The Stone Demon (16 page)

Nisha ducked out of his arms. “Ew, gross! Stop it or I’ll tell Dad.”

“Dad’s not home,” Navin said, grinning. “And how can you say a hug from your stunningly handsome big brother is gross? Do you have any idea how many of your friends would
die
to have these arms wrapped around them?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” she replied. “Zero.”

“Face it, I’m a love machine. You just can’t handle how much of a stud I am.”

“No, I just can’t handle how much of a
loser
you are.” Nisha rolled her eyes and handed him something that looked remarkably like his cell phone. “You left this at home today, loser.”

“Thanks, dork,” he said. “What are you doing here, anyway? Skipping?”

Nisha looked genuinely offended. “I never skip. Study day.”

“Right.” But he wasn’t listening to his sister anymore, because he saw he had a missed call and voicemail from Donna.

He shoved Nisha back inside the house and closed the door on her, ignoring her squawks of outrage while he listened to Donna’s message. Then called his best friend, heart racing.

“Don! You’re home!”

“Hey, Nav. Thanks for calling back.”

“Sure, dude. It’s awesome to hear your voice,” he said. Because it was.

“You too. I’ve missed you, and to show you just how much I’ve missed you, I’m going to request a crazy favor. It’s pretty crazy, okay? Sort of insane. So if you want to say ‘no’ I’d totally understand. In fact, you probably should say no because this could get you in trouble. It could, at the very least, cause you a major headache when you hear what I want you to … um … collect for me.”

She paused, and Navin was about to start asking questions, but Donna was on a roll. “You’ll need help with it. I’ve been trying to get hold of Xan, too, but I have no idea where he is. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking you to do something that’ll get you hurt, or killed, but you could most definitely—”

“Wait,” Navin said. “Just stop talking for a minute.
Please
?”

Donna immediately went quiet.

The silence stretched out for several seconds. Navin grinned.

“Um,” Donna said. “What’s going on? Why did I have to stop talking?”

“No reason. I just wanted to see if you’d actually do it without asking questions.” He cracked up.

Normally, Donna would be laughing right along with him, and the fact that she wasn’t made him stop.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “I thought you liked it when I made a funny.”

“I love it when you make a funny,” Donna replied. “It’s just that … I don’t have much time.
We
don’t have much time.”

“Whoa, hold on there, cowgirl. What do you mean, ‘we don’t have much time’? What’s going on?”

Donna rushed into an explanation and he listened. He listened for what felt like a long time, and when he disconnected, he knew what he had to do.

Xan sat at Maker’s work counter and watched as the alchemist scribbled notes and made amendments to the complex geometrical plans spread out before him. Maker had assured him that he would have the prototype finished within a matter of hours. Xan wasn’t exactly sure what a “prototype” involved, but it certainly meant progress: the kind of progress he’d previously only dreamed about. They weren’t quite at the organically-attached-wings stage, but the alchemist was developing something that looked promising. The first step of a long journey.

Perhaps he should go out for a while. It looked as though the old man was all caught up in his work, even blowing off a big meeting at the Frost Estate so he could finish what he was doing, and—

Xan’s phone chimed in his pocket, making him jump and earning him a reproving look from Maker. He glanced at the display and frowned. He didn’t recognize the number. He also noticed he had missed calls from Donna, and realized that he’d left his phone on silent earlier in the day.
Shit
.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” said Navin Sharma. “I think I need your help.”

“What? Why are you whispering? You’re breaking up. You sound like you’re in—”

“A bathroom. Yeah, that’s because I am.”

“Why are you calling me from a bathroom? Are you naked?”

“Relax, Grayson. Not everybody falls at your feet in adoration. It’s the only place I can get any damn privacy around here.”

“You sound really strange, man. Are you suffering from some kind of post-traumatic thing?”

“Stop talking and leave the humor to me,” Nav whisper-shouted. “You need to come pick me up, like … now.”

Xan couldn’t shut down the flash of irritation. Who was
Navin
to order him around? “What the hell for? Dude, I’m in the middle of something important. I can’t just—”

“Do you care about Donna?”

“What sort of a dumb question is that?” Xan glanced up and realized that Maker was watching him. He gave the alchemist an apologetic look and slid off his stool, taking the phone to the far end of the workshop. “What’s all this about?”

“It’s about the fact that if we don’t get our butts to the Frost Estate in the next half hour, I’ll have lost the chance to get her what she needs. If I have do this on my own, I’ll probably end up getting turned into a frog. Or something. Not that you’re gonna be so worried about that part—”

“Not particularly, no.”

“But the part about Donna? Come on, Xan, you’ve been way out of touch. She needs us.
Both
of us.”

Xan sighed. Of course he would help—Navin knew that already. He’d just been so excited about watching Maker’s progress it was hard to think about straying too far from the workshop. Still, it would take a couple more hours to finish the prototype, right? Donna came first.

“I’m on my way.”

Thirteen

D
onna walked through Ironbridge Common, thankful to once again be wearing a pair of jeans and sneakers that she’d found in an old pile of her stuff at the Frost Estate. She increased her pace, trying to shake the feeling that she was losing the battle before it had even started. The afternoon was already growing short and they only had the rest of this day and early tomorrow to make the Philosopher’s Stone. Correction:
she
only had that amount of time left to create the Stone. Alchemists from the four Orders were currently very busy examining detailed schematics of the Ironwood and planning their campaign of magical mayhem and violence. It was seriously messed up.

