Stone Song: The Isle of Destiny Series Read online

  “Oh, there’s an envelope for you on the table. Some chap came by – one I wouldn’t mind giving a good shag to, mind you – and left it for you. Said his name was Blake,” Karen said as she swung out the front door, the chimes tinkling cheerfully after the info bomb she’d just dropped on Clare’s head.

  “I’m not going to read it,” Clare said out loud to the shop. “I don’t have to. I can keep my life exactly as it is.”

  She spent the next forty minutes dusting shelves and tidying the shop, her glance straying to the envelope on more than one occasion. After ringing up her third customer there was a momentarily lull, and she settled in her chair by the table. Her eyes slid to the envelope.

  “Damn it,” Clare swore, and picked it up.

  She’d known she was going to open it all along. It’s funny the tricks we try to play on ourselves, isn’t it? Clare slid her thumb beneath the edge of the envelope, peeling the flap open and pulling out the folded piece of paper. If she felt a thrum of power from the paper, she ignored it.

  The silver-eyed ones will hurt you. Be vigilant. I can’t protect you if you won’t accept who you are.

  Clare’s hand shook as she dropped the paper to her lap and pressed the backs of her hands to her eyes. Had the last twenty-four hours really happened? Just yesterday morning, she’d been exploring a new avenue of research for her dissertation. Now she was seeing people with silver eyes, mysterious strangers were looking out for her, and a random grandmother knew her name and could read her mind.

  Clare scrubbed her hands over her face again; then, taking a deep breath, she picked the letter back up and added the phone number found there into her phone. It wouldn’t hurt to have it on hand, she thought. Staring around the store, Clare found herself being drawn to the pile of blue chalcedony, a stone that was used for protection. Slipping a piece into her pocket, she made a mental note to add it to her tab.

  When the door chimed to announce a new shopper, Clare pasted a smile on her face and went to work. Unraveling mysteries were for another time.

  Or if she would even get the time, Clare amended the thought as she slung her knapsack over her shoulder hours later and locked up. The shop had been impossibly busy that day – both a blessing and a curse, she supposed – and she hadn’t had a moment to do any research at all. Neither for school nor on any of the nonsense that had been thrown her way in the last day or so.

  Breathing out a sigh of relief that her day was over, Clare turned and let out a screech as she almost slammed into a mountain of black leather.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” Blake said, stepping back, his hands raised in apology.

  Clare clasped a hand to her heart and worked to calm her breathing as she took in her instant response to his nearness. It was like her body had gone on full alert – even though he represented everything that scared her at the moment, her inner goddess rolled over and begged for him to come closer.

  “You can’t just creep up on women like that. It’s not right,” Clare said, her tone stiff.

  “If I don’t creep up on you, you’ll slip away too easily,” Blake said, falling into step with her as she walked away from the store.

  Clare angled her head, looking up at him through a curtain of her hair.

  “That also sounds creepy, you know?”

  Blake sighed and pressed his lips together before speaking.

  “In normal circumstances, yes. But these aren’t normal circumstances and you aren’t a typical woman,” Blake said as they rounded a corner onto a busier street. People rushed about here, students on their way to the pubs, others lugging grocery sacks on their way home to get dinner on. The wind and the wet hadn’t let up all that much, but it was business as usual for Dubliners.

  “Why, it sounds like you think you know me,” Clare stated, tugging her cap onto her head to try to cut down on the amount of hair whipping around her face.

  “I know more than you think, Clare MacBride of Clifden,” Blake said, and a shiver went through Clare at his easy use of her name.

  “Why are you stalking me?” she demanded, her hands gripped tightly around the straps of her knapsack. She wanted to kick something or someone, but instead just gritted her teeth as her mind raced to determine if she was in danger from Blake.

  Aside from the danger of losing her mind in lust, that is.

  Blake blew out an impatient breath and raked his hand through his dark hair.

  “I’m not stalking you, I’m protecting you. We’ve discussed this already. Last night.”

