Heart of Stone (21 page)

Mendukati.
Mendeku
—the Atlantean word for revenge.

She squeezed some facial wash into her hands and scrubbed her face with more force than necessary. But she couldn't wash away her own foolishness, or the memories. The Mendukati assimilated people into their ranks and led them down a path of destruction. When she'd realized Michael's true purpose that day on the hillside, she'd tried to walk away.

She hadn't meant to kill him. But he was dead and the Mendukati had won; they'd stained her soul by turning her into a murderer.

Would Darius still find her attractive if he knew?

Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned. She sniffed, denying the tears, and shoved her face beneath the water again. The green girl who'd blindly married the man she'd thought was her soul mate had died on that hill, and now she didn't know who she was. Or what she was supposed to be doing. Working for Lucita had given her a respite, long enough to begin healing, but apparently she'd been naïve again in thinking she could hide from the Atlantean world forever.

Maybe the Seers held the key to the truth.

She finished washing up, then turned off the water and stepped from the stall. As she wrapped a towel around her body, she met her own gaze in the mirror. So pale, and a haunted look in her eyes. She didn't want to be that person again, the emotional wreck Ben had taken into his home before he'd nurtured her back into someone more or less normal. She had to get her head out of the past.

She and Darius would be working with the stone again this morning. She could focus on that. She glanced at the reflection of the bed behind her, the rumpled covers and creased pillow where Darius had lain. She touched her lips. Or she could focus on this new development.

She turned away from the mirror and grabbed a second towel, rubbing it against her hair. She didn't understand this connection she seemed to have with Darius. Sexual attraction was part of it, sure. But there was something more. She'd come to trust him more quickly than she had anyone before, except maybe Michael. She was almost twenty-seven, not a kid anymore, and because of that maybe she could go into a new relationship—but with her eyes wide open—after only knowing him for a couple of days.

And what a couple of days. Darius had defended her from the Mendukati, whisked her away to safety in the fortified Montana mansion, shared an erotic dream with her, and rescued her when she'd gotten lost in the ancient stone's energy. He'd protected her from the detractors in his family, most notably Tessa's sharp tongue, he'd calmly shot down all her reasons for not getting involved with him, and he'd kissed her in a way that made her head spin.

There was definitely something special about Darius Montana. She could see how he'd fallen into the role of peacemaker. He had a certain calmness about him that soothed those around him and inspired confidence that, whatever your problem, Darius would help you solve it.

Even she believed it.

Her hair only half-damp now, she discarded the towel and pulled out the hair dryer. Once more she caught her own gaze in the mirror. Some of the shadows had disappeared from her eyes, replaced by a sparkle that no doubt came from anticipation of the coming day, and not only because she was working with a legendary stone of power. No, the kiss yesterday had been the start of something. Her lips curved. She couldn't wait to see what revelations today would bring.

Still smiling, she flicked on the dryer and started getting ready for the day.

*   *   *

Faith ran downstairs just after nine o'clock.

She'd daydreamed too long and now she was late, with the prospect of working on the stone looming in front of her. After last night, she wanted to stay as far away from that thing as possible, but she couldn't do that. She was here to do a job, one that would pay her enough money to finally build her own sanctuary away from the Mendukati, and that was worth any sacrifice.

Besides, as long as Darius was nearby, she'd be safe.

She walked into the kitchen, lured by the smell of coffee. Cara sat at the kitchen table, her laptop open and a Bluetooth earpiece in her ear. She waved at Faith, then scowled at her computer screen.

“No, Warren. I told you I can't get the interface done for Monday. Because I'm busy, that's why. Tell the client they can have it Wednesday.”

Faith made a cup of coffee and grabbed a freshly baked biscuit from the basket on the counter.

“I've warned you about promising my time before running it past me,” Cara said. “Now either you fix this, or find another job.” She disconnected the call and pulled the earpiece from her ear, dropping it on the table with a growl.

