Heart of Stone

by Debra Mullins

  His father looked at Faith, jaw clenched. “Tell me exactly what happened today.”

  “Where did Rafe get his stone?” Faith countered. “The one he wears around his neck?”

  “It was our grandfather’s,” Darius answered. “He was a Hunter like Rafe, so when he passed away, my mother gave Rafe the focus crystal.”

  Faith put her bound hands on the table. “The thing about stones like that is when they are created, they are designed for a specific person. That crystal may have served your grandfather well, but his power harmonics are completely different from Rafe’s. The stone can probably sense that Rafe and your grandfather were related, and it’s been trying to accommodate the new energy signature, but if he’s been doing this for years, which I suspect is the case, those channels will have gotten frayed and warped. They are well on their way to fracture, which is what I sensed today.”

  “And if the stone had fractured,” Darius asked, “what would have happened to Rafe?”

  She swallowed, and he felt a little flutter of horror behind her arctic defenses. “The power would have backlashed into him, probably killing him.”

  Just like Michael.

  His father paled. “Is this true?” he asked Darius.

  Darius nodded. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Dad. Look, if the toaster starts smoking because something got caught, what do you do?”

  “Pull the plug.” His father looked back at Faith. “That’s what you did, isn’t it? You pulled the plug before it exploded.”

  “Yes.” Her shoulders relaxed. “I’m not your enemy, Mr. Montana. I came here to do a job. Let me complete it, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “What about—?” His father glanced at him. “Never mind.”

  Faith spoke into Darius’s mind. My sentiments exactly.

  She hadn’t hidden her emotions that time. Her distrust and hurt oozed from the words. Struck him in the heart like a well-aimed blade.

  “Can you … what … reactivate the stones in the temple?” his dad asked.

  “Yes. They weren’t damaged.”

  “Good.” John rubbed his chin. “I’m going to have Rigo release you, Faith, but I will be increasing security on the grounds. And I’ll also require you to continue working with Darius on this project.”

  “Isn’t there someone else?” She didn’t even look at Darius as she addressed his father. “He’s already proven that I can’t trust him. I’d rather have Tessa. At least she’s honest about her feelings for me.”

  John shook his head. “I can’t bend on this. You work with Darius.”

  “Fine.” She held up her bound hands. “Can I go?”

  “Yes.” His father signaled to Rigo, who removed the restraints. The team leader’s face remained impassive as he shoved the strips of plastic into his pocket, but Darius could sense the suspicion beneath the facade.

  Faith got up from the table, rubbing her wrists, and walked to the door. Rigo opened it for her. She left the room without looking back.

  “Well.” His father watched Faith go, then turned back to Darius. “This must be hard for you, based on what your mother says.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That Faith is your destined mate and that you wanted to tell her the truth about your powers.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This is such a mess.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  Rigo came to stand beside his father. “Orders, sir?”

  “I want more men stationed around the house. And I want you to assign yourself to Faith, Rigo.”

  “Wait,” Darius protested. “I thought I was supposed to be the one watching her?”

  “You have personal feelings for the woman, son. Questions have been raised about your ability to remain objective.” Darius opened his mouth to object, but his father raised a hand. “Having a third party there will put any of those questions to rest. Now let’s get this done.”

  Rigo nodded and went after Faith. His father left the room next, leaving Darius to follow more slowly.

  How was he supposed to win back Faith’s trust with a chaperone watching their every move?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Rigo had caught up with Faith by the time she got to the patio doors. He slid one open for her, his face impassive but his eyes heavy with suspicion.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He nodded and followed her as she headed to the cabana. She could feel his gaze boring into her back.

  “Faith!”

  Faith turned at the shout to see Cara slipping through the patio doors. The other woman caught up to them at a jog. “Hey,” Cara said. She nodded at Mendez. “Rigo.”

  He gave a nod of greeting but maintained his silence.

  “He’s not talking to me,” Faith said, unable to stop the edge of bitterness in her tone. “You sure you want to be seen with public enemy number one, Cara?”

