Cast in Stone

by Bilinda Sheehan

  “You’re right,” I said to the officer, ignoring Man-Boy’s question completely. “We’re all monsters, but I guess what they say is true: it takes a monster to hunt one.”

  I stalked out the door, leaving the older cop to splutter his indignation all over the other Gardaí who’d come to gawk.

  “You should really consider going into diplomacy,” Man-Boy called out to me as I reached the unmarked car waiting for me at the curb.

  “What can I say, I’m Miss Tact.” I grinned at him over my shoulder as I flung my bag into the backseat.

  He gave me a lopsided smile as I climbed into the car, which made him look even younger. Just what was Division 6 playing at, hiring kids straight out of school? It didn’t make any sense, but then they weren’t my concern anymore. I’d stopped caring about them the day I walked away, and I wasn’t going to get sucked back in now.

  Chapter 4

  The taxi came to a halt on the main street of the sleepy little town of Ringworth that I’d come to call home. I dropped two twenty-pound notes onto the front seat next to the driver before hopping out. The sky was already beginning to brighten with the pre-dawn grey light, and I could feel the coming sun like a hand pressing against my skin.

  Sunlight didn’t bother my kind; we weren’t like the vampires, whose skin tended to be rather sensitive, but that didn’t stop me from being more of a night owl. Swinging the leather bag onto my shoulders, I walked to the familiar glass door leading to my studio. I’d contemplated going straight home, but I’d left my Land Rover parked on the street outside the studio space I rented, and at least here I could take out some of my frustration over Grey Cooper’s smug face on the punch bag upstairs.

  I switched off the alarm and took the stairs up to the studio two at a time. Despite the coming dawn, it was still quite dark inside, and I flicked on the overhead lights as my eyes searched the shadowed corners of the room.

  I didn’t necessarily expect to find anything there, but it was a habit I’d developed over the years. Despite knowing I was free, that the fae who had imprisoned me was dead, he’d left me with a sense of paranoia that I just couldn’t shake… and probably never would. The kind of trauma I’d experienced just didn’t go away, no matter how hard you tried to shake free of it. And, well, I considered myself one of the lucky ones. If my worst complaint was having an overly developed sense of vigilance, then I’d gotten off relatively scot-free.

  But that wasn’t all he’d left me with. The tattoo on my back suddenly began itching, and I felt an almost overwhelming urge to tear at my skin with my nails. No, Kypherous Crest had been careful to leave me with a few permanent reminders of our time spent together. I shrugged out of the grey sweater I’d pulled on over my camisole and turned so my back faced the wall of mirrors I’d installed in the studio. As I stared at the glittering green scales of the expansive, curling viper one of his fae minions had tattooed onto my skin, it didn’t fill me with the same horror it once had.

  I flexed my arms, my shoulder blades coming together, and the snake seemed to glide over my back, coiling and uncoiling as I examined it from every angle. I could almost hear the faint hiss as its tongue appeared to taste the air.

  Of course, it couldn’t really move or taste the air; it was all an illusion, a side-effect of the magic used to create it.

  When I’d first escaped from him, I’d tried to have the snake removed, but the one who had carved it into my skin had infused it with the wild magic of Faerie itself, making it impossible to get rid of. Learning to live with it certainly wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as though I had any choice. And now, it was more a reminder that I’d survived, that despite his best efforts, Kypherous hadn’t destroyed me.

  Turning away from the mirror, I gave the punch bag my full attention. I pounded it with my balled fists, each satisfying thump sending a thrill through me. No, just because I wore the tattoo didn’t mean I was Kypherous’s victim. That time had long since passed, and I would never allow myself to be taken again.

  The third step from the top creaked, and I froze, catching the bag with both hands to stop it from swinging as I slowed my breathing. Closing my eyes, I focused on the sounds surrounding me, searching until I finally found what I was looking for.

  “You can come in, Megan, no need to hide in the hall,” I called out, releasing the bag as I let go of the breath I’d been holding.

