Curse of Stone

by Nikki Lockwood

  “Wow,” he said, greeting me with a devilishly, charming smile.

  I blushed. “Wow, you too.”

  “For you.” Velkan held out a large bouquet of gorgeous red roses.

  As I pulled the flowers close to my face, I gave them a quick smell. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” Now I was embarrassed for being so late for our date.

  I left the roses on the bench, they would survive until I returned, and hugged Vee. He reciprocated and wrapped his large, bronzed arms around me.

  Sitting in the front seat of Vee’s car, the interior was just a sexy as him, smooth and tough. His cologne luring me closer to him. Warmth spread down my body.

  Vee turned to me, and grabbed my hand, his eyes lingering over my body before locking on mine.

  “Beautiful,” he uttered. Then leant over and kissed me.

  My heart pitter-pattered like tiny feet tapping up and down. I pressed my hand against his chest. Our lips moved urgently, tasting each other. Saddened blue eyes flashed across my mind.

  Jay.

  I stopped kissing Velkan. What the hell was going on? I didn’t like Jay. What a foolish person I was, to stop kissing the god of a man in front of me because Jay was stuck in my head. It had to be because he’d come to my rescue today. It wasn’t anything heroic. The guilt built instantly. Turning to self-loathing hate. I couldn’t let Velkan know what was going on in my mind. I kissed him again, as reassurance that everything was okay. I hated that my thoughts wandered from Vee to Jay. It was a silly notion. I liked Velkan.

  Vee turned his eyes back to the valet line, rolling forward to the front of the queue. A young man, dressed in a bright red jacket, rushed over to the driver’s door, opening it quickly. Vee acknowledged him briefly, then hastily walked around the vehicle before the young man could open my door for me. That had never happened, not on any date I’d been on in the past. I liked it.

  He held out his hand for me. I slipped mine inside his, the warmth shot a tingling sensation across my skin. I swung my legs out of the car and stepped up. Huddling closely to Vee, we walked towards an entrance.

  “Where are we?”

  He smiled down at me. “Just wait.”

  30

  The next morning, the patchouli aroma of Vee’s cologne lingered. He had stayed over, again, but I wasn’t ready to have sex with him, no matter how much my body begged for it.

  Propelling forward, I grabbed my phone off the side dresser. Tingling fingers held more than just my lip they twisted. He’d left early for work.

  The screen lit up. No text from Vee, but there were seven from Jamie. Ignoring them, I dragged myself from my bed. A shudder ricocheted upwards as my feet hit the floor. Rubbing the residual slumber from my eyes as I shuffled along the polished oak floor to the kitchen for coffee.

  “Good morning to you too,” Jamie said.

  I jumped, startled.

  “Shit,” I said, re-establishing my balance, and whipped around to see him sat on my couch, with a smug grin on his face.

  Braless, just in a nightie, with nipples standing at attention. I crossed my arms, covering them. He would’ve noticed them. My cheeks seared with heat.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Wait, were you watching me sleep?”

  “Whoa, calm down. I got here just before you woke, and I wasn’t watching you sleep – boring.”

  Exasperated by his behaviour of late, I made myself a coffee, then fixed a steely glare at him. “Whatever it is, couldn’t you have waited until after I’d showered?”

  He stood up, dressed in blue washed out jeans and a tight white singlet, his tattooed, muscular arms bulged. My body tensed as he approached, stopping close in front of me. I tried to move backwards but was hard up against the bench top. His bright blue eyes pierced mine. A muscle twitched involuntarily in the corner of my eye. The smell of sandalwood stuck to my tongue. Shadowed in his presence, the sheer strength of him visible. No part of me was scared, but every internal cell trembled.

  Jamie stepped backwards and took his singlet off, revealing his muscular physique. Every curve of every muscle glinted in the light. His electric hum slammed into my senses.

  “W, what are you doing?” I asked, as my heart leapt into my throat.

  “You ready?”

  “Ready? For what?”

  “You said you wanted a shower, so let’s have one.”

