A Curse of Stone and Fire: YA Fantasy Romance Read online

  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 same way. First there was the awkward pause. Then there was the I’m so sorry I didn’t know. Then followed the bit where I waved my hand and told them that it was all okay and not to worry. I felt worse for making someone feel bad which was ironic considering it was me who was parentless.

  Fire Stone.

  I smelled the paper, searching some long-forgotten scent I’d been chasing all my life and then folded the embossed paper with care along the creases, popping it back into the bag. As I ran my hands down the length of my jeans, I breathed in and out through my nose. Palms sweating and unable to sit still, this would go down as one of the most uncomfortable car journeys of my life.

  “It’s my first time in a limo.” I leant forward again, unable to resist the urge to talk.

  My answer was another stern look from under those bushy brows in the rear-view.

  “Is this how my aunt commutes?” I glanced out of the window at the swollen clouds. “It seems fancy.” Sliding my butt along the leather seat again I wrapped my arms around the headrest of the passenger chair. “She must be someone pretty important to have a chauffeur.”

  No answer.

  “If she’s away who will be there to look after me?” It was a joke. I didn’t need looking after. At just eighteen and largely self-sufficient, I was more than capable. But it was fun to wind th
e silent driver up by asking inane questions.

  “Everything is taken care of.”

  “Everything?” That warning bell jangled again. “Why did she write and ask me to come if she isn’t going to be here?”

  He didn’t answer, which was no surprise. Instead, he nodded his head at a giant set of wrought-iron gates. I craned my neck to see the top. Bronze motifs supplemented black iron-work, and leaves and flowers ornately wound their rigid stems around the posts of the gates in intricate patterns. “Whoa.” The car slowed to a halt giving me a close up of the impressive entrance.

  My jaw dropped as the gates swung open without a sound. A small signpost with black, bold lettering on a white board simply stated Fire Stone.

  “Are we here?” I bounced on the leather seat causing the bushy brows to furrow together. “Hey, I’m excited! I’ve never left New York before. This is awesome.” No one would believe it back home.

  I blocked all thoughts of home from my mind as we cruised up a wide sweeping drive. The driveway turned a broad corner before ending in a horseshoe in front of a crumbling building covered in dark creeping ivy. “What on earth?”

  I blinked as a handful of children walked past the limo. Only a couple tried to peer in through the tinted glass. My excitement at my first leg of my new life cooled. “This is awful.” I shrunk back into the leather upholstery.

  It was a school, which was bad enough in the grand scheme of things, but worse, it was what movies portrayed as a proper ‘English’ school. The kids milling around were all dressed in identical navy blazers with navy and silver ties. Girls and boys alike.

  “I am not going in there.” I folded my arms. I wasn't given to childish dramatics—having grown up real quick at the age of seven but… “I sure as hell didn’t fly all this way to go to some school with a bunch of snobs wearing a uniform.” I’d tried to research Fire Stone—it didn’t exist in internet land. There was no reference to it at all. “I’m going to be eighteen in a few days,” I don’t know why I continued to speak to the chauffeur, his lack of conversation didn’t give me hope of any answers. “This is all completely unnecessary.”

  The pit of my tummy clenched and dropped, and I palmed a sticky hand through my hair, strands of red tangling into my fingers.

  “Mrs Cox is inside,” he said, completely ignoring my protests.

  “Mrs Cox?” Who the hell is Mrs Cox?

  “She’s waiting for you.” The chauffeur hesitated, his gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “It’s not that bad; this is a good school.” From under the eyebrows I caught a glimmer of sympathy.

  “But I don’t need to go to school. My education is over, done, finished.”

  “I’m sure Mrs Cox will explain.” The driver dropped his gaze and opened his door, walking around to my side of the dark sedan and pulling on the handle of my door. I’d been by myself for ten years—I’d faced almost everything by myself with only passing temporary carers to guide or support me. But right there and then I wanted to hide under the smooth floor mat of the car and never surface into fresh air. A crowd was gathering which only made my sweaty-palm syndrome worse.

  “I don’t want her to explain. Could you take me back to the airport please?” I frowned back out of the window. “That building looks like it’s about to fall down.”

  “Out you get, lassie.” The nameless driver had hardly been verbose on the drive here, but his tone softened as he called me lassie, and somehow my legs responded, jerking to life and stepping out of the car.

  I was grabbing the universe containing duffel from the backseat when the scrunch of heels on gravel pricked at my ears. Swallowing, I straightened and turned. The woman in front of me was so small I had to lower my expectant gaze, and then lower it some more to find her face. With a hooked nose, lips dipped with a pronounced V, and round eyes, she reminded me of a sparrow bobbing for seed. Quick bright eyes focused on mine. The grey of her hair made her eyes seem more silver though up closer they were a pale blue. Tiny and birdlike, her fingers jerked towards me in greeting and I shook her hand, wondering how she maintained such a ferocious grip when she owned a wrist that looked like it would snap if knocked too hard. “Miss Adams. I’m Mrs Cox. I hope you had a good journey.”

