Balance of Power: An Alastair Stone Urban Fantasy Novel (Alastair Stone Chronicles Book 25)

by R. L. King

  With everything going on, he’d almost forgotten about another item he had on his calendar. When it popped up on the Friday morning a few days prior to the auction, he’d briefly considered begging off, but the impulse didn’t last long. The Cardinal Sin had been booked for a couple of months to play at a bar in downtown Palo Alto, and they couldn’t very well go on without their lead guitarist. Despite his preoccupation with more important matters, he couldn’t let them down.

  To his disappointment, neither Verity nor Jason and Amber could attend the show.

  “Sorry, Doc,” Verity told him when he texted. “You know I really hate missing your shows, but I already made plans with the Harpies. I could bail, but—”

  “No, don’t do that. You have fun. Next time, maybe.”

  “For sure,” she promised.

  He didn’t bother contacting Jason and Amber, because he knew they were planning to head to Lake Tahoe for the weekend to visit Amber’s brothers. Jason had made him promise to get in touch if anything came up with the Drummond situation, but that wasn’t the same thing as missing a concert.

  He was on his own tonight, but that was fine. It might even be good to get his mind off things for a while. Sometimes his brain worked best when it was otherwise occupied.

  “Looking a little glum tonight, Stone,” Gerry Hook called. “You okay?”

  The rest of the group was already there, setting up on the small stage. Stone leaped up and unlatched his guitar case. “No, no, I’m fine—just have some things on my mind.”

  “We need to get you loosened up.” Radha Unger, the lead singer, grinned at him. “Go get yourself a beer.”

  “I’ll get one during the break.” He plugged the cable into his red-and-black Strat, scanning the crowd as he fondly remembered when Jason and Verity had “given” it to him for his fortieth birthday. It hadn’t exactly been a gift since he already owned it, but they and Aubrey had braved the Surrey house’s dusty attic to locate it and then had it restored to its former glory. The faded sticker on the back said Fever Dream, the name of the previous band he’d been in during his university days. Things had been so carefree back then, full of studies and magic and drinking too much and hanging out with Eddie and Ward and Imogen…

  At least until his father had been killed, and everything had changed.

  “Hey.”

  He glanced up to see Gerry Hook giving him a sideways look. “Oh—sorry. Woolgathering a bit, I guess.”

  “You sure you’re okay? I forgot there was that business with your friend getting hurt recently—”

  “I’m fine, Gerry. Really.” He pulled up his best imitation of a cheery grin. “Ready to rock.”

  Hook shook his head, amused. “We have got to get you laid, Stone.”

  That stung a little. He hadn’t been with anyone since he and Verity had broken up, mostly because every time he thought about going out to a club, his motivation had deserted him. Still, he kept his tone light now. “Yes, well—that’s not something I need your help with, thanks.”

  Hook snorted. “Yeah, not that I could be any help. Been out of the game for years.” He clapped Stone’s shoulder. “Come on—let’s make some music.”

  As always, most of Stone’s stress and unease melted away as soon as he hit the first riffs of “Highway to Hell,” their opener. He forgot about the pyramid and Brandon Greene and Leander McGrath, and even Portas Justitiae, in favor of letting the pounding beat of the music resonate through his body. How had he ever even considered skipping the gig? Music didn’t give him the same high as magic, but it wasn’t as far off as he remembered—and it was a hell of a lot less complicated.

  None of the Sin’s songs, mostly covers with a couple originals written by Radha and bass player Jake Cohen, were musically rigorous. The band was about having fun, playing hard-rock favorites and getting the fans moving. Stone’s fingers flew over the Strat’s strings without his conscious thought, leaving him free to continue scanning the crowd. He shifted to magical sight, reveling in the brilliant, mingled auras of happy people. Some were dancing in the cleared-out space in the middle, some tapping their feet or bobbing their heads at the tables or the bar, a few focused more on their companions than the music but still looking unworried and relaxed. It was a good show, and just what he’d needed.

