Set In Stone

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Set In Stone Page 13

by Balmanno, Beth


  He glanced at the clock. “You guys have lunch? It’s almost two o’clock.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “We’re going to the club for dinner tonight.” Mom spoke this time. “With Leigh and Danny, actually. It would be nice if you and Geoff would join us.”

  I could not remember the last time I’d been to Belle Haven for dinner. The club was beautiful and the food was good but I always felt out of place, as if I was dressing up and pretending to be someone else. I started to decline when I had a change of heart. The thought of staying home alone wasn’t very appealing.

  “OK,” I agreed. “Tell me when we’re leaving.” I headed up the stairs.

  I turned on my computer. Away from Fanchon and Hope, I could think. Could they truly see auras and charge rocks with intended energies. Could the charm in my pocket be a magic amulet that would protect me from Leo’s hypnotic assaults?

  I grabbed a pencil and jotted down things I wanted to look up: auras, amulets, rock energy, witches. I paused for a minute before adding one last thing to the list: Celtic gods.

  There were pages and pages of information on auras and chakras, on amulets and charging stones with energy. I looked up witchcraft, too and was amazed at the number of web sites that popped up. There were Wiccan websites and pages dedicated to the practice of solitary witchcraft. Several pages offered free spells and instructions for performing rock magic and candle magic. I felt like I’d entered a parallel universe. I’d had no idea this type of information was out there, available, free for the taking. I couldn’t believe I could learn witchcraft from a web site, learn how to cast an effective spell or charge a rock just by reading the instructions provided. I was convinced I would need something else, some inherent gift or talent to practice magic or Creative Power or whatever it was Hope called it. But, according to what I’d just read, this wasn’t the case.

  I heard footsteps coming down the hall and I quickly closed the window I was looking at. I wasn’t prepared to answer questions, not when I still had so many of my own.

  It was my mom. “Val, we need to leave in twenty minutes. You’re coming, right?”

  Looking up Celtic gods would have to wait until tomorrow. I turned off my computer and searched in my closet for something suitable to wear.

  Geoff and his family were waiting for us at the club. They were all dressed for dinner, Mr. D. in gray slacks and a white button-down shirt, Mrs. D. in a simple black dress. Even Geoff had cleaned himself up, putting on a navy-blue polo shirt and substituting khakis for the jeans he usually wore.

  “Valerie, you look lovely,” Mrs. D. said as she gave me a hug. “What a great outfit.”

  I don’t know what had compelled me to dress up, to pull out the outfit my mother had given me earlier in the week and put it on. I thanked her with a small smile and sat down next to Geoff.

  He avoided talking about the events of our morning spent together.

  “Did I ever tell you about the last time I went bowling?”

  We’d just finished a conversation about sports. I’d mentioned I liked to run. “Fanchon dropped the bowling ball on my toe. Broke it.”

  “Really?” I asked, horrified. “That must have hurt.”

  He nodded and laughed. “After that incident, I just decided to avoid sports—all of them—altogether. If I injure myself bowling, who knows what might happen if I actually attempt a real sport? I’ll stick with music.”

  I laughed with him. We talked some more, not about witches and gods or magic and stones, but about music and movies, normal things I’d talk about with a friend.

  A friend. Was Geoff my friend? He was becoming one, I realized. I wondered why we hadn’t made this leap sooner. He was good at distracting me, at getting my mind off of the events of the last twenty-four hours. He was still a little geeky and he still had gigantic ears but he was funny and nice and interesting…and he wanted to be friends with me.

  “I’m stuffed,” Geoff scraped the last bite of tiramisu off of his plate. “You want to go walk around while they finish up?”

  I hadn’t ordered dessert. “Sure.”

  Mr. D. smiled at us. “You guys going off for a bit?” He’d gotten his hair cut since the camping trip and this made his ears more prominent, more Geoff-like than usual.

  “Could you have her back in a half hour?” Dad asked and I cringed. It wasn’t as if we were on a date.

  He nodded. “You got it.”

