The Stone Prince i-1

by Gena Showalter

  He’s right, Katie thought, but she would never make such an admission aloud. Being prepared for the worst was the first lesson in self-defense. Yet none of her classes had mentioned defeating an attacker with a spatula. A pencil, maybe. Even keys.

  Really, though, what harm was there in letting him have some of the “weapons”? She never used them, anyway. And if they made him feel safer, well, that was all that mattered. She couldn’t fathom being stuck on another world, alone and destitute.

  “Why don’t we compromise?” she suggested. “You can keep the scissors and the spatula—” and look like an idiot, she silently added “—but the knives and rolling pin stay here.”

  Silence filled the room as he considered her proposal.

  Finally, he nodded. “I accept your compromise. Do you not see how reasonable and willing to negotiate I am?”

  “Yeah, you’re a regular kiss-ass.” His face brightened, and she added, “You’re not getting a quarter, nor are you kissing my…Well, you’re just not!”

  His eyes twinkled with mirth, making the pale blue irises sparkle like diamonds in the night sky. “I will not take you to task for your impertinence—unless, of course, you desire punishment in bed. There is still time ere we visit the sorcerer.”

  She rolled her eyes, trying to appear cool and unaffected on the outside. On the inside, however, her body was screaming hip, hip hooray, there’s still time. “Make sure the weapons are hidden when we leave the house, okay?”

  “I am not an untrained youth.” His mirth was quickly replaced with ire. “I know weapons must remain concealed when not engaged in battle.”

  O-kay. With every word he’d spoken, his irritation had grown. Right now he looked ready to attack her with the knives for daring to insult his intelligence. Time to change the subject. “Did you find anything good to eat?”

  “Nay.” His expression lost most of its heat. “You did not show me how to prepare this.” He held up a Tupperware bowl filled with pasta. A thin layer of mayonnaise and cheese coated the surface.

  Ew, she thought. He’d tried to make a sandwich out of it.

  “’Tis unseasoned and tasteless and hard and quite the worst morsel I have ever eaten.”

  Katie noticed several bite marks around the corners of the bowl. Laughter threatened to bubble past her throat, but she swallowed it back. “That’s the container, silly. The real food is inside.” She pried the bowl from his fingers. The action caused her palm to brush his, sending a jolt of electricity up her arm. Shaky now, she set the plastic aside. “You don’t want what’s inside that for breakfast, anyway.”

  “But I am starved, and you have no more supplies.” He stroked his fingers over his jaw.

  Geez, housing an alien was more expensive than she had envisioned. “I’ll take you to this little café about fifteen minutes away. They make the best protein shakes. We can be in and out in less than an hour.”

  Delight glimmered in his expression a split second before panic settled there. A heartbeat later, he grew pensive. He gave a small shake of his head. “Nay.” His tone held no hint of his emotions. “We will go to the sorcerer first. I am eager to meet the one who will take me home. After that, I will concentrate on you. And I will win you, katya. Doubt it not.” The last was added with an ominous edge, daring her to contradict him.

  She gulped. “You may be willing to skip breakfast, but I’m not. The café has a cheese omelet that—”

  “Nay. I have decided.”

  “But—”

  “Nay, katya.”

  “Fine.” Grumbling under her breath, she grabbed the phone book from the shelf under the microwave. “We have time to visit one psychic. One. If this one doesn’t work, you’re out of luck for today. I’m hungry and have work to do, and I only promised to take you to one place.” She just prayed he understood how many one equaled.

  “If you wish to convince me to dine first, such antics are not necessary. I have decided I will allow you to convince me…in bed.”

  Always he returned to this subject. “You know, there’s a chance you could give me a million orgasms and I still wouldn’t fall in love with you. For your own sake, you might want to rethink your strategy.” Ha! Take that, she thought, flipping through the yellow pages.

  “The only way to know for sure is to let me give you one million orgasms.”

  Without glancing up, she answered, “No.”