Faith stopped beside the table. “Is it okay if I sit down? I don't want to disturb you if you're working.”

“No, I'm done.” Cara closed the laptop. “I'm supposed to be on vacation, but I had to handle this.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “I keep telling this moron not to promise things to customers without running it by me first. But he keeps doing it.”

“Can you really fire him?” Faith tore off a piece of biscuit and popped it in her mouth.

“Yes. I own the company.” Cara rested her chin on her hand. “But it's complicated, because he's my ex. He has a wife and a newborn little girl. I don't want to be petty.”

“Okay, I get that. But if he wasn't your ex, would you still fire him?”

“Maybe. I'd probably write him up first.”

“Then do that.” Faith washed another piece of biscuit down with some coffee. “Since he's your ex, he might be banking on some old feelings keeping you from firing him.”

“Ha! As if that turkey could hold a candle to Rafe. Still…” Cara reopened the laptop and clicked the mouse a couple of times. “A write-up isn't a bad idea. It would let him know I'm serious, and it would be in his employment file permanently.” She grinned at Faith. “Thanks.”

Faith shrugged and sipped her coffee. “Sometimes when feelings are involved, it's hard to see clearly. Consider me an objective observer.”

“It's much appreciated.”

Lupe came into the kitchen with a box bearing the logo of a well-known delivery service. “Miss Faith, security just brought this for you. It was delivered at the gate.” She put the box on the table and headed down the hall to the laundry room.

Faith took the box and glanced at the return address.

“Who could possibly know you're here?” Cara asked.

“It's from Ben.” Faith grinned at Cara as she tore the tape off the box. “I asked him to send me some crystals and other things that will help me with the stone.” She opened the package and pulled small clear plastic bags out of the box, each containing one or two stones in a myriad of colors.

“What do you mean, help?” Cara picked up a bag of clear quartz crystals and held it up to the light.

“Near as I can tell, it's been a long time since anyone talked to that stone. Centuries. It seems to have forgotten its manners.”

Cara handed back the quartz. “Stones have manners?”

“Stones of power do.” Faith closed up the box again. “Last night that darn stone sneaked into my dreams and took me and Darius on a ride through some kind of desolate wasteland. Luckily, I was able to sing us out of there, but it was touch and go.”

“I had no idea.”

Faith laughed. “Stone singing is not for the faint of heart. But this stuff should help me keep a controlled environment so it doesn't happen again. The stone wants me to balance it, but it has to do it on my terms.” Faith shoved the last bite of biscuit into her mouth and washed it down with a swallow of coffee. She stood and grabbed the box. “Darius is waiting, and I'm already late. See you later?”

“Sure. I'll be around … writing up Warren.”

“Go get him.” Faith returned Cara's grin and headed for the cabana.

*   *   *

Darius waited outside the cabana, frowning as he glanced at his watch. Faith was late. She'd seemed okay this morning when he'd left, but what if something had happened since then? He reached out with his empathy to search for her. And found … nothing.

His blood chilled. Where was she? Had she left? Been kidnapped? Been sucked back into that damned stone?

He grabbed his cane and started for the house when he saw her come out the patio doors. She carried a small white box with her and smiled when she saw him. Waving, she quickened her pace.

He let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. His knees turned to water, and he gripped his cane for balance with trembling fingers. She was okay. She was right there in front of him in her hot pink T-shirt and jeans. He hadn't realized how much he feared for her until the relief staggered him.

But why couldn't he sense her emotions? There was a big blank on his empathic radar where she should be.

“Sorry I'm late,” she said as she reached him. “Overslept.”

“That's okay. It was a rough night.” He searched again, but still no hint of her emotional state. He could only go by subtle clues in her expression and demeanor, by the tone of her voice. How did humans survive with such ambiguous clues?

“Yes, it was a rough night.” A light flush swept across her cheeks, and she glanced down at the box in her hands. “Thank you for staying with me. I feel kind of silly now in the bright light of day.”