  We left the table and Geoff laughed softly. “Do you get the feeling that our parents are hoping we’ll hook up?”

  “Yeah.” I hoped he didn’t harbor any illusions of us falling madly in love.

  We worked our way through the maze of tables. French doors led to the grounds of the club, to a small path that wound around the main building. We strolled along the cobblestone walkway lined with hanging lanterns. Bees lazily buzzed the masses of flowers that bordered the path, a final pollen-run before bedtime. Geoff stopped at a wrought iron bench and sat down. I sat next to him and looked around, at the low stone fountain that gurgled nearby and the hostas and flowering shrubs bursting with tiny white flowers that surrounded it. It was pretty and peaceful, exactly what I needed.

  “So…you were pretty quiet on the ride home from Fanchon’s. You doing OK?”

  I’d wondered if he was going to bring up the events from the morning. “OK as I’m going to be, I guess.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  I turned to look at him. “Do you believe them? I mean, do you think they’re really witches and have magical powers? And that Fanchon is right?”

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I don’t really think of them as being witches. They’re just ordinary people, as far as I’m concerned. And the magic…well, I don’t think they have any different abilities than other people do.”

  “What? You mean you can see people’s auras and charge stones?” This was news to me.

  Geoff shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I think everyone has the ability to do what they do. It’s the desire and dedication that’s missing. I’ve never tried to see auras, you know? But I’ll bet that if I tried, if I really focused and wanted to do it, I could. Anyone could. Same thing with creative power—the stones and spells, and things like that.”

  I understood his logic and I wondered—if I tried, could I do it? Hope had said that I was receptive…and perceptive. Instead of simply receiving the information and the programming, maybe I could project it and make something happen, create my own amulets or spells of protection. I swallowed hard.

  “What about what she said about…” I paused. “About Leo and Noel? Do you believe her?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Seeing and channeling energies? That’s one thing. But spirits or gods—or whatever she thinks those guys are—walking the earth? That’s a little out there.”

  “I know.” The sprinklers in the lawn pulsed to life and the mist drifted over us. I shivered.

  “But, there is something different about them,” Geoff said. “The fact that they found you right after you found the stone. That they followed you here. That Leo can control, to some extent, what you do and how you feel. That’s some pretty powerful magic…and those are all things I don’t think just anyone could do. Does that make sense?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It does.”

  He looked at me. “What do you think?”

  I studied my hands, trying to put my thoughts into words. “I don’t know. There is definitely something going on. Something different. Maybe even something otherworldly. But Celtic gods?” I snorted. “I have a hard enough time believing in one God, let alone several. And that they would suddenly appear on earth and walk among mere mortals…why would they even bother? And why would they want the stone? What could be so special about some rock? That’s the part that really doesn’t make sense.”

  “You could ask Hope for help,” Geoff said. “She’d do it, you know. She’s probably one of the coolest moms I know. One of the
coolest people I know,” he amended.

  “Maybe I will,” I said. I pulled the pendant she’d given me out of my pocket. “What do you think of this? You think it can protect me from Leo?”

  “Maybe.” He took it from me and studied it, rubbing his fingers over the inscription. “Besides, what do you have to lose by putting it on? Hope doesn’t deal with black magic or curses, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  That thought had occurred to me but I’d kept it to myself.

  “Here.” He pushed my hair to one side and fastened the cord around my neck. The pendant rested low on my chest, right in the V of my shirt. “It looks nice. How does it feel?”

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on the cool pendant resting against my skin. The solidness of it was comforting. “It feels good.”

  “Then I say wear it and see what happens.” He glanced at his watch. “Oops. We’ve got three minutes before your dad comes and hunts me down.”

  I laughed. I wanted to stay longer, I realized. Everything was soothing—the steady sound of trickling water in the fountain nearby, the whooshing of the sprinklers as they agitated back and forth, and the subtly lit walkway illuminating the darkened grounds. But mostly, it was the presence of the person sitting next to me that comforted me most.