  Warmth rushed to my cheeks. “No way. That will never happen.” Although the thought of it made my pulse quicken.

  “Never?” he asked. “That’s a shame, I would’ve liked to get you all wet and soapy.”

  31

  Abdomen tight, I was close to losing control. The flush of her cheeks. Oh, fuck. She tried to arch backwards, but she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Staring at her with focused intensity. My hand slid around her waist. It knew what it wanted.

  She was trying to speak, but her words cut out, as I pressed harder against her. Her nipples hard. Pressing against my chest. Stone let out a gasp. Her body tensing.

  “Do you feel that?” I whispered into her ear.

  She flinched. And shook her head.

  Breathing against the side of her neck. Lips so close to her skin. “Liar.”

  The heated energy between us electric. I was pushing for a response, needed to see how her body reacted to mine.

  Velkan provoked my response by sleeping here again. Walking in here and seeing that fucking cheesy bouquet of roses. Possessive need took over. My nostrils flared. The scent in the room was not sexual. Both my wolf and I smirked. Stone hadn’t opened herself up to Velkan, I still had time – but not much.

  This was no longer so complicated. It was simple. Chemistry wasn’t an issue, but she needed to realise our friendship was something more.

  Stone would be wary, given my past reputation. And she had every right to. But things had changed. My eyes may have wandered in the past, but no woman had filled my bed for two months. The longest fucking two months of my life.

  My soul, body, and mind – and wolf, craved her.

  Every beat of her heart thumped against my flesh. Quick, rapid breaths made her chest heave.

  I’d push her, just enough, to make her lightheaded, giddy at the knees. Make her think. Fill that marvellous mind of hers with thoughts of me.

  My body hardened the second I nipped her neck with my teeth, and she jerked beneath me. Her back arched, pressing her body harder into mine.

  I smiled, then did it again. Same result.

  “Jay—” Her voice cut off as I flicked my tongue across her neck.

  I couldn’t smell her scent, or if she were aroused or not, above the perfume that was her blood. But one taste. Fuck.

  A surge of heat crashed into me. My jeans tightened across my crotch. I bit harder. Her body rocked with a jolt, rubbing unintentionally against my long, thick hard on. An erotic moan gasped from her.

  32

  He was tormenting me in a way he’d never done before. This had to be a game. Hot breath hit my skin with electric pulses. His teeth nipping at my neck. Panting as my heart galloped. The steeled length of his erection pressed against me. Fuck me. Much longer and I’d give in, let Jay have his way.

  Tension eased from my body as he stepped away. My rapid heartbeat unable to slow. Not able to move. The look in his eyes as if he wanted to devour me. I didn’t know what to think or say.

  Neither of us moved or spoke. My mind raced. Jay had never kissed me, nor any part of me, not in a teasing or sexual way.

  I wanted to say something, break the silence, but nothing came out.

  “I was thinking about your little library trip yesterday and I know it has something to do with your gran. So, I’ve decided I want to help.”

  I swallowed hard. My cheeks burned. “You, want to help? Why?” Never once had he offered to help me with this.

  “Unless I help you, you’ll never stop this insane witch hunt for answers, and I know someone that might be able to help.”


  “Oh, and who pray tell, might that be?”

  “I have a friend at Jogi University, he teaches mythology and folklore. I called him already. He’s expecting us this morning.”

  “Sorry it will have to wait until this afternoon. You understand.”

  “Gran?”

  “Yep. Pick me up from there?”

  “Sure.” His face creased into a one-sided grin. “Now, how’s about that shower.”

  33

  Looking down at the headstone unblemished by age or weather. I placed a lilac bellflower atop her grave. It was her favourite flower. Most of the time I didn’t know what to say. It had been sixteen years since she’d taken her own life.

  Every Tuesday morning since her death, Gran and I visited her grave. It was the same day of the week that she died. In the beginning it was hard to visit, I was eleven years old when it happened, but now it was a little easier.