  Clare stopped short, and Blake took a step or two more before he realized she was no longer beside him. When he turned to look at her, the golden hue of the streetlamp picked up the blue in his eyes and Clare felt his look sear her to the core.

  “You killed someone last night. Because of me. You killed a man because of me.” Clare spit the words out, the awful truth that she had deliberately pushed from her mind all day suddenly rising up, wanting to overtake her.

  Blake cursed and, looking around, snagged Clare’s arm and drew her to him, tucking her against him as he leaned against the wall. To anyone approaching, they’d look like lovers having a cuddle on the street.

  Clare forced herself to breathe, his nearness suddenly putting her at an extreme disadvantage. Not only did she realize just how much he towered over her – both in height and width – but the close proximity seemed to fry the circuits in her brain a bit. A part of her desperately wanted to slip her hands inside his leather jacket and run her hands up his chest to see if the muscles hidden beneath his coat were everything she thought they might be.

  Clare’s mouth dropped open. What was wrong with her? She was a cool-headed scientist. Not one to be overcome by lust on a rainy night on the dark streets of Dublin.

  “It wasn’t a man,” Blake said, his warm breath tickling her ear. Clare gulped as a low tug of lust slipped through her core.

  “I’m sorry, say that again? You’re telling me it wasn’t a man, then?” Clare gasped, forcing from her mind the thoughts of taking a nip of Blake’s bottom lip.

  “Do most men dissolve in a silvery puddle when pierced with a dagger?” Blake asked.

  “Well, um, no, they most certainly do not,” Clare agreed, trying to look anywhere but up at his face. The wind picked up at her back and Blake tugged her closer, sheltering her from its assault.

  “The Domnua,” Blake said simply, and Clare finally looked up at him, confusion lacing her brain.

  “The Domnu? Like the Goddess?”

  “The Domnua, her children. The fae – and not the good ones. Like light to the dark, winter to spring, death to life – the Domnua are the silver-eyed ones. You can see them. Most can’t.”

  “I… I… why can I see them?” Clare asked in confusion. She was still in the information-gathering mode of a scientist, although what her mind was trying to grasp now was the stuff of living fairytales.

  “You’re Na Sirtheoir. A seeker.”

  Clare felt her hairline begin to burn again, and something in her stomach twisted and turned with recognition at the same word that Fiona had spoken to her earlier in the day.

  “I don’t know what that means. And I’m not looking to find out either,” Clare said. She held up her hand when Blake opened his mouth. “You’ve got the wrong girl. I’m a scientist, not some sort of hunter. I just want to finish up my degree and get a job in the field I love.”

  “Scientist, you say. Isn’t that a seeker of sorts? Seeker of knowledge? Seeker of truth? You hunt for answers?” A slight smile played across Blake’s lips.

  “Fine, you scored a point on that one. Kudos to you,” Clare said sarcastically, pushing away from him. She stepped back, pausing as her eyes trailed over him – from his worn leather boots, up to his tight jeans, to the leather jacket that fit him like a second skin.

  “You’ve got the wrong woman,” Clare said again, emphasizing each word so he would understand she meant what she was saying.

  “I don’t. But I’ll k
eep protecting you until you figure it out,” Blake said easily.

  Clare brought her fists to her head, wanting to scream in frustration.

  “I’m asking you to leave me alone,” Clare said, speaking as though Blake was unable to understand complex thoughts.

  “And I’m telling you that I’ll be protecting you until you pull your head out of your arse and realize that there are bigger things on the line than whether you want to wrap your science-focused brain around the fact that there are fae – both good and bad fae, in fact – and the bad ones are trying to stop your breath on this lovely plane of existence we’re on. And until you force that gorgeous mind of yours to understand that you need to start working on your quest, you’re pretty much sealing our doom.”

  Clare’s mouth dropped open as her breath hitched. “Our doom?”

  “Our doom. Mine, yours, and the fate of Ireland. Time is running out, Doc. What are you going to do about it?”

