The Cursing Stones

by Sonya Bateman

  It was more unnerving than she’d expected.

  She set to work distracting herself by gathering plants. Soon she developed a decent rhythm of cutting and stashing, crouched among the stalks with scissors in one hand, the bag slung over her shoulder and the lantern at her feet. She found herself humming under her breath, an old tune her Poppy used to sing while he worked the garden. After a while, the bag was nearly full.

  “Well, now. Isn’t this a treat.”

  Rain bolted upright and whirled at the male voice behind her, instinctively extending the scissors. “You,” she breathed, backing away a step.

  “Aye, me. But you don’t remember who I am, do you?”

  The ghost was just as luminous, just as striking as the last time. Still naked except for the wide metal bracelets and the cloth around his waist, showing off lean, sculpted muscle and a few nasty-looking scars. His black hair fell in wild tangles past his shoulders, and his green eyes glittered with a dangerous promise.

  “How could I remember someone I’ve never met?” she said, lowering the scissors slowly. They wouldn’t do any good. “You’re a ghost. You probably died before I was born.”

  “A ghost, am I?”

  He moved in a blink and captured her wrist with a hand. A warm, solid hand. She could feel the roughness of his skin, the pressure of his grip.

  And yet, she could see the shapes of the betony stalks behind him. Through him.

  “Who are you?” she rasped. “What are you?”

  “Let’s start with who.” He released his grip slowly, but his fingertips trailed along her skin as he pulled back, sending shivers through her. “My name is lost to my tongue, thanks to the one who put me here. But you may call me Kieran.”

  She frowned. “Someone put you here?”

  “Aye, long ago.”

  “So you’re cursed.”

  “Something like that.” His grin was wicked. “As to what I am … well, that’s a tale we’ve no time for now. Your lover is returning.”

  “My what?” Just then, she made out the faint sound of a motorcycle engine swelling in the distance. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Did you release that creature? The duin’alla?”

  Kieran gave a dark laugh. “If only I could do such a thing,” he said. “Magnificent beast, wasn’t he? Shame you killed him before he really got warmed up.”

  “It was a monster, and it nearly killed my friend.”

  “Of course he did. That’s the natural order of things, aillidh.” The wicked grin returned. “People kill animals. Monsters kill people. And legends … they kill monsters.”

  “Right,” she said. “Because I’m a legend.”

  “Rhiannon Dawn Finlay.” His voice faded to the whisper of dead leaves as he stepped back. “You do know that’s not your true name, don’t you?”

  The bike was a dull roar behind her. She glanced back and saw the headlight not twenty feet away. And when she turned again, Kieran was gone.

  She shuddered and stared at the spot where he’d been. Whatever he was, he had some kind of power beyond mere mortals … because she’d never told him her name.

  Chapter 26

  Druid Encampment – The Apothecary

  Rain headed to the shop bright and early. She’d managed to avoid her father last night and this morning. A good thing, since she was still deeply troubled over the encounter on the moors with the man who wasn’t a ghost.

  She had no idea what to make of Kieran. Good or bad, cursed or lying … whatever he was, he filled her with a dread fascination that she couldn’t articulate. Maybe it was better that everyone thought he was a ghost. She had a feeling the unknown truth would cause widespread panic and result in destruction — Kieran’s, or those who went after him.

  But the girl in the apothecary was definitely a ghost. And she was waiting to greet Rain when she walked in.

  “Good morning,” Isobel said cheerfully from behind the counter. “I’m glad you came back. I would’ve kept cleaning for you after you left, but…” She held up a hand and swiped it through the register. “You see how it is.”

  “Yes, well, I appreciate the sentiment.” She still wasn’t sure what to do about Isobel, but after yesterday’s near-panic attack, she wouldn’t make the girl leave. For now, she’d just hope having a ghost around here wouldn’t scare customers away. “We’ll be fine, though,” she said. “It’s almost ready.”

