by R. L. King
Stone leaned forward, stretching his legs back to the floor. “Where is Verity?”
“I already told you that too—she’s fine. She has no idea you’re here. It’s best for her that way, I think, so she doesn’t worry. Your apprentice is quite an extraordinary young woman, Dr. Stone. I’m glad you brought her to our attention.”
“Why, so you can brainwash her into your little cult too?” Stone snapped.
Behind Nessa, Canby shot him a cold stare. “Come,” she said, gently taking Nessa’s arm. “We’ve already told him far more than he needs to know.”
“It’s all right, dear,” she said. “No reason for him not to hear the truth.”
“Because you plan to kill me.” Stone rattled the manacle again. “This is like some bad film—you’ve no trouble trotting out your entire mad plan because you never expect me to get out of here alive.”
“Oh, no,” Nessa said. “I told you before: we’ve no intention of killing you.”
“Then you plan to keep me prisoner here forever? You can’t possibly be deluded enough to think I won’t do everything in my power to shut down your whole organization here—and even destroy it, if I can manage it—if you let me go.”
Nessa smiled. “If we just let you go, of course I would expect that. But we’ll make sure certain…assurances are in place before you leave here.”
A chill ran through Stone. “Assurances?” No…Verity is still here… Would they threaten Verity to keep him in line?
“That’s for later too, Dr. Stone,” Canby said. She raked him with an appraising gaze. “I must say it’s been a pleasure, finally meeting you. I’ve often wondered what you were like, ever since I found out about you.”
He almost ignored her, but then glanced up quickly. That’s an odd thing for her to say. He remembered back to the other times they’d met, and his continued feeling that they’d encountered each other before. “Found out about me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her only answer was an enigmatic smile. Nessa had reached the door now, and opened it. Canby hurried to catch up with her, and the two of them exited. Another woman slipped past them into the room, holding a hypo full of the pale green liquid. “Lie back, Dr. Stone,” she said.
Stone didn’t move. He was still staring at the door, struggling to force his brain to dredge up where he might have encountered Canby previously. He pictured her face as he played back their previous meetings: the chapel the night before Desmond’s funeral, the brief conversation following the service, the gathering of mages in St. Albans. Even Verity had commented that she’d seemed familiar, or possibly resembled someone else she knew. But—
Stone froze as at last his memory rewarded him. He didn’t even try to resist as the woman immobilized him with magic, then moved in to administer the dose into his arm.
Bloody hell, it can’t be…
How could I have forgotten what she said?
How did I not make that connection?
As clearly as if the conversation was occurring in front of him at this exact moment, his mind replayed something Canby had said to him when they’d first met:
“My grandmother was an old associate of Desmond’s.”
Her grandmother.
Stone sank back to the bed, his head reeling. Shock gripped him as it finally fell into place who she reminded him of—and how Verity could have had the same association.
It was all so obvious, now that he’d put it together.
Nessa Lennox was Anna Canby’s grandmother too.
The resemblance he’d kept noticing—her tall, slim frame, dark hair, sharp features, and blue eyes—hadn’t been to some other person.
It had been to himself.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Stone sat up quickly when the door opened, but then sank back down when he saw it wasn’t Canby or Nessa Lennox coming in. Instead, two women he didn’t recognize stepped into the room. One had blonde hair, the other dark red. He still couldn’t track the passage of time, but he thought it might have been a couple of hours since the others had departed.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“You are coming with us,” the blonde said. “It’s time for you to be prepared.”
“Prepared for what? I’m not going anywhere. Where are Canby and Lennox?”
“You’ll see them soon—they’re finishing up some details while we prepare you. Now, please don’t give us any trouble. You won’t be successful, and it won’t go well for you.”
The redhead remained by the door, while the blonde moved in closer. She pulled something from a shoulder bag: another set of manacles. “When I release you, you’ll stand up and put your hands behind your back. I have a shield up, so trying to attack me is pointless. Please cooperate.”
Stone didn’t want to cooperate—doing so went against his every instinct—but if he was going to make any kind of escape attempt, this clearly wasn’t the time or place for it. Even without the ability to read auras, he had no trouble sensing both women’s heightened vigilance. Apparently they considered him a worthy adversary even without his magic. That was flattering, he supposed, if ultimately pointless.
The blonde made a small gesture, and Stone felt the manacle around his wrist pop open. “Stand up now, please,” she instructed. “Turn around, and put your hands behind your back.”
Stone did as he was told. “Where are you taking me?” he asked as she snapped the new set of manacles—like handcuffs, but more substantial—around both wrists. The chain between them was only about six inches long.
“Come along,” she said, prodding his arm.
“Fine, fine. You’re not much for conversation, are you?” He followed them out of the room, and the blonde closed the door behind them.
Outside, he looked around. They were in a smooth-walled passageway lined with more dark paneling, and no windows. The floor was cold stone under his bare feet.
