The Stone Prince i-1

by Gena Showalter

  But one day soon they were going to make love and nothing was going to stop them.

  He rose from the soft comfort of the bed and dressed. Katie emerged moments later, and they were off. At the new psychic’s abode, he discovered what he had been searching for since first awakening to Katie’s kiss.

  Magic.

  Magic enveloped him the moment he stepped inside the shop called Vortex. The name should have made him realize ’twas what he needed sooner. He paused a moment, breathing in the sweet, rain-kissed essence so like the air of his homeland. So like Katie. Yet, as he stood with the wondrous scent in his nostrils, he had trouble believing this much anticipated moment was upon him. How long had he prayed for this? How long had he wished?

  Too long.

  Squaring his shoulders, he studied the dwelling. The carpet was beige, as were the walls. There were no frivolities or bottles displayed on stands. Incense did not fill the air. Nay, the place showcased only a long, thin counter.

  Several people loitered about, talking, laughing, and exchanging information. But Jorlan paid them no heed. He was too intent on the lone man standing behind the counter. The man was short and had thinning brown hair, eye spectacles and high blade-like cheekbones that could have cut glass.

  “This is it, isn’t it?” Katie asked, suddenly beside him. Those were the first words she had spoken to him since leaving the rented chamber. “This is it,” she repeated, her tone laden with a strange pitch he could not identify. “It feels different than the others.”

  Her observation amazed him, for no magic beat within her veins. She was not a child of the Druinn, nor did she possess the soul of the ancients. Yet she knew, just as he did, that true power beat within these walls. Mayhap he should not have been surprised. She had been attuned to his feelings since the beginning.

  “’Tis the magic you feel. Magic that can take me home.”

  “Home?” She said the word as if she’d never heard it before, then lapsed once more into silence. Her gaze darted around the room. Her features were tense with…what? He did not know. He could not read the emotion shining so brightly in her eyes.

  “This magic is not born of your world, but of mine.” Jorlan breathed deeply. “The vibration is very strong, the essence quite unique, and almost familiar. Whoever this sorcerer is, he is very powerful.”

  “I see.”

  Now he recognized that pitch. Accusatory. She spoke as if she’d just discovered him standing over a dead body, talon in hand. He turned to her, took her chin in his hands. “We could leave today, together, if you would only agree to come with me.”

  “I’ve already explained my reasons for staying.” Her expression was sad and resentful at the same time.

  His eyes narrowed. “I cannot go without you, katya. This you know.”

  “I—”

  “Before you again say no, recall that I have not seen my home in a thousand spans. I am…begging you.” The words emerged stiffly. “Please. Come with me.”

  “If it weren’t for the time difference, I would. I’d leave with you today, now, this instant.” Moisture pooled in her eyes, and he experienced a twinge of guilt for pushing so insistently. But then she blinked and glanced away. “I’m sorry. I can’t risk it.”

  He knew she meant more than just risking a trip to his homeland. She meant love. She couldn’t, wouldn’t risk loving him. He tasted sickness at the back of his throat, felt the cold edge of stone course through him. He forced himself to calm. Whether she denied it or not, he was making progress with her, and he would continue to do so, even if he had to double his efforts. He refused to even contemplate the fact that her love might spring too late.

  “Then we will stay,” he relented. “For now.”

  She gazed up at him with a soft, completely feminine expression. He was potently reminded of their kisses—of all the kisses they’d already shared and of all the kisses they would share. “Do you still wish to meet this sorcerer?” she asked.

  “Aye. Just because we do not go this day, does not mean we will not go another day.” Taking her hand in his, he stepped to the counter.

  “I welcome you,” the little man said, beckoning them over.

  “I have come for—”

  “I know why you are here,” the man said. He pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “However, I am not the one you seek. I cannot help you.”

  At that, a sharp sense of dread pulsed through Jorlan. “Someone here can help me. I know this to be true.”

  “Yes. There is someone.”

  “Where can I find this someone?”

  The little man stepped back, out of arm’s length. “You cannot. He will find you— if he wants to.”

