by Susan Hayes
Text copyright ©2016 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by S.E. Smith. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Magic, New Mexico remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of S.E. Smith, or their affiliates or licensors.
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Etched in Stone
By: Susan Hayes
Etched in Stone
Stone has been alive for centuries, but he has never truly lived. Created by magic, he was duty bound to watch over the Drummond family and guard them with his life. Now, his last master is dead and there is no one left to protect. Instead of gaining his freedom at last, Stone finds himself locked in his granite form, a living mind trapped inside a statue of a gargoyle. Lost in despair and on the verge of madness, the days blend together into one everlasting nightmare…until he begins to dream of her.
Adina Diggersby lives for her art. Sculpting stone is her passion, one that fills her days and keeps her loneliness at bay. She spends her time in her studio or walking among her personal collection of sculptures and statues gathered from all over the world. The last thing she ever expected was for her newest purchase to come to life and inform her he was her new protector.
Adina won’t rest until Stone is free of the spells that enslave him, but unraveling the dark magic that created him will come at a price. Are these two souls doomed to be forever alone, or is their love strong enough to be etched in stone?
DEDICATION
As always, this book is dedicated to my parents for believing in me, and to Karen, for her unwavering friendship, support, and a decade’s worth of laughter.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I wanted to thank Susan Smith for honoring me with an invitation to take part in her amazing world. She gave me more than a chance to write about Magic, New Mexico. She offered me her support and her friendship. Thank you, Susan.
Cover design: Melody Simmons – Ebook Indie Covers
Editor: Debra White
CHAPTER ONE
“No way! That’s not possible. He’s nearly pristine after all this time? Oh, wow. Look at the detail. Someone spent a lot of time making him look that good. Hello, handsome, you’re going to be mine just as soon as I click—yes!” Adina Diggersby crowed in triumph as her bid appeared on the screen. She still had her fist in the air when someone else submitted another bid, trumping her offer by several hundred dollars.
“Shit. You can’t have him, he is mine!” Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed in another bid, holding her finger over the “Bid” button as the seconds ticked down to the end of the online auction. The amount was at the topmost end of her budget. If she was outbid again, she would lose, which meant her only chance of winning was to swoop in at the last second and hope her competitors didn’t have time to react before the bidding closed. The gargoyle she was trying to buy was a once-in-a-lifetime find and she stumbled on it with only minutes to spare.
Even though Adina didn’t inherit much of her mother’s clairvoyant talent, she had enough to know when fate was presenting her with an opportunity.
With less than ten seconds to go, she submitted her final bid. “Please don’t outbid me. Please don’t outbid me. Please, oh please, he’s perfect and I have just the right spot for him out front and—Holy crap, I won!”
She sprang from her chair and did a victory dance around the converted barn she used as her studio. “He’s mine, oh yeah! Who’s got the online auction mojo today? I do!”
“And Mom wonders why you can’t get a date. Are you dancing or should I call 9-1-1 and tell them you’re having a seizure?” Her brother’s voice interrupted her celebration.
“Hal! How many times have I asked you not to sneak up on me like that?” Adina stopped mid-bounce to glower at her brother, who was standing at the door to her studio, smirking.
He shrugged and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “If I stopped sneaking up on you I would never catch you doing whatever the hell you were just doing.”
“I was dancing. In fact, that was my victory dance. I found an incredible piece up for auction and I just scored the winning bid.” She pointed to her laptop and did another happy bounce. Not even her brother’s teasing could sour her current good mood.
Hal came over to her and set a leather-wrapped bundle on her workbench. “I swear we’ll have to hold an intervention for you soon. What did you buy this time, rocks from Europe or stones from Antarctica? Oh, I know, you got pebbles from Tibet.”
Adina had to crane her neck to look up at him now that he was so close. It was entirely unfair that they were both half-dwarf and yet Hal was a nice, normal human height while she stood at an underwhelming five-feet-three inches. Why did she have to be the one to take after her father in looks while Hal took after their more-or-less human mother?
“I don’t buy rocks, thank you very much. I buy raw material to sculpt into art. And no, this isn’t for a future project. This is something special.” She turned the laptop toward him and pointed to the picture of her new acquisition.
“Damn, that is an ugly statue. What is that, exactly, a gargoyle? Holy crap, you paid how much for that thing? Are you out of your mind?” Hal pointed to where her winning bid flashed on the screen with a reminder that she had twenty-four hours to contact the seller to arrange payment and shipping.
Adina shook her head. “He is not ugly, he’s beautiful. Look at the detail, Hal. He looks like he could come to life at any moment. That statue is hundreds of years old and still looks like the sculptor only finished working on him a few days ago. And you don’t get to judge me for my shopping habits unless you have suddenly gotten rid of the tons of scrap metal lying in heaps around your property. I know damned well that steel costs more than stone. “
“That’s not scrap metal, that’s raw material—damn it. I see what you did there. I refuse to admit that there’s any similarity between my raw material collection and yours.” He raised his hands in surrender. “However, I will take back what I said about your rock collection. I will also grudgingly concede that your newest find is a fine example of someone with great talent—who tragically misused said talent to create something hideous. That thing has wings, horns, fangs, and a face only its mother could love, and apparently, you, too. It’s going to give me nightmares and it’s not even here yet. Please tell me you’re not putting it on display, or I may stop visiting.”
