The Cursing Stones

by Sonya Bateman

  And where his wife was concerned, he wasn’t too proud or afraid to seek their darker brand of help.

  Chapter 16

  Druid Encampment, Ogham Wood – Finlay Cabin

  Rain Finlay had been back home for less than a week, and she already knew things weren’t going to work out. Her father was driving her insane — and when she finally got this stupid hex spell right, she was going to cast it on him.

  They were seated at his work table in the main room of the cabin, with spell components scattered all over the surface and her father’s Grove Journal open beside her. Despite the detailed work he could accomplish with his hands, Lachlan Finlay had terrible handwriting. “Does that say trinket, or thicket?” she said, pointing to the third line of cramped letters.

  “Ye’ve got the words right,” her father snapped. “There’s something else wrong. Give over that hex bag.”

  She did. He examined it and grunted. “This,” he said, tapping one of the runes she’d inked into the cloth, the one that looked like a pointy capital P. “What’s this supposed to be?”

  “A rune.” She managed not to roll her eyes. “The devil one.”

  “Thurisaz,” her father said heavily, “has got a stem at the top. This is Wunjo. The rune of joy. Are ye planning to cheer the beasts to death, then?”

  “It’s been five years since I’ve even thought about runes, Da’.”

  “Really, Rhiannon, this is basic work. If ye can’t even tell a Thurisaz from a Wunjo, ye’ll never be able to—” He cut himself off with an exaggerated sigh. “We haven’t had breakfast yet,” he said, pushing back from the table. “We’ll get some food in ye, see if that improves yer focus.”

  “Good idea,” she said. “I’ll help.”

  “Ye’ll stay there and read that book. Again.” With that, he stood and tromped off toward the kitchen.

  Rain made a face at his broad back and flipped reluctantly to the front of the journal. When her father said he’d train her to fight the new threats that may be facing the island, this was not what she had in mind. He’d even given her a sword — one that belonged to her mother, it turned out — but she hadn’t touched it since they’d killed the duin’alla.

  That was why she’d returned to Parthas, even after she’d sworn to stay away. To save her Poppy from what turned out to be a human-sized spider monster from a place called the Between, the barrier separating the mortal world from the magic one. She’d stayed because there were more horrors in the Between … and apparently, they now had a way to get through. She wanted to help protect the village and her clan.

  Now she was starting to regret that decision. She’d given up being a druid for a reason, and that reason’s name was Lachlan Finlay.

  The journal sat in front of her, silently mocking her. But just as she resigned herself to a morning spent deciphering her father’s chicken scratch, someone knocked at the door.

  “I’ll get it,” she called, knowing her father would refuse to answer. He believed that anyone who should be there would come in without knocking, and everyone else could piss right off. Rain, on the other hand, believed in being polite. Most of the time.

  She opened the door to an older man, late fifties or so, haggard-looking and dressed in rumpled clothing. He wore a dark gray paddy cap, which he immediately removed and started twisting in his hands when he caught sight of her. “Apologies, miss,” he said. “I must have the wrong place.”

  “Maybe not.” She offered a smile. “Are you looking for Lachlan Finlay?”

  “Aye,” the man said. “I need … some help. For m’ wife.” He sent a furtive glance to one side, then the other, and whispered, “Think she’s been cursed.”

  Rain felt bad for him. Most of the village people had always been afraid of the druids, and they were reluctant to ask for help of the magical variety. She’d seen a lot of them act this way before she left the island. For a while she’d worked in the apothecary with Glynis, a senior druid who had the same gift as Rain for talking to animals. Villagers would come into the shop with attitudes like this man’s — guilty, nervous and reserved, hoping no one had seen them and expecting something unpleasant to happen.

  It didn’t matter that the druidic order was dedicated to doing no harm. People just didn’t understand magic, and therefore feared it.

  “All right,” she finally said to the man. “Come in, and I’ll get Lachlan.”

  “Thank ye, miss.”