  “How’d you know I was here?” She poked her head into the studio, her bright blue eyes taking in the empty space.

  Her delicate hands held two steaming paper cups of coffee, and judging from the sweet notes that coated the air I was guessing they were lattes. Probably caramel, or maybe vanilla. If I focused a little harder, I could have picked out each individual scent, but my arms trembled from my exertion on the bag and a hole as big as a fist was opening up in the pit of my stomach.

  Just how long had it been since I’d eaten? Clearly it had been too long, judging by the cramps forming and the fact that I hadn’t heard Megan approach until the creaking stair had given her away. Stupid and careless, Jenna, I thought to myself as I eyed the steaming cups in Megan’s hands.

  “I heard you on the stairs,” I said, telling her a half-truth. The loose floorboard was a convenient early alarm system; the fewer people who knew about it, the better for me. I glanced up at her, and my smile froze. Her hair was scraped back from her face and pinned into a tangled bun, but instead of the chestnut brown I’d grown accustomed to, her hair was now a vibrant fuchsia.

  “Wow, what happened to your hair?” I asked, inwardly berating myself for only noticing it now. I needed food, and fast. I was missing obvious little details, and so it was only a matter of time before I missed something important.

  “I’ve been practicing a new spell, but I’m not very good at it yet,” she said, sounding frustrated.

  “There are easier ways to colour your hair,” I said. “And less drastic.”

  “I wasn’t trying to change my hair colour. The spell is supposed to cause those around you to cast a blind eye your way, but…” She trailed off, sounding completely miserable and defeated.

  “Do you know where you went wrong?” I asked, crossing the studio to where I kept a closet full of laundered towels for the times when I forgot to bring my gear with me. Which was far more often than I liked to admit.

  “Not really, I was hoping you’d ask Adrian if he could show me…”

  I turned to stare at her. “Adrian.”

  “Yeah. Oh, and this one is for you.” Megan held the cup out to me, and I eyed it suspiciously. Her tone was far too nonchalant. She knew my policy—I didn’t act as a go-between for the people in my life. If she wanted to speak to him about magical tutoring, then she would just have to ask him herself.

  “A bribe?” I said, scrubbing the towel across my sweat-soaked skin. I took the cup and sniffed it cautiously, eyeing her over the plastic lid. “You know I can’t be bribed.”

  She grinned at me. “I know, that’s why I’d never try to bribe you. I just thought you might like to try the new twist I put on the caramel mocha…”

  I took a sip, and the sweet liquid melted across my tongue and down the back of my throat, causing a soothing heat to spread throughout my chest. Releasing my breath with a sigh, I closed my eyes and took another sip.

  “Bliss,” I said, more to myself than Megan.

  “You like it?” she asked.

  “Like it? It’s amazing! If you put this on the board, you’re going to have a line out the door night and day.” I lifted the cup to my face and drank in the scent. Something tickled at the back of my nose, and before I could stop myself I sneezed violently.

  I raised my gaze to Megan as another violent sneeze overtook me.

  “What’s in it?” The warm feeling was quickly beginning to fade, but at least I didn’t feel as shaky as I had when she’d first arrived. “Wait, is this another of your potions?” I forced the words out between sneezes. Getting up close and personal with some types of m
agic always made me sneeze, and Megan’s gift was no different.

  “I could feel how unsettled you were, and I just wanted to help,” she said, glancing down at the ground sheepishly.

  She wasn’t lying. Megan was the type of person whose naiveté often got her into trouble. With her there was no art, no artifice, and certainly no malice. What you saw was what you got. I’d often wondered if perhaps the old adage, ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions,’ was penned especially for her.

  “I’ve told you before, no magic,” I said, pinching my nose in an attempt to cut off the strong scent of her magic.

  “If you just drink it, I promise it’ll make you feel fantastic,” she said.

