The Thirteen Stones

by Finegan, KT

  Surprisingly, it worked and the panic and fear subsided, like a tingle of comfort filling my heart. I opened my eyes and looked closely at Grizelle. Eyes still closed, she was holding her hands out towards me as if in some sort of uplifting prayer. In a whisper she started to talk about the church. She told me that we were sitting at the centre of the cross which the church building made.

  I looked around, as I hadn’t realised the building was in the shape of a cross. It was too dark to see much but I had an idea in my head that she was right. We sat in its heart, the strongest part of the church energy. She said quartz crystals were built into the altar and their healing calming energy beamed out to congregations.

  I peeked around as she spoke, still focusing on my breathing and Angel’s hands on my head. After another few minutes she released me and sat down, holding her hands towards me in the same way as Grizelle. It felt like the rays from the sun or a fire. Warm and comforting, and I felt a little better; definitely calmer.

  The whole episode at the house seemed less intense somehow. Perhaps it had been all the adrenalin and I’d imagined it. But how had Grizelle known about the glass? I looked at her and she opened her eyes.

  ‘Feeling better now? This is the most protected place in the town. It’s the perfect place to tell you a little more about our work with your gran.’ I nodded and she carried on. ‘This is a very sacred space. I do not use that term lightly. For generations our families have worshipped in this church. We have used our light to counteract the darkness. But these are challenging times. We live in a time of change, of what may look like progress to many, but to us – the light workers – it is a time to spread more love to other people and the planet. ‘

  ‘What do you mean, Grizelle? What exactly did you do with my granny?’ I was confused and a bit abrupt. I knew I didn’t sound very polite but I was frustrated, tired and lonely, and still feeling so bad about Granny’s death. ‘I really don’t know what you mean about lightness and darkness. And what happened at the cottage? How was the March Stone moved? Tell me, please tell me what you know.’

  Grizelle didn’t appear put out at my tone. ‘For the moment, I can appreciate that you are finding this all very confusing, and I know that you are frustrated, but it will all become clearer soon. This is the way it has to be. You have to find your own way to understand this. Your gran will have left you some information which will help. We are helpers, your family are the Guardians. We do not know what you know…’

  ‘Grizelle, I know nothing. Nothing. Granny hasn’t left me anything… or at least, not with the solicitor. There might be something in the cottage but I haven’t had time to look. You’re really scaring me now…’ I could feel the sobs and tears coming through, and knew they probably couldn’t understand me. I hated crying in front of people like this. I cleared my throat and decided I’d had enough.

  ‘If you can’t or won’t tell me what this is all about, then don’t. I am leaving after the weekend and I really don’t care. I’ve stumbled into something toxic, and I have had more than enough strange things happen to me for a lifetime. I’m leaving.’

  Angel leaned over and held me close. Something about the human touch was so comforting and I struggled not to cry again.

  ‘I have made up my mind… I’m going home… I’ll sort out the cottage and clear Gran’s things… This is all too much.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Angel. ‘Leave it all for now. It’s a hard time, but Grizelle isn’t trying to be difficult with you. You need to take care of yourself. We know you have your personal grief, but your gran was part of a much bigger plan, and we know dark days are coming. She wanted to help more and that’s why she decided it was time to go. We know you think this is all crazy and we probably seem insane to you, but can we ask you for just one thing? Please?’ Angel’s bright blue eyes pleaded with me.

  ‘Go within, Kirsty. Do what your heart says to do. Don’t run away from fear of not knowing or understanding something. Where will that get you in your life? The last few days have been hard because there are things happening in the town. Things that are powerful and not for the greater good. I know that you will do what is right in the end. We have faith in you.’

  It was like they were speaking in another language. I felt anger bubble up and was about to shout back, but something about what she said or the way she said it changed me. Something told me to tell them about the experience outside the pub, at the B&B, in the graveyard. I felt it was okay to confide in them. In spite, or perhaps because of what had happened with them, I knew from somewhere inside me that they would understand. That they would not think me mad.

  When I’d finished, Angel and Grizelle shared another one of their looks. I knew that they believed me, but that there was something worrying them.

  ‘What are you thinking? What’s going to happen? What happened at the cottage and with the stone? Please tell me what you know.’

  Angel answered for them both. ‘We don’t know for sure, but I can only tell you what we do know. You might have realised by now that we worked with your gran and that we all have “gifts” of intuition, or second sight, call it what you like. We’ve always had a strong sense of knowing about life – for ourselves, other people, and the town, and I suppose the world. But for the first time none of us could see the future. None of us. This has never happened before. We have instinctively worked in threes, probably for generations… three women together, especially from different age groups, is a powerful combination. We all knew that we were here in this town to maintain some sort of “reite”. There is no word for it in English – it’s like keeping an arrangement, keeping everything level.’

  She had asked me to go within and I instinctively knew that what she was saying was the truth. As I shivered and looked around the dark, shadowed church, something told me that my poor mum had heard the same thing, and it had sent her running into the stormy night.

