Authors: Maeve Greyson
Tags: #Time Travel, #Fantasy, #Demons-Gargoyles, #Witches
Stone Guardian (32 page)
“Dr. Emma?”
Emma tore her gaze from the medical file she’d just reread at least five times.
Dammit.
She couldn’t concentrate on anything. Tightening her grip on the edge of the worn folder, she pinched the pages as though they might help her hold fast to reality. “What do you need, Moira?”
Moira opened the door wider, sidling her round body through the space as if she feared something else might sneak into the office with her. “Would ye have a moment to step into the waiting area? Your sister brought someone to see ye.”
Emma closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out a defeated breath. Alex and Laynie wouldn’t let up and they’d suckered everyone else at the clinic into the futile quest as well. The scavenger hunt for the path to Torin was getting extremely old. “I’m pretty busy, Moira. I really need to finish dictating these files.”
Moira’s thin lips clamped into a determined line as she slid the folder out of Emma’s hands. “Dr. Mac said he’d take care of the dictation from now on. ’Tis no’ healthy the hours ye’ve been keepin’. Ye look a wreck. Come to the waiting room and at least give a listen to what this man has to say.”
Emma pushed her weary body out of the chair without another word. Arguing with Moira was about as effective as arguing with a wall. She might as well go through the motions and see what Laynie had up her sleeve just to get everyone off her back.
Rounding the last turn in the hallway, Emma’s heart fell when she spotted a tiny wisp of a man trembling at Laynie’s side. Balding and thin, knobby fingers twisting a ratty tweed hat in jerking circles, he peered up at her over bent, wire-rimmed glasses as though he feared he was about to be attacked. Where in the world had Laynie found this mouse of a man and how could he possibly help?
“Emma, this is Gaynor. Gaynor, this is my sister. So what do you think?” Laynie looped her arm through the man’s spindly elbow and nudged him toward Emma.
Gaynor’s bulging Adam’s apple skittered up and down his scrawny throat as he dipped his head with a hard swallow. His fierce blue eyes narrowed behind the smudged ovals of his glasses. His grizzled chin jiggled back and forth as his sunken mouth and non-existent lips betrayed the absence of all his teeth. After he drew a trembling hand to his chin and scratched across the silvery stubble peppering his face, he finally bobbed his head forward once in a decisive nod. “Aye. I see the magic in her aura. I will help ye find the way to re-open the portal.”
An eerie shiver crawled across Emma’s flesh. Gaynor’s deep voice sounded so familiar. His rolling brogue rang clear and deep as a bell. How could such a sound come from such a scrawny body? Stepping closer, she extended her hand. “It’s good to meet you, Gaynor, but what exactly do you mean by ‘I
see the magic in her aura’?”
Gaynor’s gaze settled on Emma’s extended hand. His receding lips curled downward into a slight frown as he clasped his arthritic hands in front of him. “I am no’ fit to touch one such as you. Ye should know that. But I will no’ hold your ignorance against ye. From what your sister tells me, ye are verra new to the Ways.”
Embarrassment sent a rush of heat through her as Emma tucked her tingling palm back into her pocket. “Well, I guess that pretty much cuts through the niceties. Why don’t you just tell me who you are, Gaynor?”
“I am one of the caretakers. My clan has served the stone guardians since they first came to be. ’Tis our duty to keep the legends alive and ensure the guardians have all their needs fulfilled should they ever decide to return.” Gaynor stood taller as he spoke, bobbing his head at different objects around the room. “And I’m also grateful that one of my own has been deemed worthy of adoption into the guardian’s clan.”
“One of your own?”
Gaynor bobbed his head again. “Aye. The chieftain himself saved my great-grandson from the wicked magic poisoning his body and blessed him with an aura heartstone.”
Emma stared closer at the ancient man’s face. It was the eyes. She knew she’d seen those eyes before. Glancing at Laynie and Moira’s excited expressions; she knew there had to be more. “Who is your great-grandson?”
