The Cursing Stones

by Sonya Bateman

  She reached down and yanked out a clump of curly dock, just so she’d feel she was doing something. It didn’t make the least bit of difference. She paused to absently rub her arm where the cursed banshee had scratched her a few days ago. The scratches had been faint, and she’d hardly felt them at the time. Strangely, they seemed to be getting a bit worse. Itchy and irritating, and redder than they’d been.

  Later on she’d make a poultice and see if that calmed it down. But she had a lot of work to do today.

  Sending a stern glare at the weeds, as if they’d do her the favor of curling up and dying in shame, she crouched to pull another clump out. As she did, the flap and beat of wings sounded very close by, and she caught movement at the corner of her eye.

  Brow furrowed, she straightened and turned to see a large goshawk settling on what remained of the fence, staring straight at her.

  It was a handsome specimen with glossy brown plumage, red eyes, and the fierce expression common to raptors. Its gaze seemed intelligent and alert. And since it wasn’t afraid of her, she thought it might be trying to communicate. Some animals were able to pick up on her gift.

  She smiled at the bird. “Hello, there. How are you, friend?”

  The goshawk cocked its head. “I’m exhausted, and I’ve just swallowed a bug.”

  Rain’s heart leapt into her throat. The voice was distinctly male and couldn’t possibly have come from the bird. “Who’s there?” she said, scanning the weeds for movement.

  There was a sigh. “Right here. On the fence.”

  She faced the bird again slowly. “Are you … talking to me?”

  “Yes. I don’t see anyone else around, do you?”

  “But you’re talking.”

  “Of course I am. You are a druid, aren’t you? And you communicate with animals,” the bird said. “So this is me, communicating.”

  “Birds don’t talk,” she said, staring so hard that she was sure her eyes would pop out. “At least, not with actual words. They generally whistle and chirp and coo, things like that.”

  The bird rose up and flapped his wings a few times. “Look, I know I should be more polite to you,” he said. “But it’s been a bloody long journey here, and I don’t have time to ease you into the whole talking-bird thing. Fact is, you need me.”

  “I … what?”

  “You need me. I know things.” The bird puffed his chest a bit. “So from now on, I’m going to be your familiar.”

  “My familiar,” she said.

  “You know, I really thought you’d be smarter than this.” Looking irritated, the bird paced along the fence. “My name is Gavin,” he said. “And don’t bother saying birds don’t have names. They do, it’s just they generally call themselves numbers or colors for some reason. Anyway, I’m Gavin. And you are?”

  “Thoroughly confused.”

  “Right, then. Nice to meet you, Thoroughly.”

  Rain shook herself to loosen the rest of the shock and scowled at the bird. “You can’t be my familiar,” she said.

  “Why not? Druids need familiars.”

  “No, we don’t. Not anymore,” she said. “And besides, you’re a talking bird. You’re probably cursed or something, and … why am I arguing with a bird?” She flapped a hand at him. “Go eat some more bugs.”

  “Oh, that’s it,” Gavin said, ruffling his feathers and preparing to take flight. “I’m perching on you.”

  “No! No perching.” She sighed and glanced around cautiously. With mythical creatures coming out of the woodwork left and right, the last thing they needed was a talking bird. But this one seemed determined to hang around. “All right. Tell me why I need you,” she said. “What things do you know?”

  “Lots of things. I know about that castle, for example. It’s…”

  She waited a beat. “It’s what?”

  Somehow Gavin managed to scowl. “Blast this bird brain!” he said. “Can’t remember but one thing at a time. And I was just thinking about the rabbit I saw over by that tree, so now I’ve no idea what I was saying. What was it?”

  Rain fought a smirk. “Something about the castle.”

  “Right. I know about the castle,” he said.

  “What about it?”

  “I don’t remember now, do I?” Gavin glared at her, as if daring her to laugh. “But I will,” he said. “I just have to see what it was that made me remember the first time. And then not think about anything else.”

