Stone Song: The Isle of Destiny Series Page 5

  Clare sliced into a corner of the square of lasagna on her plate, steam rising from the noodles, cheese bubbling out from the middle. She groaned and rolled her eyes at the first bite.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’ve gone and outdone yourself. This is fantastic.”

  “Thank you! I’ve been working on this recipe. Tweaking it a bit. I think it’s really starting to shine.”

  “I could eat the whole dish after the day I’ve had. Okay, go on, go on. I’ll just be worshiping this meal over here while you tell the story.”

  Bianca chuckled, but her cheeks tinged with pink, telling Clare she was pleased with the compliment.

  “In the great battle that ensues, a curse is laid upon the land. Well, a curse that could befall at some point if all the conditions are not met. Essentially, Domnu’s children conceded defeat and disappeared into the hills. There was a promise of peace and that Danu’s children would live safely upon the land – but only for sixteen hundred years. If, by the time the sixteen hundred years were up, Domnu’s children had recovered the four treasures, then they would once again be allowed to rule the land.”

  Clare thought about it for a moment and then shrugged.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is – the treasures just need to stay locked up. What are the treasures anyway?”

  “A stone, a spear, a sword, and a cauldron,” Bianca recited.

  “Those shouldn’t be too hard to protect or keep hidden.”

  “Except, like all magickal things, it’s virtually impossible to keep them safe. They’re fluid and fickle, and mercurial, when deciding who their masters are. Within the first four hundred years or so, they slipped from sight. And so the Na Sirtheoir were anointed by Danu herself – as were the Na Cosantoir.”

  Clare tilted her head at that. “My Irish isn’t that great. What does that mean?”

  “The Protectors. The Seekers were anointed to find the treasures. The Protectors were anointed to protect those who sought. It’s all very mystical and romantic, I think,” Bianca said, sipping her wine and staring dreamily into the air for a moment.

  Clare snapped her fingers and Bianca jumped.

  “You’re saying that essentially there’s this band of people who are charged with finding these treasures before the time is up. And another group who protects them on their quest.”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure if I would precisely say people.” Bianca bit her lip, a worried expression passing across her face.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean that the Seekers and the Protectors aren’t entirely human. They’ve been given some… extra abilities, you know, to help on the quest.”

  Clare felt the tips of her ears begin to burn as energy started to hum in the pit of her stomach. Annoyed now, she pushed her wine glass away and studied Bianca.

  “The long and the short of it is that these half-humans, or whatever, along with their fierce protectors, have to find the treasures, or what… what happens?”

  “The bad fae leave the hills and rule the land again.”

  “Oh, sure, brilliant. Just brilliant,” Clare muttered, her mind desperately trying to disbelieve this story she was hearing.

  But her heart was telling her differently.

  “Yes, I mean, it’s really quite dramatic. In the 1600th year, the Na Sirtheoir are each given a chance for each of them to recover the treasure allotted to them. And all must be recovered in that timeframe, or the bad fae – the Domnua – win.”

  “The Domnua?”

  “Yes. The, um, the children of Domnu. The silver-eyed ones. You know, like you saw the other night? That was a bad one. The Danula are the children of Danu, the good ones.”

  Clare blew out a breath and raked her hand through her hair, her hand crossing the spot on her hairline that seemed to itch incessantly.

  “Okay, so, how come the Na Sirtheoir are only given four months apiece in the last year? Haven’t they been seeking these treasures for ages?”

  “It was one of the twists of the curse. Those who sought before the final year would only find clues – but never the treasures. It’s all very mystical and confusing, as most legends and curses are.”

  “That’s certainly a bitch, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, well. You know, ancient curses and all that. Can’t make things too easy, now can they?” Bianca smiled at her.

  “Listen, I’m not dumb. I think I know where you’re heading with this. You’re trying to say that I’m…” Clare trailed off as the reality of what she was about to say hit her. If she accepted this story as truth – and if she was involved – the world as she knew it was about to change. She held up her hand to shush Bianca.

