Heart of Stone

by Debra Mullins

  She nodded. “Good idea.”

  “So now that we’re both back on Planet Earth, what was it like?”

  “Oh, wow.” She forked her fingers through her short hair. “There are so many layers in there, so much emotional energy, so many memories. Centuries of them. Maybe even more than that. It’s going to take several days of intense bonding to even begin sorting everything out and balancing the stone so it can be used properly.”

  “Memories?”

  “Of anyone who ever handled the stone.” At his confused frown, she continued. “The Stones of Ekhia are different from other stones. They are living entities, in a sense. Not like how you and I are alive, of course, but sentient on a different level. All memories are connected with some kind of emotion, and the stones absorb emotions. Every person who has ever handled the stone has imprinted upon it, but the patterns are all tangled up. I need to sort them all out.”

  “You realize how crazy that sounds. Living stone?”

  She shrugged. “Now you know why there are Stone Singers.”

  “To what … clean up these stones?”

  “In a way. We clear out negative energies, balance and charge and tune the stones so they can be used to fuel and filter Atlantean powers. You understand; you work with healing stones.” She stared at the crystal on the table. “There are many kinds of Stones of Power, but the Stones of Ekhia are the strongest in the world. In ancient times, it was the job of the Stone Singer to keep the three Stones of Ekhia in top condition so the people of Atlantis could communicate with their Creators.”

  “Okay, now you’re losing me. I confess I don’t know much about the Atlanteans. I just found out a few weeks ago that my ancestor was not the only survivor.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”

  “No. Long story.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Back to the Stones of Ekhia. What else do you know about them?”

  “I know they belong to the Seers.”

  “What?”

  She shrugged. “The Seers are the only ones who can use them to contact the Creators. Others have tried and failed. Some died. In ancient times, the head priestess was the guardian of the stones.”

  “The apaiz nagusi?”

  He felt her surprise even as it registered on her face. “I thought you said you didn’t know anything about Atlantean history?”

  “I know about this. My family is descended from Agrilara, the last High Priestess of Atlantis. And my mom is the current apaiz nagusi.”

  “Oh.” She blinked. “Guess that makes you royalty or something.”

  He laughed. “Hardly. Anyway, that’s enough excitement for today. Why don’t you relax for the rest of the day, get your balance back.” He picked up the stone and returned it to its box, closing the lid.

  “Good idea. Maybe I’ll give Ben a call.” Her expression softened. “Thanks for coming after me in there.”

  “No problem. Go call Ben.”

  “Yes, sir.” She headed for the door.

  “Don’t call me sir. Darius is fine. Or Dar. Or Dumb-ass. Just not sir.”

  “Got it. Stick with the D’s.” With a cheeky salute, she let herself out of the cabana.

  Darius looked down and shook his head. As his luck would have it, he’d been handling the stone when she’d given him that dewy-eyed look. His empathy had cut off again until he released the stone, so he had no idea what emotion was behind it. Was she just being a wise guy, or had there been some softer feeling there, something more personal?

  He tucked the box under one arm and took up his cane with the other hand as he headed for the door. “Forget about it, dumb-ass,” he muttered. “She’s too important to risk with an affair, no matter what Mom says.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was barely four in the afternoon when Darius bumped into his father in the kitchen. He stopped short and glanced at the clock. “You’re home early.”

  “Your mother called me.”

  “About her cousin.”

  “Yeah.” His dad frowned at the cup of coffee in his hand, having apparently forgotten about it, and set it down, untasted. “Nothing like this has happened for a long time. We thought we were safe.” He let out a harsh laugh. “I should know better than that. Security is my business.”

  Darius could sense the warring emotions churning in his normally focused father. Taste them. The peppery heat of self-anger. The char of frustration. The bitter burn of fear.

  “You can’t blame yourself for this,” he said. “Did you even know Mom had a cousin?”

  “Yes, yes.” His father waved a hand and began to pace. “I met Lorinda years ago. Your aunts, too.”

  “I have aunts?”

  “And uncles. And more cousins.” He rubbed his forehead. “I thought they were all protected.”

  “Hey.” Darius laid a hand on his father’s shoulder. “You did what you could. At least we’re all safe.”

  “But for how long?” His father shrugged off Darius’s hand. “This house is my security masterpiece, yet Criten was still able to waltz in here and try to kill my family.”

  “Key word is ‘try.’ He failed.”

  “He’ll be back. One thing I’ve learned about these bastards is they don’t give up. That’s why I keep upgrading the security, why your buddy Adrian Gray tests it for me. I figure if I can keep him out, it should work for those other Warriors. But Gray keeps getting right through it.”

  “Bet it takes him longer each time.”

  That sparked a hint of a smile from his father. “Yeah, it does.”

  “That’s progress then.”

  “But is it enough?” His dad rubbed the back of his neck. “First Criten and this stone. Then the Stone Singer—a former Mendukati agent—living in our home. Then these murders. And in the middle of it all, your brother decides to walk his Soul Circle.”

  “Yeah, it’s a lot. As soon as that stone surfaced, all hell broke loose. That was the kickoff.”