“‘Tis the boy your Torin healed. The child he named as a future guardian.” Moira nudged Emma’s shoulder to draw her attention to a child’s photo she held in her hand. “Remember?”
That’s where she’d seen those flashing blue eyes before. Emma took the picture, immediately remembering the sickly lad Torin had snatched from death’s jaws. The boy had his great-grandfather’s eyes. There was no mistaking the bloodline.
Fingering the corner of the picture, Emma drew in a deep, calming breath. It didn’t mean anything. She didn’t need to get her hopes up. She’d destroyed the portal leading to the other reality. Torin was lost forever. With a withering glance at Laynie’s triumphant grin, Emma struggled to keep the desolation she felt from creeping into her voice. “What makes you think you can help me, Gaynor? If you know all the legends, you’ll need to know that I completely destroyed the portal.”
Gaynor’s scraggly white brows knotted together with a disbelieving scowl as he jerked his head back and forth with a stubborn shake. “No portal can be truly destroyed. Ye but sealed the passage between this world and the realm to which it opened. Ye need only know the mystical secrets to unlocking the gateway again. All ye lack is the knowledge to call him forth from that place.”
The frailest tendril of hope stirred in her aching heart. Emma searched Gaynor’s face. The tiny man oozed certainty. Righteous fire burned in his gaze. Her voice cracked, the words catching in her throat as she mentally reminded herself not to raise her hopes. “Do you know the secret, Gaynor? Can you really help me?”
“Aye.” Gaynor winked with a polite bob of his head. “‘Tis my duty to serve ye, Guardian.”
Chapter Sixty-One
“Have you got everything?” Laynie slammed the door to the truck and tiptoed to peer into the rust-covered bed.
“I think so.” Emma pulled her coat collar higher about her cheeks, squinting against the bitter cold wind lashing across her face. Blinking hard against watering eyes, her already churning stomach lurched at the sight of several familiar faces waiting at the stones. “Why are they here?”
“Because when you leave with Torin, they’re going to be here for me.” Laynie cleared her throat and pulled her wool scarf higher across her face. “Remember our deal, Emma. No looking back.”
Emma swallowed hard, nearly choking on the big lump of doubt lodged in the center of her throat. Laynie seemed so certain that this was going to work. Emma wished she could be that sure. And if it did, she’d be back to the difficult decision of leaving her sister behind. Tucking her short curls behind her ears, Emma knotted the thick wool plaid tighter beneath her chin. “Will you really be all right, Laynie? What will you do when I’m not here anymore?”
Laynie’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she swiped a blonde strand of hair out of her face with a mittened paw. “I’ll be fine, Emma. Especially if I know you’re happy.” Casting a glance in Alex Mackenzie’s direction, she fixed Emma with a knowing grin. “And besides, I think I might’ve found somebody who’ll be willing to keep me company.” Turning back to Emma, the corners of Laynie’s mouth quivered with a resigned smile. “You’ve taken care of me and made sure I was happy all these years. It’s time you allowed someone to take care of you and give you a little happiness.”
“You really think you can be happy with Dr. Jerk?” Emma glanced up the hillside at the figures milling about the stones. Alex was there with his gaze firmly fixed on Laynie. Emma still didn’t like the man but she remembered the sparks she’d sensed in the cottage when she’d discovered the two of them together.
“He’s not a jerk, Emma,” Laynie laughed. “He’s just hard-headed. He kind of reminds me of you.”
“Thanks a lot.” Emma snorted before wagging a motherly finger in Laynie’s face. “Are you sure? You think he’ll really make you happy?”
“Positive.” Laynie fished a roped bundle from the back of the truck. “Now, come on. Gaynor said we needed to watch the position of the sun or this isn’t going to work and then you’ll be stuck waiting another year.”
Emma looked up at the hazy orb straining to glow through the cloud-banked atmosphere. December twenty-first. Winter solstice. She smelled the cold clean scent of an impending snow storm lurking on the horizon. The gray sky covered the hillside like a cozy flannel blanket draped across the land. “I hope Gaynor knows his stuff and hasn’t led us astray.”