  “Have you ever had one of those moments in life? Those defining moments – like when you move across country or someone you love dies? It narrows life down into this sort of before and after tipping point. It becomes a marker in your life. Before I left for college, I was this person. Before so-and-so broke up with me, I was that person.” Clare realized she was beginning to babble, and she looked helplessly across the table at Bianca. “Why do I feel like this is about to be one of those moments? You’re trying to gently tell me that… that I’m…”

  “You’re one of the Na Sirtheoir.”

  Chapter Ten

  To her credit, Clare didn’t faint or throw up. Instead, she stared dully at Bianca while the truth roared over her like a freight train.

  “Hey, Clare, look at me. Clare,” Bianca said sharply, snapping her fingers in Clare’s face.

  “Sorry, sorry, what?” Clare asked shaking her head as she narrowed in on Bianca’s worried face.

  “You’ve got to hold it together. If you’re going to save the world and all,” Bianca pointed out, and Clare felt that strange buzzing in her head start up again.

  “I need to pause. Just pause for a damn moment while I try and take this all in,” Clare said, taking a deep breath and trying to get centered.

  “You just sit. I’m going to clear the table and get some tea going. I think we’ll have a touch of the Irish too. Let’s settle in and get this figured out.”

  Bianca bustled around the room, cleaning the plates, putting a kettle on to heat, and pulling out Clare’s favorite sleepy-time tea – chattering all the while about this and that, but never once bringing up the Na Sirtheoir.

  Friends like that were worth their weight in gold, Clare thought. She tipped the name Na Sirtheoir around in her head, testing its weight, and found that its truth slipped through her like a cool river of knowledge.

  Or like a key fitting into its lock.

  Finally, Clare looked up at Bianca. “You can stop making small talk. I’m ready to accept this. To a point, I suppose. But I can’t be denying the truth of it. At least way down in my gut.” Clare clutched her hand in a fist at her stomach. “In this spot? I feel the truth of it. Sort of burning and humming and all this energy – right here. So, no, I can’t be telling myself lies anymore.”

  Bianca breathed out a sigh of relief as she pulled the water from the stove and busied herself with getting the tea together.

  “Sure and I’m glad to hear that. Because if that’s the case – if you really, truly are Na Sirtheoir? We’ve a lot of work to do.”

  “I have a lot of work to do,” Clare clarified, meeting her friend’s eyes. “Not you. I’m not dragging you into this mess.”

  Bianca’s hands came to her hips and her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline.

  “Sure and you don’t think I’ll be sitting at home while you’re off saving the world, now do you?” Bianca demanded, her voice rising. “I’m the trusty steed. The friend that helps you through the tough spots. Don’t you know anything about how legends work? I’m the Sam to your Frodo. The Pippa to your Catherine, the Kit to your Vivian.”

  Clare struggled to keep up with her. “Wait, Lord of the Rings I get, but the Duchess and her sister? Pretty Woman? I don’t know if those are all quests,” Clare said, but she found he
r lips stretching into a smile, some of the weight of the moment lifting.

  “The point is, I’m your person. The one that’s going to be with you through this.”

  Clare smiled at her friend as she brought tea to the table. Looking up at Bianca, she raised an eyebrow in question. “But wouldn’t that be this protector person?”

  “Who says you can’t have more than one friend helping?”

  And there you had it, Clare thought. The warrior doesn’t win the battle on his own, does he? Why was she thinking she’d conquer this legend on her own?

  “You can help. You can find the treasure for all I care. I’m still having a hard time absorbing this news.”

  “Why don’t we check your mark? Then we’ll know for sure if we’ve got to get started on finding the treasure – and if not? We’ll go get a pint.”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to start with finding a treasure,” Clare pointed out as they both stood. “How would I even know which one to look for?”

  Bianca looked at her in astonishment.

  “Yours is the stone. Even I can see that.”

