Stone Guardian (4 page)

“All the women still flock to the man,” Alfred interrupted with a snorting grunt as he ambled up beside them. “Ye’d think he’s bespelled them or some such nonsense and I’m sure a woman such as Dr. Emma will be certain to catch his eye.” Alfred tossed Emma’s bags into the back of the truck, all the while casting a disgruntled glare back over his tweed-covered shoulder.

“If ye don’t mind my askin’…” Pointedly turning her back to Alfred with a curt twist of her round little body, Moira cleared her throat and lifted her powdered chin higher in the air. Moira folded her hands atop the floral printed ledge of her tummy and gently tapped one foot. As her glasses slid to the end of her nose, Moira gave Emma an appreciative glance up and down. “Would ye happen to be single? Completely unattached? I’m sure Dr. Mac would find a willowy redhead such as yourself quite fetching.”

Willowy redhead? Who was this lady kidding?
Emma had never thought of her five foot nine frame as willowy. More like gawky and out of proportion—nothing but elbows and knees that didn’t corner well in cramped areas. Emma fished her sunglasses out of her bag and tightened the scarf holding back the tangled mass of curls struggling to flutter in the breeze. The wind had picked up and yanked her long ponytail free of its confines, lashing it about her face. Moira’s questions had taken the wrong direction and she’d seen that I’ve-got-a-man-you-need-to-meet look too many times on Laynie’s face to not recognize it when it gleamed in Moira’s eyes. “Since you asked, yes I’m single but I’m entirely too busy for all that nonsense. I’m here to get our clinic started. That’s it. I’m afraid there won’t be much time for socializing.” That universal matchmaking glint on Moira’s face had to be doused before it blossomed into a full blown mating beacon. The last thing Emma needed right now was the distraction of dodging a series of catastrophic blind dates.

Emma swallowed a groan as the calculating tip of Moira’s tongue darted excitedly across her lower lip. The woman looked like a plump gray cat about to pounce on an unsuspecting canary. An Emma canary. Moira’s eyes twinkled. The woman was definitely plotting. One corner of Moira’s mouth curled up into a knowing twitch, clearly indicating that Moira’s unite-two-lonely-souls gears had shifted into overdrive in less than a nanosecond. Emma would bet her best stethoscope on it. Whoever this Alexander Mackenzie was, he better run like hell.

“Well.” Moira arched a silvery brow, giving a gentle
tsk tsk
with a toss of her head and a disappointed shrug. “Whatever ye say, Dr. Emma. We’ll see what we shall see.” Moira beamed a smug glow as she yanked open the door to the truck.

“Ye’ve doomed yourself to a certain visit of no peace. Ye do realize that, do ye not?” Alfred gripped her hand in his work-roughened grasp and helped her climb up onto the worn fabric seat. Moira whacked him on his backside and he turned to her with a chilling scowl.

“I heard that, ye old goat. I’m standing right behind ye.”

Emma settled into the sagging cushions of the truck and pulled her bag to her chest. First thing on the agenda was definitely a rental car. She could tell right now ping-ponging between these two would prove exhausting. But wouldn’t they make for tons of great conversation whenever she got Laynie on the line? Closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose, Emma bowed her head and fought back a grin as Moira and Alfred dove into another tirade.

Chapter Five

Destruction.
A pleasurable rumble of satisfied laughter bubbled up through the depths of Arach’s coils and fanned the red-hot coals simmering in his gullet. He rolled the word off the tip of his forked tongue as though savoring the flavor of a fine robust wine. Such a delightful word:
destruction
. It even tasted good when he spoke it.

Arach filled his lungs with the stale dank air of the blood-soaked cave and waved away annoying carnage flies buzzing about his face. This world had turned out quite nice indeed. A bit on the dull side of late, but all in all not a bad place to spend a few millennia. Arach dipped his head with a single nod of certainty.
Yes.
He definitely considered his time here well spent. He’d most assuredly rate the prey of this world as one of his favorite races to hunt. Arach chuckled. The confused lot was even more enjoyable and entertaining than warming his scales beneath the scorching sun once a feeding frenzy was over.