  My gaze swept over to the chauffeur standing stiffly by the door. “Illuminating,” I told her.

  She chuckled. “Jeffries has been with us a long time.”

  I attacked my chance, shouldering my bag. “Forgive me for being rude, but I really don’t need to be here, not that I know where here is? Jeffries.” I arched an eyebrow at my silent driver. “Has been vague. But really, I don’t need to go to school, I’ve finished. I can just meet my aunt, say hi, and be on my way.”

  The birdlike face of Mrs Cox cracked into a smile. “On your way where? Maybe when you see what we have on offer, you will change your mind about being finished with the education system. All we ask is you give the lessons and our wonderful school a try.” Her words took the wind out of the sails of my argument. Where was I planning on going? I had no money, nothing to fall back and rely on. She waved a scrawny arm at the arched wooden door. “Now let’s get you some tea and toast. You like jam, dearie?” She clucked much like a mother hen, albeit a tiny, scrawny hen. “Of course you do,” she answered for me. “Everyone likes jam.”

  I shrugged not knowing what she was talking about.

  “You must be exhausted.” Taking my bag with single-handed ease, she thrust it at Jeffries. “Take that to Dorm B,” she told him, grabbing my elbow and wheeling me towards the uneven stone steps leading up to the worn brick building.

  On closer inspection, Fire Stone resembled a castle made from crumbly, hard cheddar; where a large chunk could fall off at any moment. With bricks the colour of a sunset on a glorious day, it looked as if it had stood the test of time and now hung on by the last brick in its foundations. The dark ivy, so drab and opposing from the distance of the sweeping driveway was actually lit with little white flowers. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Mrs Cox. I nodded, meeting her gaze. I’d need to remind myself she wasn’t called Mrs Bird. I could already feel that mistake scorching my tongue. “Where is it exactly? I know we are in Scotland, but that’s it. Jeffries was tight with information.”

  I needed to process the fact I’d left New York—even rundown Queens—and flown for hours, all to be delivered to a school which was built within a dilapidated castle. I’d save stewing on that for later. I was here now, my plane ticket paid for by my mysterious aunt. I needed to find out all the information to hand before I decided on my plan of action. The only way to do that was to embrace Mrs Cox’s offer of tea, toast, and jam. Whatever jam was.

  “Oh, you mean jelly.” I took the offered dainty, white china cup. “Strawberry jelly.” I’d been offered an array of flavours but had settled on the safe sounding strawberry.

  “Jelly? You Americans do like to muddle everything up.”

  I prickled and picked my shoulders up from their slouch. “That’s a bit strong; it’s only a noun for something that goes on bread.”

  Mrs Cox had already made me seriously pissed when she’d held out a silver tray and nodded at it with intent. “Cell phone, please. No students have phones here.” I’d watched her for a moment in silent disbelief before realizing she wasn’t joking and unwillingly handed my cell over. I'd put up with her nonsense while I carried on investigating the place, but then I'd want my cell straight back. Thank you very much.

  Mrs Cox’s room was a comfortable study: all dark green leather, and wood panelling. Hanging from one wall was a tapestry my eyes couldn’t stop staring at. Giant stones were stitched in silver and grey. Around them wove sparks of magical fireflies in vibrant gold. It was stunning. If she saw me looking she didn’t comment.

  The crackle of the fire sparked, and I inched my leg towards it. Heat lapped up the surface of my exposed skin. It was May; springtime in Queens. I’d travelled in shorts and a zipped hoodie. The inside of Fire Stone hadn’t received the Spring me
mo and was chilled down to its dark grey bricks.

  “You will adapt to our ways, I’m sure.” She offered me a secure smile and perched her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose.

  “I don’t need to adapt. I haven't said I'm staying yet. According to my aunt’s letter, the only reason I’m enrolled is because I’m under eighteen.” Mrs Cox offered me a tight smile.

  “Of course.” Her sharp gaze searched my face—what she was looking for I didn’t know. “Your birthday is soon, you must be excited to be eighteen?”

  Excited? I wanted to tell her I wasn’t five and didn’t get excited about birthdays anymore, but I kept quiet and shrugged. A birthday was another day of the year.

  She carried on, ignoring my silence and shoulder shrugging. “Your ancestors came from these lands, Maeve. Aye, I'm sure your blood will soon remember.” She nodded to herself and seemed to drift into deep thought.

  “Really?” I quizzed her. “I don’t know anything about my ancestors. I didn’t even know I had an aunt until a month ago.”

  Her expression closed like the slam of a book. “Well, I’m sure everything will unfold in good time.”

  “What will?” I leant closer. “And where is my aunt? Surely she should be here after asking me to come all this way?”

  “She will come soon.” A flicker sparked in her round eyes, and a shiver crawled up my spine.

  “Why do I feel like I’m an imposition? Why make me come to an awful school in a different country and then not be here?”

  Mrs Cox trilled a laugh. “Don’t be silly, Maeve. And you need to do what’s best for you.”