  “Well, that little clue was right in front of my eyes, wasn’t it?” Clare said, feeling foolish. They made their way back into the living room and deposited their tea, along with a bottle of Middleton, on the table.

  “You just aren’t in clue-finding mode yet. You’ll come along quickly,” Bianca loyally assured Clare.

  Clare rolled her eyes. “This could be a disaster. Either way – how do we find the mark?”

  “Well, according to the book it’s supposed to look like this,” Bianca said, grabbing her laptop and clicking a few keys. She turned the screen and wordlessly held it out to Clare.

  Clare blinked as she registered the symbol on the laptop. It was a play on the Celtic knot: four corners twisting into points, a circle connecting them all through the middle.

  And she’d seen it just yesterday, when Branna had given her a necklace with the same symbol on it. Clare pulled it from where it was tucked beneath her shirt and held it up so Bianca could see it.

  “No!” Bianca gushed, leaning forward to examine the pendant. “When did you get this?”

  “Branna gave it to me yesterday. She said she’d thought I’d appreciate the symbol.”

  “Oh my goodness, Branna. It looks like we need to be having a little chat with her then, doesn’t it?” Bianca asked.

  “And with Fiona too. I think the old woman knows more than she let on.”

  “Plus we can’t forget Blake,” Bianca pointed out as she pulled the laptop from Clare’s hand and put it back on the couch.

  “My head’s already spinning,” Clare admitted as she tried to piece together all the different avenues she would now have to pursue in her life. Assuming she was Na Sirtheoir, that is.

  “Speaking of head, um, it says that the mark would be under the hairline,” Bianca said.

  Clare automatically pressed a hand to the spot at the nape of her neck that she so often found herself touching lately.

  “Um, I’m assuming you know it’s there, then?” Bianca tilted her head at Clare’s gesture.

  “I can’t quite say. I’ve never looked. But if my day continues in the same vein that it has been going, well… I’m thinking it’s right here.” Clare turned and pointed to the spot.

  “Let me look,” Bianca said, coming to stand behind Clare. Her fingers were gentle as she parted Clare’s hair, and Clare didn’t need her to speak to know what she found. The quick hitch of Bianca’s breath said everything.

  “It’s there, isn’t it?” Clare asked quietly.

  “It is. Let me snap a picture with my phone, hold on,” Bianca said. Clare waited as Bianca grabbed her iPhone and snapped a picture. In moments they were on the couch together, peering at the phone’s small screen.

  “It almost looks like a tattoo,” Bianca finally said.

  “But I don’t understand. I thought maybe, if anything, it was a small mole. I’ve felt it sometimes, when I’m doing my hair. But a symbol? You’d think my hairdresser would have commented on it.”

  “Or your parents would have noticed it when you were a baby,” Bianca pointed out.

  “Oh, that’s a good point, it is. What about when I was a baby?” Clare agreed, reaching over to grab her mug of tea. After a moment of consideration, she picked up the Middleton bottle and tipped a slug of the amber-colored liquid into her mug. If any occasion called for whiskey, it was this one.

  “Maybe it just shows up when your time is near? Like your time for the mission?” Bianca asked, also pouring a generous amount of whiskey into her tea. She sipped it for a moment, studying Clare over the rim of her mug.

  “Hmm, an invisible mark that only shows up when the legend is ready to be fulfilled. Sure, totally normal,” Clare nodded.

  “I think we zoomed past normal and turned a corner at fantastical about thirty minutes ago,” Bianca said, making Clare snort and shake her head. Turning, she looked at her friend.

  “Assuming this is real, and not some wild dream, what does it all mean? Where do I start? I don’t even know why this stone is so valuable or what it looks like. Or what it’s made of, for that matter. Am I supposed to just put my life on hold? Skip work, stop writing my dissertation, and just… go on a quest? That doesn’t even make sense to me. It’s so far away from anything I can even begin to comprehend. And you sit here nodding at me,” Clare said helplessly, taking a big gulp of her tea to stem the flow of words.

