Stone Guardian (25 page)

“Okay. What was the comment about the wind?” Laynie’s voice buzzed in her ear, the noise of a boisterous crowd, clinking glasses and loud music echoed in the background.

“Where are you? I thought you were at home. Did you take your laptop to a bar? Just because you’re over twenty-one doesn’t mean you have to go crazy when I’m not there to watch over you.” Emma tightened her grip on the phone, irritated protectiveness perked through every big sister sensor.

A heavy sigh rattled in her ear. She could just see Laynie rolling her eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Laynie,” she goaded in her bossiest voice.

That brought a giggled response. “I love you, sis, and I’ll be there in two weeks. Now stop being such a worrywart. You’re going to have to accept the fact that I’m grown. Your job is over.”

“I love you too, Laynie. Travel safe.” Emma swallowed hard against the knot of emotions closing off her throat as she clicked off the phone. Staring at the gadget in her hand, she wondered if she’d ever be able to do what Laynie said. She’d always watched out for Laynie—even before their parents died. She still remembered the day she’d first set eyes on the yowling, pink bundle Mother had settled onto her lap. As soon as she’d wrapped her spindly arms around the red-faced baby, the caterwauling stopped. Trusting blue eyes gazed up into hers. It didn’t matter that Laynie shared her parents’ bloodline and Emma didn’t. She and Laynie had bonded from the start.

Emma closed her eyes against the memory, against the renewed stinging of tears. She couldn’t stomach her newly discovered destiny of either watching Laynie grow old and die or losing little sister forever when she traveled to another reality. Torin’s words echoed in her mind. He’d promised never to leave her alone. Her heart swelled and unshed tears ached in her throat. Could she really trust him? Everyone else she’d ever loved always left her, whether by choice or by chance. If she took that step and opened to Torin, could she handle it if he disappeared too?

She closed the laptop and rubbed the warm surface of the machine as though wishing a genie out of a magic lamp. That’s what she needed. A magic genie. Emma snorted out a bitter laugh. In essence, wasn’t a genie what Torin was? And what about her own magic?

Emma stared at her fingertips. Magic. How could this strange power really be possible? The memory of the spirit walk among the stars pushed all other thoughts out of her mind. And what about the day she’d fended off the glob of flying sheep pellets? Emma rubbed her fingertips together, startled when an eerie tingle rippled up through both hands. Slowly turning while still rubbing the tips of her fingers against her thumbs, Emma spied the over-flowing basket of peat bricks squatting beside the hearth.
I wonder…
She narrowed her eyes and focused on the uppermost chunk of peat balanced on the top of the pile. Emma stretched her right hand out toward the peat and tensed with concentration. Nothing.

She stared at the end of her outstretched hand pointed toward the hearth. Why didn’t her so-called magic work whenever she pulled the trigger? Maybe she wasn’t focused enough or maybe…could it be...she focused too hard? Isn’t that what Mom had always said?
Clear your mind, Em, and believe in yourself. If you do that, you’ll never fail at whatever you’re trying to do. The key is to believe.
Her mother’s long ago mantra echoed from long buried memories, triggering a shiver across her flesh. Had Mom known about the magic and just never said anything about it? How much had her parents found out about her heritage when they’d brought her home from the adoption center?

Emma cleared her mind with a slow, deep breath, closed her eyes and stretched out her hand again. She could do this. The energy was there. The intensity of this strange blessing tingled through her and pulsed into an increasing sting the longer she held her breath. She opened her eyes and focused every powerful feeling she’d ever had on the innocent brick of peat.

The basket of black bricks exploded into a choking cloud of debris. Miniscule chunks of turf whizzed past Emma’s head and bounced against the wall. As the smoke cleared, Emma tucked her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans and stared at the scorch marks on the stones of the hearth where the basket once sat.

Holy shit.
So that’s what magic felt like.

Chapter Forty-Two

“The arm is fractured in two spots. See the obvious clean break through the radius near the joint?” Emma ran the tip of her ink pen along the white line shining through the shadowed outline of the bone. “And then the hairline fracture here. Just a bit lower in the ulna.” Emma tapped along a fainter line on the gray x-ray film snapped to the glowing front of the viewing box.

“I’ve told her a thousand times to stay off that rotted out dock. I’m just thankful she didna drown.” The worried mother paced in circles around the exam table where her gum-popping daughter sat thumping her heels against the sheet metal wall of the table’s pedestal.

