A Curse of Stone and Fire
A B Bloom
For Lana
Contents
History…
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by A B Bloom
History…
The Romans invaded Albion in the First Century AD. Conquering and enslaving; they were horrified by the brutish Gaelic clans which they encountered.
The annexe of Albion complete; they turned their attention to Caledonia. There they met a force unlike any they had seen before. The wild Celtic clans forced back the encroachment of foreigners withstanding the onslaught under which they found themselves.
The Druids removed themselves from history around the same time as the Roman arrival. Wild and savage, they led their people: their women powerful, their ways dark and wicked.
There were those who wanted the power they controlled… those who would stop at nothing to get it and wait however long it took to find it.
1
The car hit a pothole and bounced, the back wheels lifting from the worn tarmac.
I woke with a start, blinking into daylight. The remnants of my unexpected dream faded away as I stared in surprise through the window of the sedan. Those eyes… I rubbed at my head, my fingers catching in the knotted tangle of my hair. How many times had I dreamed of those dark eyes? They seemed to chase me every time I fell asleep. I shouldn’t have been dozing anyway, but the flight from the States was zapping the life out of me.
“Could we slow down a bit?” I leant forward, my hand gripping onto the leather upholstery of the passenger seat. “I dislike sitting in the back.” The guy in the chauffeur cap had insisted; he’d almost pushed me in through the rear door of the black car and now my fingers gripped the headrest like my life depended on it.
He wasn’t one to chat—or even answer—but I didn’t let the fact deter me. “How far is it to Fire Stone?”
His eyes met mine in the rear-view. Beneath bushy grey brows his eyes were surprisingly bright. I couldn’t determine his age. Was he old with mysteriously large eyebrows? Or was he young with unfortunate facial hair growth? Maybe the mystery would never be solved.
“Not far.” His reply was monosyllabic. Not for the first time.
I sat up further, straining against the seatbelt cutting into my neck. “But, where is that exactly? I’ve never been to England before. Is it in a town? A village? Is it by the sea?” Fire Stone could be anywhere. All I knew was it was the last place in the world I wanted to go, and yet here I was stuck in the back of a car which was seemingly being driven by a rally driver.
We hurtled another corner as his massive brows crimped together—he wasn’t even looking at the road. “Aye, and you still haven’t. This is Scotland.”
“Same thing though, right? It’s all the same island?” My hands slipped against leather as we took another corner at high speed around a right turn.
His glare was dagger ridden.
“Is that why the airport was so small?” I asked.
Another glare.
“Is that why there weren’t many lights? It’s not exactly London, is it? Where was that place I landed?”
“Aberdeen.”
I held back a giggle. Aberdeeeeeen. “Is that the capital of Scotland?”
“No.”
“What is then?” If I kept hammering away he might finally succumb and talk to me.
“Edinburgh.”
I giggled again unable to resist. Edinbuuuuurgh.
“Let me get this straight. Scotland is its own country, even though it’s part of a tiny island you could fit into America ten times over?”
“Hmph.”
This was almost a full conversation so I launched into my next question. “And where’s my aunt? Why hasn’t she come to get me?” Flushing a little, I glanced out the window at the green countryside. “I kind of figured she would, seeing as I haven’t seen a family member for ten years.”
There was a pause—I filled it. “Sorry, I’m asking so many questions.” I risked releasing a hand from my tight grip on the headrest to brush hair out of my eyes. “Only, I haven’t spoken to anyone since I left Queens, well apart from the air stewards, but they couldn’t stop and chat long.”
“Your aunt is away.” Five syllables. We were bonding.
Okay, then. “So, she isn’t going to be there when I arrive?” The little alarm which had been ringing at the back of my mind, deep within my worry-box, jangled again.
“No.”
“And where is ‘Fire Stone’, exactly?” If I keep asking, someone may answer.
“Not far.”
I groaned and slumped back against the seat, my head dropping back. “Sure,” I muttered. “Not far.”
Realising I wasn’t going to get any answers, I rummaged in the ancient, leather overnight duffle bag on the seat next to mine. I pulled at the letter and smoothed it against my leg, easing the creases with my hands. The paper was thick and expensive, the cursive script elegant and sweeping. An invitation from a great aunt, it told me to come to Fire Stone as I was now under her care.
This of course was highly ironic.
Dear Maeve, news of your plight has reached my ears… My travels take me far and wide, and your situation has been long coming to my attention. As is proper in situations such as these, I have set the wheels in motion to become your legal guardian. With no remaining relatives in the United States, I expect you to travel to meet me here and to enrol at Fire Stone where you shall continue your education. All expenses shall be met by my own purse.
Her own purse? Who spoke like that?
And. Hell, no.
My cheeks flamed every time I thought about it. Although, obviously my refusal to enrol was short-lived—I was in a limousine on a journey to nowhere.
Being an orphan was an obstructive conversation stopper. People found out and reacted in the
