“To hell with ye both,” Torin retorted as Seonaidh disappeared into the blowing rain.
Chapter Sixteen
A different scent tinged the air. One he’d not enjoyed in centuries. Arach raised his snout a bit higher into the wind and sucked in a great lungful of the delightful aroma flavoring the brine-scented breeze. Stone guardians. His mouth watered as the delicious fragrance of their elemental magic wafted across his senses. He hadn’t dined on the bones of a juicy stone guardian in well over nine hundred years.
Excellent! The old woman hadn’t been foolish enough to attempt a weak bluff. She’d truly brought Chieftain Torin into this century for his own hunting pleasure. Well. Perhaps not for that specific reason but the fact remained that the chieftain was here. Arach chuckled as he swiped his tongue out, wet his bulging lips, and sniffed the air again. Yes. He’d know that particular stench anywhere. A shiver of excitement rippled down the shimmering scales folded against the ridge of his spine. And what was that? Yes. From the scent of it, a younger guardian accompanied Torin. A satisfied purr escaped Arach’s throat. He could hardly wait. New magic held its own special sweetness.
Stretching his winding body out of the cave, Arach scrabbled across bits of bones and loose rocks to his favorite sunning spot on the tip of the ledge. Crossing his scaly forearms on the sun-warmed rocks protruding over the water, he settled his girth comfortably on the jutting shelf. He lifted his twitching nose again and sucked in another tantalizing taste of the rising wind. Yes. He was certain of it now. His belly rumbled in excited anticipation. Stone guardian flesh tasted especially sweet when slow roasted just enough to bring their blood to almost boiling. His mouth over-flowed with bubbling saliva, globs of steaming spittle rolled down his chin. The rare magic seasoning a guardian’s veins was intoxicating as wine.
He licked his lips, reveling in the rare fragrance. Rubbing his claws together in anticipation, another excited shiver rippled through Arach’s scales. He’d have to remember to thank the old witch. Such generosity. Gifting him with not one delicious morsel—but two. Arach combed his claws through the writhing tentacles sprouting down his chin. Who could the young one be and where had that particular guardian hidden all this time? He distinctly remembered feasting on the last of Torin’s clan well over an eon ago.
Arach extended a talon and wound a slippery tentacle around the base of the scaly appendage until the writhing mess formed a neatly stacked coil at the base of his jaw. Stone guardians. Finally. A rare prey worthy of stalking. And from the heightened scent of Torin’s aura on the wind, the chieftain’s body pulsed with adrenaline and something else? Arach released the coiled tentacle to wriggle down the front of his chest and stretched to turn his face full into the wind. What was it? Desire for a mate, perhaps?
Arach closed his eyes and angled back his great, scaled head to better catch the fleeting warmth of the sun. He flipped his multi-spined tail with a lazy rhythm back and forth across the ledge, smacking his lips as the memory of the last guardian he’d eaten blossomed across his tongue. Chieftain Torin. What delightful torments could he come up with for the reunion with his special friend?
Arach searched his memories, recalling the excitement of the hunt when he’d first broken through the portal and ravaged through the magical clans. Another throaty purr rumbled up through his gullet at the memories stirred. Ah yes. A wondrous time of blood-letting and destruction. He returned his claws to his tentacled beard, stroking the undulating strands. Arach barely opened his eyes. The swirling colors of the murky green waves through his slightly parted eye-slits reminded him a great deal of his victims’ eyes when they opened wide with fear.
Arach frowned as he sorted through the memories. Torin had been absent those many years ago. No chieftain had been among the people. There had been none to guide the clan. He remembered it clearly now. The people had panicked, become lost and scattered because they had no one to focus their power or direct their magic.
Rolling over, Arach exposed his belly scales to the setting sun and stretched his forearms above his head. Where could Torin have been? What could’ve possibly tempted the man away from the adoration of his people? Arach’s ancestors had warned him to watch for the stone guardian chieftain. They’d spoken of the man’s fearlessness and his ability to wield a sword. Arach frowned as he scraped a broken horn against the stony side of the cliff. He’d discovered firsthand in the briefest of encounters with the chieftain that his ancestors hadn’t lied. Torin’s swordplay had cost him centuries of ravaging worlds while waiting for a damaged wing to heal. Arach smiled as another chuckle tickled up from his gullet. He’d repaid the chieftain in kind and then some. Sight would never return to the man’s right eye.
