Stone Guardian (8 page)

“No.” Thunder clapped sharply from beyond the ridge. Flashes of distant lightning flickered across the gray swirling clouds gathering just beyond the hillside. “Arach has grown stronger while ye slept. The powers of a single guardian can no longer best the beast. Ye will do this, Torin. Ye will share your strength and knowledge with this untrained woman and ye will have no peace in your existence until ye do as I command.”

Chapter Eleven

Good gosh.
What the crap had she been thinking? Why in the world did she ever believe she’d remember how to drive a stick shift? Emma yanked harder on the stubborn gearshift until it finally jerked down in the general direction she wanted it to go. The engine whined an angry protest while her sister’s voice teased inside her head. “
If you can’t find ’em, grind ’em.”

Emma clenched her teeth and eased up on the clutch. There’d been so little to choose from at the rental lot. It was either this rolling catastrophe or a dilapidated old truck refusing to start unless she alligator-clipped wires together under the dash.

The car hiccupped and spit along the lane, barely allowing Emma time to glance at the scenery passing by the window. Ancient megaliths loomed in front of her windshield. She remembered them from hours of surfing on the Internet while researching the Isle of Lewis. She stole a glance at the great gray stones. The photos she’d found hadn’t done the massive obelisks justice.

Clachan Chalanais
or
Tursachan Chalanais
. The Callanish Stones or Callanish I as the archeologists catalogued them, stood silent and foreboding against the backdrop of the blue-white sky. The article from one of the Web sites she’d found echoed through her mind. A strange shiver of eerie recognition raised the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. Why? Struggling against a shudder of
déjà vu,
her foot slipped off the miniscule gas pedal and the car lurched to a halt as the engine stalled.

“Dammit!” Emma pounded a fist atop the dashboard while the engine sputtered and coughed a last dying gurgle. Squinting through the dust cloud swirling about the car, Emma stomped the wobbling clutch all the way to the floor and yanked on the resistant gearshift. She kept her focus glued on the narrow road ahead, willing the car to continue its way up the hill. “Oh come on. You can’t quit on me now.” The engine gagged and belched out its last breath as the car limped forward a few more feet. Emma clamped her hands atop the steering wheel and bit back some of the choicer expletives she’d learned while interning at a drug rehabilitation center. She wiped the dust from the instrument panel, groaning at a glowing red maintenance light flickering beneath some unintelligible symbol.

“Un-freakin’-believable.” Still clenching her teeth, she glared at the annoying red beacon. “Now, I know
that’s
not my fault.”
I give up.
Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. The cracked plastic casing winding around the wheel immediately pinched her right between the eyes.
Dammit! Would this day never end?

Rubbing her stinging forehead, Emma surveyed the area. With a disgruntled shrug, she yanked the keys from the ignition.
Yeah. Right. Take the keys. After all, we wouldn’t want anyone stealing this fine specimen of automotive perfection, now would we?

Shoving the springy key ring around her wrist like a jailer’s bracelet, her gaze settled on the surrounding scenery. A tour of the stone circles of Callanish at some point in time during her stay was on her list of must-do’s. She might as well take advantage of the opportunity and check out the awaiting circle of spires. Checking the time, the date box on the watch’s face seemed to jump out at her. Gooseflesh rippled across her body, tingling like an electrical warning. June twenty-first. Summer solstice. No wonder this day from hell seemed so long. Shivering again, she eyed the stones. Hadn’t she read a legend somewhere about the summer solstice and the Callanish Stones? A nagging sense of having forgotten something very important teased at the back of her mind.
Might as well check them out and have a look around.
Besides, the cell phone would probably get a much better signal if she called for rescue from the top of the hill.

With a bounce of her shoulder and an accompanying grunt, Emma convinced the sticking door to open and unfolded her long legs out of the tiny car. Thank goodness she was limber. She’d hate to think how she’d manage getting in and out of the miniature auto if she wasn’t. Lifting her face to the fleeting warmth of the disappearing sun, she scrubbed the unshakeable cloying shiver of eeriness from her arms.

