Holy shit. So that’s what magic felt like.
Chapter Forty-Two
“The arm is fractured in two spots. See the obvious clean break through the radius near the joint?” Emma ran the tip of her ink pen along the white line shining through the shadowed outline of the bone. “And then the hairline fracture here. Just a bit lower in the ulna.” Emma tapped along a fainter line on the gray x-ray film snapped to the glowing front of the viewing box.
“I’ve told her a thousand times to stay off that rotted out dock. I’m just thankful she didna drown.” The worried mother paced in circles around the exam table where her gum-popping daughter sat thumping her heels against the sheet metal wall of the table’s pedestal.
“Ma! We were playin’ pirates. I couldna let the boys think I was a ’fraidy cat. I’m the leader. The leader has to be brave or else ye have to walk the plank.” The curly-mopped eleven-year-old cradled her injured arm against her chest along with a towel-covered packet of blue ice.
“Dr. Maxwell, there’s a man here to see ye.” Moira stuck her head inside the door, rolling her eyes as she spoke.
“Did you tell him I was with a patient?” Emma pressed a guiding hand to the fretting mother’s shoulder and led her to the chair beside the examination table.
“I did.” Moira bit out the words with an insulted huff as though Emma had just maligned her character by questioning her abilities. Her lips flattened into an irritated line as she jerked her head toward the outer hall. “He wouldna be satisfied until I told ye he needed to speak with ye right away.”
It had to be Torin. Who else would be brave enough to risk Moira’s wrath? Emma adjusted the ice pack around the child’s arm and patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Decide if you want hot pink or electric blue for your cast and we’ll get your arm wrapped up when I return.”
“I don’t want pink.” The little girl wrinkled her nose as though she smelled a stink.
“Oh, Matilda,” her mother groaned. “Just once, can ye no’ act like a little girl? Just once for your dear old mum?”
Biting her lower lip to keep from chuckling, Emma winked at Matilda as she closed the door. Heading down the hallway, she decided it would truly be wonderful if she could guess the lottery numbers with as much accuracy as she had when it came to anything regarding Torin. Torin waited just inside the entryway and from the scowl darkening his face, something was terribly wrong.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Cu Sith. He’s saved a wee bairn from the kelpies but it doesna look good.” Torin waved her forward, urging her down the hall. “We must make haste. It may already be too late.”
Emma didn’t know who or what a Cu Sith was but she’d read of the mythological kelpies and their delight in leading mortals to a watery death. Adrenaline surged through every cell of her body. A wee bairn. A baby? Emma shouted to Moira as they rushed out the door. “I’ll be right back. Get the triage room ready.” Rushing down the steps beside Torin, she scanned the empty parking lot. “Where is he? Why didn’t you bring the child to the clinic? Everything I might need to help the baby is right here.”
Torin shook his head as he took her arm and pulled her toward the rocky coastline. “Cu Sith refused to let me take the child. He says it belongs to the Fae and must be kept as pure as possible. The bairn must be shielded from the taint of the mortal’s world.”
Stumbling over the rocky ground, Emma yanked her arm out of Torin’s frantic grip and came to an abrupt halt. “What do you mean it belongs to the Fae? Are you telling me this child isn’t human?”
Torin’s eyes flashed as they creased into impatient slits. “Are ye tellin’ me ye will abandon the child if it isna mortal? Are ye sayin’ the life of an innocent babe, no matter what its race, means nothing to ye?”
“No. Of course not.” How could Torin say such a thing? “I’d never abandon any child—no matter what race…er…species. Whatever it is!” Anger fanned the flames of adrenaline already pumping through her as a surge of heat burned across her cheeks. Why did Torin have such a strange look on his face? Like he was struggling against some sort of unpleasant memory?
“Then come.” He held out his hand, his body held stiff as though he were about to explode. Pain darkened his troubled eyes. A vein pulsed above his locked jaw as he flinched against the wind in his face.
Emma drew in a shaking breath. She meant what she said. It didn’t matter what the baby was—the child still needed help. Picking their way down the rough, steep slope, Emma scanned the jagged, windswept shoreline. “I don’t see anything. Are you sure he’s still here?”