But when Arach had pushed his way through the gateway, the infamous man was nowhere among his clan. Arach hadn’t troubled himself about it at the time. He smiled as he remembered the ease of decimating the clan. But now the chieftain had somehow surfaced. Arach sucked in a deep, satisfied breath. Finally. He was ready for a little excitement.
Arach nestled his horns more comfortably on his folded arms and exhaled a relaxing sigh. A confrontation with Torin would be more than welcome. He no longer feared the threat of such a man since evolving from a lower level beast into a high-level demon. Arach stretched again and ran a claw beneath the scales along his belly, scratching the tender flesh beneath. Much had happened over the centuries. Maturity had honed his powers. The thicker scales at the base of his wings chinked with a series of metallic thuds as his body shook with deep satisfied laughter. He had no reason to fear the chieftain now.
Arach closed his eyes and anchored the tip of his tail around a boulder jutting out of the edge of the cliff. There. Perfect. Now if he relaxed a bit too much while he slept, he wouldn’t slide off into the water. He loathed the sting of salt water beneath his slime-encrusted scales. With a jaw-cracking yawn, he settled more contentedly among the rocks. With the prospect of an exciting hunt on the horizon, perhaps he’d dream of the thrilling past and relive the wondrous terror that had flowed red across the land with the blood wine of his victims. When he finished his afternoon nap, maybe he’d search out the stone guardian chieftain. After all, ’twas only good manners that he seek out his old friend and give Torin a proper hello.
Chapter Seventeen
“We were beginning to get a bit worried about ye.” Moira looked up from behind the registration desk as Emma blew through the double doors of the clinic.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Between that crappy car I rented and this driving rain, I think I could’ve walked here faster.” Emma propped the remains of her shredded umbrella in the corner and shook at least a gallon of water from her fully saturated coat. Water. Geez! She hated the stuff. It caused her nothing but trouble.
Moira scurried to peel Emma’s dripping coat from her shoulders, clucking her tongue with a motherly sound as she looked down at Emma’s shoes. “Yer soaked to the skin. Ye’ll catch your death. Do ye no’ have anything proper to wear when the weather gets a bit damp?”
“A bit damp?” Emma shivered, scrubbing her palms up and down her wet arms. Maybe if she rubbed hard enough she’d increase the blood flow and generate a bit of warmth. “I’d call this monsoon a little more than a bit damp.”
“Perhaps ye’d best return to the sunshine of your homeland if ye find our bit of rain too harsh for your sensibilities.” Dr. Mackenzie emerged from exam room one, his head bent to the clipboard held between his hands.
Emma smiled her best predatory smile. Apparently, the good doctor enjoyed the risk of being either very brash or very stupid first thing in the morning. In the black mood she was in, she’d take no prisoners. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily, Dr. Mackenzie. I signed up to get this clinic well under way and I’m going to stay here until it’s done.”
“Then I suggest ye plan on dining with me tonight.” Alex glanced up, his dark eyes unreadable as his pen tapped out a rapid-fire rhythm against the edge of the clipboard.
Emma ignored Moira’s weak cough from beside her as the older woman pressed a warmed towel into her hands. “Why would you think I’d want to dine with you tonight? Or any other night for that matter?”
“I didna ask if ye wished to dine with me. I stated we must do it.” Sliding the clipboard onto the counter, Alex’s unblinking blue gaze bored through her as he returned Emma’s scowl. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, you and me. If we’re to properly help these children, we must learn to get along. The way I see it, the only way we can do this is if we saturate ourselves with each other’s company.”
“You started this whole unable-to-get-along thing.” Emma clamped her mouth shut as soon as the words left her lips. How could she blurt out such a childish retort? Easily. Here she stood soaked to the skin with a sickening throb pounding inside her skull from a lack-of-sleep headache. She wasn’t in the mood to be mature or generous. He’d launched his attack on their first meeting. Why should she trust him now?