  Clare shook her head at him, his words so outrageous – absurd, really – that she just could not compute what he was saying.

  “I’m going home to curl up in my bed and think.”

  “Don’t take too long, Doc. Time is slipping away.”

  Clare raced the rest of the way home, barely registering the startled looks on people’s faces as she darted past them.

  Like the night before, Blake shadowed her the whole way home.

  Chapter Eight

  Bianca was home when Clare burst into the apartment, feet tucked into cottage socks and propped on the living room table, a pile of books and a laptop computer next to her on the couch. Her pretty blue eyes widened in surprise at Clare’s entrance.

  “Day two of racing into the apartment like you’re being chased. What’s going on with you?”

  Clare was careful to slide the deadbolt in place before dropping into the armchair, her coat still buttoned tight.

  “I think I’m in trouble,” Clare said, leveling a gaze at her roommate.

  Bianca, to her credit, didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, she straightened on the couch and picked up a pad of paper and a pen.

  “Does it have something to do with Na Sirtheoir?”

  Clare’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know?”

  “Duh, that’s what I go to school for. You told me to research it.” Bianca spread her hands out to indicate the pile of books next to her.

  “What have you learned?”

  Bianca raised an eyebrow at her. “How much time do you have?”

  Clare blew out a breath and reached up to tug the cap off her head. “Let me change into something more comfortable.”

  “I’ve got a lasagna in the oven. It seemed like just the night for it,” Bianca called after her as Clare followed the narrow hallway down to her room.

  “You’re an angel, you are. A living, breathing angel,” Clare called back before opening the door to her room.

  Clare’s bedroom was neat, and serviceable at best. A queen-sized bed was tucked next to a window with white linen curtains, a quilt in earth tones given to her by her mother lay across the bed, and a picture of her family was hung next to her favorite painting of the Cliffs of Moher. The only flight of whimsy in the room was a pretty crystal light-prism that Branna had given her, which Clare had hung so it would catch the light from the window.

  Clare opened her narrow closet and carefully hung up and put away her work clothes, before pulling on fitted leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. Pulling her curls into a knot on top of her head, she left to rejoin Bianca.

  “I’ve opened a red. I figured Italian food, red wine, you know.” Bianca gestured to the glass she’d put on the table next to the sofa. Clare moved a few of the books and settled onto the couch next to Bianca, needing to be close to her friend right now.

  Someone she could always trust.

  Bianca slanted Clare a look over the rim of her wine glass.

  “Do you want to tell me about your day or do you want me to go first?”

  Clare considered it for a moment, but then decided that Bianca needed to have all the information. In short order, she detailed the full extent of her meeting with Blake the night before, leaving nothing out, all the way through the end of her day today – including Blake waiting for her at the shop. By the time she was finished, both women had downed their glasses of wine.

  “It’s proof of my undying love and devotion to you that I’m not calling you a nutter right now,” Bianca pointed out, leaning over to snag the bottle of wine from the table in front of them, her blonde hair disheveled from her running her hands through it.

  Clare regarded her silently as she added more wine to each of their glasses. Even though she knew Bianca could come across as flighty and dramatic, her friend had a sharp mind and she didn’t make snap judgments.

  “Now, since I’ve been being your friend now for going on eight years or so, I’m likely to be the first to tell you if you’ve gone off the rails. But you’re not crazy. And you’re dead serious in what you’re telling me. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re even entertaining any of this. It’s so far outside of what you allow yourself to believe.”

  Interesting choice of words, Clare thought.

  “Had I not seen a man dissolve into a silver puddle at my feet, I’d probably not be entertaining a single second of this.”

  “If you truly are Na Sirtheoir, you’ll be marked,” Bianca said matter-of-factly.

  There it was again, the comment about being marked.

  Clare shook her head, though the same spot on her head seemed to warm.