“Follow me,” the redhead said, and began walking. From behind, the blonde prodded him to a start and then walked along a couple steps back, forming a line with Stone in the middle.
He walked as slowly as they allowed, trying to get a feel for where they were. The narrow passageways still had him convinced they were underground—were they even still at the women’s complex, or had they taken him somewhere else through the portal while he’d been unconscious? He had no way to know, but the earthy, salty aroma permeating the air made him suspect they still were—perhaps closer to the sea than they had been previously. Clearly if that were so, the women hadn’t shown him and Verity everything on the tour.
His mind still spun with the new information he’d learned. He and Anna Canby were related? In the space of a few days he’d gone from having no living relatives to having at least two—both of whom apparently wanted him for some nefarious purpose. He wondered who her father was. It made sense that his mother (Acantha, not Peregrine—all these years, he hadn’t even known his own mother’s correct name!) had been with other men before she’d seduced his father into marrying her. Fairly close in time, too, since Canby couldn’t be much older than he was. He didn’t think he was likely to find out, though.
In between dark thoughts about his past, he’d spent the last couple of hours mostly thinking about how the hell he was going to get out of here. He still wasn’t convinced they didn’t plan to kill him—Nessa Lennox and Canby had lied to him before, and he had no reason to trust them now. That meant he’d probably be wise not to let them get away with whatever they had planned for him.
He had an ace in the hole, of course, but he’d have to be very careful about when he chose to use it. He knew enough about alchemy to know that elixirs and mixtures such as the one the women had given him had to be quite specialized in their design; they’d already told him that they’d customized it to him after they drugged him. But they couldn’t customize a concoction to cover something th
ey had no experience with. Sure, they’d apparently (temporarily, he hoped) curtailed his ability to do his usual magic, but that didn’t mean they’d done anything about his other magic. He wondered what they’d think when he unleashed a dose of Trevor Harrison’s otherworldly power on them.
That was definitely an option—perhaps his only option—but it was a tricky one. He’d have to choose his opportunity carefully, because he’d only get one shot at it. At that point, he’d be completely without magic for at least a day or two, so he’d have to rely on his wits to complete his escape. That meant he couldn’t do it until he was sure he had a good chance of getting away.
There was also the matter of Verity. He couldn’t simply leave her here. Even if she knew nothing of what was going on, she wasn’t safe here—especially if the women chose to use her as leverage to coerce him to return. He’d have to find her and get her out as well. The other advantage to that plan was that she’d still have her magic. If they were still at the complex, all they’d have to do was find the portal. If they could do that before anyone caught up with them, they could escape someplace where Stone could recover his power, and then plan their next move.
That, however, was a lot of ifs. And first, before any of the rest, he’d have to get away.
The women had led him down two other narrow hallways, continuing to prod him along when he moved too slowly. He shivered a little; the thin pajama bottoms he wore weren’t much insulation against the chilly air. More evidence that they were probably underground.
At last they reached a door at the end of one of the halls. The redhead opened it, and the blonde shoved him inside.
The room banished any doubt he’d had about being underground. A chamber about the size of a large suburban living room, its walls and floors were carved rock. Like the rest of the area Stone had seen down here, it had no windows. In the center was what appeared to be a large, raised tub, surrounded by more carved rock. A set of carved steps led up to it. The sound of running water echoed off all the walls, and steam curled up from the water and disappeared.
Stone paused, taking the room in. Aside from the tub dominating its center, it contained only a couple of heavy wooden armoires against the far wall, a table-like stone platform, and a large basket. Laid out on the platform were a folded white towel and a collection of soaps, scrubbers, and bottles.
The blonde stayed at Stone’s side while the redhead went to one of the armoires. She returned carrying something made of brown fabric over one arm, and a pair of slip-on sandals. She indicated the tub. “Please. Bathe. Refresh yourself. When you’re finished, put these on. You can put the pants in the basket.” She held up the brown fabric, revealing it to be a long, belted robe, then laid it on the platform along with the sandals.
“Not really my style,” Stone said, though he had to admit that after his time chained to the bed in the tiny cell, a hot bath looked quite appealing.
“You can do it yourself, Dr. Stone, or we can assist you. It’s up to you.” The blonde made a gesture and the manacles dropped off and floated over to her.
In other circumstances, the idea of two attractive young women giving him a bath might have been appealing, but not now. “No, no—I can manage.”
“Excellent. We’ll be just outside. Knock on the door when you’re ready. If you don’t come out in thirty minutes, we’ll come in to retrieve you. Once again, please don’t get any ideas about trying to escape or overpower us. It won’t work, and we’d hate to risk injuring you.”
“Right,” Stone said sourly. “Can’t have you injuring me before your boss kills me. Off you go, then.” He shooed them toward the door.
