The Cursing Stones

by Sonya Bateman

  Kincaid raised an eyebrow. “You ready or what?”

  “Wait.” She suddenly remembered the castle. “When I got here, I saw something—” She looked up as she said it. And the light was gone.

  “What?” Kincaid said. “Tell me what you saw.”

  The eagerness in his voice startled her, and it also put her on edge. “Um. I guess it was nothing,” she said.

  “You sure? Because if it was the ghost, others have seen it too.”

  She stared at him. “What ghost?”

  “We’ve got a ghost on the moors.” His mouth flattened, and he looked past her to the sea. “Too much has happened, all at once. The disappearances, the ghost, even the weather’s gone sideways. We’re in a bad way here, Rain.” He gave her a sad smile, and said, “I’m glad you’ve come. We could use all the help we can get.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say she was glad to be here, but she smiled back. “Thanks,” she said. “And I’m ready, so escort away.”

  “Happy to oblige.”

  She followed him down the path, but it wasn’t long before he stopped. “Here we are,” he said, gesturing at the lamp post just ahead. “You want the black helmet, or the red?”

  She looked where he pointed. “That’s a motorcycle.”

  “Aye. ‘Tis.” He walked over and ran a hand along the leather seat. “Beauty, ain’t she?”

  “A druid riding a motorcycle.”

  “Can’t hold with that grim procession nonsense,” he said. “Takes too bloody long.”

  She laughed. “I guess it does. But why didn’t I hear you come up on this?”

  “Oh, I’ve been waiting a while,” he said. “Must’ve been watering the lily when you got in. Didn’t mean to startle you, but I thought you’d never stop staring at that castle.”

  “Right,” she said slowly, and shook herself. For some reason she didn’t want to mention the light in the window. Maybe she’d been hallucinating or something. She’d just keep it to herself for bit, until she knew what actually happened. “Okay, I’ll take the red one,” she said.

  “All yours.”

  Kincaid handed her the red motorcycle helmet, and she strapped it on and climbed onto the bike behind him. This was going to be an interesting ride.

  Chapter 4

  Druid Encampment, Ogham Wood

  Kincaid managed not to scare too many years off her life on the way to the camp. He drove the bike with confidence, but no recklessness, sticking to the paths and slowing for sharper turns. She appreciated that he didn’t try to show off.

  He dropped her in front of the cabin where she’d grown up with her father and Poppy, and wished her luck. Said something about needing it.

  She couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment.

  There was a light in the front window, so at least her father was awake. She wondered if he’d even bother talking to her. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think he’d expect her to just fall back into the life, the same way she’d fallen out. That wasn’t happening. She hadn’t cast so much as a Finding spell since she left. This part of her life was over.

  But she was stuck with her gift. That didn’t require any practice, and never had.

  She approached the door slowly — solid oak, with runes for warding and protection carved into the lintel — and hesitated for a full minute before she knocked. And waited. There was no response, so she knocked again.

  Five minutes later, she made a frustrated sound, opened the door and walked inside.

  “’Bout time.” Lachlan Finlay didn’t even look up from the table where he was sitting, the one he’d used as a work space for as long as she could remember. The table’s surface was littered with papers and vials and small wooden bowls, and a fat white candle burning in the center of it all. “Thought ye’d stand out there all night.”

  She glared at the back of her father’s shaggy head. He was a big bear of a man, with coarse black hair down to his shoulders and dark, penetrating eyes she couldn’t see right now, dressed in his usual long-sleeved tunic and loose pants. His big hands moved among the objects on the table with eerie grace, pinching from a bowl here, jotting down a note there. She’d always been fascinated by his ability to perform delicate spell work with those hands. But that didn’t make her any less angry. “You could’ve answered the door,” she finally said.

  “Those that need be here, knows to come in.” He still hadn’t looked at her.

  She heaved a sigh and tried to calm her aggravation. If she had to be here, she’d prefer to avoid as many fights as possible. “Yes, well, I’m glad to see you too,” she said.