  “It was, and now we’re in an all-out war. There’s bound to be casualties. That’s what scares me the most.”

  His father’s fear spiked, jagged and visceral. Darius snagged that harsh energy and softened the edges, quietly feeding it back to the source as calmer concern rather than primitive panic. “It’s definitely a lot, Dad. But together we can beat this.”

  “That’s the key, isn’t it?” His father smiled. “I think we need to remind ourselves of that—that we’re a family, and together, we can do anything. I think we need to have a barbecue.”

  “A barbecue? Uh … this doesn’t seem like the best time to invite people over.”

  “Not people, just us. Tonight, six o’clock. And the Stone Singer, Faith. She can come. Maybe seeing us together will make her think twice about pulling anything.”

  “Damn it, Dad, I keep telling you—”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. But with all that’s happened, I have to consider anyone who isn’t one of us to be a potential threat. There’s every possibility I’m wrong about her.” He paused, then added, “But since we’re talking about it, your mom doesn’t want Faith anywhere near Rafe’s Soul Circle. He’d be vulnerable then, and it would be the perfect time to strike.”

  “Dad, it’s a private family ritual. She has no reason to be there or even want to be there.”

  “Still. I’m having Mendez keep an eye on her while we’re all in the temple.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll let your mother know. And I’ll take this up to her.” His dad picked up the cup of coffee he’d set down and headed out. He paused in the doorway. “By the way, thanks for whatever you did just now. I’m feeling calmer. Better able to deal with all this.”

  Darius kept his expression bland. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you don’t.” His father gave him a nod and left, a smile playing along his lips.

  Darius shook his head and turned toward the coffee machine. The murder of Lorinda’s family had them all shaken
up. His family had already been on edge about allowing Faith into their home, about letting her have access to the stone. But the alternative would be to meet Faith on the outside and bring the stone to her, and that was unacceptable. This way was safer for everyone and kept the stone contained. Out of Mendukati hands. Though to hear his dad tell it, Faith was the Mendukati. Darius knew she wasn’t like that. No one would be able to hide that kind of fanaticism from an empath. But how could he convince the rest of the family?

  Maybe once enough time had passed without Faith doing anything suspicious, everyone would settle down. Maybe they’d finally believe him when he told them she wasn’t a threat.

  As he poured himself some coffee, he pondered how he was going to tell Faith that she would be under guard Saturday morning.

  * * *

  The Stone of Igarle continued to whisper to her throughout the afternoon.

  Faith called Ben, but he couldn’t talk for long; he and Adrian were loading Ben’s truck for the trip to Santa Fe. He reassured her again that he would be fine, that he would see her soon.

  After she hung up with him, she tried reading some of the magazines she found in the living room to entertain herself, and when that didn’t work, she tried TV. She was used to being active all day, working at the store and walking around Old Town on her lunch hour. This sitting around twiddling her thumbs didn’t do anything for her. And she wasn’t ready to confront the stone again, not so soon.

  Since she didn’t mind being alone, she decided to take a walk on the grounds of the Montana estate. The raw beauty of the surrounding red rock formations and green trees never failed to take her breath away. As she wandered the paths hewn out of the underbrush, she became aware of an underlying hum vibrating from the land. She paused in a clearing, sat down on a large stone, and closed her eyes, opening her senses to listen.

  Earth energy. Male. Female. Sometimes both. The humming came from the earth around her. She placed her hands flat on her stone seat. What is this?

  The answer came right away: the vortexes. Sedona was famous for them.

  Information flooded her mind from the stone beneath her and the buttes and mesas all around her. A vortex was where energy from multiple planes spiraled into set places in the Earth, creating harmonics beyond the physical ear, and Sedona was home to four of the most powerful. Vortexes supported gifts of spirit, like Atlantean powers. She’d rarely felt anything like it.

  The feed from the nearest vortex touched her scarred soul. She ached for the childhood she might have had if her parents hadn’t died when she was a girl. As if losing her father at age five weren’t enough, her mother had been killed when she was nine. They said her parents had been murdered by Seers, but now she wasn’t sure what to believe. All she knew was there was a hole in her chest that would never be filled.

  Add to that the pressure of being a rare Stone Singer and the demands placed on her. If Ben hadn’t taken her under his wing after she’d been orphaned, taught her everything she needed to know about minerals and rocks, she had no idea where she’d be. And because she’d loved Ben so much, it had been easy to fall for Michael’s good looks and charm. By marrying him, she truly became Ben’s daughter, though she had never given up her maiden name.

  This house, a safe haven from the Mendukati, embodied the security she wanted to achieve for herself. And the closeness of the Montana family made her long for something she could never have—a family of her own where she belonged, was accepted for just being herself.

  How could a Stone Singer ever have both? She couldn’t, not as long as the Mendukati existed, and the truth shattered her, regret and grief inflaming her heart and smothering her naïve dreams.

  She washed all that away in the vortex current, the past mistakes she’d made and the losses she’d suffered, and gave herself up to the healing mystical energy.

  * * *

  Darius knew Faith was somewhere nearby.

