yet. Not knowing that everyone here could be in danger, and she might be able to help stop it. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she’d already made up her mind to stay last night. When that creature nearly killed Kincaid.

  “Miss Finlay?” the messenger said stiffly. “Do you have a response?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Tell him yes. And tell him to get a phone,” she added with a smile.

  The messenger offered a brief bow. “I’ll relay the message.”

  “Thank you.”

  This time he left. She withdrew into the cabin and closed the door, tucking the envelope into her back pocket as she returned to the kitchen. Poppy and Lachlan were seated at the table, piling breakfast onto plates. “Who’s that, then?” her father said.

  “A messenger.” She slid into a seat and grabbed a platter of eggs. “This looks great,” she said. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  Lachlan raised an eyebrow. “Messenger of what?”

  “He was here for me. And that’s all you’re getting, so don’t ask more.”

  Poppy laughed. “Looks like someone’s takin’ a page from yer book, Lachlan.”

  Her father grunted. “Guess ye’ll be heading back to Amherst, then,” he said.

  “How did you know where I was? I never told you.”

  “Think I wouldn’t keep track of my own daughter?” He shook his head and stabbed a sausage link onto his fork. “Sociology major. Three point seven GPA, whatever that means. Live on campus, got a roommate name of Stephanie.”

  The anger flared bright. “You’ve been spying on me with magic, haven’t you?”

  “No, girl. I just called that school and told ’em I was yer father.”

  She glanced at Poppy, and he shrugged. “Truth,” he said. “He did call.”

  “Right.” Well, that was a little better, at least. “So anyway, to answer your question,” she said. “I think I’ll stay a while.”

  Her father froze with the sausage halfway to his mouth.

  “I can help,” she said. “If any more … stuff shows up here, I mean. You did say this was only the beginning.”

  “And ye actually paid attention to what I said.” He lowered his fork slowly, his expression blank. “Rhiannon, I—”

  “What he means to say is, we appreciate the help, and we’re glad ye want to stay,” Poppy cut in suddenly, shooting a look at her father. “Isn’t that right, Lachlan?”

  He scowled. “Fine, but ye’ll make yourself useful,” he said. “Ye’ve gone soft, and ye never did take yer studies seriously. There’s a lot ye need to learn yet.”

  She stared at him steadily. “I’ll learn it, then,” she said. “But not because you’re making me. Because I want to.”

  For a full minute he said nothing, and she waited for the explosion. At last he pushed back slowly from the table and stood. “Thought ye’d never get there,” he said with a hint of pride. “Take the day to rest, and we’ll start ye out first thing in the morning.”

  Offering a faint nod and a near smile, he left the kitchen.

  “Welcome home, Rhiannon,” Poppy said, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

  She blinked, and a slow smile spread on her face. There were plenty of challenges ahead, and part of her was terrified of the nightmares they all might have to confront. But still, for the first time in years … it was good to be home.

  Part 2: The Ghosts of Parthas

  Chapter 15

  Bairnskill Village, Isle of Parthas – Night

  It’d been a pleasant day for John Brannon. He’d spent a few hours out on his boat in the early morning that delivered him a nice string of sea bass, which his wife Mary had cooked them for supper. Their eldest daughter stopped by to chat for a bit, telling them about her new job at the school where her mother’d taught for years. Now, he and Mary were enjoying a quiet evening in front of the telly.

  Well, Mary was in front of the telly, leastwise. She was watching that daft program from the States she loved so much, the one with the two brothers driving about in a black car, killing monsters and such. It tickled her no end that the brothers’ parents were named John and Mary, just like them.

  Just now the brothers were sitting in that car, all sad-eyed and yammering away. They seemed to do that quite a lot — and Mary hung on every word they said. He’d learned not to interrupt the talking-in-the-car scenes. For a moment John gazed at his wife of thirty years and thought how lucky he was to have her, daft programs and all.

  Then he shrugged and went back to his Sunday crossword.

  He soon came across a clue that stumped him. A glance at the telly showed the talking was done, and now the brothers were fighting some shrieking ghost. With salt, apparently. “Mary, luv,” he said as he filled in a different word he’d just figured out. “What’s a four-letter word for portentous occurrence?”

  She didn’t say anything. He gave her a moment, in case the program had reached some terribly emotional bit that he might be interrupting. “Mary?” he said when she still offered no response. “Did ye hear me? I need a four-letter word for…”

  He trailed off as he looked at hi
s wife, who stared in open-mouthed horror at the telly. With a frown, he turned to see what kind of ghost-fighting carnage might’ve put that look on Mary’s face.

  And then he saw what was in front of the telly.

  The apparition floated a few inches above the floor. A terrifying old hag, bent and twisted and dressed in a winding-shroud, with snaggled eyeteeth that looked like fangs. Her hands were wizened claws, her milk-white eyes gleaming with malevolence.

  “Mary?” John croaked. “That’s not some kind of 3-D effect, is it?”

  His wife made an odd, strangled sound. The gruesome spirit rushed toward her, and John realized with a dreamy sort of terror that it made a whooshing sound as it moved. Blinking rapidly, he forced himself to his feet, intending to get his shotgun and blast the apparition to the next afterlife.

  Then the old hag stopped short, opened its mouth, and screamed.

  The sound was an unearthly wailing, high-pitched and rolling like thunder. It had a wicked edge to it, as if the apparition took delight in delivering such a horrific performance. The scream went on far longer than humanly possible. At last the sound began to fade, and when it stopped, the spirit vanished.

  The instant it was gone, Mary started to gag in great hoarse fits. She drew in a series of rapid, stuttering breaths, then doubled over and retched.

  Blood poured from her mouth and splashed the carpet.

  “Mary!” Heart frozen in his chest, John raced to her and scooped her into his arms. “What is it?” he said breathlessly. “What’s happened?”

  Her bloody lips moved soundlessly. Then her eyes rolled back, and she went limp.

  “No,” he moaned. “Mary, darlin’, hang on for me.” Adjusting his grip to support her with one arm, he grabbed the cordless phone and dialed 999 for emergency services. Like many in the village, they didn’t own a car. The Bairnskill ambulance would be faster in getting her to the island’s hospital at the other side of town.

  He decided not to mention the wailing ghost to the operator. But if the doctors failed to help Mary … well, there were others who might be able to.