Stone Song: The Isle of Destiny Series Read online

  “That’s the attitude! Here, read these over. I’ll get some toast going,” Bianca said, dropping a sheaf of notes on the counter. Clare grabbed them, along with a cup of coffee, and sat at their little table.

  “Good fae vs. bad fae. The Danula vs. the Domnua. I’m going to have to remember these names,” Clare muttered as she sipped her coffee. Black, like her outfit.

  “It’s more important that you remember how to identify them and kill them than it is to remember what to call them,” Bianca pointed out.

  Clare put her cup down carefully and turned to stare at her roommate.

  Today Bianca was dressed in a turquoise blue cardigan with a brilliant red lace top beneath. With her blonde hair in two braids and just a touch of makeup, she looked like a cheerful sixteen-year-old ready to go to shopping with her friends.

  Not someone who would calmly discuss killing fae over toast and coffee.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t you want to know how to kill them if they’re coming after you?”

  “I suppose that’s wise,” Clare agreed and skimmed the notes written in Bianca’s sharp, neat handwriting.

  “Silver eyes and a silver glow. That’s bad,” Clare said, looking up at Bianca.

  “Yup, or anyone dressed completely in silver. Fae are drawn to shiny things so anyone over the top covered in silver, that kind of thing. Pretty much just look for the glowing silver eyes and you should know.”

  “Will you be able to see them?” Clare asked, suddenly curious about how that worked.

  Bianca shook her head, a sad expression on her face.

  “No, much to my despair. It seems that’s part of your gift. You’ll be able to pick them out of the crowd pretty easily. Otherwise they just look like normal humans to regular people like myself.”

  “How come I haven’t seen them before now?”

  “The clock starting ticking for you about two weeks ago, that’s why. They’re beginning to circle.”

  Nerves skittered through Clare’s stomach and she swallowed against her suddenly dry throat.

  “Bianca, you should go home for a while. Just… just until this is over. I can’t put you in danger,” Clare ordered, steel lacing her voice.

  “Sorry, no can do. I’m the Bonnie to your Clyde,” Bianca said cheerfully.

  “Why am I Clyde?” Clare demanded.

  “Because your name begins with a C. Duh,” Bianca said, as she settled across from Clare. “Now, pay attention. Bad fae will be silver everything. Good fae are going to be violet. Violet eyes, violet hue, violet clothes. Something to do with royalty or auras, not entirely sure on that one.”

  “Will the purple ones help me?”

  “I believe so. Though I would approach with caution. Carrying your weapons, of course.”

  “And what weapons would these be?” Clare asked, spreading orange marmalade across her toast as she studied Bianca.

  “Well, iron for one. Fae hate iron. That’s pretty much a given.”

  “Is it? Well, I must have missed that along my studies,” Clare said dryly.

  Bianca chuckled. “Iron, whatever the stone itself is made of, ice, and emeralds,” she continued matter-of-factly.

  “Wait, ice?”

  “Yup. It seems you can freeze them to death. Fae hate the cold.”

  “Don’t we all?” Clare murmured, taking another sip of her coffee and feeling the caffeine begin to kick its way through her system.

  “The emerald thing got me, though. I mean, emeralds? Isn’t this the Emerald Isle? You’d think they’d gain great power from emeralds, not the other way around.”

  “You know, I do have an little emerald ring my grandmother gave to me,” Clare mused.

  Bianca pointed a finger at her across the table. “Put it on. And we are going to the store before we go see this Fiona lady. Time to arm ourselves with some iron.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain. Let’s get started.”

  On the way to the store, Clare called the pub and told them she was quitting. The university would be another story – but since she didn’t teach again until next week, she figured she had a little time to figure it out. And since she’d be seeing Branna in person later in the day, they could hash out the details of Clare leaving the shop then. Clare wondered just how much Branna knew about this legend. She was a great admirer of stones, after all; plus she’d given Clare that necklace. Odds were high that Branna had solid information.