  For the first time in years I felt Mum with me. I could feel her draw close to me, I felt her tears and pain of the past, and I felt her faith in me. I didn’t know why but I sensed I was doing this for her. As I felt peace in my heart, I could feel my gran coming close, and something more. In the dark of the church, it was as if the place was sending peace and power up through my feet and into my body.

  ‘We feel that something darker, unpleasant, unholy is coming close. We think that’s what moved the March Stone at the house. Those stones were put in place a long time ago. There might be more information in the library or the museum. Without your gran here, darkness is visiting the town.’

  ‘Unholy? Do you really think so? It seems a bit extreme?’ I’d had such strange experiences over the last few days that this was almost starting to feel normal. ‘Angel, why did you throw salt around the cottage?’

  ‘It’s an old way of protecting a house from evil and the darkness. I… knew the stone was in danger and we had to get it back into position before anything else happened.’

  ‘What about the star in the circle that you drew? What did that do?’

  ‘Again it’s about protection, and it was good that the three of us were together in the kitchen… Three women of different generations… a very powerful combination of protective energies. The Divine Feminine.’

  They both exchanged an all-knowing look and I was on the outside looking in; it was the way I’d felt all my life, really. I didn’t understand any of this but I didn’t want to ask much either. I wasn’t sure why, but I had the feeling I wasn’t going to get much more out of them.

  Unsurprisingly, Angel and Grizelle seemed to sense the change in me, and both stood up as an ending to the conversation. Without words, we left and locked the church. Grizelle hugged us both then drove off into the fog which had surrounded the building, dampening down the light. Angel and I left her car at the church, and slipped through the gate around the path into the courtyard, and went upstairs to her flat.

 
; Within a few minutes she had worked her magic and heat and light filled the nooks and crannies of her home. I had a quick shower, and by the time I returned to the main lounge she’d put hot soup, sandwiches, cakes and tea on the low coffee table. I was suddenly ravenous and devoured everything, then said goodnight and went to bed.

  Angel suggested I take the dragon’s head crystal to bed with me, and although it was heavy and an odd shape, it felt good to have it close to me on the pillow.

  It was so dark and foggy outside that I had no idea what time it was, but I was exhausted. In answer to my unspoken question, the church clock struck ten times. I snuggled further under the duvet, my mind and thoughts filled with images of my mother. I felt such compassion for her as I knew how easily I could have descended into a breakdown. And some part of me realised that she had been with me – her and Gran – over the last few days. That thought felt good, and I slipped into sleep.

  Sometime during the night, I heard the church bells. I was dreaming that I was a nun or monk years ago. I sensed my bare feet and long gown, holding it up as I hurried to prayer in the church. I was cold and shivering, and realised that I’d actually risen from bed and was kneeling on the floor. It had been ages since I’d walked about in my sleep.

  I was disorientated, and for those first few minutes I didn’t know where I was, where the bed was, or I suppose who or what I was. I slept again, waking with dreams of dragons and crystals and caves a couple of times during the night, but always returning to sleep.

  13

  The sound of church bells woke me early, and I made myself a mug of tea and jumped back into my warm bed. I heard Angel pottering around the kitchen before she left about eight o’clock, and then I dozed again for an hour or so. When I woke, I realised that I had some options – as well as some work to do.

  Did I really want to go back to London? I now had a house and some money coming to me. Could I stay here in the town and make a new life for myself? It would be good to get out of the rat race. To do something completely different. My work was interesting but it felt pointless, an endless shuffling of paper.

  And did I really want Derek? That relationship was like so much of my life, a habit I’d fallen into. When was the last time I had done anything exciting? Our annual two week holiday in France was hardly challenging, was it? Despite all the fears and worries and, of course, the pain of the recent weeks, I had to be honest and admit that there was something in me that had felt awakened by all my experiences. I wasn’t sure if that was all good or all bad, but at least it was different. And there was a little feeling inside that told me that everything would turn out well.

  I wanted to get back to Gran’s house to check if there was anything left for me. Something personal; something that would explain more about my family and what my ancestors had done. Perhaps something that would tell me how or why the March Stone had been moved, and what was under it. Angel and Grizelle seemed to be worried, so there must be something wrong, and they had both talked about Gran choosing to die. There had to be more to it, but I had no idea what that would be.

  To be honest, part of me was scared about going to Gran’s house on my own, but I didn’t want to ask Angel to take time off again and I knew I had to face it sometime. Was there really anything to be scared of? Rationally,I knew my gran would never have hurt me, nor would my mother, so why would they want to harm me in death? They couldn’t and wouldn’t; I knew that deep inside.

  But as I left the house and ran into Angel’s Cakes, I still felt uneasy and anxious. Angel was busy with customers so I gestured to her that I was heading back to Gran’s and she gave me a thumbs up, which I took to mean she knew what I was doing and approved.

  I cut through Dead Man’s Lane at the side of the cemetery, past the new school, and found myself back at Granny’s door. I wanted to avoid the March Stone, but I needed to know more about what had happened yesterday.