  “You can’t think I’m some mythological character who’s been destined to do something, can you?” Clare laughed and took a sip of her wine. The smile dropped from her lips when she saw the serious look on Bianca’s face.

  “Well, I mean, yes, I can. Listen, it seems so irrational to you – a scientist – which I completely understand. But keep in mind that wound within great myths and legends lie these small kernels of truth. It’s from those seeds of truth that stories blossom and grow, twisting and turning – a vine climbing up a wall – until the end result is quite often far from the truth and not quite believable. But buried deep within all the fantastical stories lies the tiniest seed of truth.”

  “How could I possibly be marked? And if I am – what does that mean?”

  Bianca’s face came alive with delight. “Well, my friend, settle in. It’s story time.”

  Clare glanced at the bottle of wine, now almost empty. “Will I need more wine?”

  “Oh, you’ll for sure want another bottle. I have one breathing on the counter in the kitchen.”

  “I’ll grab it. Then I’m settling in.”

  “Good, because it’s time for you to learn a little more about your heritage.”

  Clare could only hope that her heritage didn’t involve her being drawn into some mythological battle between humans and fae.

  Because that certainly wasn’t part of her life plan.

  Chapter Nine

  “A long time ago, maybe 1600 years or so? Which, now that I think about it, needs to be exact because if the four cities, and four hundred years, and four women, four treasures, four months…” Bianca mulled, looking up into the air as she counted. Clare’s eyes widened.

  “Let’s just keep going. I don’t need an exact date,” Clare said gently.

  “Right, sorry. So, a famous Celtic creation myth has to do with when the Goddess Danu sent her children, along with four treasures from four great God cities, to the Island of Destiny to, well, fulfill their destiny.”

  “Inisfail. I’ve heard you tell this story. It’s where Ireland’s name comes from.”

  “Right, so the Goddess’ kids are gifted with these great treasures because they needed some protection from those who already inhabited the island.”

  “There were people here?”

  “Other gods, actually. Danu’s sister’s children.”

  “Oh, so like family,” Clare nodded, taking another si
p of her wine. The alcohol had dulled some of the nerves that bit at her stomach, and she was willing to be open-minded.

  “Not the good kind of family. Like the black sheep of the family that you don’t want to talk about or hang out with,” Bianca amended.

  Clare raised an eyebrow at her. “Go on.”

  “Where Danu was goodness and light, her sister, Domnu, was of the dark. They were polar opposites.”

  Clare felt herself grow cold and remembered Blake’s words.

  “Like winter to summer.”

  “Night to day,” Bianca agreed.

  “So the dark ones ruled the island,” Clare said, shifting to tuck her feet beneath her.

  “Domnu’s children ruled. So, naturally, many a great battle was had. I mean, I could go on for hours here. This is where leprechauns spring from, the fae, people of the hills… it all comes from this great time of when Domnu’s and Danu’s children clashed.”

  “Talk to me about the fae,” Clare said.

  Bianca held up her hand. “It’s all tied in. And I won’t bore you – well, you know I don’t think it’s boring, but I’ll keep this focused to the legends that concern you. Essentially, Danu’s kids come, they bring these treasures, the treasures enhance their powers, and they drive Domnu’s clan into the hills.”

  “The fae.”

  “Well, eventually people take over the land and they all become fae. So, you know, good fae and bad fae. But I’m getting ahead of myself.” Bianca paused as the timer from the kitchen stove buzzed.

  “I’ll help. Keep talking,” Clare said, standing and following Bianca into their tiny kitchen. The scent of garlic made her mouth water and her stomach growled in response.

  Their galley kitchen held a tiny table with two chairs and a potted violet plant that Bianca somehow managed to keep alive. Painted a sky blue with white cabinets, it was a cheerful, albeit small, space. Used to maneuvering around each other in the tight space, they had dinner plated and were tucked away at their little table in a matter of moments.

  “So, part of one of the great battles where Danu’s children triumphed over Domnu’s involved a major curse. Like big time magick type stuff.”