  How had he ever been foolish enough to think of a challenge as fun? Jorlan wondered. The woman was driving him insane with her denials. Do not touch me. Do not please me. Do not make me quiver with delight.

  If only he wanted her simply because of the curse, mayhap hearing her say “no” wouldn’t bother him so much. But nay, each time he saw her, spoke with her, thought of her, Katie raised emotions inside of him he’d rather not encounter. She was slowly but surely worming her way under his skin, and he did not like it. She was supposed to fall for him, not the other way around. He knew only too well that romantic sensibilities were dangerous.

  He could not fathom how she was getting to him so quickly and so expertly. Did she wield some sort of magic he could not sense? Mayhap. Aye, mayhap. ’Twould explain many of his feelings for her. Curse it, he’d thought his defenses were in place, both magically and emotionally. Yet here he stood, wanting her, needing her, as he’d never wanted another. Well, he had to do something to prevent further softening on his part. But how was he to fight against her and win her at the same time?

  “Here’s one,” Katie said, her honey-rich voice cutting into his thoughts. “The House of Mysticism. A place where deepest desires are realized.” She paused. “Sounds like a hoax to me, but you’re the expert. It’s only five miles away, and the ad says—” Katie’s voice became mocking here “—the owner possessed the ancient power of the Druids.”

  Druids? Jorlan’s back straightened, and he shot to attention. Though he could not read Katie’s language, he snatched the thick yellow tome from her hand and searched the pages. Druid. Druid. Druid. The name pounded in his head, an echo of his salvation. Surely this was no coincidence. His mother’s people were known as the Druinn. Mayhap they were one and the same.

  “Well, what do you think?” Katie asked, gazing up at him through the thick shield of her lashes. “Does it sound like the kind of place you’re looking for?”

  He nodded. “’Tis exactly the kind of place I am looking for. Let us waste no more time. We leave immediately.”

  KATIE DECIDED TO ACCEPT that the day was only going to get worse when she found herself standing in front of an old, crumbly building with a neon sign that winked I KNEW YOU WERE COMING in bright pink letters.

  Sunlight glinted harshly upon the fading yellow, blue and gold paint decorating the splintered wood. Several shingles were missing from the roof, and some, she noticed, were strewn across the front lawn and embedded in the weeds. She cringed at such an atrocity and fought the urge to offer her services, free of charge, simply to rid the world of such a visual blemish.

  “Are you sure this is the kind of place you want to deal with?” she asked Jorlan for the third time.

  His gaze scanned the perimeter, taking in every detail. “Is this the home of the Druid psychic?” It was the same thing he’d said each time before.

  “Yes.”

  “Then this is exactly the kind of place I want to deal with.”

  Katie remained unconvinced. “Instead of relying on someone else, why don’t you just click your heels together or something and send yourself home?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, and seconds dragged by in silence.

  “Well?”

  Nothing.

  I don’t need this aggravation, she thought darkly. Every time she asked him a personal question, he turned mutinous, as if she had no right to know anything about him. He’d take her heart, sure. But share the tiniest bit of information about himself? Hell, no.

  “Come on,” she snapped, angry with him—and with herself. “Let’s get this over
with.” The man was too secretive, too stubborn, and she was better off without him. If this psychic had the power to help him, Katie decided then and there to lie and say she loved him just to get him out of her life.

  Holding her head high, she marched to the front door. She reached out, clasped the knob, then stopped, waiting. Jorlan never approached her side. Frown deepening, she spun around. Her alien stood in the exact same place she’d left him, his chin angled to the side, his legs braced apart.

  “I sense no magic here,” he said. His own frown deepened. He closed his eyes and drew in a breath.

  “You didn’t sense magic in my answering machine, either, and look where that got you.”

  “’Twas different.”

  She wanted to ask how it was different but knew she’d get no answer. “Do you want to leave?”

  “Nay.” He still did not join her on the porch.