“If I had known that’s all it took to keep your ass off my porch, I would have put a big, scary statue outside years ago,” she retorted.
“Keep talking like that and I’ll take back my present and go.” Hal dropped a hand to the leather bundle he brought with him.
“Present? You brought me a present? You really need to learn to lead with the important information and leave the insults until later in your visits.” Adina eyed the bundle with curiosity.
“Yes, I brought you a present. The last time I was here I noticed some of your chisels were in rough shape.” He nudged the bundle toward her and grinned.
She unrolled the leather and squealed as she saw what lay inside. A brand new set of chisels, the edges gleaming and each of them stamped with the mark of Hal’s forge. “I take back all the mean things I ever said about you. These are wonderful, thank you!”
“You are welcome. A craftsman is only as good as her tools, right?” he said, quoting one of their father’s favorite phrases.
She ran a loving hand over the ch
isels. “I’ll save these beauties for my next big project. I think it’s going to be a centaur. I’m working on the sketches right now, and I’ve got a couple of blocks of marble that would work. I just need to see which one calls to me once I’ve got it planned out. I was considering a battle pose. If that’s the direction I go, would you be interested in forging the sword? You and I have never done a project together, and I thought—“
Hal didn’t wait for her to finish before he interrupted. “I’m in. You know me; any excuse to fire up the forge and make a big, badass blade, I’m there. When you are done with the sketches, send a copy to me and I’ll start thinking about a design. Mom always wanted us to work together on something. She’ll be thrilled to hear about this.”
Adina laughed and rolled her eyes. “Remember her idea that we share studio space and call it the Sword and Stone? Can you imagine how that would have gone?”
Hal looked around her studio and shook his head. “I can’t imagine sharing space with you. Stone dust everywhere, tools piled up in random heaps, rocks all over the floor, and Nickleback playing night and day. I love you, sis, but that sounds a lot like my version of Hell.”
“Says the man who has his forge blazing like the devil’s fireplace even in the height of summer, and has deadly weapons lying around where they can attack anyone foolish enough to visit you.”
“Inanimate objects do not attack. That poor broadsword was hanging on the wall, minding its own business until you tripped and slammed into it. I liked that sword and you threw it in the forge!”
“I did not trip. It attacked me. Melting it to slag was an act of self-defense. And don’t pretend that you and Anneke weren’t messing around with spells trying to make a flying sword. She fessed up last Christmas after drinking too much eggnog.”
Hal groaned. “If you can’t trust family to keep a secret, who can you trust?”
“Might I suggest that next time you pick someone with a higher alcohol tolerance? Our cousin might be a powerful spell-caster, but she is a liquor-lightweight.”
“Duly noted, though I don’t plan on trying that spell ever again. I’ll leave spell-craft to the truly talented and stick to forging sharp, pointy objects. On that note, I should get back to my forge. You have an ugly mass of rock to pay for, and I’ve got a katana blade to etch.”
“See you for dinner Sunday night?” Adina asked. It was a tradition their mother started when Hal moved out of the house. On Sunday nights, the family came together to eat and catch up with each other’s lives. Attendance wasn’t mandatory, but both she and Hal had learned that it was far easier to go and share any news rather than let their mother find out on her own. Nadira Diggersby was a gifted seer and clairvoyant, which meant that there was no secret she couldn’t uncover if she put her mind to it.
It was a gift Adina was envious of when she was a child, but age and personal experience had shown her the downside to that kind of power. She learned the hard way that there were some things she was better off not knowing about. As a girl, she had once asked her mother to use her gifts to tell her the name of her true love, and the answer wasn’t what Adina had wanted to hear. Heartbroken at learning she was destined to remain alone and unloved, she never asked about her future again.
After that, Adina resisted all her mother’s attempts to teach her to use her own gifts. She would have the occasional prophetic dream and had a knack for recognizing opportunities, but that was all. Adina was quite content to leave the rest of her life, and everyone else’s, shrouded in mystery.
Hal patted his stomach. “You bet I’ll be there. Dad’s making smoked ribs this week.”
“Then I’ll see you in a few days. Thank you so much for the chisels. I love them.”
They said their goodbyes in the relative coolness of the studio before opening the door to the outside. The summer heat hit hard, and she stood blinking like an owl caught in a spotlight as the brilliant New Mexico sun dazzled her eyes.
“Ugh, big ball of fire trying to burn me. I’m going back inside. See you Sunday, Hal.”
“Some desert dweller you are,” Hal snorted with laughter as he headed toward his dusty pickup truck.