“Ma! We were playin’ pirates. I couldna let the boys think I was a ’fraidy cat. I’m the leader. The leader has to be brave or else ye have to walk the plank.” The curly-mopped eleven-year-old cradled her injured arm against her chest along with a towel-covered packet of blue ice.

“Dr. Maxwell, there’s a man here to see ye.” Moira stuck her head inside the door, rolling her eyes as she spoke.

“Did you tell him I was with a patient?” Emma pressed a guiding hand to the fretting mother’s shoulder and led her to the chair beside the examination table.

“I did.” Moira bit out the words with an insulted huff as though Emma had just maligned her character by questioning her abilities. Her lips flattened into an irritated line as she jerked her head toward the outer hall. “He wouldna be
satisfied
until I told ye he needed to speak with ye right away.”

It had to be Torin. Who else would be brave enough to risk Moira’s wrath? Emma adjusted the ice pack around the child’s arm and patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Decide if you want hot pink or electric blue for your cast and we’ll get your arm wrapped up when I return.”

“I don’t want pink.” The little girl wrinkled her nose as though she smelled a stink.

“Oh, Matilda,” her mother groaned. “Just once, can ye no’ act like a little girl? Just once for your dear old mum?”

Biting her lower lip to keep from chuckling, Emma winked at Matilda as she closed the door. Heading down the hallway, she decided it would truly be wonderful if she could guess the lottery numbers with as much accuracy as she had when it came to anything regarding Torin. Torin waited just inside the entryway and from the scowl darkening his face, something was terribly wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Cu Sith. He’s saved a wee bairn from the kelpies but it doesna look good.” Torin waved her forward, urging her down the hall. “We must make haste. It may already be too late.”

Emma didn’t know who or what a
Cu Sith
was
but she’d read of the mythological kelpies and their delight in leading mortals to a watery death. Adrenaline surged through every cell of her body.
A wee bairn
. A baby? Emma shouted to Moira as they rushed out the door. “I’ll be right back. Get the triage room ready.” Rushing down the steps beside Torin, she scanned the empty parking lot. “Where is he? Why didn’t you bring the child to the clinic? Everything I might need to help the baby is right here.”

Torin shook his head as he took her arm and pulled her toward the rocky coastline. “Cu Sith
refused to let me take the child. He says it belongs to the Fae and must be kept as pure as possible. The bairn must be shielded from the taint of the mortal’s world.”

Stumbling over the rocky ground, Emma yanked her arm out of Torin’s frantic grip and came to an abrupt halt. “What do you mean it belongs to the Fae? Are you telling me this child isn’t human?”

Torin’s eyes flashed as they creased into impatient slits. “Are ye tellin’ me ye will abandon the child if it isna mortal? Are ye sayin’ the life of an innocent babe, no matter what its race, means nothing to ye?”

“No. Of course not.” How could Torin say such a thing? “I’d never abandon any child—no matter what race…er…species. Whatever it is!” Anger fanned the flames of adrenaline already pumping through her as a surge of heat burned across her cheeks. Why did Torin have such a strange look on his face? Like he was struggling against some sort of unpleasant memory?

“Then come.” He held out his hand, his body held stiff as though he were about to explode. Pain darkened his troubled eyes. A vein pulsed above his locked jaw as he flinched against the wind in his face.

Emma drew in a shaking breath. She meant what she said. It didn’t matter what the baby was—the child still needed help. Picking their way down the rough, steep slope, Emma scanned the jagged, windswept shoreline. “I don’t see anything. Are you sure he’s still here?”

“He’s right there.” The muscles of Torin’s squared jaw rippled as he stared straight ahead.

Emma followed the direction of his gaze. The rock-lined grotto appeared empty. The strand of beach hugging the sharp-edged rocks of the cliffs was nothing but a narrow expanse of wet sand broken with what appeared to be over-sized paw prints from a very large dog. The bitter wind whipped her hair across her face and misted her lips with the salt of the sea. “There’s nothing here, Torin. Are you sure we’ve come to the right place?”

“Cu Sith, she canna help what she canna see.” Torin shouted across the gorge, raising his voice over the deafening pound of the surf.