  Jorlan’s teeth gnashed together. Curse it, something would go right for him this day! “For now, I wish only to talk to the man, and I will find him whether he wants to be found or not. I will have your aid, as well. Where is he?”

  “Could be anywhere, really.”

  Jorlan gripped the edge of the counter so tightly the bones of his fingers almost snapped. “Where. Is. He?” His voice slashed out, edged with fury.

  The little man blanched. “Whoa, whoa there. You’re not the only one who desires a trip home. Mon Graig has many dwellings throughout this world and takes many through the vortex. Sometimes he is gone a few days, sometimes he is gone a few years, but no one, no one knows exactly where he is or when he will return.”

  “How long ago did he leave for this last trip?” Katie asked softly. She placed her hand upon Jorlan’s arm, and he felt himself relax.

  “Nine weeks or so.”

  Which could mean anything, Jorlan thought, closing his eyes. Wait, wait, wait. The words scorched a path through his body. He was so very tired of waiting for the things that he desired.

  Katie’s fingers gently squeezed his forearm. She was so close her breath fanned his skin. Just like that, he felt himself relax again. How did she soothe him so easily?

  “For all we know, the man could return tomorrow,” she said, her tone as gentle as her touch.

  Jorlan gave a stiff nod. “You are right.”

  “Use this time to raise some cash,” the little man interjected. “These trips aren’t cheap, you know.”

  “How much is needed?” Jorlan stared down at the clerk so intently that the man began to fidget.

  “It’s, uh, different for everyone. Mon Graig will tell you when he comes for you.”

  “I will pay nothing until I find myself standing on the soil of my homeland.”

  “Understandable.”

  “Good.” Jorlan nodded, satisfied he’d done all he could do. “Then tell Mon Graig my name is—”

  “Doesn’t matter what your name is. Mon Graig will find you. I’m sure he already knows of your visit.”

  Frowning, Jorlan wrapped his arm around Katie’s waist and strode out the door.

  AS HER TRUCK RACED along the highway, Katie glanced over at Jorlan. He had barely spoken a word to her since they’d left Vortex. His entire demeanor screamed “no touch” right now. She knew he was disappointed. She knew he needed time to face the reality of a prolonged stay, but as he was fond of telling her, time was their enemy.

  There had to be something she could do to cheer him up.

  They soon crossed into Dallas. Twenty minutes later, she eased her truck into the winding driveway of the Victorian. Jorlan loved physical labor, so what better way to keep his mind busy than to put him to work?

  Katie placed the truck in Park. Her eyes narrowed. An old, rusty and unfamiliar Dodge Dart was parked in front of the house.

  Curiosity tugged the corners of her lips downward. If the car didn’t belong to one of her brothers, to whom did it belong?

  “Who is here?” Jorlan asked. Each word portrayed a hint of the dark emotions swirling inside him.

  “I don’t know.” There was no one inside the car, and she saw no one loitering on the lawn. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  She found the Dart’s own
er perched on the porch. Frances, the waitress from the café, jumped to her feet. Another woman—Heather, Katie realized—stood beside her, looking as bored and contemptuous as ever, her arms wrapped around her middle, as if the humid heat didn’t touch her.

  “What’s going on?” Katie asked Frances.

  The waitress twined her hands together and gazed nervously down at her fingers. “Did you mean what you said about wanting me to work for you?”

  Katie didn’t hesitate with her answer. “Absolutely.” She didn’t like to acquire help from big businesses, or even temp agencies; she preferred working with people she knew, people who needed the money.

  Frances blinked up and smiled, a smile so bright it illuminated her entire face, eradicating wrinkles and making her glow with youthful exuberance. “Then I accept. I can’t thank you enough for this, Katie. Really. I owe you a big fat one.”

  “Yeah,” Heather said, her tone dripping with disdain. “Thanks a bunch.”

  Katie’s gaze slid to the girl. Recalling her move on Jorlan, Katie scowled. Heather glared.

  Frances uttered a discreet cough. “Uh, Katie? May I talk with you in private?”

  “I don’t need you to—” Heather began, but Frances cut her off with a muttered, “Shut up.” Then, “Please, Katie.”