  Rain took a moment to look around. The shop looked a thousand times better, with most of the grime gone and daylight streaming through the clean windows. She still had a few drawers to scrub out, and the floor could use another good going-over and a polish, but it was starting to feel like it used to. Warm and welcoming.

  She went into the back and filled the mop bucket, then came out to start the floor. After a few minutes, she sensed someone watching her — and found Isobel hovering over her shoulder, looking worried. “Something wrong?” she said.

  “Is that witch coming back, too?”

  “Yes, unfortunately.” Rain plunged the mop in the water and wrung it out. “I did warn you that we’re both opening the shop. It’s not my choice, trust me.”

  “I don’t like her,” the ghost said. “Don’t let her banish me, all right?”

  “I won’t.” She still wasn’t sure what Isobel meant by that, but as far as she was concerned, Brigid didn’t have to know about the girl. “So, er,” she said when it was clear Isobel planned to stick close to her. “Why are you here? In the apothecary, I mean.”

  The girl shivered. “This is where I died.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” That sounded pathetic, but she wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “I was the Lady of the Lake, you know.”

  Rain looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Right. And I’m Dame Judy Dench.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Never mind.” Rain leaned on the mop and smiled gently at the girl. “The Lady of the Lake wasn’t real, you know,” she said. “It’s just a legend.”

  “She is real! I mean I am. Was.” Isobel’s expression fell. “All right, I was a handmaiden to the Lady of the Lake,” she said. “Well, one of them, anyway. A lesser one. You probably never heard of me.”

  “It’s all right, Isobel,” she said. “You don’t have to make up stories. I like you, and I’m going to let you stay.”

  The girl pouted. “It’s not a story. I really was—” Her eyes widened suddenly, and she let out a breathless squeak.

  Then she vanished.

  “Isobel? What happened?”

  The shop door opened, and a grating voice said, “Still talking to yourself? You really are insane, aren’t you?”

  Oh. Brigid happened.

  Rain sighed and returned the mop to the bucket. “Yes, I’m insane,” she said. “Barking mad, actually. You should probably ask my father to get someone else to work with me, because the crazy might be contagious.”

  “Please. No one else is fit to run this place properly.” Brigid paced inside slowly, casting a critical eye over the shop. “It’s still disgusting in here,” she said. “Have you done anything but run a mop over half the floor?”

  Somehow she refrained from shouting. “Are you here for a white glove test, or are we going to open this shop?”

  “I suppose it’ll have to do, for now. But you’ll keep cleaning until it’s right.” Brigid waved a hand at the door. “You can go ahead and unload that truck outside,” she said. “I need to have a look round the cellar, see if Glynis left any of her specialty items here.”

  “Fine. But are you going to do any actual—”

  “Just unload the truck.”

  Rain bit her tongue as Brigid went out the door, presumably headed around the back to the cellar entrance. Then, with an exasperated sigh, she pushed the mop bucket behind the counter and walked outside to find a pickup truck loaded with crates and boxes. Which she was apparently going to have to unload herself.

  She hoped the cellar was full of spiders. And rats. And lots of
dirt.

  It was nearly an hour before Brigid bothered to make her reappearance, and Rain had gotten all but two boxes inside. She glared at the other girl as she picked one of them up. “Want to get that last one?” she said.

  “Looks like you’ve got it handled,” Brigid said. “At least you’re useful for something. I’m going to start the inventory while you put all this away.”

  Before she could say another word, Brigid strode into the shop. She didn’t even leave the door open for her.

  Rain gritted her teeth and took a few moments to calm down. This was not going to fly. She might have to be Brigid’s apprentice, but she wasn’t her slave. They were supposed to work together. But so far, work and Brigid were on separate planets. That had to change.

  She could already see that telling Brigid to do something, or even asking her, would be pointless. But maybe there was another way.

  Dusty and sweating, she hauled the last two boxes inside and stopped to catch a breath. Brigid had dragged a chair out from the back room and was sitting behind the counter, calmly writing in a notebook. She, of course, didn’t have a speck of dirt on her.