  “Yes, I do.” Cara laid a hand on Faith’s arm. “I’m sorry about all that. The Montanas have gotten positively paranoid since Criten got in here back in September.”

  Cara’s words were meant to be soothing, but Darius’s betrayal gaped inside Faith like an open lava pit. “I understand where they’re coming from.” She shrugged, unwilling to let the pain show. “Not that it doesn’t sting, but I get it. I was raised in a military lifestyle. Where’s Rafe?”

  “Resting. He said he was hanging on by his fingertips when you intervened. I might have lost him.” Her voice caught on the last word, tears gleaming in her eyes. “You said he can’t use the stone he has. That you can make him a new one.”

  “I’m sure I can.”

  “Rafe refuses to get married until he conquers this Soul Circle thing, and if it takes a new stone to do it, then he gets a new stone. I’ll pay you whatever it takes.”

  Faith couldn’t stop her lips from curving at Cara’s passionate declaration. “Not necessary. Ben sent me a variety of stones. I can probably use one of them.”

  “Are you sure? Seriously, I can pay.”

  “Let me do this for you.” Faith touched Cara’s arm. “You and Rafe belong together. It would be an honor to help you achieve that.”

  “Wow. Thank you.” Cara swiped a knuckle across her eyes. “Sorry for the waterworks. When do you want to do this?”

  “How about now? It shouldn’t take that long, but I need Rafe to be present.”

  “I’ll get him.” Cara darted off.

  “Meet me at the cabana!” Faith called after her. Cara just waved a hand in acknowledgment. Faith turned back to see Rigo watching her, head tilted like he was trying to make sense of an Escher drawing. She shook her head and continued on to the cabana to get ready for Rafe’s arrival, Rigo trailing behind her.

  * * *

  Darius arrived at the cabana to find Faith and Rigo already there. Faith sat at the table, sorting through the stones Ben had sent her. The security man stood just behind and to the side of her, his brow furrowed as he watched. Faith looked up when Darius came in. Their gazes met; their bond flared. For an instant they were one. Then came the sear of hurt as she remembered, and she looked away, slamming down those defenses he’d sensed when he first met her.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  She didn’t look up from the crystals she was sorting. “Cara asked me to make Rafe a new focus stone. I’m sorting out some that might be a good fit.”

  He stepped closer. He knew she was aware of his nearness, but she still did not look at him. “How do you know which ones?”

  “I ask them.” She indicated her selections, three colorless and one yellow. “Clear quartz and one citrine. The citrine surprised me, but it’s good for enhancing the body’s healing energy. For mental focus and endurance. Might be a good match.” She lifted the gem and looked at it, humming softly. The melody echoed in his mind.

  A sound at the door had him turning, had Rigo coming to attention. Cara and Rafe came in, holding hands.

  “Cara says you can make me a new focus s
tone.” Rafe held out the chain with his old crystal without letting go of Cara.

  Faith took the chain and stroked the crystal, humming again in communication with the stone. Tenderness flowed from her as if she’d found a half-drowned kitten. “This was sung for your grandfather many years ago by Wei Jun.” She lifted her gaze to Rafe with a sad smile. “He was the other Stone Singer besides me. He died recently.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Rafe said.

  Faith set down the pendant. “Cara said you’ve been having trouble with this ritual for some time?”

  Rafe’s jaw tensed. “Yeah. I’ve never been able to get through it.”

  “This is why.” She tapped the stone. “Your power was bottlenecked and unfocused. I will sing you your own stone of power that will enhance and guide your abilities, not hold them back.”

  A surge of hope came from Rafe, and Darius saw his brother squeeze Cara’s hand. “That sounds great.”

  “These stones are willing to be yours.” She swept a hand at the four she’d set aside. “Choose the one that speaks to you.”

  Rafe’s eagerness vibrated like the engine of a vintage Mustang. He reached for the citrine.

  She smiled. “I had a feeling about that one.”

  “There’s something about it.” He weighed the gem in his palm, then handed it back to her. “What do we do now?”