  “Well, that’s great,” she said. “I can already tell you’re going to be very helpful.”

  The bird gave her a look that could only be interpreted as serious. “Look, I’m staying,” he said. “My memory isn’t the best, but I do know one thing. I’m supposed to help you.”

  She frowned. “Why me? And how do you know that?”

  “I don’t know! I just … do.” Gavin deflated a bit. “Like it or not, I’m stuck with you,” he said. “I have to hang around. So I’d appreciate it if you’d accept that and let me do my job. Whatever that might be.”

  “All right. I’ll try.” She kind of felt sorry for the bird. But still, there were a few things she needed to address if he was really going to stick around the apothecary. “Look, you actually talk,” she said. “So you’ll have to not do that near other people, okay? Everyone is pretty tense around here these days, and a talking bird is not going to make them feel better.”

  Gavin made a dismissive sound that was almost bird-like. “Even when I do talk to regular people, they don’t usually hear me. They already know birds can’t talk, so they just don’t process it.”

  “Yes, but the people here might,” she said. “There’s been a lot of unusual activity lately, and they’re more open to the idea of ghosts and monsters. A talking bird might not be a stretch for some — and they may decide you’re dangerous. So for your own safety, keep your mouth shut.”

  “Right then. I’ll stick to whistling and such.”

  She nodded. “Good. And well, since you’re staying to help, is there anything you’d like from me?”

  “You could point me toward the occasional mouse or snake, if you sense any nearby. It gets tiresome spending half of my life hunting food,” he said. “And if you wanted to toss me some cooked meat once in a while, I wouldn’t complain.”

  “Cooked meat?”

  “Yes,” Gavin said, looking suddenly distant. “I seem to recall enjoying that, though I couldn’t tell you how I know.”

  “All right.” She managed a smile. Despite his forceful introduction, the bird was already beginning to grow on her. “Look, I have to get this place open,” she said. “Brigid’s going to be here soon. Oh, that reminds me. Avoid the redhead. She’s not very nice.”

  “Got it,” he said. “Thank you … did you ever tell me your name, or have I forgotten already?”

  “I didn’t tell you. It’s Rain,” she said. “Rain Finlay.”

  “Ah, yes. Short for Rhiannon.” He blinked. “How did I know that?”

  “Maybe you heard it somewhere,” she said a bit uneasily. “But anyway, it seems like you can remember some things. That’s good news, isn’t it?”

  “I hope so.”

  She said goodbye and promised to bring meat for him at supper time, then left the goshawk perched on the fence with a confused expression as she went back inside. For now, she’d put the strange encounter behind her. She’d worry about what to do with an unexpected familiar later. If Gavin didn’t forget why he was here and fly away.

  Chapter 31

  The Apothecary – Shop Floor

  Rain was surprised to find herself alone as she made a quick check of the shop and opened the doors for business. Not that she expected Brigid here this early. Since she’d come home to the island, she’d become friends with Kincaid Nolan, but his sister was another matter. Bitter, haughty, and extremely anti-social, Brigid could find fault with a rainbow for not shining brilliantly enough.

  And lucky for Rain, who possibly didn’t know as much about herbs and spell
s as she should, her father had assigned her as an apprentice to the red-haired girl who’d been known back in their school days as simply ‘the Witch’.

  Brigid was so terrifying that even ghosts were afraid of her … or at least Isobel was. Usually the ghost of the teenage girl who haunted the shop came to chat in the mornings for a few minutes, until the witch showed up and she vanished for the rest of the day. But so far, there’d been no sign of Isobel.

  As Rain headed for the counter to make sure there was change in the cash register, the front door opened behind her. She winced, anticipating that Brigid had for some reason showed up early. That would explain Isobel’s absence. The ghost could sense her coming.

  But a man’s voice said, “Excuse me, Miss. Are you the shopkeep here?”

  “Yes,” she said, turning with a customer-greeting smile. Her expression faltered a bit as the sight of a man in a brown uniform with a shiny badge and a gun at his side. “Er. Can I help you … Constable?” she guessed.