  Curiosity rising, Katie nodded. “Yes, of course.” But she hated leaving Jorlan and Heather alone together. No matter that Jorlan was free to do what—and who—he wanted, Katie now admitted that she considered him her property. Maybe she should get him a sign that read Owned By Katie—Beware and hang it around his neck. Some women, though, would consider such a sign an aphrodisiac and give chase. So, she’d just have to brand Jorlan another way. A hickey, perhaps?

  As she strode with Frances to the side of the house, dodging rain puddles along the way, Katie imagined Jorlan’s body and all the places susceptible to a hickey. She slowly grinned. Her lascivious thoughts ground to a halt, however, the moment she and Frances reached the side of the house.

  “Heather is my daughter,” the waitress blurted.

  Shock reverberating through her, Katie stood frozen. “Your daughter? But that’s impossible.”

  “I’m afraid not,” came the sighed reply. “She’s really, truly mine.”

  Katie massaged the base of her neck. She was trying to digest the information, but had trouble meshing the image of the teasing Frances and the mean-spirited, over-sexed Heather. “I was in the café almost every morning for three weeks and so was she, but the two of you ignored each other.”

  “She’s had a really tough life.” Frances shifted from one foot to the other. “Her father, my ex, was a bad, bad man. He did things to her, and I didn’t know about it until too late. When she turned twelve, she ran away from home. I didn’t hear from her until about a year ago. She doesn’t like me much, but she’s been staying with me, and we’re short on cash. And I–I thought,” she stammered, “I’d hoped if you hired me, you might want to hire her. I swear on my ex’s grave, may he forever burn in hell, that I can get us both here right after my shift at the café. And we’ll work seven days a week if you need us.”

  Most of the animosity Katie felt toward Heather drained away as quickly as if a plug in a tub of water had been pulled. Her imagination filled in the gaps Frances’s explanation left out, and the end result wasn’t pretty. Her heart ached for the little girl Heather had been. “Why does she dislike me?”

  Frances’s lips compressed. “She’s never spoken of it, but I can guess. You’ve got everything she’s always wanted. You’re successful and you’ve got a man that loves you.”

  “Jorlan doesn’t—”

  Frances cut her off with a self-disgusted snort. “She hates my guts, too, if that helps. If you don’t want her around, I’ll understand. But, if it’s okay, I’d still like the job.”

  Katie was probably going to regret this, but she said, “It’s yours, Frances. And Heather, too.”

  Another glorious smile lit the waitress’s face. “Really? You mean it?”

  “You can start tomorrow.”

  “Oh, Katie, thank you! Heather’s real good with flowers and such, and I’m a real fast learner. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

  They discussed what time Frances and Heather should arrive, what sort of things they would be doing, and how much money they would earn.

  “I can never thank you enough, doll.” Frances’s hands shook with the force of her delight. “I swear you won’t regret this.”

  I hope not, Katie thought as they walked back to the porch.

  Jorlan and Heather were chuckling over something Heather had said. The girl was standing too close to him. Way too close for Katie’s peace of mind, and she felt a twinge of regret for her impulsiveness already. Frances ran to the couple and threw her arms around her daughter. “We got the job,” she sang happily. “You and me both.” Laughing, she twirled them around.

  Heather abruptly pulled away. She acknowledged the news with a half smile.

  “There are ten rules I forgot to mention,” Katie said. “Well, they’re safety tips, really.” She threw Jorlan a do-not-talk glare. “There will be no adjusting them.” When she had everyone’s undivided attention, she began. “Number one, do not attempt to fix anything without checking with me first.”

  Two female heads nodded in unison. Jorlan crossed his arms over his chest, and she just knew he was waiting for her to say please. “Number two, always make sure a room is properly ventilated before you begin working. Numbers three through ten, Jorlan is off-limits.”

  “Jorlan?” Heather’s nose crinkled. “I thought he was Hunter Rains, the self-help guy.”

  “You thought wrong. His name is Jorlan, and he’s mine.”

  Frances stared over at Jorlan with horror. “You don’t have to worry about me making a move on you. Men are the Black Plague of Death upon the Earth, so why would I want one?”

  Jorlan frowned.