  The man at the hardware store gave them an odd look as they both loaded their backpacks with a variety of iron tools – small garden shovels, nails, a few chains, and a couple of hand-held stakes.

  “You girls working on building something?” The man leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “We’re in a play in college,” Clare said smoothly.

  The man nodded. “Must be a gardening scene.”

  “Yes, watching flowers grow is spell-binding,” Bianca quipped. They giggled the whole way out of the store while the man just shook his head after them.

  “Here, put some nails in your pocket too. It’s probably good to have them easily accessible,” Bianca instructed. Soon Clare had pieces of iron tucked all over her body.

  “I’m covered. Sure and it feels weird. I feel like I should be scanning constantly now – trying to find fae.”

  “Do you think they come out during the day?” Bianca wondered.

  “You can’t think I’d be knowing the answer to that!” Clare exclaimed as they pushed past a tourist group wandering the street in front of Christchurch Cathedral, the tour guide droning about the history of the church.

  “Fine, next question. Should we have rung up this Fiona character first?”

  “I get the impression she’ll be expecting us. She’s got power, by the way.”

  Bianca squealed and clutched Clare’s arm in delight. “Two people with power! Oh, this is so exciting,” Bianca declared, winking at a cute guy who smiled back at them as he passed.

  “You still haven’t told me what my power is, besides seeing fae,” Clare said as they stopped in front of a hotel tucked around the corner from the fashionable gallery district.

  “Swanky place,” Bianca murmured while they pushed inside.

  “Are you dodging the question?” Clare asked.

  “No, I’m just figuring you’ll be wanting to talk about it when a bunch of people aren’t listening,” Bianca said, a bright smile on her face for someone over her shoulder.

  Clare turned to find a man with a trim beard and a tailored suit smiling at them over the long counter that ranged along one side of the lobby, which was done up in sleek white with neon green and grey accents.

  “Can I be helping you ladies today?”

  “We’re looking for Fiona…” Clare blanked out. She knew Fiona had given her last name, but now for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was.

  “Clare MacBride?” the man asked, an easy smile on his face.

  “Yes, that’s me,” Clare said, shooting a glance at Bianca.

  “You’re to head up to the penthouse. Fiona has breakfast set out for you. Please let me know if there’s anything else we can see to while you’re here.”

  Clare nodded in response and turned toward the elevator, her mind churning. The penthouse? The woman hadn’t struck her as being particularly rich.

  Bianca stayed quiet until they were in the elevator, then let out another high-pitched squeal.

  “The penthouse! I’ve always wanted to see inside a penthouse. And at this fancy hotel too? I’m dying,” Bianca gushed, fanning her face.

  “Just keep the iron in your hand. We have no idea what we’re walking into,” Clare said, pulling a small stake from her pocket.

  Bianca sobered instantly. “You’re absolutely right about that one. I need to keep my game face on, that’s for damn sure.”

  The elevator doors slid open silently to a small corridor that led to a single door. Before they’d even had a chance to knock, the do
or swung open.

  “Clare, Bianca, you’re welcome here.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Fiona looked like everyone’s favorite grandmother, but amped up a bit. With hair longer than most women her age, and a brisk white shirt tucked into slim khaki pants, she had a worldly sort of air about her. Clare couldn’t help but admire the twisted necklace of amethyst and quartz wound around her neck.

  Clare’s hand tightened on the stake.

  Fiona glanced down at Clare’s hand and then met her eyes.

  “As I said, you’re welcome here. You’re also safe here. Safer than you’d be out on the streets. You have no reason to fear me.”

  “Said every bad guy in a movie ever,” Bianca quipped; Fiona chuckled, the sound tinkling like a bubbling brook.

  “I’m here to help. I have no stake in this game other than fulfilling a promise to a ghost and making sure that Ireland stays safe.”

  “A ghost,” Bianca gasped, her eyes shining with interest. “Tell me everything.”

  “Come along then, I’ve got a table set up for us.”

