The Angel Stone: A Novel

by Juliet Dark

  “I planted a correlative fuse inside. It’s magically connected to this one.” I held up half a shoelace—the only thing I could find to use. “I just have to light it when Ralph drops the ball.”

  I peered into the yard and saw Ralph drop the ball at the feet of Adam Sinclair. He was beginning to run back when Slutty Vampire shrieked, “A mouse! A mouse! A real mouse! Shoot it!”

  Adam wheeled around in a circle, one foot crunching the pomander, and spotted Ralph, clearly visible by the white patch on his chest. He lowered the gun and aimed it at Ralph.

  I lit the fuse. Just as Adam pulled the trigger, the pomander exploded in a cloud of smoke, throwing him off balance. He fell backward, right into Slutty Vampire and Slutty Nurse. The girls giggled and shrieked at the sudden closeness of a half-naked frat boy, but when the smoke from my pomander reached them, they both pushed him away.

  “Ew,” Slutty Vampire said, wrinkling her nose. “You’re kind of gross.”

  “Yeah,” Slutty Nurse agreed. “When was the last time you showered?”

  Both girls rearranged their costumes to cover a few extra inches of skin. The other girls at the party extricated themselves from the arms of the frat boys, with similar comments on personal hygiene.

  Frank wrinkled his nose. “What was that, McFay?”

  “An anti-aphrodisiac,” I said. “It makes any male within a hundred-yard radius repellent to any female. The Alphas won’t be luring any girls to their parties anytime soon.”

  Red Riding Hood murmured in her sleep, “Boys stink!”

  “I’ll get Red back to my house,” I said. “You’d better go home and take a shower.” Frank shot me an accusing look. “I just mean that you’ll want to get rid of any traces of the spell. I’m not sure how long it lasts.”

  “Thanks, McFay. Like I wasn’t having a hard enough time in my love life.”

  We half-carried Red Riding Hood out of the gazebo and across the street to my house. The Alphas were too busy fanning smoke out of their yard to notice us. I took the opportunity to grab a couple of Diana’s gnomes off the back fence. I knew she was fond of them and that she’d be devastated to see them serving as target practice—especially since I was pretty sure they were partly sentient.

  Frank helped me get Red into my house and then excused himself when she woke up enough to tell him that he reeked. I watched Frank walk down Elm Street toward his downtown apartment, then I got Little Red Riding Hood settled on my library couch, tucking my afghan over her. Asleep, she looked as young and innocent as the girl in the fairy tale. As I turned off the lights in the library, I reflected that the big bad wolves had been smoked out of their house and Red was safe and sound. Kind of a mixed-up fairy tale, but, I would have told Adam Sinclair, the kind I believed in.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I was in the Greenwood, stretched out on a bed of heather beneath the beech trees. The ruins of the vine-covered stone gate framed one side of the glade; deep, impenetrable woods bordered the other. I had the uneasy feeling there were presences in those woods—boggles and haunts.

  “Ye never want to stray in there, lass.”

  I turned to look at the man who lay stretched out beside me. He was wearing slim brown trousers of heavy sueded cotton and a soft white shirt opened to reveal smooth, tawny skin dappled a golden green by the beech light. Sunlight and leaf shadow tangled in his hair. His face was in shadow.

  “Bill?” I asked. “Liam?”

  He laughed. The sound seemed to shake the leaves in the trees. I felt its vibration deep in my belly.

  “Most men would no’ like their lover not to ken their name, lass.”

  “Since when do you have a Scottish accent?” I asked dubiously, squinting through the glare at his face. I saw Liam, then Bill, then my demon lover, and then a young man whose face was both utterly familiar and startlingly new. “You’re William Duffy,” I said. “Is that who you were first?”

  “First, last—I’ve been so long in Faerie I hardly ken myself anymore. But you, lass …” He touched my face and moved closer, his eyes filling with the emerald light of the Greenwood. “I’d know you anywhere. I’ve been waiting for you to come and save me.” He stroked his hand along my cheek and then down my neck, his touch making me tremble like the leaves in the beech trees. He lowered his head and pressed his lips against my skin. With his head ducked down to the hollow of my throat, I saw the ruined door behind him. The fluted pillars on either side were carved with strange creatures—dragons and griffins, unicorns and gargoyles. Something about the gargoyles struck me as familiar, but I couldn’t think why. The things that William was doing with his strong hands and soft lips were distracting me.