  Katie just prayed Heather listened to her mother’s words of wisdom. “Well then,” she said, brushing her hands together. “I’m glad that’s settled.” She was just about to change the subject when Frances did it for her.

  “I’ve got a joke for you. A husband looks at his wife and says, ‘I’m in the mood to try a new position tonight. Something I’ve never done before.’the wife sends him a flirty eyelash flutter and says, ‘A new position sounds wonderful. You can stand by the ironing board and I’ll stretch out on the couch, drink beer and fart.’”

  Everyone chuckled except for Jorlan, which was to be expected. Yet somehow, the expression tightening his features didn’t fit with simple male irritation. This seemed altogether more serious. Frown sharpening, he whipped out one of his “weapons” and scanned the surrounding area.

  “I sense trouble,” he said.

  Katie lost her smile. Her gaze jerked around the porch. “What’s wrong?”

  With his palm gripping her forearm, he pulled her off to the side until they were alone, but his gaze never ceased its search. “A sorcerer is here.”

  “Are you sure?” Katie didn’t feel anything, didn’t feel the faint stirring inside of her that she’d felt this morning. But she had to ask. “Is it Mon Graig?”

  “Nay.”

  “How do you—”

  “’Tis a different kind of magic.” Jorlan drew in a long, deep breath. “I sense no immediate danger—but one must be careful when dealing with hidden powers.” With that, he deposited her back on the porch. Without another word, he slipped away and slowly circled the house.

  “Was that a spatula?” Frances asked, her face drawn together with curiosity.

  “Yes,” Katie answered as if it were perfectly normal for a giant of a man to wield a cooking utensil as though it was a lethal blade. “Yes, it was.”

  FOURTEEN

  PERCEN DE LOCKE GRINNED slowly.

  At last, after a seemingly endless search, he had found Jorlan.

  He had found Jorlan!

  Of course,
his brother was no longer stone, but flesh and blood. Percen’s first reaction to that fact was fury, but as he watched Jorlan interact with the mortal women, that anger melted away and his smile grew. Jorlan was free, but only for a time. The spell had not yet been broken completely. Its shackles were still wrapped tightly around his brother. How wondrous! Jorlan must be desperate for his savior’s love, knowing his deadline fast approached.

  Percen wanted to dance upon the grassy plain, but could not, for his twisted leg prevented such an action. He wanted to laugh and shout his success to the world, but could not, for he wished to keep his identity hidden.

  At least for now.

  Somehow, though, Jorlan had already sensed him. The cursed warrior was now guarded, searching. In fact, he strode about the house, determined to discover who watched him. He passed Percen once, even a second time, but never detected the truth. Percen could not contain a small chuckle.

  You can’t catch me, he inwardly sang, imitating the happy little boys he’d heard playing earlier that day. So carefree those children had appeared, he’d cast a spell of understanding just to learn their words. Those words now echoed smugly in his mind. You can’t catch me. You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man.

  Oh, what a fun game. He himself had never played games as a child. Nay, there had always been a spell to learn, an incantation to perform. There had always been punishments to endure and sorcerers to entertain. A future high priest must be properly groomed in all facets of life. His tutor’s stern voice resonated in his head — a voice that still caused him to shudder with horror.

  Nay, no games for him.

  His half brother had led such a charmed life, pampered by the king and all of his servants, coddled by his mother, adored by anything female. Jorlan knew nothing of pain and suffering. Nothing! He knew nothing of craving something with every ounce of his being, yet being unable to acquire it.

  But I will teach him, Percen thought darkly. Aye, ’tis past time I taught him.

  His brother rounded a corner and returned to the three mortal women. A frown still marred the perfect warrior’s perfect lips. Which of the three women was responsible for breaking the curse? Percen wondered, for he would begin Jorlan’s punishment with her. He immediately eyed the youngest one. With her glorious red hair and big brown eyes, she was beyond beautiful, like a finely carved sculpture. The next woman was old enough to be Jorlan’s mother, and the last was too tall and plain. Percen meant to study each one, to gauge their reactions to Jorlan and Jorlan’s reaction to them, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from returning to the young beauty. She was the kind of woman he had always longed to possess. To hold in his arms, to love and cherish.