  “Are ye?”

  There was a cold undertone to his words as he faced her at last — and she gasped at the sight of the long, jagged scar that curved from the inside corner of his eye across his cheek, down his jawbone. That hadn’t been there when she left. “Yes, I am,” she managed. “What happened to you?”

  “Never mind,” he said gruffly, and turned back to the table. “Yer room’s set still, if ye want it. Guess ye don’t need me to show the way.”

  This time she heard a note of sorrow in his voice, and it softened her a bit. She put her bags on the couch and went to the other side of the table, facing him. “What’s all this?” she said.

  “What do ye think? I’m lookin’ for yer Poppy.” He tapped a map of the island beside him, bristling with pushpins. “Here’s where he ain’t so far.”

  She looked. Her father had covered every inch of the village, half the forest and some of the moors. There were no marks at the castle, or on the wild side of the island at the lee of the tor. All of the pushpins were black except for three red ones scattered throughout Bairnskill. “What’s the red for?”

  “The others gone missing,” he said, and pointed to each of them in turn. “Danny MacCallan was the first. Then Aidan Campbell, and Leigh Donaldson. Ewan, he’s the latest so far.” His broad shoulders sagged a touch. “Location spell’s not catching for any of ’em.”

  For the first time she realized how exhausted he looked. He must’ve been awake for days working at this. She wanted to be angry with him for not contacting her sooner — but she knew why he didn’t. She wouldn’t have come for the villagers. Poppy was the only thing that could’ve gotten her here, and her father knew it.

  Now she almost felt bad.

  “All right,” she said. “I’m here now, so why don’t you take a break? I’ll head out and start talking—”

  “No.”

  She frowned. “No?”

  “Ye’ll not leave camp until the day breaks,” he said. “Get y’self taken, and then what good are ye? It’s not safe here. Not lately.”

  “Why not?” she said. “Tell me what’s happening.”

  His dark gaze met hers. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s like nothing we’ve seen. Nothing in history. And it’s bad.” He stared at the map, and said, “Whatever took Ewan … it’s only the beginning.”

  Chills settled into her bones. She and her father had their differences, but she knew one thing. Lachlan Finlay was a powerful druid. Not only the leader of their clan, but respected throughout the global community. And if he thought something was bad … well, it was much worse.

  “All right,” she said. “I won’t argue.”

  He arched a shaggy brow. “First time for everything?”

  “Looks that way. But I’m headed out at first light,” she said. “And you should get some rest, too. You’re spent.”

  “Aye. Eventually.” Something that resembled a smile lifted his lips. “I am glad to see ye, Rhiannon Dawn,” he said. “Yer Poppy will be, too.”

  “Let’s hope so.” She didn’t bother correcting him on the name. There’d be time for that argument later. “Well, goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” he said absently, already returning to his spell work.

  She left him to it, knowing he was too stubborn for reason. He’d keep going until he dropped, and then he’d only stop long enough to rest until he c
ould move again. No one pushed harder than her father. And that included when he was pushing someone out.

  Too exhausted to think more about it, she grabbed her bags and plodded off to the back of the cabin. Her room was exactly as she’d left it, but she barely noticed. She set an alarm on her phone and promptly passed out.

  Chapter 5

  Bairnskill Village – Dawn

  Connor MacCallan had a whole lot of sheep.

  Rain stood on the slight rise overlooking the MacCallan spread. The stone farmhouse, the big red barn, the silo, and beyond that, rolling emerald meadows dotted with dull, fleecy white. With that many animals together, she could sense their collective state from here — and it was unease, bordering on fear.

  Earlier this morning, her father had explained briefly about the mutilated lamb found here the day before Danny MacCallan vanished. Hopefully whatever attacked the animal was the same thing that made off with its master. Then they’d at least have something to go on.