  Rain walked past her into the back and came out with a crowbar. Then she strode over to the pile of supplies and started attacking one of the crates.

  “What in hell are you doing, you crazed imbecile?” Brigid gasped. She tossed the notebook on the counter and hurried over. “Some of this is very delicate. You’re going to destroy it!”

  Rain put on her best confused face. “These are nailed shut,” she said. “How else am I supposed to get them open?”

  “Give me that.”

  She shrugged and handed over the crowbar, and Brigid muttered under her breath as she pried the crate open. “There, see? That’s not so hard,” she said.

  “Right. But can you show me that again? I’m not sure I got it.”

  Brigid made a frustrated sound. “You know what? I’ll do it myself,” she said. “Obviously, you can’t be trusted with blunt instruments. You start opening the cardboard boxes. You can do that without breaking everything, can’t you?”

  “Well, I’ll try.”

  She turned away fast, before Brigid could see her smirk. She’d have to thank her father later — his comment about appealing to her ego had given her the idea. She figured if Brigid thought she was incompetent, the girl would be compelled to step in and actually do some work. So far, so good.

  She kept up the charade, deliberately putting supplies in the wrong place, asking stupid and obvious questions, and occasionally scattering things about randomly just to keep it interesting. Eventually Brigid moved past annoyed into cold silence, and completely ignored Rain as she worked.

  They’d nearly finished stocking everything when the front door opened and a forty-something woman with dark hair and bright eyes walked inside, looking around uncertainly. “Hello?” she said, her gaze settling on Rain. “Sorry to bother, but I’d heard ye were reopening.”

  “Yes, we are.” Rain straightened from the box she’d been crouched over and approached the woman, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Good morning. I’m Rain.”

  “That’s yer name?” the woman said. “All right, then. Aileen Brady.” She smiled a bit and clasped Rain’s hand. “Well, ye look busy,” she said. “I can come back later.”

  “No, we’re about done. Can I help you with something?”

  “I’m not sure you should be helping people, apprentice.”

  Brigid’s sneering voice behind her set her teeth on edge, and made Aileen Brady blink. Rain decided to ignore the witch. “What are you looking for, Ms. Brady?” she said.

  “Missus. It’s for my husband, Sean.” The woman sent an uneasy look in Brigid’s direction, and said, “He’s a bit of the gout, and the medication he’s been using hardly touches it now. It pains him something fierce. So I hoped ye’d have … something for it.”

  “Take some Advil,” Brigid said sharply. “Come back when you’ve got a real problem.”

  Rain shot her a look. Incredibly, she closed her mouth.

  “All right. I think I’ve got something that’ll work,” she said to Mrs. Brady. Her Poppy had occasional flare-ups, and he drank an herbal tea that soothed the pain pretty fast. She only hoped she remembered everything that went into it.

  She went to the herb drawers and got one of the small paper bags she’d placed on top earlier. The tea Poppy used was equal parts holly, basil, and birch leaves, with a pinch of mint for flavor. She placed generous scoops of dried, crushed leaves in the bag and sprinkled mint on top, then folded it closed and shook it gently.

  “This should help your husband,” she told Mrs. Brady, explaining what was in the mixture. “It’s best brewed into a tea, but if he doesn’t care for the drink, you can burn it like incense and have him breathe in the smoke.”

  Mrs. Brady smiled. “Thank ye kindly, Rain,” she said. “How much for this?”

  “Tell you what. You pay what you can afford.”

  “Truly?”

  She nodded. “We’re not in the business of ripping people off.”

  “Well, all right.” Mrs. Brady opened the small purse she carried and drew out a handful of coins, totaling a few dollars. “Is this enough, then?”

  “That’s perfect.” Rain accepted the coins. “Come back whenever you need more,” she said. “And let me know if he needs a bit stronger brew.”

  “I’ll do that. My thanks to ye again.”