“You shouldn't.”

“And thank you for not, you know, pushing things.” She lifted her gaze to his again. “I wasn't ready and—”

“Faith.” He reached out to cup her cheek. “Don't worry so much. Whatever is meant to happen will happen in its own time.”

“I guess.” She shrugged. “But thanks anyway.”

“It was my pleasure.” He dropped his hand. Even with his empathic senses not working, he could tell she wanted to move on to another subject. “So what's in the box?”

“Ben sent it.” A smile curved her lips. “I asked him to send me some crystals and things that might help keep the Stone of Igarle in line. Once it's balanced, we won't need these safety measures, but for now, I really don't want to tour that wasteland again.”

“Good idea. Can I see?”

She folded back the flaps of the box. Gems of all colors and consistencies glimmered at him. “I can set up a safety circle with these.”

“Sounds good. Let's get started.”

She fumbled with the box flaps to close them, and something flashed on her hand. He realized it was a ring, fashioned with Native American flair out of silver and amethyst. He'd never seen her wear any jewelry before, except for earrings.

“Nice ring,” he said. “You get that on your shopping trip with Cara?”

“No, it's mine. Ben made it for me years ago.” She nodded toward the cabana. “Shall we?”

“Sure.” He swept a hand to indicate she should precede him. “Door's open.”

“Okay, let's get this over with.”

*   *   *

The arts trade show was packed within an hour of the doors opening. Adrian hauled boxes, handed out change, and chatted up customers who were waiting for a moment of Ben's time. The carver knew how to talk to people, and he positively loved conversing about his art. Adrian kept an eye on the crowd, which grew with each hour that passed. So many people, packed into a small space. Logistical nightmare.

And possible opportunity for the Mendukati.

A tall teenaged boy sidled up to the table, all shaggy brown hair, pimples, and sharp blue eyes. His black hooded sweatshirt and swagger indicated he thought he was cool, but his hands fidgeting in the pockets of the hoodie said otherwise.

“So,” he said when Ben's most recent customer walked away, “you make all these?” He jerked his chin at the array of carved stone fetishes across the table.

“I did.” The older man took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with a soft cloth.

“What are they made of?”

“Different things.”

“Oh.” The kid chewed his bottom lip. “So, how do you know what to make? Do people like call you up and ask you for stuff?”

“Once in a while.” Ben put his glasses back on. “Most of the time, I listen to what the material wants to be.”

“Huh.”

“Let me show you.” Ben reached down under the table and pulled a palm-sized chunk of light gray marble from a box. “You see this? It's marble. Scraps from a construction site. Someone was building a house and wanted a fancy bathroom.” Ben chuckled. “This was left over, and they sold me a box of these because they cannot use them.” He offered the stone to the boy. “Look at it. Tell me what you see.”

The young man took it and studied it. “It's a cool color. All those black lines going through it.”

“True. But look closely. You see a hunk of marble. I see a bear.” Ben pointed at a small triangular part that protruded from the short side of the stone. “This is his nose. And the way this longer part curves looks like his back.” He grinned at the boy. “The stone tells me what it wants to be.”

“I see it now! Yeah, kind of.” He handed the marble back. “Cool.”

“When I am done, it will look like one of these.” Ben indicated his display of bear fetishes. “The bear is very important. He is the protector of the West.”

“That's so awesome.” The boy grinned from ear to ear. “I gotta find my mom and bring her over here.” He darted away.

“Looks like you've got a fan,” Adrian said.

Ben chuckled. “I just showed him what he didn't know to look for.” He picked up his water bottle and downed the last sip. “Adrian, would you please get me another bottle of water? All this talking's making my mouth dry, and my doctor wants me to stay hydrated. There's a soda machine out in the hallway.”

“I don't like the idea of leaving you alone.”

“You'll only be gone a minute.”

“A minute is all it takes for someone to grab you.”