  “Inspector Justin Walsh.” He walked toward her, but didn’t offer a hand. The man was in his late thirties, sun-weathered and sharp-eyed with a solid build and a no-nonsense buzz cut. He was clearly uncomfortable in the surroundings, so Rain guessed he wasn’t particularly superstitious, or a believer in the old ways. “Can I have your name, please?” he said.

  “Rain Finlay.”

  “Any relation to Lachlan Finlay?”

  “He’s my father,” she said. “Why, did something happen to him?”

  “Not as far as I know, Miss. I’m just familiar with him.”

  “All right.” She probably should’ve guessed that any local law enforcement would know of her father — and likely nothing good. Traditionally, druids didn’t bother with mundane affairs like rules and laws. And Lachlan was very traditional. “Are you here to make a purchase, then?”

  The inspector shook his head. “It’s safe to conclude that you’re a druid,” he said. “I wondered if you could tell me anything about this.” He produced a plastic bag with something heavy in it and held it out toward her.

  She leaned forward, peered through the plastic, and her breath caught slightly. It was a polished stone about the size of a fist, with a hole through the center and runes inked all over the surface. She’d found one almost identical to it when she killed the banshee — but the runes had gotten smudged when the creature burst into flames.

  “So it’s familiar to you, then,” Inspector Walsh said.

  “What? No,” she said, trying to sound confident. Something told her it would be a bad idea to inform this man that she’d run across one inside a curse banshee. “It’s just interesting.”

  “Interesting,” the inspector repeated. “How so?”

  “Well, for one thing, those runes aren’t druidic.” She knew that only because her father had noticed the same thing about the other cursing stone, which he was trying to use to track whoever’d been controlling the banshee. The sight of this one worried her because it was very possible it meant someone else had been targeted — which would mean a second banshee. They were not easy to kill. “And it’s unusual,” she said. “I mean, look at that hole. Perfectly smooth.”

  Inspector Walsh stared at her. “You’re sure you haven’t seen this before,” he said. “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “I don’t. Sorry.” It was mostly true. Besides the fact that the other one came out of a banshee, she didn’t know anything. “Why?” she said. “Is the stone important?”

  “Right now, it’s evidence. I just don’t know what of.” Inspector Walsh replaced the stone in his pocket. “The coroner found it in the mouth of a man who was killed at the docks last night. Mauled by an animal, at least apparently, but according to the witness—” He broke off abruptly and glowered. “Anyway, I’m just finding out everything I can,” he said. “By the way, were you acquainted with Brody Barnes? Perhaps he was a customer of yours?”

  Rain’s jaw clenched briefly. The way the inspector referred to this man in the past tense suggested that he’d been the victim … and Walsh suspected her, for some reason. Or maybe he just suspected a druid, and any druid would do. The attitude wasn’t surprising, but it was disappointing. “No, I wasn’t, Inspector Walsh,” she said coldly. “I’ve never heard of him. And by the way, are you accusing me of something?”

  “Not at all, Miss Finlay.” The inspector’s cool gaze met hers. “But I will tell you that I suspect foul play. I’ve seen the body,” he said. “And whatever allegedly mauled Mr. Barnes, there is no animal on this island large enough to have done it.”

  At once, her anger turned to apprehension. The first thing she’d faced down when she returned home was a duin’alla, a human-spider hybrid straight out of a nightmare. It turned out the creature had come from the Between, the void between mortal and magic realms — and there were more beasts in that void. What if another one had gotten out?

  And why would whatever it was be associated with the same type of cursing stone as a banshee?

  Inspector Walsh produced a small white card. “If you happen to remember anything about that stone, or Mr. Barnes, I’d appreciate a ring,” he said.

  “Fine, but I can’t remember something I don’t know.” Rain accepted the card and tucked it in a pocket. “Good day, Inspector.”

  “Miss Finlay.” He nodded once, turned on a heel and strode out.