  “Um … William?” I said as he undid a button on my blouse. “Is that the hallow door?”

  “Mmmm …” he murmured, kissing my breast and sliding himself on top of me. “Don’t worry yourself about the door, lass, for you may not open it until All Hallows’ Eve.”

  “But where …” I began to ask, but the question turned into a moan as he pushed my skirts up and stroked the tender flesh of my thigh.

  “William Duffy,” I said, digging my hands into his hair and pulling his head up to look into his green eyes. “How will I ever save you if you don’t answer my questions?”

  “Ah, lass,” he said, pushing himself into me, “the answer is here.”

  I woke up in a tangle of bedsheets and early-morning sunlight, the scent of heather lingering in the air—and not just its scent. Strewn across the tangled sheets were sprigs of purple heather. “Damn it, William Duffy,” I said aloud. “What the hell did you mean, the answer is here? Could you be a little more specific?”

  A loud thump came from downstairs. Could it be …

  I jumped out of bed. Maybe when William Duffy said the answer was here, he’d meant he was here.

  I raced downstairs, smelling coffee in the air the way I would in the mornings when Liam got up early and made us breakfast … but instead of finding my dream lover waiting for me, I found a redheaded girl sitting on the library couch. I’d forgotten about Little Red Riding Hood. And that I’d set the coffeemaker on automatic last night.

  “Professor McFay?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “Oh, thank God! I thought I might be at Alpha House, but then I didn’t think it would be this neat. What happened?”

  “How much do you remember?” I asked, sitting down on a chair and sliding my arms into a cardigan that I’d discarded there. “Miss …” I peered at her, willing her name to pop into my head, but it was too early in the semester for me to remember all my new students’ names.

  “Ruby Day,” she said, then with a grimace she added, “Ruby Tues Day. My parents were big into the Rolling Stones. I’m in your Intro to Fairy Tales class, but I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this getup.” She looked down at her low-cut frilly blouse and turned as scarlet as her cloak—although, in truth, it wasn’t nearly as revealing as the outfits worn by some of the girls she’d been with. “I’m so embarrassed. My suite mates, Jessica and Debbie, talked me into going. I’ve always loved dressing up for Halloween, and I thought it was a good chance to use my Little Red Riding Hood outfit early. That’s the fairy tale I wrote about in your class yesterday.” I glanced guiltily at the stack of unread papers on the table. “But I didn’t know that the girls would dress up so … sexy … or that the boys would be so aggressive. Oh—” She clamped her hand to her mouth. “I do remember a boy trying to paw me. He didn’t … I didn’t …”

  “No,” I said quickly. “He didn’t do anything to you. Frank—I mean Professor Delmarco—had a word with him, and then I brought you here, since you didn’t look like you could make it back to the dorm.”

  Ruby blushed again. “Oh, Professor McFay, I am so mortified! I don’t usually drink, but the hot apple cider was so delicious and the boys said it had only a teensy bit of rum in it. It was kind of spicy, so I couldn’t really taste the alcohol.”

  “Spicy?” I asked, peering closer at Rub
y’s eyes. “What kind of spices?”

  “Gosh, I don’t know. It reminded me of my gran’s pumpkin pie. And after I drank one, I wanted more … Oh, my, do you think they put that date rape drug in it?”

  Ruby’s hazel eyes were wide and flecked with gold—which might have been her usual eye color or it may have been traces of Aelvesgold. Was that how the nephilim were going to accomplish Project NextGen? By spiking girls’ drinks with Aelvesgold?

  “I don’t know, Ruby, but I’m going to the dean to complain about their behavior. In the meantime, tell your friends to stay away from the Alphas, and Ruby …” I hated having to en-spell the girl—she’d been tampered with enough—but I couldn’t risk her telling anyone about last night’s adventure with Frank at Alpha House. I leaned toward her and injected the gentlest of memory-expunging spells into my next words. “It’s important no one knows that Professor Delmarco and I were at Alpha House. Do you understand? Professor Delmarco and I were never at Alpha House.”

