Heart of Stone (6 page)

“No, they'll be looking for you there. We'll buy you whatever you need. Think about it,” Darius said. He faced forward again and leaned his head back against the headrest. “We'll be at the airport soon.”

“But—” She cut off what she was about to say when Ben squeezed her fingers.

“I can call Lucita, tell her what's happened,” he said. “It's all right. These men are Zaindari, but not like the Mendukati. They need your help.”

“I must be crazy,” she said. “You know I never wanted any part of this war.”

“They're trying to end the war. Maybe you can help them. Besides, I worry about you. The Mendukati won't stop until they get what they want, and they will kill to get it.”

She shook her head. “They won't kill me. Apparently I'm the only Stone Singer alive now.”

“That's even worse. To get you to cooperate, they might harm the people close to you—Lucita, me. Better you go with these men. You'll be safer there.”

“And what about you? You're coming with us, right? I can't leave you alone to face them.”

“Don't worry about me.” Ben gave her one of his cryptic smiles. “You can't deny what you are, daughter of my heart. You sing the song of stones, and they have a stone whose song you need to hear. Go with these men to Arizona. See the stone; hear its song. Then you will know your true path.”

She cast a glance at the silent men in the front seat. Darius's head lolled against the headrest as if he were sleeping, and the other kept his eyes on the road. “I don't know them.”

“I do. My people and theirs have been allies for centuries, and I've known Adrian for many years.” He raised their clasped hands and enclosed her one between the two of his. “Trust me in this, daughter.”

“Why won't you come with us? I'm frightened for you, Stone Bear.”

Tenderness swept over his expression at her childhood nickname for him. “I can't, not right now. I have a show in Santa Fe in a couple of days. I can't cancel it. You know half my yearly income comes from that show, and my family is counting on me.”

“I'll split what they're paying me with you. Come with us, Ben. Please.”

“A generous offer.” He patted her hand, then released her. “One I cannot accept right now. You have your path, and I have mine. But if it makes you feel better, I can come visit in a week or so, after the show.”

“A week or so?” Her voice rose louder than she intended, so she lowered her tone. “You expect me to be there that long?”

He shrugged. “You must stay as long as it takes to find your path.”

“And if that never happens?”

“It will. I have faith in you.” He grinned. “I have faith in Faith.”

She rolled her eyes as her only relative chuckled at his own pun. “At least in Arizona I won't have to hear your bad jokes.”

“Not true. There are always text messages.”

*   *   *

After giving Faith his pitch, Darius closed his eyes and drifted into a light healing trance, focusing on easing the pain of his joints and not on the bumps in the road. He heard the murmuring voices in the backseat as if from a distance, but he didn't try to make out the words. In fact, he shielded himself from the other passengers, needing this time to recharge as much as he could. His body was trying to shut down, and he had to stay functional, at least for a while. He'd just drifted into a doze when the car came to a stop. He opened his eyes to see the airport and the small private plane waiting for them.

Gray slid out from behind the wheel and came around to open Darius's door. He extended a hand. “Let's go, old man.”

“I'm younger than you are,” Darius said. “I think.”

“But with more wear and tear.”

Gray steadied him as Darius climbed out of the car. His spine creaked like an unoiled hinge, his knee objecting as he slowly extended his leg. His nerve endings protested every movement, and he knew that once he sat down again, he might not get up for a day or two. Faith and Ben climbed out of the car and watched with concerned frowns, their worry snapping at him like whips.

“Why don't you two come on board while he gets settled?” Gray said. He held out a hand to Faith. “We haven't formally met. Adrian Gray.”

She shook his hand. “Faith Karaluros. But I never actually said I would accept the job.”

“You're here, aren't you? We'll talk on the plane.” Gray flashed his movie star smile, and Darius could feel Faith waver. Of course she did; Gray used charm with the skill of a fencing master to get whatever he wanted. Normally it didn't bother Darius, just made him shake his head. But today—

Today he wanted to slug those perfect pearly whites right out of Gray's mouth.