The silent sentinels balanced so precisely along the barren hillside lent a chill to the rising wind. Emma wished her timing had been better. This late in the day, the brownish-gray spires stood deserted. The last tour must have ended several hours ago.

The regal presence of the tallest of the stones in the rock-strewn garden demanded her attention. The sun’s rays glinted off the tiny crystals embedded in its lower edge. Just a few more minutes of the day’s cycle and the glowing orb would settle at the apex of the center stone. A howling wind blustered against her back, urging her up the hard, dirt-packed path centered in the circle of stones. Emma swallowed against her hammering heart. Theories of ancient druid sacrifices from centuries ago suddenly seemed quite plausible.

The center stone pulled her forward; a silent urging churned inside her. Emma groped for her lucky necklace, enclosing the carved medallion tight in her grasp. With a start, she realized her pendant radiated much hotter than usual as though the stone had its own source of heat. She traced her thumb across the etchings. She found little comfort in the ancient swirls she’d fingered a thousand times. Emma scowled at the glossy chunk of polished obsidian carved with intricate scripts and interlocking knots.

“What is your problem?” She guessed it was silly speaking to the thing but she’d done it all her life. If only the strange shaped rock could whisper all its secrets. Maybe it held the answers to her problems. Swallowing hard, she peered closer at the roundish black disc.

Thunder echoed in the distance. Emma jerked her gaze upward, searching the graying clouds rolling across the horizon.
Geez, this place is spooky.
Rubbing her arms again, Emma wished Laynie were here. Baby sister would lighten the mood. A pang of loneliness swept through her.

Stumbling over a dried clump of grass sprouting in the middle of the path, Emma bit back a muttered curse and hurried faster up the route. Maybe coming to the Isle of Lewis might not have been one of her best-thought-out plans. So far, everything about her stay had been less than favorable.

As she stood at the base of the center stone, Emma shielded her eyes and strained back to take in its impressive height. The summer sun battled through the gathering clouds and crowned the looming megalith. Imbedded crystals atop the stone sparked into a blinding beacon radiating sizzling white lasers of pulsating light. The blazing rays dizzied and swayed her, spinning her against the stone. With a dull
thwack
, her head slammed against a jutting edge of the center rock. Emma squinted against the sting of tears while she rubbed her throbbing temple.

“Dammit! I’ve had just about enough bad luck for one day. How about sending me something good instead of tormenting the living crap out of me? Why don’t you send me the answer to all my problems or some kind of magic wand I can use to fix everything wrong with the world? Geez, you’d think you could grant me some sort of
good
wish instead of whacking me on the head.”

“Answers are always held within. Ye must train yourself to hear them when they speak.”

Emma screeched. Her heart pounded into her throat as she dropped into a crouch and groped for the nearest weapon she could reach. Locating a good-sized rock, she clenched the jagged shard in a trembling fist and backed against the rough-edged obelisk. Emma struggled to control her breathing as she faced the shadowed mountain of a man who’d just appeared from behind the stone. “Who the hell are you and where did you come from?”

With slow, careful movements, the bare-chested man raised both hands level with his shoulders and spread his fingers, displaying empty palms. A crooked smile flashed across what part of his face she could see and his thundering voice lowered to a throaty purr. “Easy now, lass. I mean ye no harm.”

Emma pressed back against the spire, keeping her crude weapon raised. The strength of the megalith nudged her shoulders. She vaguely noticed that for some odd reason, the touch of the stone steadied her. The jagged coolness of the rock brushing against her flesh calmed her, kept her anchored to reality. Why in the world would the feel of these stones bring her such reassurance?

The man slightly shifted his weight from one foot to the other as though growing impatient. Forget the stones. She’d worry about that later. More importantly right now was how could this guy appear out of thin air? There wasn’t anyone here when she walked up the hill. She was sure of it. Maybe he had been hiding somewhere? The obelisks must’ve shadowed him and then he came closer when she’d been looking at the sun.
That was it.
She’d been dazzled by the sunlight and hadn’t seen his approach. Emma blinked hard and groaned in a deep breath. A stronger wave of unease stole across her body. She must’ve hit her head harder than she thought. Her knees trembled, threatening to buckle beneath her.
Dammit.
She didn’t need any more catastrophes today. Jerking her chin in his direction, Emma hefted the rock in one hand, better gauging her aim. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He nodded his head toward the now uncomfortably warm necklace smoldering against her throat. “My name is Torin. Whether ye know this or not, ye called out to me or else ye wouldna be able to see me. Do not blame me for appearin’ out of the shadows and scarin’ the livin’ hell out of ye. Ye must take more care when ye stand at the gateway and send your requests up to the Auld Ones. Their powers are no’ to be takin’ lightly. Have ye any idea at all of the risk ye just took?”