  Ruby blinked. “Sure … whatever,” she said. “Hey, is that coffee I smell?”

  I made breakfast for Ruby, who ate with the appetite of the very young. By the time she left my house—in borrowed jeans and sweatshirt—she didn’t look like a girl who’d been out carousing last night. When she was gone, I showered and dressed and then spent the morning grading papers and searching through my folklore books for any references to a hallow door that could be opened only on Halloween. Although I found many references to fairy sightings on Halloween, there was no mention of a particular door.

  I walked to campus, enjoying the brisk September weather and the touches of fall color already tinting the trees, until I got on campus and noticed the orange flyers that had replaced the magenta ones—as if the virus had mutated. They were stapled on every bulletin board and lamppost. The Alphas couldn’t be throwing another party so soon … But when I read the flyer, I saw that no one would be throwing any parties anytime soon.

  Attention from the Dean’s Office, the flyer read. Due to an act of vandalism last night at the Alpha Delta Chi House, all social functions and gatherings of more than six are hereby suspended until further notice.

  “Man, that blows!”

  I turned toward the voice and recognized Scott Wilder, who had been in one of my classes last year and was in the fairy tales class this year.

  “Hey, Scott. When did these go up?”

  “Dunno. I just got up. There was an email, too.” He grinned. “But I don’t have to tell you, Prof. I heard you and Mr. D went all vigilante on the Alpha House and schooled those dudes.” He held his hand up, palm out. “High five, Prof! That was epic!”

  “Where did you hear all that, Scott?” I asked, gingerly slapping Scott’s hand.

  Scott rubbed his head. Leaves fell out of his thick dirty-blond hair. Where had Scott been sleeping? I wondered. “Dunno, but everybody’s talking about it.”

  Had my spell on Ruby Day failed? Or had someone else spread the story? But the only other person to witness the event was the Alpha whom Frank had punched, and it seemed unlikely that he would have spread the story of his inglorious trouncing by an over-thirty professor. Puzzled, I headed into Fraser Hall and upstairs, thinking I’d stop by Frank’s office, which was down the hall from my mine, and see if he had any ideas about who had leaked the story. When I got to the top of the stairs, though, I saw that my office door was wide open.

  I should probably get Frank, I thought, instead of confronting an intruder on my own, but I was already crossing the hall, my skin itching at the violation of my space. I charged into my office, banging the door wide open, and found Duncan Laird standing in front of my desk, looking up at my bookshelves.

  “You really do have an interesting collection of folklore here, Professor McFay,” he remarked, unperturbed by my dramatic entrance. “But nothing on angels or the Bible. Have you ever considered doing a class on angels?”

  “No,” I snapped. “How did you get into my office?”

  “The same way you got into mine,” he replied, turning and smiling blandly. “If you look at your door, you’ll find the traces of my skeleton-key spell, just as I found yours.”

  I touched the lock but saw nothing.

  “Use the spell,” he suggested.

  “Adulterina clavis,” I whispered. An image of a skeleton key with an ornately carved bow appeared on the handle—a much more elaborate key than the one I’d used on Duncan’s door.

  “Really, my dear, don’t you recall the lessons on wards I gave you this summer?” He smiled lasciviously. Before I knew that Duncan Laird was a nephilim, I’d thought he might be my incubus, and I’d let him get … well, a little too close. The memory made my skin crawl. “If you’d paid attention and read Wheelock’s footnote, you would have learned that the one downfall of the adulterina clavis spell is that it leaves a trace of its user—a sort of caller ID, if you will. If you like, I can show you how to block it.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I said, leaning against the doorframe and folding my arms over my chest. “You’ve made your point. Did you have anything else to say?”

  “Yes. I want to apologize for the behavior of the Alpha Delta Chi brothers last night. It’s come to my attention that some of them behaved rudely to female students. I’ve reprimanded them, as you suggested yesterday, and suspended their party privileges for the rest of the semester.”