  Just as the man stepped over the threshold, her father’s voice sounded somewhere behind her. “We’re no longer in the business of helping ye lot, John Brannon,” he said sternly. “Go on with ye. Tell yer wife to take a powder.”

  “Da’! What’s wrong with you?” The astonished exclamation escaped her before she could stop it. “Since when do we not help the village?”

  He glowered at the man in the doorway. “Since Glynis, that’s when.”

  “What?” She knew Glynis had left the order, but her father never did say why. It was one of his many talents — not explaining anything to his daughter. Ever. In fact, she’d never met anyone so good at not explaining.

  Before she could question him further, John Brannon straightened and stepped forward. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Master Finlay, but I had nothing to do with that business,” he said. “I’m here to seek help for me wife, and I’m not leaving until I get it. She’s been cursed. No powder’s going to help her, ’less it’s a magic powder.”

  Lachlan bared his teeth. “If ye won’t leave, I’ll make ye.”

  “Stop it!” Rain shot him a look, and he backed down. Sort of. “We’ll try to help you,” she said. “Now, why do you think your wife is cursed?”

  John looked startled. “Well, because of the apparition that cursed her,” he said. “Nasty old wailing banshee. Large as life, right in our living room.”

  “A banshee,” Rain said. Though she’d grown up immersed in druid lore and legends, she’d never believed in the otherworldly side. Faeries and black dogs, wraiths and banshees — all nonsense.

  Or so she thought, until she watched a four-armed, four-legged spider beast try to eat Kincaid Nolan. Now she was fast becoming a believer.

  “Nonsense. Ye saw no banshee.” Lachlan moved closer, and he seemed less angry. A bit more interested. “Banshees are omens, nothing more,” he said. “They merely announce a death. And they don’t come into homes.”

  “My Mary’s not dead,” John said forcefully. “And this one came inside. Blocked the telly, then got right in Mary’s face and screamed bloody murder.”

  Lachlan raised an eyebrow. “How many times did it scream?”

  “Just the once. Made m’ poor Mary vomit blood and pass out.” He started wringing his cap again. “She’s wakened since, but she’s so weak,” he whispered. “Those doctors, they’ve got no idea what’s wrong with her. They can’t help.”

  Rain looked from the distraught man to her father. “I thought banshees screamed three times,” she said.

  “Aye, they do. Least you remember something.”

  She decided to ignore the jab. “Maybe it wasn’t a banshee, then.”

  “Might be a curse banshee,” her father said slowly.

  “A what?” she said. “You made that up just now, didn’t you?”

  “I do not make things up, Rhiannon Dawn.” He gave her a stern look, and then turned to John. “Where’s yer wife now, then?”

  “She’s home. Resting, for all the good it’ll do her.” Faint hope washed through the man’s features. “If ye know what it is, can ye help her?” he said. “Please. I’ll pay anything.”

  “Can’t be sure, but I suppose we’ll give it a go.” Lachlan gestured, and suddenly he was holding a small pouch of brown canvas, tied shut with twine. “Ye can try laying protections on yer home, for now. Place this under yer wife’s pillow.” He tossed the pouch, and John caught it neatly. “Ye’ll need more than that, though.”

  “I can do the other protections,” Rain said. “They’ll have what we
need at the apothecary. I’ll go down there, and—”

  “Apothecary’s closed,” Lachlan said abruptly. “If ye want to help, get what ye need from Master Nolan.”

  She really wanted to ask why they’d closed the shop, but she’d save the fight until after the man who’d come for help left. “All right, I will,” she said. “Give me your address, and I’ll come by soon.”

  “Thank ye kindly, miss.”

  She handed him a scrap of paper and a pen from the work table, and he scribbled an address down. Then he sent a hesitant look at her father. “How shall I pay for this?”

  “Ye owe me nothing, John Brannon.” His stone features softened a bit. “Be warned, though. If it’s a curse banshee, the apparition will return twice more. Tonight, and tomorrow night. And on the third night … well, let’s say if we’re to defeat the thing, it must be before then.”

  John gave a stiff nod. “Understood,” he said. “And I thank ye.”