She’d left the others to it, slipping away after her phone call with Navin. It would still be light for another hour at least, and the demon shadows seemed to prefer the night. She didn’t doubt that Demian would be watching her, but it was unlikely he would cause her harm at this point—even if he did randomly appear and say creepy, suggestive things. What was he going to do?
Talk
her to death? The worst he seemed capable of, where she was concerned, was making her head hurt with cryptic pronouncements. She figured she was safe enough as long as he still needed her to make the Stone.

It had been a relief to connect with Navin. But what if he couldn’t find Xan? She really didn’t want Nav going after the demon tear on his own. Which is how she found herself power-walking across Ironbridge Common in hopes of finding the elusive Mr. Grayson at home. Okay, so she really wanted to see Xan, too. She wasn’t going to lie about that. But this was serious—things were moving so fast, and they were running out of time. It always came down to those sands slipping through the glass. Like in her dream.

Blowing out a breath, she tried to take in her surroundings and quell the panic that kept rising inside her like a fountain. The Common was all frozen and picture-postcard pretty, but it was difficult to focus too much on that while her mind was constantly whirring with plans and possibilities.

She glanced at a family walking along the path, seeing how happy they were and having to drag her gaze away. A mother and father with their chestnut-haired daughter running ahead, laughing. Donna ducked her head and changed direction, dodging a cyclist on her way to the lake. A pair of joggers passed her, not wearing enough for the cold weather and trailing frozen clouds like dragon’s breath.

It was all so ordinary, so human, it almost broke her heart.

As soon as she left the path and took the familiar shortcut—happy, for another fleeting moment, that she was back in Ironbridge and actually able to
take
the familiar shortcut—she knew that she’d made a mistake. Most of the walkers and joggers were suddenly out of sight, further back on the open parts of the Common. Donna was walking among the trees where it was quieter, and she also had to slow her pace.

She heard something behind her. It sounded like something heavy landing on hard earth and fallen leaves.

Donna spun, preparing to fight, and then stopped with her mouth hanging open.

Cathal—the blond knight who’d represented Queen Isolde at Demian’s negotiations—was standing there. He’d clearly jumped down from one of the tallest trees. He must have been watching for her—or watching for something. Waiting.

She stared at the tall knight as he approached. Today, his shining armor was gone; instead, he wore dark leggings and a silver-gray tunic embroidered with green. The sword still hung at his waist, though. She wondered if he’d walked through the more populated area of the Common like that, or whether there was a door to Faerie nearby. That was probably too much to hope for … but she couldn’t help a burst of anticipation as she thought of the Ouroboros Blade.

“Forgive me,” Cathal said. “I would speak with you a moment, Initiate Underwood.”

Her eyes widened. She hoped it didn’t seem rude to be staring, but up close the faery was one of the most beautiful creatures she’d ever seen. He sort of rivaled Demian on that level. His face was a perfect blend of smooth golden skin, full lips, and angular masculinity. His hair was the color of spun gold, with the top part secured away from his face with a piece of green twine. His eyes were viridian bright, breathtaking in their intensity. They marked him as
other
, just as Xan’s eyes betrayed
his
fey heritage …

Donna gasped, unable to stop herself. She knew who this man was, and why he had requested to accompany Taran to the masquerade; perhaps even why he was here today, talking to her.

Cathal bowed his head, as though he had read her mind. “I was hoping to see my son when I journeyed Halfway, to the Demon King’s council. I am given to understand that you are friends.”

Holy shit. Holy
shit
. This freakishly gorgeous guy was Xan’s father. He looked way too young to have a grown son, but that was the way things worked with the fey. Age weighed upon them far less heavily than it did on mortals.

Donna closed her eyes for a moment, feeling terrible that Xan wasn’t here with her. But he could be! He didn’t live so far away, though she figured he probably wasn’t home. He still hadn’t responded to the messages she’d left him, and maybe Navin had tracked him down already.

“Your son,” she said, trying to speak past the lump in her throat. “You mean Xan?”

“Yes, that is his human name.” Cathal’s voice was deep and melodious, all at the same time. “I have not seen him since the night he was born.”

Since the night he was snatched from the hospital of his birth, taken by wood elves, and replaced with a changeling.

“How is … Xan?” Cathal asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar name.

“Why do you care?” Donna asked. Where had this guy been for the past twenty years, anyway? She knew she shouldn’t speak to a man such as Cathal like this, but all her mixed-up feelings made her brave. Or stupid.

His eyes flashed, but that was the only sign of anger that Donna could see. “I deserve that, I suppose. I would prefer to speak with my son about such things—perhaps there will be an opportunity for that later.”

“There might not be any ‘later,’” Donna said. She wasn’t trying to be a wiseass; it was simply a fact.

Cathal rested his hand on the sword hanging from his belt and sighed. “I will aid you on your quest, if you will accept my help.”

Donna’s gaze flickered to the sword. “Aid me with what? What exactly are you offering?”

“Help in securing what you need to stop the demon. Queen Isolde has the Ouroboros Blade. I cannot take it from her, but I can help you gain entry to Faerie. With the abilities you already possess, it should be possible.”

“Why would you help me?” Donna asked. She couldn’t help being so cynical. Too much betrayal—and she didn’t even know this man.

“For my son,” Cathal said, his voice low. “A son I never knew.”