“Aye,” Alex replied with a nod. “And apparently, I’m going to have to be the adult to see it finished.”
“Whatever.” Emma whirled, coming up short at Moira’s stricken expression peeping over the pile of towels in her arms. Dammit. The woman looked like somebody just shot her dog. Closing her eyes, Emma pinched the bridge of her nose and remembered she’d promised Moira she’d try to be nice. “Fine.” An exasperated growl escaped her lips as she snatched a lab coat off the hook and shoved her arms through the crisp white sleeves. “Just give me the directions to the restaurant and I’ll meet you there this evening.”
His flexing biceps stretched the material of his white coat as his arms crossed around his clipboard. Alex raised his chin and tightened his mouth into a thin-lipped frown. “No. I dinna know where American men get their manners, but I’ll be ’round to your cottage to fetch ye at eight o’clock. Sharp. Ye will be ready. Aye?”
“Fine. Whatever.” Emma waved his words away as she yanked a handful of case files from her bag. If Alex Mackenzie wanted to play the we-need-to-be-friends game then she’d slog her way through the evening. At least she’d get a meal out of the torture and not have to nuke leftover stew in the microwave. A fleeting moment of panic fluttered through her as thoughts of Torin crossed her mind. She forced in a relaxing breath. No. He’d left this morning and with the way she’d booted him out, surely he wouldn’t be back.
“It’s done then. I’ll be prompt. Ye’ll find I’m never late.” Alex dropped the clipboard into the chart rack with a thud and headed down the hall, his victorious whistle echoing in his wake.
Moira clapped both hands with frenzied excitement, her silvery bracelets echoing her joy. “Oh well done, Dr. Emma. Ye have a date with Dr. Mac. Many a woman on this Isle would trade their favorite purse to be standing in your shoes.”
“Tell them to come on.” Emma rounded the counter with a handful of files, scattering their printed sheets across the floor as Torin pushed through the door.
“Oh my.” Moira’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Can I help ye, sir?”
Slicking his long wet hair away from his face, Torin nodded in Emma’s direction as he wound his water-soaked plaid loosely about his waist. “No. I am here to see the lass.”
Heart pounding, Emma clenched the empty folders against her chest. Had Torin finally listened to her advice and decided to seek out some help? Bare-chested, damp kilt slung low around his hips, Torin electrified the room, filled it with a primitive energy. Emma swallowed hard, trying to ignore the rush of heat steaming away any sign of dampness from her rain soaked skin.
What in the blazes was her problem? Other men didn’t trigger that molten lava feeling from her waist down. Of course, other men didn’t walk into the clinic flexing their tanned, muscular abs like a peacock spreading his plumage for a mate. Dragging her stare from the tattooed glyphs shimmering across his chest, Emma struggled to find her voice. “Wh-why—what are you doing here?”
Moira sidled closer to Emma’s shoulder, whispering behind a shield of papers as she tucked them into Emma’s hands. “Perhaps he thought ye could help with his scars since ye come from overseas.”
Ignoring Moira, Emma took a step toward Torin and repeated, “Why are you here?” Torin needed to state that he needed help. Only then would she believe he’d finally arrived at the logical decision and might be ready to heal.
Torin’s gray eye narrowed in Moira’s direction, indicating he’d overheard her whisper behind the papers. With a chest-expanding inhale, Torin widened his stance as his gaze riveted back to Emma. “You and I are no’ finished.”
Emma’s hopes disappeared. Great. Torin hadn’t realized he needed help. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Emma hugged the files tighter, clenching the folders until the stiff cardboard edges dug into her palms. “You and I have nothing to finish. We settled everything this morning when I asked you to leave.”
Emma ignored Moira’s sharp intake of breath behind her. She’d explain it to the prying old woman later. Maybe. She wasn’t so sure she understood it herself.
“I am trapped in this reality with you until I’ve fulfilled the Cailleach’s wishes. She willna be ignored.” Torin’s gaze meandered about the room, his scowl deepening as he took in his surroundings. “Our paths are fated to merge as one. Until we’ve fulfilled our destinies, we canna part.”