  “Maybe I should keep you out here for a few minutes. See if he does come running.” Geoff glanced sideways at me, a grin on his face. “Maybe…” His voice trailed off.

  “Maybe what?”

  “Nothing.” He stood and grabbed my hand. “Come on, let’s go.” He held it for just a minute too long before letting go.

  As I drove home with my parents, and later, as I dragged myself up to my room to get ready for bed, I thought about Geoff’s rough, calloused hand gripping mine for that one brief moment. I didn’t dwell on the stone or witches or Celtic gods haunting me. Instead, my thoughts were focused on the friend who had, literally and figuratively, reached out to me just when I needed it most.

  Chapter 30

  I woke up Sunday morning determined to dedicate myself to god. Well, Celtic gods, anyway. I scarfed down Dad’s chocolate chip pancakes, our Sunday morning tradition for as long as I could remember, before grabbing a Coke and rushing back upstairs to my computer.

  “What are you doing today, Val?” Dad called after me.

  “Homework.”

  “Mom and I are going to play tennis before I head into the office. Want to come along?”

  “No thanks,” I called back. “Too much going on today.”

  I started my quest. A good night’s sleep had left several nagging doubts in regards to Fanchon’s theory, doubts that had surfaced during my conversation with Geoff at the club the night before. Why would gods be walking the earth? I’d read the stories about Greek gods and their fondness for mortal lovers, but somehow, I didn’t think two unbelievably gorgeous Celtic deities would find themselves lusting after me.

  Of course, I did have the mysterious stone in my possession. But why would a god want a stone? And if he did, why couldn’t he just take it from me? Noel had said it needed to be given “freely,” whatever that meant. Why couldn’t Leo just identify himself as a god and firmly but politely ask me to give him back his stone? Approached by an ancient god, I wouldn’t have thought twice about hurling it in his direction, no questions asked. But he didn’t. Instead, he and his brother disguised themselves as teenagers and enrolled themselves at my school, with one of them doing his best to seduce me while the other struggled to protect me from these amorous assaults. None of it made sense.

  I sifted through dozens of pages on Celtic mythology. The Celts were a motley crew, I soon discovered, worshiping dozens of different gods. Some might have been the same god but they went by different names depending upon the region and the clans that worshiped them. I scrolled through the alphabetical list…Arawen, Beli, Borvo, Bran the Blessed. There was a god or goddess for everything, I realized: war, love, agriculture, forests, the hunt, the underworld. I doubted I would narrow any of it down.

  I ran downstairs to grab a bag of chips before continuing my search. More pages and more names. More descriptions of gods and what clans or people they were important to. I sighed. I didn’t even know what it was I was looking for. Exasperated, I clicked on the next link, a gallery of images of Celtic gods. I studied the names, each hyperlinked to an artistic rendering of that god. I studied the names, willing myself to choose a name that would mean something, that would somehow identify the mysterious boys in my life. I pointed the mouse at the links, whispering each one out loud, trying them out, seeing if any of the foreign-sounding names would speak to me or give some indication that it was the one. The stone in my pocket fluctuated in temperature considerably as I voiced the names, its glow growing subtly stronger.

  I stopped at one name and closed my eyes as I whispered. Cernunnos. The stone glowed stronger, like a flashlight illuminating the inside of my pocket. I clicked on the name and the screen changed. A painting appeared, a beautiful rendition of a young man with flowing black hair and a full rack of antlers. Stunning blue eyes gazed out at me from a perfectly chiseled face, a small smile playing across soft, full lips. I stared, unblinking, my mouth agape. The painting was Noel.

  I pushed away from the computer and stood up. I stole another glance at the screen. Noel’s face was still there, staring serenely at me. Was this some kind of joke? Cosmic coincidence? Or maybe proof positive that Fanchon and Hope had been right.

  “Valerie?” Mom’s voice called from downstairs. I looked at the clock—it was nearly two, almost four hours since I’d started.