  I wasn’t sad but I missed her. In her brief moments of clarity, basically when she’d taken her medication – which was hardly ever – she was kind, funny and loving. A real bright spark of personality with never-ending warmth. Losing my mum was the real reason I was so comfortable around Jay. He knew and understood what it was to lose a parent, in his case two, but that pain was unfathomable as a child or teenager. We supported each other during our time of loss. We knew that pain, shared it, and understood a hole that could never be filled was forever left in our hearts.

  Gran never spoke of what happened, but fear of the night, and what lingered in it, had been passed down to my mother, and that was the seed planted. The paranoia spawned from that fear, it consumed her, and drove her mad – well that’s how it appeared to me.

  We never stayed long at the cemetery. Then it was into the city for coffee and cake.

  “What did that creature look like, the one you saw last week?” I asked as we took a seat at our favourite coffee shop.

  Her pinching stare disapproving. “I remember its eyes, and how big it was. Huge wings, and it had horns coming out of its head.”

  “Was it holding a sword?”

  Gran eyes pinched tighter. She laid her hands palm down on the table. “You found him,” she uttered.

  A waitress appeared at our table and placed down a slice of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting for Gran, and for me, a slice of chocolate pecan cake with mascarpone cream cheese frosting.

  We ate in silence. I’d done the one thing she didn’t want – to find the creature. To see it, as she had done. For her, it was terrifying beyond measure. That stone beast wasn’t so bad, but then I hadn’t seen it ‘alive’. The gargoyle holding the sword had to be the same one Gran had seen.

  Afterwards, we strolled along the footpath. This part of the city was vibrant; the constant hum of chatter, from people sat outside coffee shops; the magnitude of colours from flowers hung outside shops; smells wafted out - pizzeria’s, pasta, fried chicken, curries, noodles – it was delectable.

  The emerald cut padparadscha sapphire that hung around gran’s neck, dazzled in hues of orange and pink in the sunlight. With a spring in her step, she kept pace with me. A long grey plait side fell around one side of her square jaw line, her face hid the lines and wrinkles she did have, appearing a little younger than her seventy-one years of age.

  “Do you have a boyfriend yet?” Gran asked. It was one question she always asked.

  “No,” I said. The subject of gargoyles was mute. Gran was avoiding talking about it, that much was clear.

  “You best get a move on.”

  As we rounded the corner, onto Devon Street, she stopped, and stared straight ahead. Her eyes widened, and rosy cheeks turned greyish white. In front of us, a haggard older woman rummaged in a shopping trolley.

  “No, it cannot be,” she quavered.

  “What’s wrong?”

  My question didn’t even register.

  Focused ahead, Gran stepped forward, towards the woman. “Ruth?”

  The woman lifted her head and stared with cold perturbed dark eyes, which sent a chill down my spine.

  “Ruth? Is it you?” She took another step closer.

  Long grey matted locks swayed side to side, beneath a tattered purple hat, as the woman shook her head, lowered it, and continued to rummage in her trolley. A large mole with long wiry hairs, protruded from her cheek. I stiffened. Ruth had been missing for over fifty years, it was unlikely she would turn up now.

  I moved forward, standing side on with my arm out, in a protective stance. “Come on, Gran, let’s go.”

  “No. It’s Ruth. I know it is. But how can that be?” She paused. “Ruth? It’s me, Claire, your sister. Do you remember me?”

  The woman turned her gaze from her trolley of junk to Gran. She shook her head again, muttering in a faint voice. “No, no, no.”

  “What happened to you?” Outstretching a hand towards the woman.

  Wild and angered eyes lifted. “Do not touch me,” the woman said, with a cold rasp.

  Gran stopped, hand dangling mid-air. “Ruth?”

  “Stop saying that, I am not her,” she hissed.

  The light in Gran’s eyes dwindled. A sadness sunk into her face. Clutching her hand in comfort, we began to walk away. A few steps onwards, curious, I glanced back over my shoulder at the woman, and was surprised that she was staring at us.

  We walked on for ten minutes in silence, not a single word said, and that troubled me. Hailing a taxi, it was an expensive means to get home, but I needed to remove Gran from this situation. She was rattled, and my urge to protect her from this, from the fresh pain, was overwhelming.