“What is he talking about? Where did he come from?” Moira spoke behind her hand, nudging Emma with a plump elbow while never taking her gaze from Torin.
“It’s a long story.” Emma groaned. Nauseating panic coiled like a snake in the pit of her stomach as a woman and three small children chose that moment to wander in through the double doors. “Torin, you can’t be here. This is a medical clinic and I’m here to take care of these children. Please—just leave. Now.”
The smallest of the children broke free of his mother’s grasp and ran to stand just inches from the tips of Torin’s water-soaked boots. With the wide-eyed gaze of one meeting a larger-than-life hero, the child wiped his runny nose on the blue woolen sleeve of his rain-spotted jacket. His little mouth formed into an awe-inspired O as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other with an excited hop. He edged a step closer, cleared his throat then finally spoke in a high-pitched whisper. “Are ye truly a guardian of the stones? Have ye returned to save our land?”
“I’m terribly sorry.” Emma shot an apologetic glance to the woman still standing just inside the door. What must the mother be thinking? She’d brought these children to the brand-new clinic only to find a half-dressed man looking as though he’d just battled through the eye of the storm.
Torin held up a hand and fixed Emma with a warning glare. “Ye dare apologize for my presence? At least the young lad knows his history.” His fierce scowl softening, Torin nodded down at the boy. “Yes, child. Yer a wise lad. I am the chieftain of all stone guardians and I have returned.”
“Mama, look! ’Tis a guardian just like the one Da told me about. I told ye they were real. See? Now can I be a stone guardian when I grow up? Peleeeaze?”
“Come away from the man, Fergus. Mind your manners as ye’ve been taught.” The woman hurried forward after pointing a warning finger that rooted the rest of her brood to a spot over beside the toys. “Please forgive him, sir.” The young mother nabbed the child by the collar and pulled him close to her side. “His father and grandfather fill the boy’s head with stories of the forgotten times. He’s fascinated by tales of the stones, thinks he’s bound to be a guardian.”
Torin reached out and ruffled the boy’s curly brown hair. “He’s a brave lad and I’m honored to have his friendship.”
Emma’s heart lurched beneath the folders clenched against her chest. The loneliness flashing in Torin’s face eroded her misgivings about the strange man. Why did he have to be so kind? So patient with the inquisitive child? She clenched her teeth and reminded herself of the eeriness surrounding him. The sooner Torin disappeared from her life, the bette
r off she’d be.
The young mother’s tensed expression smoothed into a relieved smile. “Thank ye for finding the perfect way to make my son feel welcome and not fear the doctors anymore.”
“What do you mean?” For the first time since the family had arrived, Emma noticed the child’s color wasn’t quite right. His blue-veined skin stretched too tight across his cheeks and shimmered with a pale unhealthy cast. Purple-gray shadows hollowed the skin beneath his overly bright eyes. His little chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths.
“Stone guardians are brave warriors,” Torin interrupted. “The lad fears nothing now.” Reaching into the bedraggled sporran dripping at his waist, Torin retrieved a smooth, blackened disk and held it out to the child. He tapped on the center of the glyph-carved stone until it took on an eerie glow. “Take this stone, lad. ’Twill protect ye from evil. Every stone guardian wears an amulet such as this one right above his heart.”
Emma swallowed hard. Her heart rate ratcheted to an alarming thump as her hand flew to the lucky necklace tucked just inside her blouse. She didn’t have to look to know that the stone Torin offered the boy was identical to hers.
The boy closed his tiny hand around the amulet. His dark eyes rounded with wonder. “Awesome,” he whispered as he stared down into his hand.
“What do ye say?” his mother scolded, nudging the enraptured child’s shoulder.
“Thank ye, m’chieftain,” the boy recited while never lifting his gaze from the prize cradled in his hands.
“Dinna thank me.” Torin rested his hand atop the boy’s shoulder and bent to level a stern gaze straight into the boy’s face. “The amulet cried out for ye as soon as ye entered. Heed your destiny, lad. Never deny that the magic truly exists. Grow strong and take your place among the guardians of the stones.”
Stone Guardian Page 10