Arach unsheathed one razor sharp claw and hooked it into the meatiest part of a smoldering carcass spread across the sticky stone floor. Impaling the body on the extended tip of one talon, he lifted the dripping corpse into the air, threw back his head and dropped the charred body into his mouth.
Ah yes. Delicious.
And the lovely screams the humans released as they realized they were about to die could not be matched anywhere else in this universe. What could be more musical than shrieking cries of a begging victim blubbering for something as ridiculous as mercy? Silly fools, these simpering mortals. What in the world could ever make them believe he would succumb to their pitiful begging? It must have something to do with that strange thing he’d heard one of their women wailing about while she clutched her mate’s dying body against her chest. What was the word the female had used? Arach slowed his chewing and thoughtfully tapped a greasy claw against his blood-spattered chin.
Hope.
Yes. That was it.
Arach snorted. Their highly-prized hope was as useless a ploy for saving their lives as was their incessant pleading.

Snugging his barbed tail around his scale-covered body, Arach crunched down on the last bits of dismembered body piled between his stubby front legs.
Such sweetness.
Human bones made such a delectable pop when properly toasted before enjoying.

He cocked his head and brought his grinding jaws to an abrupt halt. A disgruntled gurgle bubbled at the back of his throat as he unsheathed a foreclaw and slid it in the side of his steaming mouth. Curling his leathery lips back in a sideways sneer, Arach probed along the third ridge of molars and pried a particularly worrisome bit of rib-bone out from between two stumps of hardest to reach back teeth. Apparently, he’d not scorched this one quite long enough. It still had a bit of fight left to it. The bone shard popped free and ricocheted off the glistening black walls lining the rear of the cave.

There. Much better.
Smacking his slime-covered lips together, Arach pulled them back in a revealing grimace and examined his reflection in the pool of blood surrounding a pile of swollen torsos.
Good.
It looked as though he’d finally scraped all the bits of man from between his yellowed tushes. After all, one never could be too careful. A left behind piece of rotted meat or sliver of gristle could make for a miserable soreness in one’s mouth.

Arach scratched his delightfully full belly with a bloodied claw and slithered the cumbersome length of his body to the opening of the cave. Life was indeed quite decent since coming to this reality. He only wished there was a bit more challenge when it came to the hunt for fresh blood. Boredom did tend to grate on his nerves in the most tedious way.

Arach smacked his lips and sucked at his teeth as he groaned in a gut-stretching breath. He adored the plentiful food of this place and the humans had been quite good at rebuilding even more lovely structures for him to destroy. As a matter of fact, the buildings of this era exploded and burned with the most glorious billows of black smoke he had ever seen. Arach exhaled as he mindlessly tapped a claw against the limestone shelf. If only these mortals would learn how to fight back. It had been eons since he’d faced an interesting battle or found any victims worthy of well-thought-out torture.

Arach released a distracted sigh. Still, this hunting ground had lasted much longer than the last world he’d plundered. Of course, he’d been several millennia younger at that time and hadn’t known to pace himself as he’d done here.

The crashing sea roiled past the mouth of the cave. Greenish-gray waves spewed seaweed-filled froth across the sharp outcropping of stained black rocks protruding from the fissures of the cliff. Arach stretched himself out on the windswept ledge. With a sweep of one paw, he scattered sun-bleached bones out of the way and rested his sticky, blood-spattered chin atop the crossed cushion of his meaty forearms.
Yes.
He’d learned much since burning through the last reality much too quickly. ’Twas a good deal wiser to take things slowly. Savor the killings for the deepest possible enjoyment. After all, one must allow the prey time to breed and repopulate the land. Rather like when those silly mortals allowed the fields of their farms to lie fallow and gave their world a bit of a rest. These odd little mortals tended to be quite prolific if given the time and the short-lasted comfort of a few quiet decades. Once the mindless fools relaxed in the belief that their world was safe, they replenished their numbers quite readily. Arach smiled as he nestled his snout to a more comfortable angle in the crook of his crossed arms. Silly mortals. So easily picked off one by one when he resumed the scourging of their lands.

Arach rumbled a sigh and slathered his tongue around his greasy lips. Besides, juicy worlds filled with prey and ready for destruction grew more difficult to find every day. And even though he wasn’t getting any younger, he still had several more millennia left in this set of scales. Why burn out this world and have to go to the trouble of finding another?

He chuckled under his breath as his heavy eyelids slowly drifted shut. He must remember to thank the foolish old
Cailleach.
If not for the ancient woman of the moors guiding him to this particular gateway, he might’ve actually missed the pleasures of this world while traveling through the corridor.