  When it was over, including an encore following the crowd’s enthusiastic applause, he helped the others take down the gear and then headed to the bar for another Guinness. Some of the crowd were already drifting out now that the show was over, but most had remained. A couple even came over to congratulate him and his bandmates for a great show.

  As was usually the case, the other three left before he did, citing family obligations the following day. “Next one’s in a month,” Hook reminded him as he prepared to take his drums out to his van through the back exit. “And don’t forget the pub next week.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.” During the previous, uneventful quarter, Stone had gotten back into the habit of attending the Friday-night pub-crawling group with several fellow professors, and realized how much he’d missed it. “Good night, Gerry.”

  He sat at the bar and finished his Guinness, enjoying the relaxed feeling of coming down off the show’s energy. Now that he was no longer performing, some of his more immediate thoughts began trickling back in again, but he refused to focus on them. For tonight, he could put them aside and pretend he was a normal, mundane man out for a pleasant evening.

  Even so, he decided against another beer. He wasn’t even close to tipsy enough to worry about driving home yet, but as he looked around and saw no one else he knew, he decided it might be best to go home rather than hanging about here like a lost dog. Perhaps he could pop over to England to pick up the pyramid and spend some time studying it. Ever since Kolinsky had told him of the extradimensional substance, he’d been meaning to take a closer look.

  He left his empty glass on the bar, slipped off the stool, and bent to retrieve his guitar case.

  Something careened into him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

  Stone took a staggering step back as a slim arm shot out to grab his in an attempt to steady him. He jerked his gaze up to find himself facing a dark-haired woman in her middle thirties. She was staring at him with wide-eyed, flustered concern.

  “I am so sorry,” she spluttered again. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, and—”

  “Oh, sure, I get it,” a drawling male voice spoke from behind her. “I see how it is. You’ll fall all over the guy in the band, but you won’t let me buy you a drink.”

  Stone regained his balance and scanned the man and the woman. She was still looking concerned, shooting glances back and forth between him and the other guy. She wore a fashionable blouse, designer jeans, and a loose-fitting, flattering blue jacket, her shoulder-length hair pulled back from an attractive, intelligent face. A pendant with a large blue stone and a silver setting hung around her neck.

  “Er—quite all right. No harm done.”

  From behind her, the guy grabbed her upper arm. “C’mon back to the table, honey. Let’s have that drink.” He glared at Stone. “And you mind your own business, okay?”

  Stone shifted his gaze to him. He was in his late twenties, clad in typical club-bro gear: jeans, black polo shirt, leather jacket. He had short-cut hair, a goatee, and heavy brows which were currently beetling over angry eyes. Even from where he was standing, Stone could tell he’d had too much to drink.

  “I think you should do as the lady asks and let her go. Suppose you sit down and have another drink? I’m buying. How would that be?”

  “Suppose you fuck off, asshole.” The man glared hard at him, but didn’t let go of the woman’s arm. “This isn’t your concern.”

  “It’s okay.” The woman wrenched free of the man’s grip, but otherwise ignored him and focused on Stone. “I was just headed to the ladies’ room anyway. Really sorry I ran into you. I didn’t hurt you, did I
?”

  “No, of course not. Honestly, it’s fine.”

  “Great show tonight, by the way.” She flashed him a smile. “Your band had the place rocking.”

  “Thank you, that’s very kind. I—”

  “I said to mind your own business, fuckwit,” the bro said. “The lady’s with me.”

  “Where did you get that idea?” She glared back at him. “Get away from me. You’re drunk, and I don’t even know you.”

  “Stuck-up bitch.” He lashed out snake-quick, pressing his flat palm into Stone’s chest and shoving hard.

  This time, Stone held his ground. “Best if you don’t do that again.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what are you gonna do about it if I do?”

