The Stone Demon

Sixteen





Isolde was smiling as she watched Donna chase off the faeries.

“Enough,” she said. “We have had our fun with our unwelcome guest. Now let us find out why she has invaded our lands in the first place.”

Taran shook his dark hair away from his pale face and drew his sword. “The court of Faerie demands to know why you are here.” His words were formal, as would be expected considering his role as the queen’s chief advisor.

Donna swallowed, fear warring with frustration. Frustration won. “Taran, you know very well why I’m here. You were at that so-called ‘negotiation’ in the Halfway realm.”

Isolde raised an eyebrow. “Insolent girl. You will answer the question.”

“Your Highness,” Donna said, ignoring the queen’s knight and representative, “I apologize for arriving unannounced. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could even do it. I tried, because I had to, and it worked. And yes, now I’m here and I wasn’t invited. But I need the Ouroboros Blade, and I’m not leaving without it.”

Cold silence filled the beautiful meadow. Every faery present was watching Donna as though she were a tasty meal served up especially for them. She felt the weight of their hunger and fear, their curiosity and their hatred. But she forced herself to stand tall and withstand the terrible weight of their regard.

“You did not come alone,” Isolde said. It was a statement rather than a question, so Donna didn’t bother to answer. She didn’t want to incriminate Cathal.

Taran took another step toward her. Bright white sunlight flashed from the blade of his sword. “Who aided you in this quest?”

Cathal stared straight ahead. His face was a golden mask.

Queen Isolde narrowed her eyes. They looked like chips of emerald. “Oh, we know who aided her, don’t we, Cathal?”

“Your Highness,” the golden knight said. He stepped before her and went down on one knee. “I wish to help my son survive in the human world.”

The queen tilted her head and stared at him as though she could see inside his soul. Perhaps she can, Donna thought.

Taran’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. “You have betrayed us, Cathal.”

“I only showed the Iron Witch a weak spot—a way that might be exploited for entry into our lands. Her power did the rest.” Xan’s father smiled, ever so slightly. “Donna Underwood is powerful enough without my aid.”

Queen Isolde waved them away. “This is of no importance. The Iron Witch is here now and we will hear her offer. We can deal with Cathal later.”

Taran sheathed his sword, looking somewhat relieved. But the threat hung in the air, making Donna’s stomach hurt. She pulled herself straight, refusing to show this icy woman a single drop of weakness.

“What would you give me in return for the Ouroboros Blade, Donna Underwood of the alchemists?”

Donna shivered as she felt the queen’s power move across her skin. “What do you want, Your Highness?”

Isolde laughed. The sound was both beautiful and terrible. “You mean to tell me, girl, that you have come to my realm and yet have nothing with which to bargain?”

Donna smiled sweetly. “What could I possibly bring for the woman who has everything? Tucked away in your safe little world, not caring who lives and who dies, as long as you continue on.”

Taran drew his sword again. “Watch your tongue, girl!”

Cathal’s hand twitched at the pommel of his own blade, but he didn’t draw the weapon. Donna wondered if that was because he wasn’t supposed to, or because he didn’t want to threaten his son’s potential girlfriend. Or maybe he would protect her from Taran …

Isolde waved Taran away. “Be at ease, Taran. I admire the human’s spirit.”

Her knight glared halfheartedly at her, but he stood down.

The queen rose to her feet, giving Donna her first glimpse of just how tall she was. Isolde stood at least six feet, slender as a reed. Her bare feet poked out from below the hem of her gown. There were golden rings on each of her narrow toes.

Donna bowed her head, unable to continue staring at the ethereal radiance of the faery queen. Her throat was tight with an unnamed emotion.

Isolde walked carefully down the steps and approached her.

“The blade is not to be used lightly,” she said.

Donna forced herself to meet the queen’s eyes. “I know that. But I have to try.”

“You are tired, child,” Isolde said, her voice impossibly kind. A trick, of course. “Why take on so much? You should be in school with others of your age.”

Donna wanted to fall against her, let the queen put those slender arms around her. Hold her and offer comfort. Take away all the pain and fear and responsibility. It was so tempting. She took a step forward. Isolde was so kind, so beautiful, so …

Donna shook her head, confused and then angry. The queen was using her magic. Her glamour.

The court of Faerie laughed at her confusion and embarrassment.

Isolde smiled indulgently. “Please forgive me. It is in our nature to play.”

Donna narrowed her eyes. Yeah, right. Like she believed that. “I’m not a toy, Your Highness.”

“No, of course not,” Isolde replied, in a tone that clearly said she believed otherwise.

“So, you really have nothing to offer?” Isolde asked, all business again. “Remember that in order for any of us to give up an artifact that might help make the Stone, we must barter for a fair exchange. That is woven into the terms of the magic that binds us all together.”

“Let me think,” Donna said. “Maybe if you ask me for something, I could give it to you. Or … I don’t know … find something for you. I’m pretty good at finding things.”