Torin’s massive arms mesmerized her as he folded them across a smooth bronzed chest glistening with jagged scars. Strange tattoos, mysterious black stains of swirling glyphs, encircled his bulging biceps.

Tearing her gaze away from the well-formed package of hardened muscle, Emma edged her shoulders tighter against the stone. “What do you mean I should know the risks?” Irritation replaced the fear blooming in her chest. Did this guy, who’d just appeared out of thin air and scared the crap out of her, actually have the audacity to stand there and lecture her? What was he talking about, saying she should be aware of the dangers? Emma lowered the rock but kept it clenched in tightly curled fingers; the sharp-edged shard brought a strange sense of comfort to a very primitive part of her. If this guy kept up his current tone, she might still peg him right between the eyes. She used to be pretty good with a softball.

“Your amulet.” Torin jerked his chin toward her throat again. “Your stone of focus. Do ye have no idea of its—” Torin paused as though searching for the right words. With an irritated wave of his hand, he pointed toward her throat. “Where did you get
that
?” Torin half turned into the sunlight revealing only the left side of his face. He spread his feet in a defensive stance as though preparing for a battle.

“That’s none of your damn business.” Emma forced the words through gritted teeth, as thoughts of her past flickered across her mind. She wasn’t about to share any of her private memories with some bare-chested Neanderthal who’d appeared out of thin air. Besides, there wasn’t much to tell about her lucky necklace. It had more or less come with her as part of a “packaged deal.” At least that’s what Mother had told her. When her parents had adopted her, the obsidian stone necklace came tucked in with what few belongings came with her and instructions that Emma should always wear it.

The crooked smile returned; this time accompanied by a lifted brow separated by a thin silver scar over an eye the same color as the standing stones. Torin stepped from the shadows and fully faced her. “Ah, ye dinna know your legacy then. The
Cailleach
said she’d sheltered some from the knowledge of the magic. In fact…” Torin stroked his chin as he studied her. “She did say ye had no knowledge of the magics at all. It seems the old woman spoke the truth. The depth of your powers has been kept from ye.”

Emma’s clenched fingers slowly relaxed, dropping the rock with a thud into the dust at her feet. Emma caught her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from blurting out the myriad thoughts racing through her mind. Swallowing hard, she resorted to the motion she’d consoled herself with all her life. The smooth, warm stone of the amulet soothed her. It nestled into her cupped palm with silent reassurance. Her lifelong talisman never failed to sort through any type of confusion strangle-holding her mind. She curled the lucky stone in her hand while studying the badly scarred man in front of her.

His kilt was a plaid of the deepest green and it settled low about tight, narrow hips. Her gaze traveled up the laddered muscles of his abs to a widening expanse of well-made chest. Those massive biceps, pulsating with the dark swirling tattoos, rippled and tensed across his chest. Prominent veins running atop the well cut muscles throbbed as he waited for her to speak. Sleek, dark hair, almost a bluish black, brushed the tops of his wide shoulders. Tight braids twisted at the sides of his face, holding back the strands from his eyes. Emma’s heart lurched at the jagged, shining scar marring the perfection of his angular face. The torn silver line sliced through the plane of smooth weathered skin, marking an unmistakable path down the curve of his cheek. The stark reminder of a more painful time started at the outer corner of Torin’s cloudy right eye and ripped a tattered course to the base of his tanned throat. What sort of accident could’ve caused such an injury, robbed the man of half his sight and left such a scar?

“It no longer pains me. If that’s what yer wondering.” Torin’s smile disappeared. His face tensed as both eyes narrowed into defensive slits.