  “You sit across from me.” Rafe obeyed. “I’m going to balance and charge the stone,” she said. “When it’s time for you to imprint on it, I will hand it to you, and I want you to access your powers, let the citrine see you at the basic level.”

  “Okay.”

  Faith held the stone in her cupped hands and opened up to connect. The citrine responded like a flame to tissue, its energy young and eager as it charged along the connection. She tamed its wildness with gentle, guiding hands, her throat vibrating with its song. She told it what she wanted, then showed it. How it would no longer be just a pretty rock; it would become a stone of power.

  The citrine responded with gusto, absorbing the energy she poured into it like a dry sponge in a bucket of water. It swelled with the power, glowing to her inner sight, pulsing and heavy with vitality.

  Stone of power came the whisper in her mind.

  Yes. You are a stone of power, molded to filter the energies of one.

  Who? came the reply.

  This one. Without opening her eyes, she held out her hand to Rafe. He took it, and she connected with him and the stone, forging the link between them until the citrine pulsed along with his heartbeat. Spreading his fingers wide, she placed the stone in his palm and covered it with her own. She sang the words to bond them, to show the citrine who Rafe was, to shape the channels for the power to flow.

  The stone accepted Rafe, imprinted him upon it, sparked with exuberance at having purpose.

  Faith opened her eyes and smiled at Rafe, sliding her hand away. “It’s done.”

  “Seriously?” Rafe frowned down at his palm.

  “Try it.”

  He focused, and the stone glowed, singing its joy as it funneled his energy. He jerked his gaze to her. “I can’t believe it. There’s so much there, power surging into me almost as soon as I reach for it. Like trading in an old pickup for a brand-new Ferrari.”

  “That’s how it’s supposed to be when a stone is sung for you alone.”

  Rafe got to his feet, the stone clutched in his fist. “I’m going to try this out.” He looked at Cara. “Come with me?”

  “Always.” Cara had only a moment to smile at Faith before Rafe pulled her from the cabana.

  “Will he be okay now?” Darius asked.

  “As far as his stone goes, yes, he’s out of danger.” She picked up Rafe’s discarded pendant, never looking at Darius. “Now let’s see what I can do with this one.”

  She focused on the stone, on healing it, smoothing the warped channels and softening the rough edges. The crystal responded to her restorative energy, its power fluctuations calming.

  If only she could mend her torn heart as easily.

  “That should do it for now.” She set aside the pendant and looked at Darius for the first time. “Now for the Stone of Igarle.”

  “Are you sure? You just sang two stones of power already.”

  “Get the stone, Darius. I want to make sure your family gets their money’s worth.”

  Lips clamped in a hard line, Darius went to get the stone.

  * * *

  The second day of the art show passed without incident, leaving Adrian even more on edge. He kept all senses open as he helped Ben pack up his tools, materials, and unsold work. They loaded the truck and set out for the airport.

  Dusk had fallen. Each second closer to sunset ramped up Adrian’s adrenaline. He expected the Mendukati to make a move tonight because once they were on the plane to Sedona, the number of opportunities to grab Ben dwindled considerably.

  It’s what he would do.

  But nothing happened on the ride to the airport. They got the boxes loaded on the Montanas’ private plane without so much as a stubbed toe. Ben boarded, and Adrian waved off the luggage handlers as he hefted his bag and Ben’s and headed for the stairs to the plane.

  That’s when the attack hit.

  Three Warriors sprang from nowhere. He dropped the bags and spun just in time to block a strike from a guy with a black eye. Adrian punched Black-eye and sent him stumbling. Two other Warriors charged him. These looked to be the same bunch who took him on in the restaurant parking lot the other night. He sent one sprawling while the other took a swing at him. He blocked the blow and kicked the Warrior away.

  Where the hell was Montana’s security detail? Where was airport security, for that matter?

  He could see airport personnel moving around near the hangar, but no one seemed to notice what was happening. The Whisperer. Had to be. Only a Whisperer could convince that many people that they didn’t see anything. Which explained why only three Warriors attacked him. There had been four outside the restaurant that night.