“Did you hear that?” the queen asked, smiling at the giggling crowd of onlookers. “She is good at finding things.”

Everybody fell about laughing. Donna wasn’t sure what was so funny, but she gritted her teeth and put up with being mocked. It could be worse, she figured. They could decide to chop off her hands, just like they’d threatened when they were “playing.” There were enough swords around here, after all.

The faery queen looked thoughtful for a moment. “Would you give anything in return for the blade?”

Donna swallowed. Be careful, she told herself. Be very careful. “I cannot promise something before I know what it is that I’m promising.”

“Of course not,” Isolde said. “Wise. Very wise.” She tapped a slender finger against her lips.

Donna wished the queen would get on with it, but time moved differently in Faerie—she knew that much from Xan. For all she knew, only moments had gone by in her own world. Or perhaps Demian’s deadline had already passed, and London and Ironbridge lay beneath bones and rubble.

Desperation made her bold. “Your Highness, I think we have both had enough of this game. Make me an offer, set me a task, and then we’ll see if it’s something I can actually do.”

“Very well,” Isolde said. Her eyes were cruel, all the glamour and compassion drained out of her in an instant. “I would like your hands as trophies on my wall. We could use the Ouroboros Blade to remove them, and I will then let you leave my realm with the blade. What do you say to my first offer, Donna Underwood?”

Donna didn’t know what to say—she could only hope that Navin was having more luck than her. At least nobody would be threatening to cut off any of his limbs. She hoped.

Swallowing her rising fear, Donna took a step back, still wondering if this was another of Queen Isolde’s “games.” But the faery’s perfect face looked deadly serious. Cruelty didn’t make her any less beautiful, though she did look a hell of a lot more terrifying. Especially considering the fact that she’d just suggested maiming her.

Reflexively, Donna squeezed her iron-clad hands into fists, wondering what she would do if anyone attacked her. Could she access her abilities quickly enough to get out of here? Open a doorway back to her own world? She doubted it. She still didn’t understand enough about this power that she possessed. Even as she felt the first matter begin to stir, she knew that she couldn’t reach those delicate threads in time. Moving between worlds felt more hit and miss than a precise science. And, if she were brutally honest with herself, it had mostly been “miss” so far. Apart from today, when she’d had Cathal to guide her.

The court’s wicked laughter rang in her ears as Isolde waited for a reply.

Donna decided not to play into whatever trap was being laid for her. She kept silent and crossed her arms across her chest.

Isolde pouted. “Ah, your silence shows wisdom beyond your years, mortal. If you will not give me your hands, I wonder what you would be willing give up?”

Donna felt her tattoos shift against her skin, and she hoped nothing was going to happen that she couldn’t control. She tried to ignore the familiar tingling at the edge of her mind.

“Your Highness, why must I give up something of my own? Maybe there’s something I can do for you. A … a quest of some kind?”

“You would accept a faery quest, alchemist?”

“If it means I get to keep my hands,” Donna muttered.

Isolde’s lips twitched in what looked like genuine amusement. “What about your friend, the boy you know as Alexander Grayson? Would you give up your claims to ownership and give him to me?”

Out the corner of her eye, Donna saw Cathal take a step forward. She ignored the faery knight and focused on the queen. “Ownership? He is not mine to give, Highness. He lives in the human world and therefore lives by our rules. No human belongs to another—not truly.”

Isolde stretched out her hands. “That is not what I hear.” Her voice was playful again, almost as if she was sharing secrets with a girlfriend.

But Donna didn’t have girlfriends. She didn’t care about boyfriend gossip because it was something so alien to her experience of life. “Xan is half human,” she said. “What would you want with him?”

“Halflings are welcome in my court,” Isolde replied. “His fey half is of particularly good lineage. Perhaps he would like to train with the sword, beside his father. Perhaps we can … heal him.”

Here, her gaze flickered to Cathal. The knight had relaxed, Donna noticed. Maybe he liked the idea of having his son here, living and working alongside him. Just the thought of Xan being healed made Donna’s heart pound with a powerful cocktail of emotions; she knew what that would mean to him. And, she thought, it would get him away from the alchemists. She swallowed her fear at the idea of losing him. There was no time for that now.

“Even if he wanted to come here, it wouldn’t have anything to do with me,” she said. “I can’t tell another person what to do.”

“Not even to save your little world?” The queen raised those perfectly angled brows again. “Not even to save everyone in it?”

Donna shook her head. This was hopeless. She needed to offer something—something that would tempt a queen. But what?

“I’m afraid it looks as though you will have to leave my court empty-handed,” Isolde said, her voice heavy with fake regret. “I will have Taran escort you out in a less disruptive manner. I would not have you use your power in my realm again.” She turned her head to the faeries gathered beside her on the dais. “We will secure all our doors, at least until Demian has finished reaping the destruction he so desires. Taran, remove the girl—”

“I’ll fight for it!” Donna shouted, terrified to find herself being kicked out of Faerie with no way back in.

Isolde turned back to her, interest flickering in her eyes. “Fight? You mean to say that you’re challenging my court?”