  He picked his way along the pathway, avoiding rocks and tree roots in his path. He could have sent someone after her, maybe Rafe or Cara, but with Rafe’s Soul Circle coming up, he didn’t want to distract either of them. And Tessa was out of the question.

  Which left him, not that he minded spending more time with Faith. Warnings from his father notwithstanding, ever since his mother had declared Faith his destined mate, he couldn’t get the idea out of his mind. Everything seemed to be pushing them together: the attraction he had to her even in the midst of this craziness, the erotic dreams, the way he was able to lead her to safety in the chaos of the stone even when his own Seer powers were disabled.

  One thing he’d learned when he’d healed himself out of that wheelchair was not to look askance at a gift from the gods.

  He opened his empathic senses wider, searching for her. He felt someone up ahead, someone contemplative. He wouldn’t have guessed it to be Faith except for the silver energy trail—the mate link—connecting them. After their encounter with the Stone of Igarle, the link had grown slightly stronger. He wondered if she sensed it yet. He doubted it. People tended to ignore what they chose not to see.

  He came upon her in a place where several boulders had fallen centuries before, surrounded by a few trees and a stunning view of the buttes. She sat with her eyes closed in some kind of meditative state.

  For a moment he enjoyed the sight of her, short dark hair gleaming in the sun, fair skin against her purple top, and the sweet curves revealed by her new jeans. His body recognized her on a basic level, tugging him toward her with an insistence he chose not to resist.

  “So this is where you are,” he said.

  Faith jerked her eyes open as Darius descended the incline. He didn’t need the visual clue of her cheeks flaring tomato red to know how flustered she was; he could feel it. Her words came out in a burst. “Are you crazy? The footing here is uneven. Treacherous. You shouldn’t be here.” She got up from the rock and went to meet him as he made it to her clearing.

  “I’ve been walking this way since I was a kid. I know it pretty well.” Pausing on the downhill path, Darius stared out at the breathtaking view before them, giving her time to settle. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, a great place to be alone.”

  He raised his brows at her thinly veiled annoyance. “I’ve disturbed you. I’m sorry. I came to tell you something, and I got distracted by this gorgeous scenery.” He inhaled deeply as he looked around, then turned his most charming smile on her. “I never get tired of it.”

  “I doubt I would, either.”

  He could feel her struggle to hang on to her displeasure. She was softening. “You’re unhappy with me. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meditation.”

  She pushed her hand through her hair. Surrender. “You didn’t interrupt much. Just checking out the vortexes.”

  “The vortexes? I’d steer clear of them if I were you. The last Channeler who tried to access vortex energy nearly fried himself.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Jain Criten.” He didn’t have to sense her surprise; it was written on her face.

  “Criten tried to use the vortex energy?”

  “Yeah, but not successfully. Apparently vortex energy is not good for Channelers.”

  She raised her brows. “But it is for Seers?”

  Darius shrugged. “Probably why my parents built a house here.”

  “So any Channelers who came at you would find their powers compromised. Nice.” She glanced out at the buttes in the distance. “The vortex energy doesn’t seem to bother me, but I’m a different kind of Channeler.”

  “Oh?”

  She waved a hand. “Know how you get a Stone Singer? Mate two elementals.”

  “Okay, you’re going to have to explain that one.”

  “That’s right, you don’t know much about our people. A lot of Channelers have specific abilities. You saw Corinne, the lightning thrower, and I’ve heard that Jain Criten has the power to use energy to change matter.”

  “I saw him
change flowers into knives. That what you mean?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “Those are normal sorts of channeling powers. Now, elementals are Channelers whose abilities lie with the four basic elements: wind, fire, earth, air.” She indicated herself. “Obviously I identify with earth. My mother was a Wind Chanter and my father a Son of Poseidon, a water elemental. Elementals are rare, and when they produce a child, it is always another elemental, often a Stone Singer.”

  “What about fire?”

  “Michael’s mother—Ben’s late wife—was a Flame Walker.”

  “Michael. He was your husband, right?”

  “Yes. He died three years ago.”

  “I read about it. His heart stopped, right? Strange for a guy still in his twenties.”

  “That’s right.” She kept her gaze level with his, but her sudden alertness hit him like red pepper flakes on the tongue. His empathic senses tingled with a hint of something beneath the surface, something dark and sticky and raw. But she suppressed it too quickly for him to read it. Secretiveness, maybe. Or shame. Guilt?

  Damn it. There was something she wasn’t telling him. Something about her husband’s death. “Was he sick for long?”

  “Not a day in his life. He had an accident.” She glanced away at that, another trickle of that stickiness filtering through to him. He didn’t want to believe his father’s speculation was right, but something had definitely happened on that ridge. Something disturbing. Was there any chance she was a danger to them after all?

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.” She sent him a look, and her suspicion pricked at him. “So tell me, Darius, why is it always you handling me? Were you elected or something?”

  “Something.” He stroked his goatee when she raised her eyebrows at him. “I’m the oldest, right? I’m also the family … um … diplomat.”

  “Ah.” She folded her arms. “The peacekeeper.”

  “I used to be. I have to admit, I’ve lost my patience with people since my accident. Just ask Rafe. He’ll tell you I’ve been an angry guy lately.”