  “Yes, I think that is what you’ve got to do. Stop everything and find this stone. Because – if this legend is true – life as we know it will end if the Domnua take over.”

  Clare snorted. “The Domnua. Fae. Fairytales. Fae taking over the world. It’s all just so… farfetched.”

  “And yet weren’t you the one that saw a silver-eyed man dissolve into a puddle on the street? Maybe not so farfetched after all.”

  Clare sighed and took another sip of her whiskey-laced tea, pulling her feet up under her legs on the couch.

  “We need a plan.”

  “Oh, I’ve already started outlining stuff. Under the assumption you were Na Sirtheoir. So, we need to get you up to speed on the good fae and the bad fae, what their weaknesses and strengths are, how to identify them and so on. Then we have to look at the traits of the stone and try to track its history. Finally, I think we need to bring this Blake guy in and pick his brain. You said he seemed surprised that you knew nothing about him? That tells me he knows a lot more than he’s letting on.”

  Bianca was jotting notes down on the pad of paper she held, her pen flying across the paper. Excitement laced her voice as she ticked off a list of things to do.

  “Bianca, I don’t know how you do this… I really don’t. My head is spinning,” Clare admitted.

  Bianca reached out and patted her knee.

  “I’m your R2D2.”

  “My… what?” Clare raised an eyebrow at her.

  Bianca just laughed and bent her head back to the notepad.

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Clare hadn’t wanted to sleep. Once she’d accepted – well, somewhat accepted – that she was Na Sirtheoir, she’d wanted to stay up and study all night. It was as though she were preparing for the biggest exam of her life and she didn’t even know what was on the syllabus.

  Bianca had finally bustled her off to bed, promising to make a Cliff’s Notes version of what she needed to know. They’d decided that first thing in the morning they were going to pay a visit to Fiona. After that, they would track down Blake. From there they would split; Bianca would hit up some of the historical texts she had access to at Trinity College and Clare would stop at the crystal shop to talk to Branna.

  All things said and done, by the time night rolled in, they should have a lot more information in their arsenal.

  And from there – who knew?

  Clare had managed a few hours’ sleep, in between worry for the future of her
schooling and worry for the future of Ireland. So, really, just the future in general, it seemed. Of everything. Ever. No big deal, right?

  The evidence of a fitful night was made clear when Clare peered into the tiny mirror tucked above their bathroom sink. She groaned at the sight of the bags under her eyes.

  “How long will you be?” Bianca called from the other side of the door.

  “How long will it take to remove the bags from beneath my eyes?”

  “Try my cucumber eye gel. And use the concealer in my makeup bag.”

  “Then fifteen minutes or so,” Clare called, pulling off her towel and stepping under the lukewarm stream that piddled from their showerhead. One of the downsides of this apartment was crappy water pressure and a tiny kitchen. But the location was excellent and the price was right – so they’d compromised.

  But on a morning like today? She’d be willing to give up naming rights to her first-born in exchange for a hot, steamy shower.

  Clare made short work of the rest of her morning routine, marveled briefly at the cooling touch of the cucumber eye gel, and then breezed through a simple makeup application. Blessed with creamy skin, a smattering of freckles, and dark spiky lashes, Clare rarely added more makeup than a swipe of mascara or a hint of gloss. She gave a wave of her hand as she passed Bianca on the way back to her room.

  She studied her outfit choices. A peek behind the curtain had revealed another grey day, so Clare pulled out her favorite dark skinny jeans, flat black boots that came to her knees, and a fitted black turtleneck sweater. She grabbed her black leather jacket from the hook on the back of her door and followed the scent of coffee to the kitchen.

  Bianca took one glance at her and snorted.

  “You look like you’re going to rob someone. Or maybe go on a motorcycle ride.”

  Clare glanced down at her dark outfit and grinned.

  “So maybe I am channeling my inner badass a bit. I mean, if I have to save the world – I’d better look the part, right?”