Stonewing Guardian Read online

  They were beside a small spring that flowed over flower-draped rocks to fall into a rippling pool. The pool was surrounded by masses of flowering bushes, and a pair of life-sized stone lions flanked it, one on each side. All of this was dimly lit by the golden glow of lights coming from further up the hillside.

  Thea had definitely never been to anywhere like this in Toronto. It didn't feel like Toronto at all. The night air was balmy and soft and full of the perfume of flowers she had never smelled before.

  "Where are we?" she asked.

  "Italy," Mace said. He sounded breathless.

  "Italy?"

  She frowned at him, trying to understand if it was some kind of joke, while her brain railed at her about the impossible thing she had just experienced, which she was steadfastly not thinking about.

  "Yes, you have to—"

  Mace swayed.

  "Mace?"

  Now it was her turn to clutch at him.

  "Mace, no! You can't pass out now. Where are we really? Why are we in Italy? What is going on?"

  It was like the world had turned inside out on her. Like solid ground turning to quicksand under her feet—which had in fact happened to her, on the most terrible day of her life two years ago, and then again tonight.

  "Call Gio," Mace gasped out. As near as she could tell in the dim light, his face had lost all color. He fumbled weakly at his back pocket. "Call—in contacts—fingerprint unlocks—"

  And then he keeled over.

  "Mace!"

  She tried to ease his collapse, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. They were both borne down to the warm ground, crushing fragrant foliage underneath them.

  "Mace, come on, you can't just leave me here!"

  It was easier to yell at him than to admit how desperately worried she was.

  She reached around him and carefully felt for his back pocket. It felt very strange to be groping his ass while he was lying unconscious. She found the phone at last and pulled it out. It was locked.

  Fingerprint unlock, he had said.

  She pressed his right fingertip to the sensor. She had to try from a few different angles before she managed to get it to go.

  His phone was downright Spartan, with only a few apps. Thea firmly ignored her own curiosity and pulled up the contacts. She tried the J's, then found a Gio in the G's. It was a foreign number; she didn't recognize the country code off the top of her head, but was willing to believe it could be Italy.

  We can't possibly have gone from Toronto to Italy, could we?

  She pressed the number before she could lose her nerve.

  It rang a couple of times, and then a deep, smooth voice said, "Pronto? Mace?"

  "H—hi?" She was starting to recover from the strangling panic attack that had resulted from being dragged underground, though there was still a faint metallic taste in her mouth and a ringing in her ears. She was down to pretty normal panic at this point, the sort that resulted from being stranded in a stranger's flower garden with another stranger who might be dying and had just done something impossibly magical to her.

  The mellow voice turned abruptly businesslike. "Hello, who is this?"

  "This is, uh, this is Thea. Calling from Mace's phone."

  "I noticed that," said the smooth tones of the voice that apparently belonged to Gio. He had an Italian accent, curling lightly around the words. "Why do you have Mace's phone?"

  "Because—he—gave it to me?"

  "Why did he give it to you?" Gio prompted, gently patient. "Are you all right? Is he?"

  "I'm okay," she said, though she had to force it out of her tight throat. She was. She always was, after a panic attack. Or she would be, given time. "But he's not. He's hurt somehow."

  "How badly hurt is he?" Gio's voice was still calm, but there was a tense undertone.

  "I ... I don't know. He told me to call you."

  "All right," Gio said, as if it was perfectly normal for Mace to instruct her to call a friend rather than 911. "Where are you?"

  "I don't know. Mace—Mace took us somewhere." She swallowed, feeling the panic crawling up again, the unthinking loss of control that she could not allow to claim her. "I don't know how. I ... I don't know." And that was the worst part.

  "What do you see around you?" Gio asked.

  "Plants. Flowers." She struggled to pull herself together enough to give more coherent and helpful answers. "There's a spring. It has a carved stone lion on either side."

  "Oh, there!" Gio sounded suddenly lighter and happier. "You're at the lion spring. It's one of Mace's favorite places. No wonder he took you there, if he was in desperation. Hold on, I will be there in a few minutes."