  Rain stared after the inspector until the door closed behind him. As the surprise of his visit wore off, deeper concerns set in. Whatever was happening around here, this Brody Barnes was now officially the first casualty. And though she’d do everything she could to prevent more deaths, she was afraid he wouldn’t be the last.

  So it seemed she had another monster to hunt down, before it claimed its next victim.

  Chapter 32

  The Apothecary – Late Morning

  When Brigid finally deigned to show up for work, she wasn’t alone. Kincaid walked in behind her — and one look at his expression told Rain he wasn’t here for a friendly visit.

  “Have you heard about Brody Barnes?” he said while Brigid walked straight past her with a huff, headed for the counter. It was where the so-called senior druid would spend most of the day on her iPad, ignoring Rain and their very occasional customers with equal measures of disdain.

  Rain frowned. “Unfortunately,” she said. “I just had a visit from an inspector, not too long before you came in.”

  “Really? About Brody?”

  “Yes.” She glanced back to make sure Brigid was still ignoring them, and said in low tones, “Apparently they found a cursing stone in his mouth, like the one that … uh, fell out of the banshee.”

  “Bloody hell,” Kincaid said. “From what I hear, it was no banshee that killed him. They say he was mauled to death.”

  “Oh, but there’s even better news. The inspector said that no animal on the island was big enough to have done it.”

  She saw the exact moment when Kincaid put two and two together, a kind of resigned whole-body sigh. “You think something else has come from that Between place, don’t you?” he said. “And you’re going to rope me into monster-hunting duty again.”

  “Got it in one,” she said.

  “Not fair. That’s my line.” He flashed a crooked smile — and she suddenly realized how attractive he was. Something she definitely wasn’t going to dwell on right now. “All right, then,” he said. “What should we do?”

  “Well, we need some kind of idea what we’re up against,” she said. “The inspector said there was a witness.”

  “Aye. Colm O’Shea,” Kincaid said. “His wife and her cousin are the ones spreading the chatter through the village like a brushfire.”

  She nodded. “We’ll talk to him first, then. Inspector Walsh sounded like he didn’t believe the witness, which means the witness is probably telling the truth.”

  “Inspector Walsh? As in Justin?” Kincaid raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a good read on him,” he said. “That man woul
dn’t believe in magic if someone turned him into a toad. Your father’s gone at it with him a time or two.”

  “Not surprising.” And after this morning, she suspected she’d made the inspector’s enemy list too.

  A sudden bang made her jump. For one crazy instant she thought Walsh had come back and fired on her, and then she realized a breeze had blown the front door wide open.

  The sound drew Brigid’s attention, and she scowled at both of them from her perch behind the counter. “Why didn’t you shut the door?” she snapped. “You weren’t raised in a barn, Kincaid. I should know.”

  “Aye, but you might’ve been,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing, sister mine.” He gave her a huge, fake smile. “I’ll just get that door, then.”

  Before he could move, something large and brown streaked inside, headed straight for Rain. There was a confused flutter of wings, and she recognized the goshawk as he banked sharply around her and slowed his flight.

  Unfortunately, the avoidance maneuver had him headed straight for Brigid — who let out a shrill shriek and bolted into the back room.

  “Er,” Kincaid said. “There seems to be a bird in the shop.”

  Rain sighed. “Apparently.” She shot a glare at Gavin, who’d perched on top of the herb drawers. “What’s with your sister?”

  “She doesn’t like animals. Hates ’em more than people.”

  “Terrific,” Rain said with a groan. “Now you tell me.”

  Seconds later, Brigid burst out of the back with a broom upraised and held in both hands. She glanced around wildly for a moment. And then charged straight at the goshawk with some kind of crazed war cry.

  “Whoa!” Rain sprinted toward them and managed to get between Brigid and the herb cabinet. “Leave the bird alone,” she said. “He’s with me. Sort of.”

  “You get that filthy animal out of my shop.” Brigid’s eyes were wide and gleaming.