  “I saw the flyers,” I replied warily. “It sounds like you’re prohibiting all parties for the rest of the semester.”

  “Well, yes, that seemed the most expedient course of action. If I permitted other parties on campus, the Alphas would no doubt cause trouble.”

  “So expel them,” I said. “It’s not fair to punish the whole student body because the Alphas can’t control themselves.”

  “It’s the safest course of action for now. You do agree that the priority should be keeping the students safe, do you not?” He smiled, showing a lot of white teeth. I shivered, feeling the implied threat behind his words.

  “Yes, so why not expel the Alphas?”

  Laird’s mouth remained stretched in a smile, but his eyes darkened. “That would be premature. They need to learn to assimilate to … college life. As part of their rehabilitation, I’ve ordered them to perform community service. And if all goes well, we can reinstate social gatherings in time for a Christmas party.”

  “Christmas?” I repeated. “What about the Halloween party? It’s a Fairwick tradition—”

  “A pagan tradition,” Duncan cut me off, all trace of his smile disappearing. “It’s time Fairwick gave those up. I would think that after your experience with monsters and ghouls you’d be the last person to want to celebrate Halloween.”

  “I have a fondness for candy corn,” I replied.

  “I’d get over it,” he suggested, moving toward the door. “There’ll be no Halloween party, and,” he added, tapping the lock on my door as he walked past me, “in pursuance of our mutual goal of making the campus safer, I’ve ordered all the locks to be changed to spell-resistant ones.”

  When Duncan Laird was gone, I closed the door and sagged against it, my anger and outrage leaving me drained and deflated. I didn’t have time to recover, though; I was already late for my class. I’d have to talk to Frank later. I rushed down the stairs and into the lecture hall …

  … where I was greeted by a round of applause.

  The last time that happened was when I’d canceled the final after being attacked by a liderc.

  When the clapping stopped, I smiled and gave the students a puzzled look. “Gee, I’m excited about today’s reading, too, but I really think Bruno Bettelheim deserves the lion’s share of the praise.”

  “No, Professor, that’s not why we’re clapping,” Scott Wilder objected. “It’s because you schooled those Alpha dudes. Epic!” Apparently epic was the new awesome. I kind of liked it, but still …

  My eyes flicked guiltily toward Adam Sinclair, who was leaning back in his seat, surro
unded by empty desks. His ostracism was no doubt a result of my stink-bomb spell. His eyes were hidden by Ray-Bans.

  “Did something happen at your party last night?” I asked innocently, taking out the folder of corrected papers.

  “Nah,” said Adam. “Some girls got scared because they saw a mouse.”

  “Ah,” I said. “Rodent infestations can be bad around here. That must have been the odor I detected coming from Alpha House this morning.”

  “No worries,” Adam said, showing a lot of white teeth as he smiled. “We’ve put out traps.”

  I smiled back at Adam, despite the chill I felt at the implicit threat. I’d have to keep Ralph from going over there.

  “Well, if that’s all, let’s turn our attention to Bruno Bettelheim. What did you think of his assertion that the Little Red Riding Hood story reflects Oedipal conflicts during puberty?”

  Nothing galvanized students more than a good sex-symbolism debate. Half of them thought that reading sexual content into their favorite bedtime stories was heresy. The others were delighted to be talking about sex. The lively discussion took their minds off my supposed heroic exploits. Ruby Day took part enthusiastically, declaring that she liked the Little Red Riding Hood in Roald Dahl’s version, in which Red takes out a gun and shoots the wolf. Adam Sinclair remained quiet through most of the class period, until it was nearly over, when he said, looking straight at Ruby Day, “Little Red Riding Hood got what she deserved. You don’t go walking in the woods alone if you want to avoid wolves.”

  I was about to say something in response, but Nicky Ballard did it for me.

  “You could say that about the wolf, too. If you go around attacking defenseless girls, you can expect payback.”

  A good note to end class on! I saw that Nicky wanted to hang back to talk to me, but I told her it would have to wait because I needed to go see Professor Delmarco.

  “Sure, Prof,” she said with a sly smile. “I think it’s really great you guys are, like, fighting the man together.”