  Was he simply nervous? Anticipating success? Failure? Or was he right? There truly was no magic here. She believed the latter and decided to point out the obvious. “If there’s no magic here, they won’t be able to help you.”

  “The most powerful of the Druinn are able to disguise and hide their power.” He didn’t seem convinced that that was the case here, however. In fact, every emotion except assurance played over his features: doubt, hope, determination.

  In that moment, her demeanor softened toward him. He wanted to go home; she couldn’t blame him for that. Were the situation reversed, she would desire the same thing, and would do anything, use anyone, to gain what she wanted, and she probably wouldn’t share her personal information with aliens, either. At least he was honest about his intentions.

  “Let’s go inside and give it a try,” she said softly.

  “I need but a moment more.”

  “All right. Take as long as you need.”

  Jorlan jerked a hand down his face. Though everything inside him screamed to leave this place, he couldn’t walk away. If there was a chance, even a minute chance of discovering what he needed, he had to go inside.

  When he tried to move his legs, however, they refused to obey. He scowled. What was keeping him locked where he stood? Doubt? Mayhap. Yet he knew that was not the whole of it. As questions swirled through his mind, a foreign emotion uncoiled inside him, an emotion he couldn’t identify—or mayhap did not want to identify.

  How much time had passed on Imperia? If, like here, a thousand years had passed, how many of his friends had possessed enough magic to survive the ages?

  How many had suffered in death? How many still lived? How would his family receive him? Would he be welcomed with open arms or looked upon as a stranger? Jorlan dragged in a harsh breath. The sweet, gentle scent of the air was almost foul in his nostrils.

  “I’ll be with you the entire time.” Katie’s voice wrapped around his body like a soft, comforting cloak.

  His gaze sought hers and he watched a gentle smile play across her mouth, that mouthwatering smile that lit her entire face. A man could get lost in the sensual web she wove and forget all about his troubles. Forget his impatience to leave.

  Jorlan shifted from one foot to the other and forced himself to glance away. The woman was in desperate need of a keeper, he was coming to realize, and ’twas a job that appealed to him more each second he spent with her.

  Mayhap when he left, he would take her with him; he would instruct her in the proper ways to interact with a man, all the while winning her affections as the spell stipulated. He could make love with her—many, many times—with the mystique of Imperia surrounding them. Better still, Katie could serve as a seductive distraction did he have no family left.

  As quickly as the idea formed in his mind, Jorlan discarded it. He would get what he needed from her, and then he would leave her here. He did not have room in his life for a woman from another world, especially one that made him feel things he was better off not feeling.

  “When we finally come together, katya, many worlds will shake.”

  “Yes, well…” Katie paused. Not knowing what else to say—which only happened in Jorlan’s presence—she pivoted to face the door. The knob turned easily, and she stepped inside, sinking into plush burgundy carpet. Jorlan was close behind her this time. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, as if reaching for him, desiring his touch.

  Why did she have to respond so easily to this man?

  As the door closed with a thwack, a bell jingled to announce their presence. They stood in silence, waiting, yet no one greeted them. There were no employees in the small room. No customers.

  Curls of smoke rose from jasmine-scented incense, floating up then dipping down and expanding throughout the cluttered space. Dim lighting and glittery walls gave a mystical ambiance, compounded by the soft, lyrical music that played in the background.

  Finally, a dark-haired woman who looked to be in her midfifties stepped beyond the decorative fringe. With her large hazel eyes and prominent cheekbones, her features were attractive, if somewhat dulled by time. She wore black slacks and a tailored white blouse completely at odds with her new-age business. Gazing at her, only two words entered Katie’s mind: professional and legitimate.

  Suspicion instantly grew in Katie’s mind.

  Jorlan knows best about magic, she reminded herself. He said there was a chance this psychic had the power he needed, and she had to allow him time to discover the truth, be it good or bad.