The squawk of a gray heron sounded above the rim of the cave. Arach cracked an eyelid open, found the outstretched form of the graceful bird and incinerated it in a single explosive belch of orange flame.
Useless birds.
Constantly disturbing his naps. A distinct waste of valuable firepower but their racket was so damn irritating.

The blackened steel hull of a fire-gutted ship scraped against the base of the cliff, trapped inside the barrier of rocks jutting out from the swirling sea. The rhythmic screech against the jagged rocks sang like a delightful lullaby to Arach’s heavily armored ear-slits.
Yes.
That soothing sound was much better than the annoying squawk of the shore birds, especially when it filled his dreams with the anticipation of crunching down on bodies rotting in the hold.

Fidgeting against the curve of the ledge to find a more comfortable position, Arach rolled to his side and exposed his swollen belly to the fleeting warmth of the sun.
Lore!
What would it take to get comfortable?
A nagging restlessness prevented his leisure like a sharp rock poking into his side. Arach slapped at the midges buzzing his blood-streaked nostrils with writhing tentacles sprouting from his jaws. How the hell was he supposed to sleep off a meal with a cloud of insects crawling up his snout?

Snorting out a short burst of blue flame, Arach lumbered to his feet. It was useless. Sleep would never come to him at this rate. He might as well take flight and seed a few thunderstorms among the skittering clouds. At least watching the humans scatter for cover from destructive lightning might provide him with a bit of entertainment. What he wouldn’t give for an exciting hunt, a true challenge to rid him of this bothersome tension and gift him with the delicious weariness of a hard-won kill.

Chapter Six

The
shush
of steady waves caressed the deserted stretch of shore. The eternal rhythm pounded louder every time the greenish froth washed across the rocky strand. Gulls keened overhead, fluttering across the sky like white ribbons laced through the blinding blue.

Emma waved at Alfred and Moira’s retreating truck, blowing out a relieved breath as the vehicle bounced out of sight.
Thank goodness
. They’d finally left. Collapsing against the rough-hewn post of the open doorway, Emma kneaded the tensed muscles bunched at the back of her neck. The well-meaning Moira wore her out with an endless supply of prying, rapid-fire questions and constant scolding of husband, Alfred.

Fierce waves crashed farther up the coastline, exploding into glittering droplets of liquid sparks ignited by the waning sunlight. Emma swiped a hand across her eyes and shuddered as the fishy scent of the sea closed in all around her. The briny tang suffocated her with ever-increasing reminders of the terrors hidden in the water. She’d never be able to sleep this close to the ocean. With a glance at the thick-mudded outer walls of the cottage against her shoulder, she peered closer at the storm shutters snugged back beside the windows. If she batted them closed and pulled the heavy curtains tight across the spotless panes of glass, perhaps the demonic sound of relentlessly pounding surf would be blocked.

Other than its unfortunate location, the whitewashed cottage with its cheerful red shutters and nubby thatched roof called out to every nesting instinct Emma hadn’t known she had. If only they’d built it farther away from the shore, preferably dead center of the tiny island. Realizing she’d been holding her breath, Emma forced herself into a slow controlled exhale as she scrubbed trembling fingers through her hair.

Breathing didn’t help. The terrorizing sound roared louder, taunting in its tone. The menace of the unrelenting sea hissed out its threats against the stones and scattered debris littering the beach. The waves threatened to hunt her down and take her.

Scurrying inside, Emma slammed the door, rattling the hinges in the doorframe with the force powered by her fear. Emma closed her eyes and leaned against it, heart hammering into her throat.
Get a grip. You signed up for at least a year of this. You knew this was an island. Suck it up and concentrate on getting through just one minute at a time. You can do this.

A wave of nausea washed across her body. Beads of cold sweat popped across her upper lip. Resting her head back against the door, Emma clapped both hands over her ears and pulled in a shaking breath. She didn’t have time for a panic attack. She refused to give in to those old demons she’d escaped years ago. Forcing her body away from the support of the sturdy oak door, she stumbled her way across the room to the over-stuffed couch centered in front of a peat-burning hearth. With a hesitant glance at the cloud-streaked sky through the windows, she forced in another deep breath and slowly eased her hands away from her ears. Nothing but the faintest whooshing sound whispered its way into the rooms of the cozy cottage. Thank goodness for good old Scottish ingenuity when it came to building a thick-walled croft able to withstand the punishment of a spot by the sea. As long as she kept the windows shut and the curtains drawn, she should be okay. Maybe.