  I held open the taxi door, and waited until she slid in, to join her. With one foot in, a chill came over me. I scanned the street once more and paused. There she was, on the street corner, no more than a hundred metres away. Her dark eyes fixed on us.

  I’d only ever seen one photo of Ruth. Small, black and white, and taken at Christmas time the year before she disappeared. My mind flashed to the brown envelope, tucked neatly behind a large China serving platter in Gran’s glass cabinet. It was the one thing that could compare the face of this homeless woman with Ruth. Without that photograph in my hand, I couldn’t make judgement.

  It was a little too coincidental – all of it. Gran seeing the gargoyle for the first time since the original sighting; and now supposedly Ruth was here, out of nowhere. But one thing I was sure about, whoever that woman was, something didn’t add up, and it was going to be up to me to find out why.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I don’t understand. That was Ruth. Why doesn’t she remember me?”

  “What if you’ve made a mistake?”

  “Now you listen to me, I don’t care how or why, but that woman is Ruth.”

  “But how, how can you be sure?” I asked.

  “I would know my sister anywhere.”

  34

  At home, Gran climbed into bed for an afternoon nap, and with the help of a hot cup of Camomile tea, drifted off to sleep. I sat beside the bed, but all I could think about was the question as impossible as it sounded - could that woman be Ruth?

  The brown envelope now in my hands weighed heavy on my mind and heart. Gran had no issue with me looking at its contents, I just hadn’t for a while. Waiting for Jay to arrive, I sat down on the couch and emptied it. Inside was everything Gran had found in her search, which was nothing of significant importance, just a bunch of handwritten notes.

  Shifting the notes aside, I picked up the photograph. A dull ache filled me. I couldn’t understand the pain of losing a sibling, without explanation. I think it would be the not knowing that would drive me insane. But I didn’t have any siblings, so I’d never know.

  Tracing the faces with my finger, the youngest girl’s face was familiar. Gran. I narrowed my eyes at Ruth’s face. A spell of fuzziness came over me, my heart thumped, my mind hazed. There was a mole on her cheek, large, protruding. My hand rushed over my gaping mouth. No, it couldn’t be. A lump balled in my t
hroat. I knew that face.

  Three loud knocks sounded from the front door, startling me, and the photo dropped from my hand. Bloody Jamie.

  Rushing, I slid the photograph into my pocket. Stuffed all the papers into the envelope and stashed it back away. Hurrying to the door before he knocked again.

  As I opened the door, air caught in my throat. There he was. Perfectly groomed dreadlocks fell around his bulging muscled shoulder. His baby blue eyes focused on my own, holding me in place. That fucking charming grin creasing his face. I tried to settle my breathing by thinking about anything else, but it didn’t work.

  “Hey,” I finally said. The corner of my mouth raising.

  “You ready?”

  “Sure am.”

  “How’s Gran?” he asked as we walked shoulder to shoulder towards his car.

  I lifted my head, casting him a sideways glance. “She’s good,” I said, lying. I’d tell him about Ruth, but not yet. Not until I confronted her, and forced her to tell me the truth, because if he knew, he would damn well stop me.

  35

  Jogi University was on the outskirts of the city and was around a hundred years old. Built by the descendants of the city’s founding father, Mortemor Jogi. The campus featured leafy oak trees and dark green ivy-like plants climbing up the sides of the pale-orange brick buildings. I’d only been out here once before when I enrolled in a summer ghost writing course, which was about six years ago.

  I hoped that whoever Jamie’s mysterious friend was, they would be able to answer my questions.

  Inside, the dim lit rustic hallway was deserted. We walked past door after door, until we rounded a corner where an engraved wooden door greeted us.

  Jamie stepped up to the door and knocked twice. “Santini, it’s Jay.”

  I heard the faint sound of paper shuffling, then footsteps, followed by a key turning in a lock, before the door opened. In the doorway, stood a short, plump, scruffy man.