  I thought about it for a second. It was certainly possible; in fact, before I’d drunk in the scent, I had felt a lot better. Then I glanced up at her indigo hair again and shook my head.

  “Until you get the side-effects of your magic under control, I’ll take a rain check.” I grinned at her in an attempt to remove the sting from my words.

  “I’m never going to get a handle on my magic,” she lamented, dropping into a chair against the wall.

  “It’s new. You’ll get a handle on it.”

  “You should have left me that night,” she said softly, staring down into her cup.

  With a shake of my head, I crossed the floor and crouched down in front of her. “Don’t you dare ever say that. Do you hear me, Megan? I mean it.” My voice vibrated with anger. And rightly so.

  I’d known her from around town; her parents owned the coffee shop just up the street, and Megan had worked there full time. She was utterly human—at least she thought she was—and completely vulnerable. She’d confided in me later that she’d always had an interest in the occult, but she’d imagined magic would be the same as on television.

  I’d never asked her how she met the vamp, but I’d known what he was from the moment I’d spotted him in the coffee shop. And somehow he had known what she was…

  “I don’t have anyone who can show me how to use it,” she said, setting her cup on the floor and burying her face in her hands. “Adrian is the only one who can teach me.”

  “Just because he owns an occult shop doesn’t mean he can teach you how to use your power,” I said, imagining Adrian’s face when I asked him for a favour as big as this. Not that I’d ever get to see that expression; being psychic made it a little hard to surprise him.

  My cell phone started to buzz and I jumped. Right on time, I thought to myself as I pulled it out and stared down at Adrian’s name pulsing across the screen.

  “Speak of the devil,” I said, answering the call as Megan raised her tearstained but hopeful face to mine.

  “We were just talking about you,” I said as soon as I lifted the phone to my ear.

  “No way, Jenna. I read tea leaves and do tarot for my customers, and that’s the extent of my involvement with people. You know this.”

  “She needs this.” I moved away from Megan and dropped my voice to a whisper. “You know I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t important.”

  “You haven’t asked anything,” he said. “And even if you had, my answer would still be no.”

  “Adrian, I’m afraid she’s going to hurt someone, maybe even herself, if she doesn’t get the hang of it…” That wasn’t entirely true, although considering she had tried to get me to drink one of her potions without warning, I couldn’t be sure. Untaught witches were dangerous, and Megan was about as untrained as they came. Hell, she hadn’t even known about her abilities until the vamp turned up.

  “She’s had it her whole life, Jenna. She doesn’t need me. And anyway, there has to be someone she can ask… a relative, her mother maybe?”

  “Her parents are dead.” I let the words drop into the silence that swelled between us. “Her mother bound her powers when she was born, and when she died…” I trailed off, leaving out just how Megan’s parents had died.

  “Shit,” Adrian muttered. “You know I don’t like this one bit…”

  “So you’ll do it?” I was unable to keep the excitement from my voice.

  “Ugh, but you owe me, bitch,” he said, and then the line went dead.

  “What did he call you?” she asked, her eyes wide. It never ceased to amaze me how she could be surprised by something so trivial, but then she’d never travelled outside of Ringworth and I’d never seen her hanging out with friends. By all accounts, Megan was socially awkward—maybe even more than I was, if that was even possible.

  “A term of endearment,” I said with a grin. “Adrian can be a little…” I struggled to think of the right words to describe my oldest friend, but nothing seemed to do him justice. “Adrian can be pretty full-on at times, but I wouldn’t take it too seriously. He’s harmless.”

  She swallowed hard and gave me a tentative smile. “I can’t believe he said yes! Everything you’ve told me about him suggested he wasn’t exactly open to helping others.”

  “He’s not,” I said. “It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just…” I stopped. It wasn’t my place to tell her about the issues Adrian had with his gifts. If she spent enough time with him, she’d soon find out. “Let’s just say it’s pretty complicated, and if he wants to tell you, he will.”