  The stone sat solidly in the frozen earth, the markings on it the same as I remembered from childhood play. Patterns of spirals and elaborate swirls all over and along the top, little holes as if cups had been cut out of the stone. All exactly the same.

  The local archaeology club had taken rubbings from all the Stones years before, and said they’d been made by Stone Age man, but I thought that unlikely. I mean, how could a caveman have cut such beautiful intricate patterns into solid stone? What tools would they have used to do that? And why would they have put thirteen almost identical stones all around the town?

  I knew that garden so well, and I knew no-one would have been able to dig around the stone without machinery. It was a Scottish winter. Who could turn over soil in those conditions? As strange as it seemed, I wondered if the stone could have been pushed from underneath. Was that even possible? How could that happen, and who could have done it? Or should that be what could have done it?

  I gave myself a shake. All the spooky chat from Angel and Grizelle was starting to sound reasonable to me. I decided that there would be a rational explanation, perhaps the quarry expansion had done something to the ground. A mini earthquake? Yes, that sounded more likely. With that thought, I headed over to the house.

  It felt quieter and softer than the previous night. It was as if the house welcomed me in. I decided to start in the lounge and worked my way back to the kitchen, leaving searching Gran’s bedroom until last. But if she was going to leave me something, would it more likely to be in my bedroom or hers? I just wished I could talk to her, and with that thought, fresh tears flowed. The house was so strangely quiet and I realised that I had rarely been in it on my own.

  I took the opportunity to clear out some old magazines and newspapers, and soon filled the recycling bin. I found beeswax polish and a duster under the sink and cleaned the furniture, then I brushed the rug and carpet, but I left the circle and star of salt on the floor and on the window sills and doorways. In a strange way I understood that it was for protection, from what I didn’t dare contemplate. I didn’t want the noise of the vacuum cleaner to intrude, and I found cleaning and clearing strangely therapeutic.

  Once or twice I thought I heard Gran call for me, and although I was crying it was comforting as if she really was just in the next room.

  However, I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary; I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking for. Perhaps a letter addressed to me? Or was that too simple and obvious? My mind reran the last few days. What had she left me? What did she pass on to me?

  I climbed the stairs and opened the door to what had been my mother’s bedroom. It was empty apart from a wooden bed frame without a mattress, and an empty wardrobe.

  I crossed the landing and opened the door to my childhood; such a long time since I’d slept there. The walls had been cleared of my old posters and redecorated, but the memory of them hung around. Faded soft toys were displayed on the window sill, a dried-up starfish sat in a plastic container from a long forgotten visit to a seaside, alongside my collection of old stones and bits of glass I’d thought were gem stones. With a sad heart I sat on the unmade bed and cried again for all that I had lost. For the child I had been and the woman I had become. I was lost.

  There was nothing of my gran in this room. I knew I had looked everywhere I could think of. The only place left was her bedroom, and with a shock I realised that I hadn’t been inside it in years.

  I took a deep breath and tried to stay strong. I thought back to the previous night and that feeling I’d had in the church when Angel and Grizelle sat around me with their hands up sending some sort of good feeling to me. Perhaps it was also just taking a deep breath, but somehow I found the courage to open the door.

  As it swung open, I imagined that I might see Granny standing by her window or by her bed, but she wasn’t there. Instead, I saw a neat and tidy room. Floral wallpaper and pale green carpet, with matching velvet curtains and sparkling white nets, diffusing the light. It was as if she’d stepped o
ut for a moment. And I sat down on the bed trying not to cry again. This was all so painful. I really didn’t want to stay long in this room. I knew I’d be leaving it a while before I’d come back in.

  I looked in the drawers in the cabinets beside her bed, but there wasn’t much in them. A couple of books, a sapphire brooch she often wore, her reading glasses. I had a quick look at her book shelves and even under her pillows, but nothing looked unusual and I had a feeling that I wouldn’t find a letter there.

  I opened the wardrobe door, and there on the top shelf were the rest of my childhood toys. My angels, my little unicorn ornaments, my collection of cherub snow globes. All sitting waiting for me to discover them again. I couldn’t close the door on them, and instead took them through to the sitting room and sat down on the couch with them in my arms. I leaned back and closed my eyes, feeling the memories flooding in and my gran and mum coming closer. Like a light in the darkness of my thoughts. I had no tears left to cry, but like the experience at the graveyard, I felt them both. As though they were beside me. I sensed them and I sobbed, ‘Gran, I’m so sorry.’

  I felt like a huge light explode in my eyes and in my heart. I heard or felt her say she was proud of me, to dry my tears, that I was her special girl. If it was my imagination, I didn’t care. It was what I most wanted and needed to hear.

  The sound of the church bells striking three interrupted my daydreams. I hadn’t realised I had been in the house so long. It was time to leave and head back to town to see Angel and grab a late lunch. There was nothing here to help me; at least, nothing obvious.

  I talked to Gran in my head all the way back to town. ‘Please help me. Please help me, and make it obvious.’