  No sooner had he taken out one than another came. He kept fighting, hoping to lay all three out long enough to get on board the plane. If they could just get airborne, everything would be okay. But these guys kept coming, three Warriors to one. Eventually they might wear him out. He needed an ace in the hole.

  One got in a lucky punch and knocked him down. He hit the pavement with a hard whoosh of air from his lungs. They scrambled for him.

  He chanted beneath his breath, gathering power. The tattoo on his chest began to burn and throb. He yanked open his button-down shirt.

  The Warriors grabbed him, one on each arm, and hauled him to his feet. Black-eye sauntered over, a smirk on his face.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Adrian said in Atlantean.

  “Oh, but we do,” Black-eye said in the same language. “Azotay wants a word with you.”

  “Azotay risks the wrath of the Leyala,” Adrian replied. “As do you.” As expected, mention of the Leyala, the elite group of Warriors who handed out justice to other Warriors, made the grin fade. Black-eye shoved open Adrian’s shirt.

  The tattoo over his heart, three triangles connected at each base by a circle with an Atlantean symbol in the middle, rippled like living scar tissue and glowed.

  Black-eye fell back a step. “Leyala,” he whispered.

  “Leyala,” Adrian agreed. “You have been judged.” He flipped backward, breaking the hold of the other two Warriors. Rather than attack him, they backed away. Black-eye charged him, fingers curled, aimed for his throat. Adrian blocked, grabbed Black-eye’s arm and twisted it up behind his back. Black-eye thrust out his chest, back arched, trying to ease the pressure. He twisted, swung his fist up with the momentum.

  Adrian slapped his left hand against Black-eye’s chest and spat the Word of Judgment.

  His tattoo flared, power surging down his arm into the other Warrior. Black-eye howled, jerking with spasms as if electrocuted. He dropped to his knees, head
lolling. Stayed there.

  Adrian looked at the other two, who were inching away. “Take him.” He strode to the plane, scooped up the bags he’d dropped, and jogged up the steps. Ben waited for him in the doorway, his eyes wide as he looked down at the Warriors on the tarmac.

  “What did you do, Adrian?”

  “Judgment.” Adrian dropped the bags on the floor and turned to shut and lock the door to the plane. “Get buckled in. We’re out of here.”

  “Okay.” Ben took his overnight case and shoved it in the overhead compartment. Adrian did the same with his duffel bag, then dropped into a seat and buckled his seat belt. He hit the intercom to the cockpit. “Bob, let’s get out of here.”

  “You’ve got it, Mr. Gray,” the pilot answered. The plane began to move.

  They’d been in the air for about fifteen minutes before Adrian’s intuition flared. Warriors were not only stronger and faster than normal humans, they had the acumen and instincts to go with it. Warriors were masters of strategy and logic, and sensitive to the slightest hint of danger. Right now his senses were screaming that something was very wrong.

  They should be heading west, but the sunset was on the right side of the plane, not in front of it. They were heading south.

  Something was wrong.

  “I’m going to talk to the pilot,” he said.

  Ben nodded, flipping through a magazine. “Would you get me a soda on the way back?”

  “Sure.” Adrian went up to the cockpit. He opened the door, and the pilot jerked his head around.

  “You’re not supposed to be up here, Mr. Gray.”

  “I’m getting drinks. Did you want one?”

  “No, thank you.” The pilot checked his dials. “You should have allowed a flight attendant.”

  “You’re right.” Adrian glanced at the instruments and saw his supposition was correct. “Are you aware you’re heading south? Sedona is west.”

  “I know how to get to Sedona, Mr. Gray. It is my home airport.”

  “I know, which is why I’m wondering why we’re going away from it.”

  Bob’s face flushed red. “We’re not going away from it. Clear skies all the way there. No reason to divert. We are headed to Sedona.” He tapped the console. “It’s right here, and if you were a pilot, you’d see that.”