  Clare followed them reluctantly, her eyes darting around the penthouse. The same theme of white, grey, and green was echoed here, but in a much more subdued manner. Soft grey carpet covered the floors, and white couches with fat green pillows sat at angles in a sitting room. Clare caught a glance of a pristine white king-sized bed through the bedroom door.

  They turned down a small hallway that led to a larger room with a full dining room table and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a large patio area as well as the entire city of Dublin. A spotless white linen tablecloth covered the long dining table. Bright green napkins sat folded on top of plates, and silver serving trays sat on a sideboard next to the table.

  “What a view!” Bianca exclaimed.

  “Yes, well, I’ve lived simply for much of my life. I figured it was time to splurge, now that John is back with me,” Fiona said simply and gestured for them to sit. Clare wondered just where John had been, considering Fiona had introduced him yesterday as the love of her life.

  “Tea?” Fiona asked and they nodded.

  “Fiona, can you tell me more about yourself? How you came to find me? Why are you involved in this?” Clare asked, and Bianca shot her a glare. “What? I’m just trying to get answers.”

  “It’s fine, we can dispel with niceties when there are more important things at stake,” Fiona said gently. “Why don’t you fill your plates? I’ve ordered way too much food, and there’s a bit of everything, really.”

  Clare didn’t have to be told twice. Her metabolism usually kicked along at a pretty high pace; so far she had been blessed with being able to eat what she wanted. The downside was that she got quite cranky if she hadn’t eaten for several hours.

  In a matter of moments, they were all sitting at the pretty table, their plates piled high with rashers of bacon, steaming mounds of fluffy scrambled eggs, and two different types of scones.

  “Please, go ahead and eat. I suppose it’s best that I talk for a bit.”

  Clare nodded, biting back the snarky comment that threatened. Of course this woman had some explaining to do. She came out of nowhere and expected Clare to believe her nonsense tales? Yeah, she’d better start talking.

  “I live out in the hills by a small fishing village called Grace’s Cove,” Fiona began.

  Clare nodded. “South of where I grew up,” she said.

  “Correct. It’s a lovely spot and home to my family and my work.”

  “What is it you do?” Bianca asked politely as she smothered her scone in butter.

  “I’m a healer,” Fiona said with a smile.

  “Like a nurse?” Bianca asked.

  Clare sat back and studied Fiona.

  “No, she means in the old ways. With her hands.”

  “Ohhhh,” Bianca breathed, then shoved a scone in her mouth, probably to cut off the flow of questions she wanted to ask.

  Fiona chuckled and tucked a silver strand of hair behind her ear. Pretty turquoise drops set in silver sparkled there.

  “You’ve more power than that, though,” Clare commented, her eyes on Fiona.

  “Aye, I’ve more power than that. My strongest is my healing. But through the years I’ve learned to develop many of my other strengths. Some mind-reading, some spell-casting, some empath powers, the likes of those,” Fiona explained.

  “So what am I thinking right now?” Bianca demanded.

  Fiona eyed the blonde for a moment before a smile broke out on her face.

  “That you want to break up a scone to feed the pigeons on the patio,” Fiona said.

  Bianca’s mouth dropped open in excitement. Turning, she grabbed Clare’s arm. “Did you hear that? She read my damn mind. I’m so impressed. I wonder what else she can do,” Bianca exclaimed and then a blush swept her cheeks immediately after. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That’s entirely too rude of me. You aren’t a circus act to perform on demand.”

  “No, I’m most certainly not. You’ll have to take my word for it, I suppose,” Fiona said, but there was no sting behind her words.

  “So you live in the village, you use your magick regularly, and then… what? Something prompted you to come find me. What was that exactly?” Clare asked as she picked up a crispy slice of bacon.

  “Let’s just say… there was a major gift given to me. A boon, so to speak. And in return, I was tasked with finding you and assisting you on your quest,” Fiona said carefully.

  “Dark magick?” Clare asked.