After they’d departed and locked the door behind them, Stone took another look around the room. As he’d expected it contained no other exits, unless he counted the narrow shaft in the ceiling through which the steam escaped. He examined the bottles on the table—they contained various gels and lotions, but were made of plastic so they had no potential as weapons. He opened the armoires, which were bolted firmly to the wall, and found they were empty except for a few more brown robes. Just to be sure, he checked to see if the elixir might have worn off early and his magic was coming back—no such luck. The packed-cotton feeling returned instantly as soon as he tried to shift to magical sight.
“Fine,” he muttered. “At least I’ll get a bath out of it.”
He selected a few of the items from the platform and set them on the tub’s edge, then shucked off the pajama bottoms, climbed the steps, and lowered himself into the water. It felt wonderful after his captivity; for several minutes he leaned back against the edge and let himself luxuriate in the hot water, feeling it relax his tense muscles. The water seemed to be constantly circulating, probably fed by some underground hot spring. If he weren’t so concerned about what Canby and his grandmother had planned for him, he could easily have fallen asleep right there, to hell with the women waiting for him.
With visions of the blonde and the redhead bursting in on him halfway through his bath, though, he reluctantly got down to business. He had a thorough scrub, then ducked his head under the water and washed his hair as well. It definitely felt good to be clean again. Finally, he climbed out, dried off thoroughly, and donned the brown robe, cinching the belt tightly around his waist. It hung down nearly to his feet. He thought about putting on the pajama bottoms underneath, but he suspected the women would object to that. Instead, he tossed them in the basket along with the towel.
As he slipped his feet into the sandals, he rubbed his stubbled jaw and wished they’d let him shave, but he supposed giving him access to razor blades wasn’t in their plans.
For a moment or two, he contemplated trying to ambush his captors as they opened the door, perhaps tossing some of the soapy gel into their faces or using the towel as a garrote, but he discarded the idea before it got very far. They’d be expecting something now, and in any case he had no idea how to get out of the underground passageways. He’d been looking for an exit as the women had taken him to the bath chamber, but seen none.
No, he’d wait, trying his best to lull them into thinking he was cooperating before he made his move. He’d have to spot an exit at some point, and there couldn’t be that many women down here. It wasn’t as if he were facing an army. It was possible, in fact, that many of the group’s members had no idea what those at its upper levels were up to.
He knocked on the inside of the door, then stepped back and waited. After a moment it swung open, revealing both women standing back in poses of readiness.
“Thought I’d try to jump you, did you?” he asked conversationally. “I’m not that much of an idiot.” He held out his arms, displaying the robe. “Quite dapper, no? I still say it’s not my style, though. Brown isn’t my color, and I’d prefer something that shows a bit more leg.”
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” the redhead ordered.
Clearly, these women had no senses of humor. With an exaggerated sigh, Stone did as requested, and the blonde snapped the manacles back into place.
“Honestly, I’ve no idea what you’re worried about. You’ve got me dosed up with your anti-magic concoction—what do you expect me to do, run away?”
“Just being prudent, Dr. Stone,” the blonde said. “Turn around, please, and let’s go.”
“Fine. Do I finally get to find out where the party is, then?”
“Move,” the redhead ordered.
With no other options, he moved.
They backtracked down the hallway they’d taken to the bath chamber, then turned in the opposite direction and kept going. To Stone’s surprise, he soon felt their path beginning to slope upward. He paid careful attention as he walked, soon sure he was right. Were they exiting the underground area?
It appeared that was exactly what they were doing. The path continued sloping at a gentle grade until it ended in wooden double doors. The redhead g
estured and they swung open, revealing a tree-lined path outside. The sky above was black, with a silvery, slivered moon providing the only illumination. A strong smell of the sea and the rhythmic cadence of waves crashing on a nearby beach filled the air. For now the weather appeared clear, with no sign of rain or fog, but the chill permeated Stone’s robe and he shivered again. He glanced over his shoulder and wasn’t at all surprised to find the door gone, replaced by thick foliage—no doubt a powerful illusion.
The blonde prodded him again before he could try to pierce it. “Keep moving. It will be warmer where we’re going.”
“I hope so,” he muttered, regretting his decision not to keep the pajama bottoms. “I’m freezing my bollocks off in this robe.”
As he walked, he did his best to figure out exactly where he was, but so far that proved difficult. Now that they were outside he was certain they hadn’t left the women’s complex, but the darkness made it difficult to identify their exact location. Either this part of the complex didn’t include the fairylike path marker lights, or they’d turned them off. “How far are we going?” he asked as they turned onto another path. “Don’t you people have little motor carts or something?”
“It’s not too much further,” the redhead said.
Stone was beginning to think the complex comprised a lot more space than what the women had shown him and Verity on the tour. He could tell by the stars that they were moving in a mostly easterly direction, away from the sea, but that wasn’t helping him place their current location in his mental map of what he’d seen of the complex. If he intended to make a break for it he’d have to do it soon, and hope he could get someplace he recognized before they discovered he’d gone missing.