  At this point, the guy was getting loud. Stone wondered if he’d need to use a bit of subtle magic to discourage the guy, but to his relief their altercation had attracted the attention of the bar’s bouncer, who slipped up behind him with far more grace than a man his size should have been able to manage.

  Stone nodded past the bro toward the bouncer. “Me? I probably won’t do much. But he might.”

  “Hey, buddy.” The bouncer’s large hand closed around the bro’s shoulder. “I think you’ve had a little too much tonight. Come on, time to go. I’ll call you a ride.”

  To nobody’s surprise, the guy sputtered a token protest but deflated when confronted by somebody who could obviously take him apart without breaking a sweat. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Get your hand off me. I’m goin’. Ugly bitch isn’t worth my time anyway,” he muttered. He was still muttering as the bouncer escorted him out through the front door.

  The woman watched them go, then turned back to Stone and rolled her eyes. “Well, that was awkward. Sorry you had to see it.”

  “Glad I was here to be of at least some help.”

  She shook her head. “He’s an asshole. He bought me a drink without asking if I wanted one, then got pissed when I told him to get lost. It sucks that a girl can’t sit at a table by herself and have a beer without that type sniffing around and refusing to take no for an answer.”

  “I’m sorry. I hope the rest of your evening is more pleasant.”

  He expected her to thank him and continue on toward the restrooms, but instead she gave him a sideways glance. “You know, that really was a good show. Bar bands can be hit or miss, but you guys were great.”

  “Thank you. We have a good time, but we’ve got no illusions of greatness. Just four university professors making a bit of music in our spare time.”

  “University professor? Really?” She looked him up and down. “I never would have guessed. You don’t look like a professor. But I suppose you get that a lot.”

  There was no mistaking it now, even without a glance at her aura: her interest wasn’t feigned, and neither was the way she was looking at him. He took a chance. “I’m Alastair Stone. At the risk of sounding like our obnoxious friend, may I buy you a drink? I promise if you’d rather not, I will absolutely take no for an answer.”

  She considered, then flashed an easy grin. “Eleanor Newman. And sure, why not? It’ll give me a good story to tell at work, anyway. Not often a rock star buys you a drink.”

  He laughed. “Not on my best day, I’m afraid. The ‘rock star’ bit, I mean. But I suppose you can stretch the truth…to make a better story.”

  They got beers—he ordered another Guinness, and she got a local microbrew—and he nodded toward the other side of the room. Most of the band’s crowd had thinned by now, leaving a few open tables. “Shall we sit over there instead of at the bar? Bit quieter.”

  “Sure. And you can tell me all about how a college professor ended up playing bar gigs.”

  He watched her as she sat across from him, shifting briefly to magical sight. Her aura was golden yellow, touched with a few red patches that clearly indicated she found him at least somewhat interesting. “Not much to tell, really. I go out pub-crawling periodically with some fellow professors. Gerry, our drummer, was already in the band, and their lead guitarist left when his wife fell pregnant. Gerry knew I played, so he asked me. And the rest is history. Of a sort, anyway. The sort no one cares about except us and a few of our students.”

  Her grin was infectious. “And me, apparently.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t presume to think so, but I certainly won’t object. And what about you, Eleanor Newman? What do you do with yourself?”

  “Nothing nearly as exciting. I’m a marketing manager at a tech startup in Sunnyvale.”

  “Sounds fascinating.”

  “No, it really doesn’t. But it pays the bills, and it’s easier on the feet than waiting tables.”

  He watched her as she talked. She had a trim, athletic figure and sparkling honey-brown eyes. “What brings you out here? I can’t imagine you came all the way from Sunnyvale to see a bar band you’ve never heard of.”

  “Came with a friend, actually, but she had sitter issues and had to leave early. By then, I was enjoying the music so I figured I’d stay for the rest of the show.” She glanced around, taking in the old movie posters decorating the walls. “Do you live around here?”

  “Not too far. Little town called Encantada, a few miles from the University.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed. That’s a nice area.”