Donna closed her eyes for a moment. What was she doing? What I have to do, she told herself fiercely.

“If that’s the only way, yes. I don’t know how this works, but I challenge—”

“I will fight her,” Cathal said, stepping forward and cutting her off before she could complete a formal challenge to Taran.

Was that better or worse? She couldn’t fight a faery knight—she didn’t have a hope of winning. But she was desperate, and she’d opened her stupid mouth without thinking. Cathal was obviously trying to help her, drag her out of the hole she was busy digging for herself.

But Isolde wasn’t buying. “Step down, Cathal. There will be no challenges today.” She narrowed her eyes at Donna. “I do not know whether you are incredibly brave or incredibly foolish, Donna Underwood.”

Donna knew the answer to that, but kept her mouth shut. See? she thought. I can be sensible.

The queen smiled. The expression was hard and bright, like glass. “I will send you back to your world, and I will ensure that no time has been lost on your quest to make a new Philosopher’s Stone.” She walked to the front of the dais and one of her attendants, a short man with horns of bone growing from his forehead, handed her an ornately carved wooden box.

When Isolde opened the catch and flipped open the lid, Donna couldn’t hold back her gasp. The Ouroboros Blade. The wicked-sharp blade was pure black and the handle carved of ivory. Her fingers twitched. She wanted to hold it; to take it now and run. She was one step closer to saving everything she knew and loved. If she could just get her hands on that knife.

She forced herself to be still, to wait for the queen’s terms.

“You may have the blade, as much good as it will do you when dealing with demons,” Isolde said. “This is the bargain I offer you, and it will be a bargain sealed with the blood of those you love. You are too reckless. I do not trust any deal made in which your own life is wagered.”

Donna bit her lip. Okay, so now the queen thought she had a death wish. It wasn’t true, but she could hardly blame Isolde for drawing that conclusion, based on her actions so far.

“We will hold the life of Alexander Grayson, born of Cathal, as collateral. Should you fail in the task I set you, his life will be forfeit.”

Donna felt sick. “I can’t bargain with his life,” she whispered. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Isolde laughed, sharp and brittle. “You talk to me of fair?” She shook her head. “No, these are my terms—and they serve equally as punishment for Cathal. I will give you the Ouroboros Blade so that you may create your Stone. If you succeed in appeasing the demons, you must also kill the Magus, Simon Gaunt of the Dragon Order.”

Donna took a step back. What? Kill Simon? Her chest hurt as she tried to catch her breath.

Isolde held out the box. “So you see, Donna. I am nothing if not fair. If Demian destroys all of you, you won’t even need to complete your part of the bargain.”



Cathal took Donna to the edge of a grove of pine trees. The scene was beautiful. The air was balmy and the sky was clear blue as it swept overhead. It should have been the sort of scene to bring peace, but Donna only felt dread. She clamped down on it, keeping everything under control until she got the hell out of this place.

The tall faery knight touched the trunk of a tree that didn’t look any different from its neighbors. The wood shimmered and melted, forming a small doorway.

“Descend the stairs and you will reach a long corridor made of leaf and wood. Follow it to the end, and you will reach another door. That will take you to where you most need to be.”

She stared into the darkness, then back at Cathal. “It’s that easy?”

“This time, yes,” he said. “There are many entrances into Faerie, but they move on a daily basis. We have not had need to monitor these doors for two human centuries.”

“It must be weird for you to deal with us again, after all this time.”

“Indeed. It is strange to meet with mortals again, but I find I enjoy it.” Cathal’s handsome face broke into a smile. “I always did.”

Donna smiled in return, thinking about Xan’s human birth mother, but her expression felt forced. She couldn’t stop her mind turning over everything that still lay ahead of her—not least of which was to find a way into Hell, of all freaking places. And now she had to kill a magus. Murder. Could she do that? It wasn’t like she hadn’t contemplated it before, like where Demian was concerned. But thinking about it in a flash of anger was one thing …

She pushed the thought away. She’d worry about it later. Her grip tightened on the box that held the Ouroboros Blade. It wouldn’t matter, anyway, if she couldn’t fulfill Demian’s terms. Nothing would matter, because the Demon King would begin tearing apart the world that she knew.

Cathal touched her shoulder. “I wish I could help you further, but my place is here. With my queen.”

“Sure. I know that. You’ve already done enough—I didn’t expect you to help me as much as you did. Thank you.”

“For my son, I will do what I can. I hope to have the chance to make amends to him one day—even more so now that his mortal life is at stake.”

Donna turned her back on the dangerous beauty of Faerie and walked through the doorway in the tree, into its trunk. Her feet found steps in the darkness and she used the rough-hewn walls to guide her as she descended a helter-

skelter staircase. Round and round she walked, until she hit the bottom and made for the door that Cathal had described.

It will take you where you most need to be, he’d said.

Donna saw the night sky and stars as she pushed through, back into her own world. She could only hope she hadn’t lost too much time.