The closer she drew to the upright columns at the head of the path, the heavier her footsteps grew. She hadn’t been back since the day she’d lost Torin to Arach. To look at the gray-black spires sprouting up from the ground, no one would ever imagine the hideous explosion the rocks had withstood. Emma hitched her coat snugger about her body, battling against the frigid cold surging from within.
“Remember. Gaynor said as soon as Torin’s hand joins yours on the sword, the two of you will cross into whatever realm Torin chooses.” Laynie caught her lower lip between her teeth as she wrestled Torin’s monstrous blade from the confines of the cloth bag.
“I remember.” Emma stared at the handle of the intricately engraved blade. Its surface swirled with Celtic knots and whorls all across the steel’s ancient patina. She still didn’t understand why she couldn’t just pull Torin back to this reality, at least long enough to ensure that Laynie was happy with her newfound love. But Gaynor had insisted that once she summoned Torin with his own sword, the Continuum would demand they travel to somewhere other than the present world. Since Torin loved her and held her presence in his heart, the Continuum would allow her to travel with him. Gaynor had grinned when he assured her that this was a guaranteed way to discover if Torin’s love was true. If she didn’t hold a place in his heart, the sword would cast her aside and send Torin on without her.
Noting the position of the faded sun struggling in the pale-gray sky, Emma took the sword from Laynie and swallowed hard as an eerie tingle transmitted up her arm. The magic of the sword recognized her touch. Gaynor had warned her it would be so.
She tightened her grip on the sword, balancing the weight of it between both hands. The long blade nearly doubled the height of her body as she hefted it above her head. As she screamed Torin’s name, she plunged the sword into the parallel column on the right. Gritting her teeth, she shoved the blade deep into the rock by slamming her body against the hilt.
A dull roaring rumble shook the ground. It started as a muffled grumbling and increased to a heart-stopping growl. The air crackled and popped with conflicting energy as though an explosion neared. Lightning bounced between the columns of stones, ricocheting off the imbedded crystals. The space between the spires shattered into a murky darkness swirling with flashes of light.
Emma yanked the sword from the grasp of the stone and stumbled toward the chaos. Glancing over her shoulder, she mouthed the words
I’ll always love you
to Laynie. Blinking hard against the threat of tears, she forced a reassuring smile on her face. They’d sobbed their good-byes at the croft last night and promised each other no regrets and no drama at the stones. Emma needed to focus all her energies and emotions on contacting Torin.
Pending tears glistened in Laynie’s eyes as she nodded and blew Emma a kiss.
Emma turned to the gateway, fighting the gale wind of chaos battering against her body. Forcing the weight of Torin’s sword over her head, she closed her eyes and screamed his name again.
A jolting heat engulfed her hands, wrapped around the hilt of the sword and seared down both her arms. Emma barely opened her eyes, squinting against the debris-filled maelstrom and found herself locked in Torin’s gaze.
“Torin.” His name caught in her throat. She never thought she’d see him again.
“Emma.” Torin reached out, cradling her cheek in one rag-wrapped hand while gripping the sword with the other. “Are ye certain, my love?” His hoarse roar rang out above the howl of the wind; his breath brushed hot against her face as he crushed her against his chest.
Emma pressed her mouth against the salty sweetness of his throat, inhaled his familiar, comforting scent, and reveled in the warmth of the man she feared she’d never see again. “More certain than I’ve ever been about anything,” she breathed as she closed her eyes.
“Then let our life together begin.”
A word about the author...
When Maeve Greyson isn’t trying to make the deer and squirrels leave a little birdseed for the birds, she’s typing out tales of brave kilted men and the feisty women who love them. She’s blessed with a husband who cooks, cleans, and goes to the grocery. Yes—she’s a lucky woman and she knows it. Her favorite saying is “No one has the power to shatter your dreams unless
you
give it to them.” So take care, dear readers and never give anyone that power!
~*~
Other Maeve Greyson titles
available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.:
BEYOND A HIGHLAND WHISPER
THE HIGHLANDER’S FURY
A HIGHLANDER IN HER PAST
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