  “Don’t thank me until it’s over.” Lachlan turned and walked from the room.

  Rain saw the man out, then closed the door and leaned against it. She was full of questions for her father, but she had a feeling most of them would go unanswered.

  So she decided to cheat and ask her Poppy instead.

  Chapter 17

  Finlay Cabin – The Kitchen

  When Rain asked what happened to Glynis, Ewan Tavish did something she’d never seen him do before. He looked to her father before he answered.

  “Poppy?” She suddenly suspected things had been worse than she thought. “I know I didn’t leave on the best terms, but Glynis was my friend. I’d really like to know what happened to her, and what the villagers had to do with it.”

  Her grandfather coughed into his hand. “Well, my girl … ’tis a sad story,” he said. “But if ye plan to stay, I suppose ye should know it.”

  Lachlan glared briefly at him, but went back to his eggs without a word.

  “Wasn’t a year after ye left,” Poppy said, staring off into the distance. “One of the Wharvey girls took desperate ill, and the docs couldn’t do a thing for her. So the child’s mother, Cora, come to the apothecary beggin’ Glynis to help. She did, ’a course. Mixed up a powerful concoction, give the mother careful instructions on how to use it.”

  Rain understood what happened before he finished. “The mother didn’t listen, did she?”

  “Nae, she dinnae. She was desperate, that woman. Give little Elyssa the whole bottle, of what was meant to be taken a half-teaspoon at a time o’er a month.” Poppy shook his head slowly. “The poor child died that night. Badly. And Cora, she blamed Glynis for her daughter’s death.”

  “Did the rest of the village blame Glynis, too?”

  Poppy’s mouth flattened. “Nae everyone, but around half of ’em did. Glynis was already heartbroken over what happened to the child. And when the constable refused to charge her with murder, them that believed she was at fault … they come for her.”

  She went cold to her bones. “What did they do?”

  Again, Poppy glanced at her father before he said, “They tried to burn her at the stake.”

  “No,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes. “Not Glynis. She was just the sweetest woman … how could they do that to her?”

  “Mob mentality. That, and the mad grief of a mother who’d lost her child, drove them to the unthinkable.” Poppy sipped from his coffee mug with a hand that shook slightly. “Course, they dinnae manage t’ do her in. Yer father, he—”

  “That’s enough, Ewan,” Lachlan snarled. “Ye’ll leave my role out of this little story.”

  “All right. That’ll be yours for the tellin’, if ye ever have a mind.”

  “I won’t.” He stood suddenly, grabbed his coffee cup and went over to the counter.

  Rain stared at her father’s back for a moment. When she first came home, she’d been shocked to see the long, jagged scar down his face that hadn’t been there when she left. Now she might know why he had it, but not how. She’d probably never know that, if it was up to him to tell her. “Poppy,” she finally said. “Has the apothecary really been closed all this time?”

  “Aye. With half the village despising us, and the other half feared of us, there’s nae been a need to reopen.”

  “Well, there is now. Don’t you think?” An idea was beginning to form in her mind — a crazy one, but it just might make her recently extended stay on Parthas tolerable. “With all that’s happening, they’re going to want our help. Some will need it, even if they don’t want it.”

  Poppy chuckled. “True enough. Desperate times, and all that,” he said. “But who’s going to run the place?”

  She drew a deep breath. “I will.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  The flat words came from her father, who thudded back to the table but didn’t sit down. From her perspective, it made him seem twelve feet tall — which, she knew, he was doing on purpose. Looming. She frowned up at him and said, “Why not? The clan leader owns the apothecary, and you’re the clan leader.”

  “Ye don’t know what yer doing, girl,” he said.

  “Yes, I do. I worked with Glynis for almost a year.”

  “Sweepin’ the floors and runnin’ the register!”

  She took a minute to breathe, so she wouldn’t scream. “That’s not all I did,” she said. “Glynis showed me a lot.”

  “And how much do ye remember? Not enough, I’d wager.” Her father’s dark eyes flashed angrily. “If something was to go wrong, and those drooling idiots were to come for ye … I won’t let that happen, Rhiannon. The answer’s no.”