“He’s right there.” The muscles of Torin’s squared jaw rippled as he stared straight ahead.
Emma followed the direction of his gaze. The rock-lined grotto appeared empty. The strand of beach hugging the sharp-edged rocks of the cliffs was nothing but a narrow expanse of wet sand broken with what appeared to be over-sized paw prints from a very large dog. The bitter wind whipped her hair across her face and misted her lips with the salt of the sea. “There’s nothing here, Torin. Are you sure we’ve come to the right place?”
“Cu Sith, she canna help what she canna see.” Torin shouted across the gorge, raising his voice over the deafening pound of the surf.
A long-eared hound with a black-and-tan coat shimmered into view. Between his enormous front paws rested a tiny bundle—a very still, tiny bundle.
Emma hurried down the rocks, damning the razor sharp obstacles slowing her descent. Glancing at the motionless blanket at the dog’s feet, she wished she’d brought her bag. Her fingers itched for the tools of her trade.
The bundle still hadn’t moved. An uneasy sense of dread hurtled her adrenaline into high gear. As she stumbled forward, she kept her gaze fixed on the soggy gray blanket. If only she could see the slightest movement stir the sand encrusted folds. Even the merest twitch would be so welcome. Emma yearned for the smallest sign that the child might be alive. Dropping to her knees in front of the still form, Emma peeled the seaweed-covered blanket aside. Her breath caught in her chest. The sight of the pale child, lifeless and limp in the soggy bundle, placed a stranglehold around her throat with a relentless grip of dread.
Pale-golden lashes rested on blue-tinged skin. Soaked yellow curls plastered across the wide forehead and the sides of an endearing, heart-shaped face. Tiny full lips puckered beneath a pert little nose centered between chubby toddler cheeks. Emma’s heart lurched. What a beautiful baby. Probably just a year old. Maybe. Who knew the maturity rate for the child’s kind?
She felt for a pulse, gritting her teeth at the cold, lifeless response lying still beneath her fingertips. Dammit! Ripping away the blanket, she scooped up the limp gray body and turned the child face down across her arm.
“Can ye save her?” The dog growled out the words; his drooping ears perked forward toward the baby.
“I d-don’t know,” Emma stammered while massaging the baby’s back. She didn’t have time to speculate on the odds. She just knew for certain that she sure as hell was gonna try. Plopping down in the wet sand, Emma rested the toddler across her lap. Prying open the child’s pale blue lips and pinching the button nose between two fingers, she expelled a gentle breath into the little girl’s mouth. She massaged her chest, then breathed into her again. Massage. Breathe. Massage. Breathe. She settled into the tireless rhythm as irritated determination knotted in her chest.
The bone-chilling wind slammed against her back as she bent over the baby’s body. The only positive she saw right now in the entire situation was the freezing temperature of the water and this damned cold air. Hypothermia might save the child if she could just get that little heart re-started. Glancing at the wet eyelashes shining on the cold pale cheeks, Emma sent up a silent prayer. Please let what works for human babies work for the young of the Fae.
Torin squatted at her side, staring unblinking at the limp form cradled in Emma’s arms. Nodding toward the baby’s face, he lowered his voice to a ho
arse whisper. “The bairn is the child of one of the royals. I recognize her mark.”
“Her?” Emma raised her head from the baby’s mouth. “You both keep saying her. How do you know it’s a her just from looking at her face?”
Torin shrugged, nodding again toward the symbol on the child’s forehead. “She bears a star. A male would bear a bolt of lightning.”
Emma blew another breath into the cold pouting lips then peered closer at the baby’s forehead. She hadn’t noticed the mark before; a multi-pointed star shimmered silver right between the little girl’s closed eyes. “Her status doesn’t matter.” A grim sense of urgency clawed at her gut. The baby should’ve responded by now. Drawing in another deep breath, Emma smoothed the damp curls away from the child’s face. “Torin—she’s not coming around.”
Torin covered Emma’s hand with his. Power tingled into her body, pure emotion charged from his touch. “Dinna give up on her just yet, Emma. It may take a bit longer to save one of the Fae.”