The force of his reaction stunned him. He'd seen Gray smile at dozens of women, even Darius's own sister Tessa, and had never experienced even an inkling of this violent rage. What the hell was wrong with him? Had to be the pain. It must be addling his brain.

Because it sure couldn't be the woman. He wouldn't let it be.

“I'm not going with you,” Ben said as Gray opened the trunk and took out two overnight bags. “I have a show in Santa Fe on Wednesday, and I need to finish up my inventory.”

Gray paused. “That's a mistake, Ben. You know they'll probably come after you to get to her.”

“Then I can lead them away from her.”

“No.” Faith laid a hand on her father-in-law's arm. “I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. Please come with us.”

Ben smiled. “I already explained why I can't. Times are hard, and my family depends on the money I make at this show. It's the biggest one of the year.”

“What if I go with you?” Adrian said. “I have to get these two to safety, but I can come back by tomorrow.”

Ben nodded. “I would welcome your company.”

“It's a deal then. Since you're staying, would you mind taking the rental car back for me?” Gray slung Darius's duffel over his shoulder and tossed the keys to Ben.

Ben nodded as he caught them. “No problem.”

“Ben.” Faith reached out a hand.

“It's all right, Faith. This is what is meant to be.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Do you think I would let you go if I thought you were in danger from them?” he murmured in her ear. “They will protect you from the Mendukati. Let them.”

“But—”

“Trust them.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb before he turned to shake hands with Gray and Darius. “Keep her safe. She is my heart.”

“Of course.” Gray hoisted both bags and turned toward the plane. Darius followed, but Faith lingered near the car.

“Go on.” Ben climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition. “You have my number. If anything goes wrong, you can call me.” With a last wave, he pulled away, leaving Faith standing there on the tarmac looking after him.

Darius paused at the bottom of the stairs. She watched the car go, her hands flexing at her sides. Then she turned toward him, raising her chin and straightening her shoulders.

“I guess I'll take the job,” she said.

Though she looked ready to handle anything, her nervousness rippled through her facade, affecting Darius like lemon juice on a bleeding wound. He clenched his hand around the head of his cane. She felt a little abandoned by Ben and less than trusting toward him and Gray, and that uncertainty tangled with his physical pain until his empathic senses throbbed just as much as his body. He swayed on his feet.

Gray dropped the bags and rushed to his side, catching him by one arm before his legs collapsed out from under him.

Faith hurried over and shoved herself under Darius's other arm. Her concern wrapped around him like cotton, and he wanted to rub his face in it, like you would clean, soft sheets fresh from the dryer. He caught a whiff of some kind of floral scent from her hair as she staggered beneath his weight, her small breasts pressing into his side.

“Darius.” Gray peered into his face. “Can you make it with Faith's help? Or do you need me to get you inside?”

Damned if he was going to let Gray carry him like a baby, not with Faith there.

“I can make it,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“Faith, what about you?” Gray asked. “Are you okay getting him on the plane by yourself? I can bring the bags.”

“I think we're okay. Right, Darius?”

“Yeah.” Darius made himself take a step with her help, just to prove to himself that he could. Luckily, her worry for him had blunted her doubts. But he still hated her seeing him this way. Some rescuer he was.

“See you on board,” Gray said. He fetched the bags and jogged past them into the plane.

I thought you didn't like to be touched,
Darius murmured into her mind.

She kept her eyes on the path before them.
You're leaning, not touching
.

He gasped a quick laugh, but even that hurt. He concentrated on the challenge that lay before him: putting one foot in front of the other, climbing the stairs to the plane, and getting himself into a seat before his body went on strike. He hated that he had to lean on Faith to accomplish such simple tasks, but he couldn't object to the sweet feminine curves pressed up against him.

One step at a time, he began the arduous climb to board the plane.