A long-eared hound with a black-and-tan coat shimmered into view. Between his enormous front paws rested a tiny bundle—a very still, tiny bundle.

Emma hurried down the rocks, damning the razor sharp obstacles slowing her descent. Glancing at the motionless blanket at the dog’s feet, she wished she’d brought her bag. Her fingers itched for the tools of her trade.

The bundle still hadn’t moved. An uneasy sense of dread hurtled her adrenaline into high gear. As she stumbled forward, she kept her gaze fixed on the soggy gray blanket. If only she could see the slightest movement stir the sand encrusted folds. Even the merest twitch would be so welcome. Emma yearned for the smallest sign that the child might be alive. Dropping to her knees in front of the still form, Emma peeled the seaweed-covered blanket aside. Her breath caught in her chest. The sight of the pale child, lifeless and limp in the soggy bundle, placed a stranglehold around her throat with a relentless grip of dread.

Pale-golden lashes rested on blue-tinged skin. Soaked yellow curls plastered across the wide forehead and the sides of an endearing, heart-shaped face. Tiny full lips puckered beneath a pert little nose centered between chubby toddler cheeks. Emma’s heart lurched. What a beautiful baby. Probably just a year old. Maybe. Who knew the maturity rate for the child’s kind?

She felt for a pulse, gritting her teeth at the cold, lifeless response lying still beneath her fingertips.
Dammit!
Ripping away the blanket, she scooped up the limp gray body and turned the child face down across her arm.

“Can ye save her?” The dog growled out the words; his drooping ears perked forward toward the baby.

“I d-don’t know,” Emma stammered while massaging the baby’s back. She didn’t have time to speculate on the odds. She just knew for certain that she sure as hell was gonna try. Plopping down in the wet sand, Emma rested the toddler across her lap. Prying open the child’s pale blue lips and pinching the button nose between two fingers, she expelled a gentle breath into the little girl’s mouth. She massaged her chest, then breathed into her again. Massage. Breathe. Massage. Breathe. She settled into the tireless rhythm as irritated determination knotted in her chest.

The bone-chilling wind slammed against her back as she bent over the baby’s body. The only positive she saw right now in the entire situation was the freezing temperature of the water and this damned cold air. Hypothermia might save the child if she could just get that little heart re-started. Glancing at the wet eyelashes shining on the cold pale cheeks, Emma sent up a silent prayer.
Please let what works for human babies work for the young of the Fae
.

Torin squatted at her side, staring unblinking at the limp form cradled in Emma’s arms. Nodding toward the baby’s face, he lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “The bairn is the child of one of the royals. I recognize her mark.”

“Her?” Emma raised her head from the baby’s mouth. “You both keep saying her. How do you know it’s a her just from looking at her face?”

Torin shrugged, nodding again toward the symbol on the child’s forehead. “She bears a star. A male would bear a bolt of lightning.”

Emma blew another breath into the cold pouting lips then peered closer at the baby’s forehead. She hadn’t noticed the mark before; a multi-pointed star shimmered silver right between the little girl’s closed eyes. “Her status doesn’t matter.” A grim sense of urgency clawed at her gut. The baby should’ve responded by now. Drawing in another deep breath, Emma smoothed the damp curls away from the child’s face. “Torin—she’s not coming around.”

Torin covered Emma’s hand with his. Power tingled into her body, pure emotion charged from his touch. “Dinna give up on her just yet, Emma. It may take a bit longer to save one of the Fae.”

Renewed hope urged her on. Surely, Torin would know about the Fae. Emma drew in a deep breath and blew in the baby’s mouth again. Massage. Breathe. Massage. Breathe. Did she imagine the child’s body growing a bit warmer? Pressing her head against the little concave chest, Emma closed her eyes, straining to hear the faintest renewal of life. She held her breath, focusing every fiber of her being on detecting the slightest sound. A tiny patter sounded beneath her cheek. Pushing a gentle puff of air into the baby’s lungs one more time, elation fueled her with a jolt of energy as water suddenly sputtered and gurgled from the reviving baby’s mouth. A weak, piercing wail floated through the air as Emma held the baby face down and roughly massaged up and down the child’s narrow back.

Cu Sith
pointed his nose to the sky and released a chilling howl across the whipping winds. The baby’s fretful cries ceased as she turned her golden head and reached out her dimpled fingers toward the yowling beast.