  "A few minutes? Wait, where are you?"

  "Just up the hill," Gio said. She heard the sound of a door closing in the background. "You're actually on my land right now. I'll be there to pick you up shortly. Is he bleeding?"

  "No—no, I don't think so, it's just a ... a little dart, a thing that guy shot him with."

  "That guy," Gio murmured. She heard a car door slam, the rev of an engine. "Black robe, by any chance? Glowing tattoos?"

  "Who the heck are you people?" Thea yelped out.

  Gio laughed softly. "All questions will be answered, my dear. How is Mace? Is his breathing steady? Pulse? Does he look—normal?"

  "He's breathing," she said, forcing herself back to the matter at hand. She touched her fingertips to Mace's neck. "There's a pulse. It feels—wow, pretty fast. I ... I don't have a watch, so I can't time it. And I don't know what you mean by looking normal. He's not turning purple or anything, I guess."

  "It's all right, if you don't know what I mean then it doesn't matter," Gio told her. "I'm going to hang up now, but you might be able to hear my car already."

  She could, a low growling engine not too far away.

  There had been a dart of some sort, she thought. She should get it out. She felt her way up Mace's sleeve and found the hard cylinder of the syringe embedded in his shoulder. She wrenched it out and dropped it.

  A moment later, a small convertible sports car skidded to a halt just on the other side of a bank of strong-smelling flowers.

  Thea had absolutely no idea what to expect Gio to be like, but from the voice on the phone, she hadn't expected him to be this old. He was straight-backed and moved with grace, however, despite the silver hair that fell loosely past his shoulders. It was like a lion's mane.

  "Hello, dear," he said, giving Thea a hand up. "Help me get him in the car. He can be such a great burden, and in an inconvenient location, too. Did your wizard follow you here?"

  "My, uh, what?" she asked, struggling with one side of Mace while Gio labored with the other. They were dragging him with a grip under the shoulders, and it was all they could do between the two of them to move him. Mace was apparently made of solid muscle.

  "The black robe and glowing tattoos."

  "Oh. No. I don't think so."

  "Small favors," Gio murmured. He folded down the seats of the two-door sports car, and with a lot of grunting and struggling, they managed to boost Mace into the back. There wasn't much of a backseat; Mace filled it completely, even with his legs doubled up.

  "Wait," Thea said, and she ran back to the spring. She had lost her satchel in the brewpub, but the one thing she did have was the dart. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and wrapped the dart in it, then brought it back to the car.

  "Do you habitually carry a handkerchief around with you, young lady?" Gio asked. He seemed impressed. "That's rare in this day and age, particularly for Americans."

  "Excuse me? I'm Canadian. And first of all, it's sturdier than a tissue, and better for picking things up, and more ... dapper. So yes," she said. "I do."

  "I don't know where Mace found you, but I like you," Gio said.

  He revved the engine and executed a neat turn on a graveled wide place in the road beside the spring. From there, they drove though what she thought might be olive trees, from what she could see in quick f
lashes of the headlights. She couldn't tell if they were on a driveway or a public road or what; it was just about wide enough for the car.

  They drove up the hill and parked in front of a large, low, rambling white building that looked like it was made of adobe or plastered stone. Discreetly placed spotlights half-buried in the hedges lit up the flowered shrubs around the door.

  "We really are in Italy," Thea murmured, mostly to herself.

  "You doubted it?" Gio asked, coming around to open the door on her side before she realized that was what he was doing.

  "I was in Toronto like five minutes ago. Toronto, Canada."

  "It was probably a little longer than that, if you came all the way here. Stonewalking takes time. It's just that you aren't as aware of the passage of time underground."

  "Can you do it too?" she asked, baffled.

  "Ah, no. I have been merely a passenger."

  Thea leaned into the backseat to check Mace's pulse and breathing. His pulse was still rapid, his skin cool to the touch, but he didn't seem to have gotten worse.

  "Is he awake?" Gio asked.

