The Stone Demon

Thirteen





Donna 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.”



They stopped by the lake, and Donna immediately wished she had some food for the ducks and swans. She smiled at herself for thinking about something so trivial, given that she was heading into Faerie to make a deal for a blade she’d only seen sketched in the Silent Book. But it really was beautiful on the Common, and surprisingly quiet. Sure, there were people walking by the lake, but it didn’t seem too crowded—which was probably a good thing.

Cathal pointed at a grove of jagged-looking trees just beyond a small hill. “There,” he said. “That will do.”

“Those trees aren’t evergreens, and there are still some people around,” Donna said, stating the obvious but wondering what Cathal had in mind in such a public space. “Not enough cover.”

“The people are few,” he replied. “I will glamour us to be unseen.”

She held up her hands. “What about these?”

Confusion crossed Cathal’s face, and then cleared as he realized what she meant. “The tattoos will not matter. We only need to be camouflaged, not entirely invisible. Your iron will look like sunlight through the trees.”

Donna shrugged. It sounded poetic, but what mattered was that they wouldn’t be seen. “Fine. What should I do?”

He told her, and it seemed to be mostly the same process as she’d used to open the door to Hell. It scared her to think of doing something like that again, especially after the way that experience had ended, but she was running out of options. And time.

She repeated his instructions back, just to check that she had it right. She was hardly an expert when it came to manipulating the first matter, and her lessons with Robert and Maker had been unceremoniously cut short.

When Cathal nodded, satisfied, they said their goodbyes. “I cannot appear in Faerie at your side,” he told her. “My queen cannot know I have spoken with you. I must take another path.”

“What should I do about the guards?” Donna remembered the knights talking about that, when it had looked like Aliette might be getting ideas about sneaking into Faerie. “The door is guarded, I know that.”

“I will distract them,” Cathal said.

“Thank you.”

“Be strong,” Cathal replied. “Good luck.”

I think I’m going to need it, Donna thought as she walked toward the grove. She could feel the thread of power inside her, warming her all the way through as it responded to her gentle probing.

She lay down on the winter-hard ground and prepared to travel across worlds.