  “It’s quiet, which I like.” He sipped his Guinness and watched her as she was looking around. He hadn’t gotten out of the habit of scanning the women he found attractive with magical sight, even after Deirdre had been so long ago. Her aura remained unchanged, except possibly the red patches might have grown a bit larger.

  “My place is quiet, too—a little too quiet, actually. I used to work at another startup in the City. They offered me more money to come down here, but Sunnyvale is basically a bedroom community. Not much going on. I’ll probably move back up again if I can find a better offer.” She grinned. “You know us startup people: always job-hopping.”

  Stone didn’t know, actually—despite the area being taken over by the technology industry, he’d never spent much time learning about it. “I suppose that could be exciting.”

  “But not for you.” She gave him a knowing, sidelong glance. “How long have you been at the University?”

  “About ten years now.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Really? You don’t look old enough to have been a professor that long.”

  He shrugged and smiled. “What can I say? Good genes, I suppose.”

  The returned the smile and fixed him with an amused, slightly predatory gaze. “You know, I was just thinking something.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Well…I was thinking we could sit here and keep making small talk over a couple of beers, or we could…continue our discussion somewhere a little more private.”

  Stone risked another quick look with magical sight. He wasn’t misreading her signals. “What did you have in mind?” he murmured.

  “You did say your place wasn’t far from here…I’d love to see it.”

  “And I’d love to show it to you.”

  “Sounds like we’re both on the same page, then.”

  “Indeed we are. Shall we?” He set his glass back on the table, rose, and picked up his guitar case. “Do you have a car here?”

  “No, I came with my friend. Was going to get a rideshare home.”

  “Brilliant. Makes things easier, doesn’t it?” Part of Stone was wondering if this was a good idea, preoccupied as he was with other things. But he did think better when his mind was relaxed, and what Eleanor was clearly proposing was definitely relaxing.

  “Wow.” Eleanor looked up as Stone tapped the button to swing open the wrought-iron gates to his house. “I’ve heard Encantada is nice, but I wasn’t expecting something this impressive.” She chuckled. “I know it’s none of my business, but they must be paying professors a lot better than I thought.”

  “They’re not. It’s…a bit of a long story.”

  “Oh, that’s all right. It’s none of my
business, and it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re not a Mafia don or something.”

  “I promise, I’m not. Or any other sort of criminal mastermind. As dons go, I’m closer to Oxford than Mafia.” He pulled the car through the gates and parked it in front of the garage.

  “Aww.” She sounded mock-disappointed as she got out. “That’s too bad. A criminal mastermind could be intriguing. Certainly a lot more exciting than the usual engineers and marketing guys I date.”

  “Don’t say that yet. I’m really a bit of a homebody most of the time. And you haven’t met my cat.”

  She laughed. “You’re serious.”

  “Oh, quite. I warn you, you’ll have to meet with his approval. But that’s not hard to do. Offer him a bit of tuna and he’s all yours.”

  She eyed him appraisingly when they reached the front door. “And what about you? What can I offer you?”

  “Well…I don’t care for tuna, but I’m sure we can find something.”

  Raider was nowhere to be found when he pushed the door open and waved her inside. “Sorry—he’s a bit skittish around new people.”

  “That’s all right.” Her voice had a new huskiness. “I’m sure I’ll see him.”

  “Probably. Shall I get us some wine?”

  “Yes, but let’s not drink it now. Let’s save it for…later.”

  “I like the way you think. Give me just a moment.”

  Heart thumping in anticipation, he hurried to the dining room to retrieve one of the bottles he kept in a small rack on the sideboard, a corkscrew, and a pair of glasses. He thought about Gerry Hook’s comment from earlier that evening, and wondered briefly if it might be possible his friend had set him up. But Hook had already left, and Stone knew if he had tried, he’d have remained behind to watch from afar to see if he’d succeeded.

  No, sometimes these things just happened when you least expected them. He’d brought home women he’d met at clubs before—just not since Verity. I’m out of practice.