  She sighed and glanced down at her hands. “I’m sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “For not telling you what was in the coffee. I really didn’t think it would do anything to you… I’ve drunk it myself and it seems fine.”

  I nodded. “Look, I know you meant well, but magic is a personal thing. Messing with others and using it to bend them to your will—” Megan wrinkled her nose in dismay and began to open her mouth to protest when I cut her off. “No matter how well intentioned, trying to shape another’s emotions is bending them to your will, and it’s beyond dangerous. Just because you think it’s for the best doesn’t make it true.”

  She sat in silence for a minute before clearing her throat and nodding. “I have a lot to learn, I get that. But for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

  I reached out to her, wrapping my hand around hers as I pulled her to her feet. “I know, and thanks for thinking of me like that.” I gave her a gentle smile.

  “You didn’t tell me how your trip went,” she said, changing the subject abruptly.

  I imagined the look on her face if I told her about killing the ogre. Even though death had touched her in ways most people wouldn’t have survived, Megan was still very much an innocent. I often wondered if perhaps she had simply blocked out everything that had happened to her, but I didn’t want to ask her about her experiences and remind her of a time she’d much rather forget.

  “It was fine. Same old, same old really.” I shrugged before turning away and busying myself with the wraps on my hands.

  “You can’t lie to me,” she said. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  It was my turn to swallow hard. Just how fast were her abilities growing if she could tell I was lying? I turned sideways and eyed her, careful to keep my expression as blank as possible. How much had I missed over the last few weeks I’d spent tracking the Irish ogre?

  “It’s nothing,” I said, but seeing the expression in her eyes, I added, “Really, it’s nothing. It was the usual messy clean-up, and you don’t need the details.”

  “If you’re sure…” she said, and then her expression darkened. “Speaking of messy details, someone was murdered a few miles down the road.”

  “What, here?”

  “No, near Salisbury.”

  Salisbury was further inland, but it was an easy half-hour drive from town.

  “What happened?” I asked, trying not to sound too interested. Division 6 coming to look for me after a murder occurred just a few miles down the road was too much of a coincidence. There had to be a connection, but I had no idea what.

  “They’re not giving out details, just looking for anyone in the area who might have information on suspicious activity.�
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  “Have they named the victim?” I asked. Knowing who it was would at least give me some place to start investigating. And, well, if it turned out to be nothing, then I could rest easy knowing Division 6 wasn’t as close to me as I feared.

  “They haven’t even said if it was a man or a woman,” Megan said. “Why, do you think it could be something supernatural?” Her eyes lit up with interest.

  “Nope, it’s probably nothing,” I said, trying again to sound disinterested.

  “But it’s suspicious, right?” she asked. “I mean, the fact that they won’t release any information on the victim… that has to be weird.”

  “They’re probably just trying to get in contact with the family first,” I said, brushing it off. “Anyway, I’ve got to get a move on, grab a shower and a little shut-eye before I drop by the shelter.”

  “Rachel wasn’t too happy about you taking off to Ireland like that,” Megan said, the barest hint of a smile lurking on her lips.

  Rachel was the woman who ran the local women and girls’ shelter in town. I’d started volunteering there from the moment I’d arrived in town, two years before Rachel had taken over as manager, and from the moment we’d met it hadn’t exactly been a match made in heaven. I was pretty certain the only reason she allowed me to stay on was because I’d built up a relationship with many of the women who frequented the shelter.

  “Rachel is never happy with anything I do.” I returned Megan’s smile with one of my own.

  “I am sorry, Jenna, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said, suddenly downcast once more.

  “And you didn’t. We’re fine—no harm, no foul.” I could see from the unhappy look on her face that I hadn’t exactly succeeded in reassuring her. But perhaps where I had failed, Adrian would succeed.

  “I’ll let you get ready,” she said, heading for the stairs. “I’ve got to go and open up anyway, people need to be caffeinated.” Her tone was a half-hearted attempt to sound more upbeat than she truly was.