  She headed down the path toward the farmhouse. Kincaid had dropped her off here, because he didn’t want to go much closer to the place. Connor made no secret of his feelings toward the druids, and Kincaid had told her that particular attitude was now widespread throughout the village, though he didn’t say why. He’d promised to be back in an hour to pick her up, but now she was thinking she might need more time.

  The sheep were confused and disrupted. It wouldn’t be easy getting something out of them that made sense.

  She made her way to the front door and knocked. Before long, a woman in a simple cotton dress opened the inner door and peered at her through the screen. “Who are ye?” she said. “Did that Tolmach send you out here? I told him we’d be round tomorrow.”

  “Um. No,” Rain said. She hadn’t really thought through what she was going to say, but opening with I’d like to talk to your sheep probably wasn’t the best idea.

  Before she could think of something that didn’t sound insane, a man’s voice called from inside, “Who’s that then, Emma?”

  “Don’t know,” the woman called back. “Young gel, smells like an engine.”

  Rain coughed and stared at her feet. Riding a motorcycle was faster than walking, but she hadn’t expected this kind of drawback. “My name is Rain,” she said. “I’m here about your boy, Danny.”

  The woman’s demeanor changed instantly. “My Danny,” she said hoarsely. “Has someone found him? Please, is he all right? Is he—”

  A tall figure loomed behind the woman suddenly, scowling. “You’re upsetting my wife,” he said, laying a gentle hand on her arm. “Let me handle this, Em.”

  “She’s here about Danny,” Emma said. “They must’ve found him. Where is he?”

  Rain’s heart broke at the desperate panic behind the woman’s words. “We’re going to find him,” she said firmly. “Don’t you worry. But I do need your help with something. This is going to sound strange, but—”

  “You’re Lachlan Finlay’s girl,” Connor practically snarled. “We don’t want your kind of help, druid. You get off my property and don’t come back.”

  “Connor MacCallan, ye can stuff that nonsense,” Emma said just as angrily. “I don’t care if she’s the bloody queen of the dark faeries. If she can help find our boy, we’ll do anything she says, hear me? I want Danny back.”

  The man’s expression didn’t change, but he backed off a few steps.

  “Now, then. Rain, is it?” Emma pushed the screen door open and stepped onto the porch. “What can we do for ye?”

  Rain sent a nervous glance at Connor. “Well, it’s your sheep,” she said. “I heard one of them was attacked the day before Danny went missing. So I’d like to take a look around your meadow, to — er, look for clues.”

  “Ye mean to talk to the sheep,” Emma said.

  She was surprised enough not to respond right away. “Yes,” she said. “I mean, not really. It’s just that I can…”

  “Communicate with animals.” Emma gave her a gentle smile. “No need to tiptoe around me with euphemisms, dear,” she said. “Unlike some people around here, I’m still a believer. And lately it seems I’m right to be.” Her smile took a darker turn as tears filled her eyes. “By all means, you’re welcome to it,” she said. “Please. Just find my boy.”

  She let out a choked sob, then turned and fled back into the house.

  Rain took a moment to collect herself before she headed for the meadow. She’d been so focused on Poppy, she hadn’t given much thought to this, but three other families were suffering here. Probably more than her, since they’d never left their loved ones.

  She was determined to help them.

  A brisk walk brought her to the edge of the meadow, but she slowed as she approached the sheep. They milled around calmly enough until she got close. Then the ones nearest her would kind of trot off to one side or another, parting like a sluggish woolen sea. She sensed they weren’t afraid of her, exactly. She was just Not The Boy.

  They missed The Boy.

  The thoughts of the sheep weren’t words, not as humans knew them. Most of it was white noise, a fog bank of sensations and feelings: pleasant, rocky, warm, hungry. A few concepts were defined enough to be nearly words, and she could understand those. The Boy was one of them. There was The Mum and The Man, The Eating Place and The Sleeping Place. The Girls was a bit fuzzy, and she couldn’t tell if there were two or three of them. She was pretty sure Danny had younger sisters, though.