  The woman left and Rain headed for the cash register, humming. She was aware of Brigid glaring at her, but she refused to engage. She’d wait until the other girl said something.

  Finally, Brigid grunted. “I guess you do know one thing, after all,” she said. “Congratulations. You’ve got the right blend for gout.”

  “Really? I thought I was giving her a potion for causing boils.” She hit the open button on the register and smiled at the ding of the bell and the clanking zip of the drawer opening. She hadn’t heard that sound in a long time, and it cheered her a bit. “Maybe next time I’ll get it right.”

  “Hmph,” Brigid said. “Well, I suppose even a stopped clock’s right twice a day.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Rain closed the drawer slowly and gazed out at the shop, allowing herself to feel a slight sense of pride. For better or worse, they were open for business now.

  She only hoped Brigid could learn to refrain from making it worse.

  Chapter 27

  Bairnskill Village, 8 Junction Pass – Dusk

  Kincaid groaned as he parked his bike behind the Brannon home and removed his helmet. “How did I get roped into monster duty again?” he said.

  “It’s because we make a good team.” Rain patted his shoulder and placed her helmet on the handlebar. “Besides, you did so well last time.”

  “Right. That beastie nearly ate me.”

  “Banshees don’t eat people. Not even curse banshees.” She drew the sword from the makeshift scabbard she’d fashioned after having to strap it awkwardly to her back the last time, and inspected it briefly. She’d waited until the last minute to bless and temper it, wanting the spell to be as strong as possible. Of course, the sword didn’t look any different after stewing in smoke for an hour or so.

  She really hoped she’d done it right.

  Kincaid took a small black case from the bike’s saddlebag, set it on the ground and opened it. Inside were rows of small glass jars and vials with various crushed and powdered ingredients, held in place with elastic bands. “You know, I’ve never actually done this Silencing spell before,” he said, easing a small piece of folded paper out from behind a jar. “Though I’ve been mighty tempted to try it on my sister more than once. I have no idea if it’ll work.”

  “Well, if it does, let me borrow it,” she said with a smirk. “I have no qualms using it on your sister.”

  “I’ll bet.” He grinned and straightened, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked over the paper. “Brigid wasn’t always such a witch
,” he said, shrugging slightly. “She was a sweet kid. Wanted to be a doctor, if you can beat that. She’d call herself Doctor Druid and go round putting band-aids on everything. Even the cat.” He looked off into the distance with a faint smile. “But after our da’ passed … well, she stopped caring about everything except spellwork. Nine years old she was, and studying every waking moment. She started resenting everyone who came between her and her work. That’s when the walls went up, and there they stayed.”

  “Oh, no,” Rain said, feeling an unexpected depth of sympathy for the angry girl. “I’m so sorry. It must’ve been awful for her.”

  “Yeah, well, she wasn’t the only one who lost her da’.” Kincaid’s eyes flashed dark for a moment, then he shook himself and glanced at the sky. “Light’s nearly gone,” he said. “We’d best be ready for this thing.”

  “Right. Ready as we can be, anyway.”

  The bedroom where Mary lay was at the back left corner of the house, with windows on two walls. Kincaid took the rear window, and Rain waited on the side of the house, seated on a big boulder surrounded by heather. Full dark fell quickly, and the silence that settled over everything was disconcerting — as if even the wind knew what was coming, and didn’t want to be here for it.

  Eventually Rain started to nod off. She caught herself and slid to the ground, standing and stretching.

  That was when she saw the smoke.

  Thick ropes of white smoke drifted out of the ground beside the house, turning and twisting around one another. The suggestion of limbs formed, and then the vague shape of a head.

  “Kincaid!” she shouted, drawing her sword. “It’s here.”

  He came rushing around the corner just as she lunged for the apparition, hoping she could destroy it before it even solidified. No such luck. The blade went right through the smoke without any effect. “Better cast that spell now,” she said through clenched teeth. “I might’ve pissed it off.”