  Poppy raised a hand, a calming gesture. “She’s right, Lachlan. We do need to reopen the place,” he said. “There’s a darkness coming to this island, and we cannae be everywhere at once. They’ll need our help t’ get through this, like it or not.”

  “She’s not running the apothecary, Ewan.”

  “She need not do it alone,” he said. “Ye know there’s another who can manage it.”

  Lachlan snorted. “Oh, aye. There’s a one to put working for the villagers,” he said. “That tongue of hers. Besides, she’d just as soon hex as help them.”

  “Well, that’s why we need our Rhiannon there, too,” Poppy said with a smile. “She’ll balance the other one.”

  Rain looked from one to the other, frowning. “Who are you talking about?” she said. “I don’t need to work with someone else. Especially if she’s going to hex the villagers.”

  “Ye know what? Fine.” Her father leveled a smirk at her. “I think it’ll do ye good to learn a bit of humility. Ye can open the shop, but you’ll do it with Brigid.”

  “Brigid?”

  Poppy laughed. “Don’t remember her? Ye soon will, my girl,” he said. “But I doubt they’ll be the fondest of memories.”

  “All right,” she said with a sigh. “Whoever she is, I’ll work with her.”

  “Wasn’t giving ye the choice in the matter,” Lachlan said. “Eat yer breakfast, now. Ye’ve got work to do.”

  Despite an intense urge to keep the fight going, she decided to shut up and eat. For now, she’d take the small victory. She could open the apothecary. Which happened to have an apartment above it for the shopkeeper, in case there were after-hours emergencies.

  Now she just had to convince her father to let her stay there, so she could keep what was left of her sanity.

  Chapter 18

  Bairnskill Village – 8 Junction Pass

  The Brannons lived in a charming cobblestone cottage with a thatched roof. Which wasn’t terribly helpful as identifiers went, since it described around half the homes in the village. If Rain hadn’t gotten the street address, she never would’ve found the place.

  She and Kincaid arrived on his motorcycle just before noon. The healer, who’d quickly become a friend since she returned to the island, had spent the morning putting together a few protection charms and spells after Rain called to tell him about Mary Brannon and the
curse banshee.

  He’d taken the news well enough, considering. Mainly, he’d been glad it wasn’t another spider monster.

  Once they’d dismounted, Kincaid opened the saddlebag on his bike and took out a bundle of twigs tied with a black ribbon, and a big pouch. He handed her the sticks. “Rowan and birch,” he said. “This needs to be hung over the woman’s bed. I’ve blessed it already, but you can do it again if you feel like it.”

  “Er. I’m sure your blessing is enough,” she said.

  “Don’t remember how, do you?” Kincaid said with a laugh. “Well, that’s all right. We’ve got this, too, and it’s pretty powerful.” He held up the pouch. “Angelica and wood betony. While you’re doing the branches, I’ll sprinkle this in the four corners of the house. Guaranteed to keep out ghoulies, ghosties, and all manner of creepy buggers.”

  She smirked. “Even curse banshees?”

  “Yeah, about that,” he said. “Sounds made up, doesn’t it? But your father says they’re real enough.”

  “All he told me was the Devonshire druids ran into one, decades ago. Nothing about what they did or how it all turned out.”

  Kincaid nodded. “About what I got from him.” He sent an uneasy glance at the cottage and said, “So, we going in?”

  “That’s why we’re here,” she said. “What’s wrong? I thought you were okay with the whole banshee thing.”

  “Aye, banshees I can tolerate. Normal ones, anyway,” he said. “It’s the villagers that worry me. Used to be they respected us, but now … things haven’t been right since what they did to Glynis.”

  “I heard about that. A little, anyway.” She frowned at the cottage door. “Don’t worry, though. I met John Brannon this morning. He was very polite. Not a single torch or pitchfork in sight.”

  “Not funny, Rain.”

  “It’s a bit funny.” She nudged him gently. “Come on. I want to help them, if we can.”