  Thea shook her head.

  "In that case, I have an idea that is preferable to dragging him into the house. My back can't take the strain. Wait here."

  With that, he strode away, vanishing around the corner of the house.

  "Wait—!" she began, alarmed, but he was already gone.

  "You certainly do have interesting friends, Mace," she muttered. "And even more interesting enemies."

  She leaned into the backseat, cautiously trying to rearrange his limbs so that he was in a more comfortable position. It was so strange seeing him like this. He was normally so in control; having him limp and helpless felt entirely wrong, and brought out an unexpected surge of protective anger.

  There was a loud rattling sound approaching from the direction Gio had gone. She jerked her hands guiltily away from Mace, and then stared as Gio arrived beside the car with a wheelbarrow.

  "You ... want to put him in that?"

  "Unless you have a better idea. I have a gardener who is quite strong, but he's gone home for the night and so has Maria, my cook. It is just us here."

  Better, she supposed, for late-night arrivals who might not have come in the normal way. Not so good for moving around an unconscious guy who was built like a brick wall.

  Between the two of them, with a lot of difficulty and a certain comedy-of-errors aspect, they wrestled him into the wheelbarrow. He didn't fit, his head spilling out onto the handlebars and his legs trailing on the ground, but Gio was right, it was easier than trying to carry him.

  "Around the side," Gio said, panting, and they pushed him down a crushed-stone pathway that tried to bind up the wheels at every opportunity. By the time they got him through an arched doorway onto a smooth tiled floor, Thea was sweating in the balmy night air and wondering if this was really that much easier after all.

  Gio flicked on a set of lights, recessed into the ceiling to cast a diffuse light over the ochre-tinted pillars and profuse plants. It appeared to be some sort of solarium, with a trellised arbor overhead and low, comfortable-looking furniture with all-weather cushions.

  "I was thinking he could recover here," Gio said.

  Thea helped maneuver Mace off the wheelbarrow onto a low couch. She carefully pushed a pillow under his head, and sat on the couch beside him. "Do you think he's going to? Recover, that is? Should we take him to a hospital?"

  Gio shook his white-maned head. "If his situation was truly dire I'd suggest it, but I don't think they would be able to do anything for him. They would only be confused."

  "I'm confused!" Thea burst out. "I don't know what's happening or how that guy was or why you know who that guy was, or how we got here, or—anything."

  Gio regarded her for a moment, resting a hand on one of the plaster pillars supporting the trellis and glassed-in ceiling.

  "What do you know about Mace?" he asked at last.

  "Absolutely nothing! Only that he's a ... well, I sort of thought he was a wack job, although a nice one, but now I'm starting to wonder. We just met today. He came to the university where I work, asking questions."

  "Ah," Gio said, his face clearing as some sort of comprehension dawned. "You're his archaeologist."

  "His archae—"

  "Sorry, didn't mean it that way. I am relieved to know how you fit into all of this, my dear. What was your name again?"

  "Thea," she said somewhat sullenly. "Thea Lanning. And that makes one of us. I don't know how I fit in, or what's happening. Or who you are."

  Gio swept a brief, courtly bow. "Giovanni Romano. My apologies."

  "And are you like—him?" She extended her hand to indicate Mace, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully. She couldn't help being very aware of his side resting against her hip on the too-narrow couch.

  "No, no. Just an ordinary old man caught up in all this weirdness like you."

  "I very much doubt that," Thea said, scowling at him. "So who was that guy back in Toronto, with the cloak and hood? You knew exactly what I was talking about right away. Mace said something about a cult, but he didn't mention these guys went around destroying things and shooting people with darts." And glowing, but she was still trying to convince herself that she hadn't actually seen what she thought she had seen—the glowing, fiery runes glittering on the stranger's hands and wrists.

  Gio regarded her with eyes that were still sharp and clear. "What do you know about Mace?"

  "I ... I know he's from Newfoundland and he's looking for a Viking medallion that he says is a family heirloom. Which I was skeptical about, but now I’m starting to wonder.”