  “No, no, nothing of the sort. Familial magick. I told you I was descended from the great Grace O’Malley – and you’re a branch of that family too. We’re blood. And it was one of Grace O’Malley’s own who insisted I come to help you on your path. So, here I am.”

  “This was the ghost?” Bianca breathed, the scone in her hand forgotten halfway to her mouth.

  “This was the ghost,” Fiona agreed, flashing her a quick smile.

  “I swear, I think I’d just die if I saw a ghost in person,” Bianca said, and shuddered dramatically.

  “Oh, but you’re fine with hunting and killing fae?” Clare asked Bianca.

  “Well, yeah. I mean, aren’t fae real – like a real threat? Ghosts aren’t really a threat to you.”

  “Actually, my dear, ghosts are real and can be a threat, but they also can be good. But since you’ve brought up fae, we might as well get into the details of the task at hand.”

  Clare wanted to snort at the word “task.” Task implied running to the corner store for more milk. A task was finishing the citations in her dissertation. Hunting down an ages-lost treasure while also fending off evil fae was not something she would refer to as a task.

  “We’ve done a little homework since I saw you yesterday,” Clare said, reaching for a squat white pot in the middle of the table to add some cream to her tea.

  “Ah, I see. Go on,” Fiona gestured with her teacup.

  “We believe I’m Na Sirtheoir. You were right.”

  A smile crossed Fiona’s face – the pleased smile of the teacher who has been surprised by the student.

  “You are. But I’m glad you discovered that on your own. Much more difficult for a stranger to point it out to you. As told by the way you ran from the coffee shop.”

  “And, because my roommate is a stellar researcher, she has discovered there are also protectors. As well as that my little task must be accomplished in four months, and that the treasure I am to find is some magickal stone.”

  Fiona smiled again. “That neatly sums it up, though you’ve left out the bit about the fae.”

  “Right, and fae are trying to kill me,” Clare said bitterly.

  “Some fae are trying to kill you,” Bianca amended quickly.

  Fiona beamed at her. “You’re much further along than I anticipated. Why don’t you start with questions? It seems you’ve covered a lot of ground already.”

  “What’s so great about this stone?” Clare asked. br />
  “Ah, yes, I suppose you should know what you’re fighting for, shouldn’t you?” Fiona leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes going a bit dreamy as she considered her words.

  “It was a treasure brought from the great city of Falias. It’s often referred to as the Stone of Destiny,” Fiona began.

  Bianca gasped. “The singing stone!”

  “Yes, well, not so much anymore. There’s more than one these days,” Fiona chuckled.

  “But originally it sang?” Clare looked around in confusion.

  “When the rightful ruler held this stone, it would sing. It was used to determine the next worthy ruler of the realm,” Fiona said.

  Clare worked that little nugget of information around in her head as she thought about the power she often felt from stones.

  “But you say it doesn’t do that anymore?” Bianca asked.

  “With any magickal thing, its essence often grows and changes. The stone, lost now for twelve hundred years or so, has passed through many hands – both fae and human. It’s gained its energy from these new sources and has adapted. Magick is tricky, and the stone is mercurial. I’ve heard one of its greatest powers is that it allows the holder to discern truth.”

  Bianca and Clare both paused at that, their eyes meeting across the table.

  “Like a lie detector?”

  “Very much so. But you don’t need to be actually quizzing the subject to know if they are lying. So long as the stone sits with you, you can read anyone’s intentions at any time. To put that in perspective, consider the leader of a nation holding that stone.”

  Both Bianca and Clare sat in stunned silence.

  “A leader can hold the stone and ask if North Korea plans to drop a bomb, and the stone will reveal what is truth and what is lies. They don’t even have to be in the same room with the subject.”

  “That’s… that’s…” Bianca sputtered.

  “Insanity. Entirely way too much power for one person to hold,” Clare finished for Bianca.

  “Precisely.” Fiona nodded at them in agreement.

  “What makes you think I won’t run off with this stone and rule the world? I mean, I am human. We have weaknesses.” Clare studied Fiona over the rim of her cup.