Renewed hope urged her on. Surely, Torin would know about the Fae. Emma drew in a deep breath and blew in the baby’s mouth again. Massage. Breathe. Massage. Breathe. Did she imagine the child’s body growing a bit warmer? Pressing her head against the little concave chest, Emma closed her eyes, straining to hear the faintest renewal of life. She held her breath, focusing every fiber of her being on detecting the slightest sound. A tiny patter sounded beneath her cheek. Pushing a gentle puff of air into the baby’s lungs one more time, elation fueled her with a jolt of energy as water suddenly sputtered and gurgled from the reviving baby’s mouth. A weak, piercing wail floated through the air as Emma held the baby face down and roughly massaged up and down the child’s narrow back.
Cu Sith pointed his nose to the sky and released a chilling howl across the whipping winds. The baby’s fretful cries ceased as she turned her golden head and reached out her dimpled fingers toward the yowling beast.
“Give me your shirt, Torin,” Emma instructed as she turned the little one over and cradled the tot against her chest.
Torin peeled off his long-sleeved black sweater and held it out to Emma. “Her eyes are clear and the colors in her skin are returning to their proper glow. Ye did it, Emma.”
Emma swaddled the mewling baby into the soft black shirt, peering with interest into the child’s inquisitive, lavender-prismed eyes. “So, she’s supposed to be this shade of iridescent silver?”
“Aye.” Torin’s voice quieted to an adoring whisper as he stroked a hesitant fingertip against the wriggling baby’s cheek. “She’s a royal from the bloodline of the mists. When ye see a rainbow shimmering after a storm, ’tis her clan who has painted the lovely colors against the sky.” Torin’s expression darkened; his thoughtful smile faded to a tight-lipped scowl. “The kelpies and the Fae of the mists have battled for eons. This one’s clan must’ve fallen. One so young would ne’er be left unguarded.”
Another eerie howl echoed across the coastline, the repeated cry drowned out the sound of the foam-filled waves crashing along the strand.
Dragging her gaze away from the fussing baby’s face, Emma frowned at the baying hound. “Why do you keep doing that? I’m not an expert on fairy babies but I think she’s going to be okay.” Emma hitched the tot higher up in her arms and snugged the shirt closer about the little one’s squirming body. From the increasing strength of the toddler’s churning legs, Emma felt sure the fairy child had successfully survived her ordeal.
“Tell her,” Cu Sith growled toward Torin then inhaled a great, chest-expanding breath and resumed his mournful howling.
“He calls her people to come for her and”—Torin cupped Emma’s face in his hand—“he’s singing your praises across the realities.”
Chapter Forty-Three
An insistent wail increased in pitch, jolting Emma from the unconscious depths of her weariness. Torin’s warm touch pressed her back into the pillows. His lips brushed against her cheek as his husky whisper rasped through the half-light of the room. “Stay, Emma. I’ll get the wee lassie this time. Ye need to get some sleep.”
The thud of his feet hitting the hardwood floor as he dragged himself out of the bed convinced Emma to let Torin have a turn. For the past five days, their little house guest had fretted every hour like clockwork through the night until the first chimes of morning rang. As soon as the sun peeped over the horizon, her silvery lashes fell to her cheeks and she slept soundly through most of the day. Emma didn’t know what time zone spanned the land of the Fae but the baby’s days and nights didn’t match theirs.
Emma was too exhausted to go back to sleep. Working at the clinic each day after tending the baby all night was beginning to take its toll. She had a newfound respect for working mothers. How in the world did they function with little or no rest?
A tuneless song sprinkled with the odd Gaelic phrase here and there kept time with the baby’s hiccupping cries. Emma smiled. Poor Torin. He sang even worse than she did. Forcing open her weighted eyelids, Emma rolled to her side and propped herself on one elbow so she could peer across the foot of the bed.
The displeased Fae princess fisted her little hands on Torin’s bare shoulder as he cradled her against his chest. Her golden curls tumbled over Torin’s outspread fingers as he supported her little head. With a bouncing walk keeping time with his humming tune, Torin paced back and forth through the patch of moonlight forcing the darkness from the room. The blue-white light streaming through the window colored his body in an eerie glow. The silver-tinged skin of the wailing Fae child sparkled as though the unhappy little girl had been dusted with ground diamonds.