  “Hello,” the woman said. “Welcome to my humble establishment.” She had the cultured accent of an English gentlewoman. “How may I help you?”

  Jorlan dispensed with pleasantries. “Do you possess the power to open a vortex?”

  The woman folded her hands together and drummed her perfectly manicured nails against each other. “Exactly what type of power do you mean?”

  Quickly Katie placed a hand over Jorlan’s mouth. “Why don’t you tell us the answer to that question.” Surely a self-professed “seer” could answer so simple a question.

  Jorlan pried her hand from his mouth, but didn’t release his grip. He kept her palm captured in the warmth of his own. “Do not silence me again, katya,” he growled softly, the words meant only for her, “unless you use your tongue.”

  “Ah, young love,” the woman sighed.

  Fat lot you know, Katie almost blurted, her doubts increasing all the more.

  The older woman gave her a faint smile, deepening the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. “You do not believe in the supernatural, do you, dear?”

  “I believe in facts,” Katie replied, trying to ignore the rightness of holding hands with Jorlan. There was just something so gratifying about having her hand linked with his, a subtle reassurance and a tangible action of affection. Even though he felt nothing for her—nothing substantial, anyway—the action made her feel needed.

  “I believe in facts, as well,” the woman answered.

  “Then you’ll understand why I demand proof of your abilities,” she said. Her alien knew nothing about Earth, knew nothing about scams people often attempted on unsuspecting individuals. If this woman truly was the sorceress he sought, she was going to have to prove it.

  “Of course I understand. Sit, sit.” With a delicate wave of her hand, the Englishwoman motioned to a small table at the back of the room. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? I even have a wonderful herbal elixir that promotes brain activity.”

  “No, thanks,” Katie answered, shaking her head. While the herbal elixir piqued her interest, she wasn’t going to relax her guard. “We’re fine.”

  Jorlan tugged her to the table. After she scooted to the middle, he squeezed the long length of his legs underneath the too-short surface. The woman took the seat just in front of them. “Give me your palm,” she immediately told Jorlan.

  His lips thinned, and he sliced his gaze to Katie. “Do all the women here command a warrior thus?”

  “You better believe it. Now give her your hand.”

  Storm clouds of
fury filled Jorlan’s eyes, but he did as instructed. The woman hunched over his palm, tracing each line with a long, oval-tipped nail.

  “You wish to find a way home. Am I correct?”

  “Aye.”

  “You cannot do it alone.” A statement, not a question.

  That muscle in his jaw was ticking again.

  “All that is needed is someone to guide you,” the woman said. “Do I speak the truth?”

  “Aye.”

  The hard tone of his voice, like a hammer hitting a brick wall, caused Katie’s toes to curl, and she was immensely glad his attention was not directed at her. Intent, she watched and listened as the interaction between Jorlan and the woman continued. Every time the Englishwoman spoke, Jorlan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He appeared both furious and sad, as if he had just accepted this wasn’t going to work, but was holding on anyway just in case a miracle happened.

  “Someone can help you,” the woman was saying. “Someone will help you. Someone whose name is…I’m getting an impression of the letter K. Yes, yes. Someone whose name begins with the letter K will guide you home. Do you know someone whose name begins with K?”

  “Aye.” He didn’t look happy about it either.

  “Good, good.” She continued to study his hand. “I predict much—”

  “I do not need your predictions, woman.” Suddenly, his fury overcame his sadness and hope. “I need to know if you can open a vortex so that I might leave your world and enter mine. Can you do this or not?”

  “You have the power within yourself to go wherever you wish.”

  Jorlan’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “I do not have the power within myself. This I know for fact.”

  “You do. You have a power that, if properly nourished, can grow to a powerful force.”

  Hope grew in his eyes again. “How do I nourish my power?”

  “I have developed a potion that binds with the magic inside of you, causing your flesh to weaken and your inner spirit to flourish. After you drink this powerful elixir, I will chant a spell of strength and courage over you.”