  "Ah." Gio said. He clasped one hand over the other—strong-looking hands, although the veins stood out prominently—and then he said, "I believe the conversation we need to have would be better had over wine and refreshments. Or coffee? Do you have a preference?"

  "I—uh—" Her nerves were still jangling horribly, but she also didn't feel that getting muddle-headed would be a good idea. Suddenly she found herself crashing into a complete inability to make any sort of decision at all. "Both?"

  "Coming up," Gio said, and hurried off in what she couldn't help feeling was a strategic retreat.

  His quick footsteps retreated, leaving her feeling very alone.

  "Just you and me, I guess," she said quietly to Mace.

  She looked around the solarium. There was a sound of water splashing quietly somewhere out of sight. It was very serene and pleasant, but also very open and exposed. There was darkness between the pillars on two sides, and walls on the other two, including the arched entryway to the house that Gio had vanished into.

  Anyone could approach from any direction. She turned until she had her back to the house, which at least made her feel marginally safer. Now, however, she was looking down at Mace's slack face.

  It seemed more like sleep than stupor now. His breathing had evened out. Hesitantly, but then more boldly, she brushed some of his hair back from his forehead. There were a few strands of white mixed with the black; the effect was pleasantly distinguished.

  "How is it that I still trust you after all of that?" she murmured.

  Because she did. It was strange to realize the depths of it. He hadn't intended to put her in danger; she was very confident of that. And he hadn't realized he would hurt her by dragging her underground. He was only trying to get them away from the restaurant.

  She cautiously laid a hand along his cheek. His skin was very smooth, with a prickle of stubble against her palm.

  "I hope you're okay," she whispered.

  Approaching footsteps made her pull her hand back. Gio came out of the archway leading to the house, carrying a tray. Thea scrambled up and pulled one of the little tables over by the couch, and Gio laid out tiny cups of coffee, wine glasses and a sleek brown bottle, a loaf of bread and a small ewer of olive oil and some cheeses.

  "Wow," she said, looking at the spread. "So this is your idea of a late-n
ight snack. Uh—what time is it here?" It had to be late, she was realizing, although she couldn't remember the exact time zone conversion between Toronto and Italy.

  "Almost two in the morning," Gio said, and she winced. "Don't fret," he added, and tore off a piece of bread. He poured some olive oil into two shallow saucers and offered one to her. "I was only reading. At my age, one is often awake late and up early. I napped early in the evening and had little appetite for sleep when the time came. You two have made my night more interesting."

  "You've certainly made mine interesting," she muttered, reaching for a piece of bread. She couldn't help smiling reluctantly as she dipped it in the olive oil. "This reminds me of one of my first digs, back when I was a student, working on a dig in Sardinia."

  "Ah, Sardinia! It is beautiful there."

  "I thought so too. Back in those days, I could work on a dig all day and then go out drinking with my fellow students and night-swimming after." She meditatively twisted off a piece of bread, and glanced down at Mace. "Gio, I understand that you can't tell me all his secrets. I don't want you to. I'd rather hear it from him. But who are the black-robed people?"

  "Aha. Them." Gio poured two glasses of wine and pushed one toward her. "They are magicians."

  "You implied that before. But are you talking about ..." She swallowed. "Real magic?"

  "Yes," Gio said, all solemn earnestness now. "They are an ancient cult, dedicated to preserving magical traditions from the Middle Ages, or perhaps even earlier."

  Thea gave him a careful look to make sure she wasn't being made fun of. He seemed sincere. "So this Norse medallion that Mace is so eager to find—it's magic too?"

  "We think so."

  No wonder Mace hadn't told her everything. She would have laughed him out of her office. But it was much easier to believe now. You could doubt someone else's account of events, you could even doubt your own eyes, but it was impossible to discount the experience of being yanked into the earth and spat out five time zones away.

  She shuddered, the closing-in feeling creeping over her again. Instead of the wine, she reached for the coffee. The cup was comfortingly warm in her cold hands.