As Torin’s tuneless song lilted through the night, the baby’s fussing diminished to an occasional grumble every few minutes. But her round dark eyes remained wide open. There wasn’t a hint of sleepiness in her alert, little face.
Emma smiled at Torin’s contented expression. Chin tucked. Eyes partially closed. A half-smile played across his weary face. Her heart pulled at the gentle way he cuddled the child, trying to convince the baby to sleep. Half-closing her eyes, Emma indulged in a rare fantasy. Maybe this is what it would’ve been like if she’d ever met someone and had children of her own. A cozy little house. A thoughtful husband helping with their fussy baby. If only. Jerking her eyes wide open, Emma shoved the tempting dream from her mind. It was too late. That life wasn’t meant for her. She might as well not even think about it.
Torin’s pacing stopped and his eyes flew open. Even in the darkness, Emma could see the pain shining from their depths.
“Emma. It is not too late. Dinna condemn yourself to a life of solitude. That is nay your path.”
His whispered words chilled her to the bone. She’d scolded him before about reading her mind. He knew better. What else did the scarred warrior know about the insecurities spinning about in her head? “I’ve asked you not to do that.” Emma scooted to the end of the bed, folding her legs as she pulled herself upright and propped an elbow on each knee. Leaning against her clasped hands, Emma stifled a jaw-cracking yawn. “Stop reading my mind. Period.”
Torin swayed another lap through the moonlight, smiling down at the now-cooing child squirming in his arms. “I didna read your mind, my heart. Your emotions echoed through the darkness much louder than thoughts or words.” Settling on the end of the bed beside her, Torin shifted the Fae princess to a sitting position in the crook of his arm. “We could have this happiness, Emma. This simple joy could someday be ours.”
Uncertainty panged through Emma’s being steadier than her heartbeat. No matter how much she longed to believe those words, she just couldn’t see how it could ever be. She’d waited too long and now her life had spun out of control in some sort of hocus-pocus mess. How could she ever know something as simple as hearth, home and a family? “No, Torin. I may be a lot of things, but the main thing I am is realistic.” Holding out both hands toward the wide-eyed baby, Emma blinked the threat of tears from her eyes. “Give her to me and get some rest. I’m wide-
awake with all this confusion in my head and I want to enjoy her as much as I can. I’m sure Cu Sith will find her family soon and we’ll have to give her back.”
Torin’s lips tightened into a disapproving line. His face darkened as he stared down at the child. “Why won’t ye listen to me, Emma? Why won’t ye trust in what I say?”
Hugging the squirming baby to her chest, Emma inhaled the intoxicating scent of the tot. Lavender mixed with the baby’s milky breath awakened an ancient longing from the depths of her womb. Emma swallowed hard, struggling against the magic of the baby’s fragrance and the instincts the warm bundle triggered. Rubbing her cheek against the child’s silky hair, Emma breathed in another delicious breath. She didn’t know if it was the moonlight, the weariness, or Torin’s close proximity but she couldn’t remember ever wanting a child of her own as badly as she wanted one now.
She longed to trust Torin’s words. But how could she? She wasn’t blind. Torin detested every minute he spent trapped in this world. He’d be gone as soon as possible and she couldn’t convince herself to go with him. How could she ever leave everything she’d ever known? Drawing in another shaking breath, Emma cradled the baby closer as she rose from the end of the bed. “Go to sleep, Torin. There’s no sense in discussing this now.”
“We could have this, Emma.” His whisper echoed through the darkness, his brogue tinged with insistence.
Emma shook her head as she strolled to the window, turning so the baby could reach toward the glowing moon smiling down from the blue-black sky. “No, Torin. You’re leaving as soon as we finish whatever it is that we’re supposed to do. Now, go to sleep. I’m too tired to argue about this now.”
Torin blew out a frustrated breath; his eyes snapped in the darkness. Jumping up from the bed, he stomped to the bedroom door, pausing after he yanked it open. “I canna sleep when ye willna see reason. I’ll be outside searching for guidance among the stars.”
Stone Guardian Page 20