  As she moved slowly through the flock, she picked up a new defined concept. The Monster.

  She honed in on the thought, followed it to the animal who held it. The ewe stood slightly apart from the rest, gazing across the meadow toward the border of the forest beyond. Her manner was far more attentive than the average sheep.

  Rain approached with caution, expecting the ewe to trot away. But the sheep faced her with bright black eyes and bleated softly, as if she knew why Rain was here.

  “The monster,” she said, crouching in front of the ewe. “You’ve seen it?”

  The Monster. The Little One. The Woods. The sheep’s thoughts pulsed like a heartbeat, and Rain caught flashes of images. Blood on the ground. A young man kneeling by a massacred lamb, his face pale and angry. She assumed it was Danny.

  A dark silhouette, horribly disfigured. Inhuman.

  Good Lord, that was what she was looking for? The brief glimpse was enough to freeze her blood, but she had to see more. She needed a clear picture — not that she wanted one. And the best way to get it was through direct contact with the animal.

  She reached out and paused. “May I touch you?” she said gently. “You can show me the monster. Show me, and I’ll find the boy.”

  The Boy. Acceptance radiated from the ewe. Rain laid her hand on the sheep’s head, feeling the thick, coarse warmth of her wool.

  And she saw.

  It was roughly human sized. Four arms, four legs, glowing red eyes. Wicked, curving fangs. Its skin was mottled and blotchy, sprouting patches of thick, rough hairs. No—they were bristles. And it moved fast, faster than it should’ve been able to with those legs.

  She pulled away quickly, holding her hand as if it were burned. The ewe blinked and bleated and tried to back away. “No, it’s okay,” Rain said as calmly as possible. “It’s okay. I saw the monster.” She closed her eyes, but the image remained seared in her mind. “Did it come from the woods?” she said.

  The Monster. The Woods.

  “All right,” she said. “Thank you.”

  The Boy.

  “I’ll find the boy. I promise.”

  The ewe seemed to accept that, and turned back to her vigil on the forest border.

  Rain pulled herself together and headed back toward the MacCallan spread, taking her phone out as she walked. Kincaid had given her his number, so she’d call and have him pick her up now. She’d seen enough.

  She only hoped her father had some clue what that nightmare on four legs could be — and how they could find it.<
br />
  Chapter 6

  Druid Encampment – Early Morning

  At first Rain was actually glad she was reporting what she’d seen to her father. No one else would ever believe it. But once she explained what the ewe had shown her, Lachlan Finlay’s reaction wasn’t what she expected.

  “Ye must’ve gone soft,” he said. “I’ve never heard of such a creature.”

  She closed her eyes until the urge to swipe all of his work off the table and stomp on it passed. “Just because you haven’t heard of it, doesn’t mean no one has. You don’t know everything,” she said. “I know what I saw. And you’re the one who asked me to help you, remember?”

  “Well, this ain’t helpful,” he grunted. “Maybe y’ lost yer gift, bein’ away for so long.”

  She bit back a shout. “I can’t lose it,” she said. “I’ve tried.”

  Her father gave her a challenging stare. She refused to look away, until he finally sighed and dropped his gaze. “This … spider-man,” he said. “Know where it came from?”

  “The woods. That’s all the sheep knew.”

  “Helpful.”

  “They’re sheep. What did you expect, a name and address?”

  He shook his head and looked at the map on the table. “All right,” he said. “Assuming ye saw what ye saw, there might be a way to find out something about the creature.” He tapped the center of the map. “Here.”

  “The castle?”

  “Aye. There’s a library there,” he said. “Very large, very old, and most of the collection’s of the mythical persuasion. If there’s anything on record for this beast, it’d be there.”

  “Okay, so how do we get to the library?”

  His hands clenched tightly, and he stared off into the distance for so long that she thought he might’ve fallen asleep. “We don’t,” he finally said. “But ye might.”