I woke up from the memory, missing my mother sorely, and smiled when two eyes gleamed at me from across the room.
“You’re up?”
“Foxes are nocturnal.”
I glanced at the clock. It was just shy of seven in the morning, but at least I’d slept through my witching hour wake-up call. Tugging Luch’s shirt more tightly around me, I rose and walked to the bathroom to splash water on my face. No sense in trying to go back to sleep when I’d be up soon enough anyway. Even on the weekends, I was hard-pressed to sleep past seven. Pausing, I studied my face in the mirror.
Just a hint of bruising was left on my forehead from when I’d slammed my head into Luch’s door the other day. Even thinking about it again brought a rosy flush of embarrassment to my cheeks. I’d panicked, like a mouse caught in a cupboard, and had tried to flee. I hadn’t healed the bruise on my forehead, as much as I was tempted to do so, because it reminded me every time I looked in the mirror that Ineeded to keep my guard up around him. Particularly now that I know he wanted to take me on a date.
Typically I prided myself on being able to handle situations that made me uncomfortable. I’d developed a thick skin through the years—more as a matter of necessity than a desire to do so—and I aimed to be an oasis of calm in all manner of situations from hysterical clients to suspicious neighbors. Yet with Luch, none of my prior training seemed to matter.
He bothered me.
Slipped into my dreams at night.
Soothed me with the scent of his shirt when I went to sleep.
Put my back up with his questions and all-seeing eyes.
Desire pulled me closer even as my self-preservation demanded I stay away. I sighed as I plaited my hair back from my face, securing it in a bun at the nape of my neck. Luch hadn’t responded to my question last night, and though I was now fairly certain he was the one leaving me flowers, I also didn’t want to make any assumptions. Three bouquets now decorated my practice, and I’d kept a fourth bunch to put in a small glass next to the picture of my mum on the windowsill.
It was a silly thing, yet I found myself charmed by the simple bundles left on my doorstep. There was something softly sweet about the handpicked wildflowers, carefully curated and wrapped with twine. I couldn’t help but get the impression that each flower was picked meticulously, as they all melded together in a symphony of colors and textures.
Gloam brushed against my leg as I walked to thekitchen and I took that as his invitation for a cuddle. Since I was up earlier than usual today, I made myself a quick cup of tea and then took it to the couch, patting the cushion next to me as I curled up with a blanket. Gloam jumped up and settled on the blanket, curling up at my side. When I began to scratch his ears, his eyes slitted, and his mouth hung open in a sleepy half smile.
The first silvery light of morning was trailing across the surface of Loch Mirren, the water a slate gray edging to soft blue, the green hills across the way smudged in its reflection. The little island, which had captured my attention before, now held more serious meaning to me, and I let myself consider the Stone of Truth a little more deeply than I had since a few days ago when I’d first learned of it.
“A sentient truth stone,” I murmured, taking a sip of my tea.
“Objects can have power.”Gloam slanted me a look.
“I know that, wee one.” I threaded my fingers through the thick fur at the back of his neck. “It’s just the sentient part that kind of throws me. To think, this inanimate object can make decisions to protect itself—like calling the Kelpies as a line of defense.”
“It has to. It’s too powerful. With that comes great knowledge of what will happen if the wrong person wields it. It didn’t used to be so powerful. But through the centuries, it learned, ever growing, and with it came the understanding that it needed a safe resting place. It could no longer be used, at least not by humans, as no one person could be able to withstand all its power.”
“So it put itself to bed?” I asked, almost amused at the thought.
Out on the island, a light flashed, just the smallest of flickers and I straightened.
Could the stone hear me?
“In order to protect humanity, and others on Earth, the stone has removed itself from the hands of those in power. It’s a gift it has chosen to give us.”
“Huh. An altruistic sentient stone of great power.” I pursed my lips, studying the wee island. “Fascinating.”
“Not entirely altruistic. If the wrong person obtains it, the likelihood is they’ll destroy the earth. The stone along with it.”
“Fair play to the stone then. You can still do good by others even if it also serves you.”
Another flicker of light, this time warmer in color, and I wondered if the stone really could hear this conversation. Maybe it could, considering it seemed to know all the things and held all the power of the universe and whatnot.
No one person should ever hold that much power. If it was my duty to protect it, albeit in whatever magickal ways the Order of Caledonia needed me to, then I would certainly do so. If only because as a healer, I’d taken my own vow to help others where I could.
After a quiet cup of tea with Gloam on the couch, the rest of the morning flew by in a series of patient appointments. I only opened for a half-day on Saturday, and due to how busy I was, I’d have to extend hours once I hired more help. Many people couldn’t afford to take time off work during the week to take their pets into the vet, so the weekends were prime time for them to bring them in. Even with my half-day posted hours, it was almost mid-afternoon by the time I could close up for the day.
Maybe I should close on Monday and Tuesday andopen on the weekends? Mulling the thought over, I went to lock up after my last patient and saw Oban sitting in the middle of the waiting room.
“Oban! What are you doing here? And don’t you look very handsome?” The wee Scottie had a red and black tartan bowtie around his neck. Oban trotted over and I crouched to scratch his ears and laughed when his rough tongue swiped up the side of my face. “Och, what’s this?”