  “There’s someone here to see you. A boy.” It was more of a question, as if she couldn’t quite believe she was speaking those words. I immediately knew who it was.

  I closed the link and hurried down the stairs. My heart raced as I approached the landing. Maybe he was here because Leo was on his way, ready to mesmerize me once again. I wondered if Noel would know what I’d just discovered. The secret he couldn’t tell me. The secret he didn’t want me to know.

  Noel stood in the hallway with my mother, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking gloriously perfect in khaki pants and a black t-shirt, his ebony curtain of hair partially obscuring his eyes.

  “Hi.” My voice shook. The face I’d just seen on my computer screen stared back at me.

  He grinned. “Hi yourself.”

  “Noel mentioned he’s new at school. Why didn’t you tell me?” Mom was all smiles but I heard the chiding undertone in her voice.

  I hadn’t realized the arrival of new students was something I was supposed to share with my mother. Perhaps she was only interested if they were beautiful and rich, as Noel appeared to be. I wondered what she’d say if I mentioned he was actually a Celtic god in disguise.

  “I guess it didn’t cross my mind.” I stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do next.

  “I came by to see if you’d be up for a trip to Old Town,” Noel said to me. “There are a couple of studios at the Torpedo Factory I’d like to visit…”

  “You have art together, right?” Mom turned to smile at him. “Isn’t that right?” He must have told her.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You don’t have to rush off just yet,” Mom said quickly. “Come into the kitchen, stay for a bit. Maybe you’d like some coffee…or, I don’t know…tea or something?” She sounded flustered. I’d never had a boy over before.

  “Mom, it’s OK. Really.”

  I tried to think. I doubted I could endure small talk between my mother and a presumed deity. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be alone with him, either, but it was a far better option than hanging out with Mom, especially if there was any possibility that Leo might be coming over.

  “I’ll bet the studios are only open for another hour or so,” I said. “I’ll grab a sweater.”

  “May I come up with you?” Noel asked as I turned to the stairs. “See your room?”

  I quirked my eyebrows but said not
hing; he’d just been in my room two nights ago. I remembered the intimate conversation from that night, the gentle touch of his hands and lips. I shivered. Could he really be some immortal being, sent down to earth to protect me?

  He followed me up the stairs and sat down at my desk while I rummaged in my closet for a suitable sweater.

  “Are we really going to the Torpedo Factory?” I tried to keep my voice normal.

  “Why not?”

  “Where’s Leo?” I fumbled with the buttons on my sweater. “Should I be worried? Is that why you’re here?”

  “No, he’s not coming,” he told me. “I just wanted to see you, that’s all.”

  His elbow bumped the mouse and the sleeping computer screen flickered back to life. The page of names lit up my room like a billboard. Crap. I wasn’t ready for explanations…mine or his.

  Noel stared at it for a long moment. “What is this for?” he asked.

  “Um…just some research.”

  He perched at my desk and studied me, his expression unreadable. “Research for what?”

  I swallowed. I debated what I could say: Oh, I thought I’d research Celtic gods and I clicked on one of the names and your picture just happened to pop up.

  I tried a different approach. “Just looking at some…options.”

  “Options?” He smiled. “Enlighten me.”

  I sighed, defeated. He was not going to let it go. “Can we talk about it on the way? Or when we get there?”

  “Of course.” He dropped the subject but his eyes strayed back to the computer screen as he studied the names on the list.

  Noel’s car waited in the driveway, a huge, black Range Rover with a massive chrome grill. He opened the door for me and I climbed in, pulling myself up into the leather passenger seat.

  “This is nice,” I said. “It looks new.” I breathed in the new car smell.

  “It is.”

  The Torpedo Factory had already been programmed into the car’s navigation system. A pleasant-sounding Englishwoman guided us. Apart from her voice, the car was silent. We crossed over Washington Street, inching along with the hordes of other cars cramming the narrow streets of Old Town. The brick buildings were a mix of shops and restaurants, law offices and private residences, most of them stuffed into two-hundred-year-old townhouses.

 

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