The second Hal was gone; Adina closed the door on the outside world and scampered back to her laptop. She wanted to finalize the deal, arrange for transport, and then take a few hours to research everything she could about her new acquisition. Every piece she bought had a story to tell. She wanted to know where this statue had been and what it had witnessed in its long life. Something told her that this one would be special.
* * *
Stone didn’t know what would happen when the last member of the Drummond family died. His masters had never told him. It probably never occurred to them that the bloodline they held in such high regard could ever end, but it had. The legacy he was created to protect had dwindled and faded until nothing was left but a solitary old man. A man, who had spent the last half of his life roaming the decaying halls of what was once a glorious estate, nestled in one of the richer parts of Upstate New York.
After centuries of service, would he finally be free? Or would the end of his duties mean the end of his life? In the end, the answer was neither. He was still alive, but he was far from free.
Stone wasn’t in the room when the end came for his master. He was perched outside the old man’s window, watching from the shadows as his master’s breaths had slowed and finally stopped. Not that the old man knew he had an audience for the last act of his life. Nathaniel Drummond had no idea that Stone even existed and he would likely have never believed Stone’s story even if he had known. Actually, no one had known the truth about Stone for generations. He was at best a family legend, a tale handed down through the years about the gargoyle that watched over the family and kept them safe from harm.
Now, the family was gone while he was still alive. No! Alive wasn’t the right word for his current state. He was still aware, but thinking was all he could do. The moment Drummond died, Stone’s body grew cold and stiff. The transformation to stone came unbidden and he wasn’t able to stop it. There was just enough time to return to his pedestal in the courtyard and resume his traditional crouching stance before the change was complete.
Madness danced around the edges of his mind as he fought to free himself. The magic he had come to rely on didn’t answer his summons. He was trapped, a soul captured inside a prison of stone. He lost track of the days, adrift in dark thoughts and despair.
Then, the dreams started.
He would appear in an unfamiliar place full of red rock and harsh sunlight. Mountains rose in the distance, jagged peaks of land framed against an impossibly blue sky. There was always a woman waiting for him. She would run toward him with open arms and a smile, her chestnut hair gleaming in the diamond-bright sunshine. She comforted him, her voice soothing even though he couldn’t understand what she was saying. She was his dream lover. Whenever she was with him, the darkness faded and he would feel hope that there was more to his future than an inevitable slide into madness.
By the time the men came for him, Stone was in a near-constant dream state. He barely noticed when they arrived with ropes and a hoist to wrest him from his pedestal and seal him into a dark crate. All he knew was that whatever his fate would be, it would unfold somewhere else. He clung to his dreams and the hope that he would someday see the sun again. He was tired of living in the shadows. He didn’t rouse from his dreams until his journey ended. His crate landed with a jolt.
The sound of someone prying nails loose pierced his consciousness. Then the top of crate was torn open and light streamed in.
“Hello, handsome. Let’s get you out of there.”
Stone came alert in an instant. That voice! He knew that voice! In a matter of minutes, the rest of the crate surrounding him was taken apart and he could finally see again. He was indoors in some sort of large, open space. There were tools everywhere; chisels, files, hammers, and other things he couldn’t identify. A large slab of black marbl
e took up most of the area he could see, and for the thousandth time since Drummond’s death, he wished he could move. He wanted to see the face of the woman who had spoken. He needed to know if it was the woman from his dreams.
“You are incredible! Absolutely perfect,” she spoke again, the words coming from somewhere to his left.
When her hand touched his outstretched wing, the simple contact sent a shock wave coursing through him. How long had it been since he felt the touch of a woman? His entire focus was on her hand as she ran her fingers along the edge of his wing, following the sculpted line of stone to where it met his back.
“The photos they took didn’t do you justice,” she mused as she continued her exploration, running her hands over every part of him.
It wasn’t long before Stone was ready to scream with frustration and longing. Every gentle touch of her hands made him yearn to be free of his magical prison. Every word she spoke made him more certain that this was the woman from his dreams. of. But how had he dreamed of someone he had never met and how in Hell could he let her know that he was more than a well-crafted statue?
When the woman finally moved into view, he knew instantly that she was the one. She had the same brilliant green eyes and dark chestnut hair. Even her lovely smile was the same. There were a few small differences—a smudge of dust on her cheek and her hair wasn’t loose but tied back into an unruly ponytail. The details didn’t matter, though. His nameless dream woman was real. He needed to believe it meant there was hope for him yet.
She continued her hands-on inspection, her every touch part torture and part pleasure. After so long it was a joy to have contact with anyone at all, but he wanted more, so much more.
“There isn’t a scratch on you. No moss, no weathering, no stress fractures. I can’t even find a single chip anywhere. I told them to bring you in here because I thought I would need to do some restoration, but there is nothing to restore.” She rose from her crouch and looked at him with amazement. “If I didn’t know better, I would swear you were enchanted to resist damage.”