*   *   *

The interior of the private plane looked nothing like a passenger jet. Instead of the usual rows of cramped seats, the aircraft had four chairs the size of recliners around polished wooden tables, a couch along one wall and two flat-screen TVs hanging on either side. The decor of earth tones and leather gave a homey feel that commercial airlines never managed to convey.

Faith was sweating by the time she helped Darius into one of the plush seats on board. “This place looks like a flying living room.”

He shrugged, his eyes closed as he slowly stretched out his bad leg. “It does the job. Where's Gray?”

“I think he's up with the pilot.” She crouched beside his chair. “Is there something I can get for you? Water? Aspirin?”

“I need my bag.” He opened his eyes, and she could see the pain he was trying to hide. “Check the overhead.”

She stood and opened the compartment, yanked out the black bag Gray had put there, and dropped it in the seat beside him. “I know you said this was an old injury, but I still feel responsible.”

“Don't. This wasn't your fault.” He unzipped the duffel and rummaged until he pulled out a brown prescription bottle and a small, black drawstring bag.

She frowned as he shook a pill into his hand and closed the bottle. “You sure you don't want water?”

“I'm fine.” He flipped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it dry. Tossing the bottle back into the duffel, he nodded his head at the seat across from him. “You should buckle up.”

“Don't we have to stow the bag or something?”

He jerked the zipper closed and dropped the duffel on the floor between them. “Shove that under your seat if you're worried.”

She bristled at his terse tone. “I know you're in pain,” she said, grabbing the duffel and swinging it back into the overhead, “but that's no reason to be snotty.” She slammed the compartment door and dropped into her own seat, pulling the ends of the seat belt to buckle it.

“Snotty?” He chuckled, but the sound had an edge to it. “I don't think I've ever been called that before.”

“I'm shocked.”

“I doubt that.” He gave her one of those looks again, as if he could see all her secrets. And for all she knew, he could. He was a Seer, after all … whatever that meant.

He picked up the little drawstring bag and dumped the contents into his hand before setting the bag aside. Her senses flared, her tattoos tingling as she stared at the pentagon-shaped stone in his palm. Delicate veins of white traced paths through deep blue-green.

“Amazonite.”

He nodded. “I guess a Stone Singer would know her stones on sight.”

“Sometimes. Or they tell me.”

“The stone tells you?”

“Stones tell me all sorts of things. It's beautiful.” She leaned closer, unable to help herself. The energy of the stone hummed in the air, its melody teasing through her mind. “May I?”

He raised his brows but held out the stone. She spread her fingers above it, connecting to its essence. “You've been using it extensively. For healing? Yes, for healing.” Her eyes drifted closed as the stone sang its song to her, of cold and fire, darkness and light, pain and healing. Her tattoos throbbed, the minerals in the ink synching to the rhythm of the amazonite. The stone wanted to heal, longed to heal, but its energies had been depleted over time.

Melody rose in her throat, bursting free with power and pain, death and rebirth, a keening homage to creation and destruction and everything alive. She lowered her hand and closed it around the blue-green beauty. Reaching for the Earth, she lost herself in the age and knowledge, the hot, molten core of the planet, the icy cold of the darkness. She pulled that energy forth, channeling it into the stone, hands hot and heart bursting as she sang the amazonite back to life.

*   *   *

His hand burned, but he stayed still, rapt in the presence of the Stone Singer.

The pain in his bones and muscles existed, but seemed unimportant. Joy flooded him, coming from her, he knew. The amazonite glowed white, its energy filling spaces that had once been empty. In him, in the stone. Her song filled the cabin, haunting, compelling. He wanted to sing the notes, but they had no words and slipped from his memory as soon as he tried to capture them. He hungered to be part of this spell she was weaving; it tasted of earth and magic and everything that made her.

The engines rumbled. The plane eased forward, creeping toward the runway for takeoff. She didn't seem to notice, so caught was she by the stone. What would happen when they left the ground? Would the connection to the Earth sever? Would it lash back on her?