Stone and Claw: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  “It feels good to be all back together,” Verity said. “I miss the days when we used to get involved in all that crazy stuff.”

  “You miss the Evil?” Jason asked. “Nostalgia’s one thing, but that’s a little much.”

  “I don’t miss the Evil. But I do miss the—I don’t know—the hunt? The thrill? What happened back in July reminded me how good it felt, dealing with that kind of stuff. Don’t you think so?”

  “I guess so,” he said, with less conviction. “But you gotta remember, I don’t have the same resources you two do. I gotta solve problems with my brains and my fists.”

  “Well, at least you’ll get the chance to do that,” Verity said. “Maybe you’ll get some exciting cases up here.”

  “I hope so. So far it’s mostly been following cheating husbands, hunting down insurance fraud, and locating people’s birth parents. It’s satisfying, sure—couple months ago I found a woman’s mother and they had a great reunion—but…yeah, I wouldn’t say no to a little more excitement.”

  “Well, there was Vegas. That was pretty exciting.” She sobered. “I wonder how those kids are doing…”

  Jason looked thoughtful. “Yeah, me too. I hope they’re okay.”

  “At least they’re out of that hellhole and they get a chance to have a normal life. That’s better than they’d have had without us.” She motioned for Jason to slide out of the booth so she could get out. “Anyway, back in a minute. I gotta hit the ladies’.”

  When she’d disappeared into the Friday-night crowd, Jason settled back and regarded Stone, who’d remained silent for the last several minutes. “It is good to be back.”

  “Indeed.” Stone pondered a moment before continuing. Ever since Verity had told him Jason was returning to the Bay Area with the hope of starting an agency, a thought had been knocking around his mind, but he had no idea how Jason would respond to it. “Jason…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Have you got a bit of free time tomorrow? I’d like to chat with you about something.”

  “Uh—sure, yeah. V too, or just me?”

  “Just you, for now. This doesn’t really concern her—at least not yet.”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not gonna—I dunno—ask for her hand in marriage or anything, are you?”

  Stone chuckled. “Oh, bloody hell, no. Even if I did intend to ask her to marry me—which I don’t, because that isn’t what she wants—she’d murder me in my sleep if I did anything so presumptuous.”

  “So, what then?”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow. You can come by the house if you like—it’s come along quite nicely since you helped me with that floor upstairs. Or we can go have a beer someplace if you prefer.”

  Jason tilted his head; Stone could almost see the wheels turning as he tried to figure out what this was about. “Yeah, let’s have a beer. V has to work for a couple hours tomorrow afternoon, so that’ll work out.”

  Verity returned and slid back in, this time nudging Jason over instead of waiting for him to get out. “Did I miss anything?”

  Jason glanced at Stone. “Not sure yet. I guess I’ll let you know.”

  5

  Jason met Stone at the Fifth Quarter, an upscale sports bar in Palo Alto where they’d gotten together to drink and shoot the breeze several times over the years. He glanced around before he sat down. “Wow, haven’t seen this place in a while. Remember we came here after the Evil blew up your old place?”

  “Not something I’m ever likely to forget.” It had already been nearly four years since the two of them, bloody and rattled from their near-miss escape, had sat in this very booth to discuss their options. Stone hadn’t even met Verity yet.

  “So what’s this about?”

  Once again, Stone hesitated. “I’ve been thinking about something, and I wanted to run it by you to see how you felt about it.”

  “You look like you’re not sure you want to tell me.”

  “It’s not that—it’s more that I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

  “Well—just spit it out, I guess.” A brief flash of suspicion crossed Jason’s face, and Stone was sure he was convinced it had something to do with Verity.

  “Right, then.” Stone sipped his drink and met Jason’s gaze head-on. “I want to invest in your agency.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You want to open a private investigation agency somewhere in the area, and you need funds to do that. I want to invest.”

  Jason blinked. His gaze never left Stone, and he looked as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard what he thought he’d heard. Finally, he managed: “Why?”

  “Why not? I’ve never been hurting for money, and after Desmond’s bequest that’s changed significantly for the better. You’ve certainly done enough for me over the years—why wouldn’t I want to help you, and invest in your future at the same time?”

  Jason shook his head. “No. Al, no. I can’t let you—”

  “You’re not letting me. I want do to it.” He leaned forward. “And I seem to recall a friend telling me once that I was quite pigheaded when I refused to accept help when it was offered. Hmm…who could that friend have been?”

  When Jason still didn’t reply, he spread his hands. “Look: if you’re worried I might want to come in and take over, you’ve nothing to be concerned about. I haven’t got the time or the inclination for that. I don’t want to be involved in any of the day-to-day decisions. We could set it up so I’m a sort of silent partner. We can even draw up a proper legal agreement if you like.” He picked up a bar napkin, pulled a pen from his pocket, and jotted a figure, then slid it across the table. “That should be enough to get you started and keep the lights on for long enough to build a client base. You’ll have to do all the work, of course. When I say I don’t want to be involved, I mean it.”

  Jason glanced down at the napkin, then gaped. “Holy shit, Al. This—no. I can’t take that much. Hell, that would keep the lights on for a year if I just sat on my ass and played solitaire all day.”

  “Well, I do hope you’re not planning to do that,” Stone said dryly. “And don’t forget—it’s not a gift. It’s an investment. I’ll be a part-owner in your agency—a silent one, as I said. If you feel strongly about it, you can buy me out over time after you’re more successful. Besides, it might be useful to have your services available on occasion.”

  Again, silence hung in the air as Jason swirled the beer in his glass. “Al—” he said at last. “I don’t know. I mean—it’s an amazing offer, don’t get me wrong. I figured I was gonna have to work for somebody else for at least a few months before I could even get a bare-bones operation going. Either that or go into debt, if I could even get somebody to give me a loan. But—” He sighed. “You gotta understand—I know you understand, because you’re the same way. I want to do this on my own. You’ve already done so much for me, for V—”

  “I do get it. I’m sure I’d make the same protests if the situation were reversed. But don’t forget—you’ve done a lot for me, too. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead several times over. That includes when my house blew up.” He leaned back, looking at a point somewhere beyond where Jason sat. “And funny thing—I’m still remembering someone telling me something about how daft it is to be stubborn and refuse to accept help when there’s no downside. Took me a while to realize that, but he was right.”

  He leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. “Listen, Jason—I’m rubbish at asking for help, and so are you. I’d say it’s that whole male-pride thing, but your sister’s every bit as bad at it as we are. We’re really quite a sad lot, when you think about it. Perhaps it’s time for all of us to admit that we seem to have a hard time staying away from each other, and let some of that pride go.”

  Jason swallowed, clearly still torn. “It’s so much, though. It’ll take me years to pay that back, even if I’m successful.”

  “Make it less if you like,” Stone said. “Fine with me either way. But I’m
telling you—remember back when we first met, you asked me if I was ‘loaded’, and I told you I was more like ‘comfortably well off’? Well…after Desmond, I’ve definitely moved significantly into ‘loaded’ territory now.” He pointed at the napkin with the figure written on it. “I promise you—I won’t even miss that. And I can’t think of anything better to invest it in than helping a friend I know is going to be a success.” He chuckled. “Come on, Jason—go for it. Keep me from buying some ridiculous sports car I have no need for.”

  Jason had to grin. “You’ve never struck me as a mid-life crisis kind of guy. But then, V did say you’re in a band now…By the way, when’s your next gig? Maybe I’ll come by and check it out.”

  “Erm.” Stone thought, half-amused, half-embarrassed, of The Cardinal Sin’s last few gigs and the effect they always seemed to have on Verity. If that happened with Jason around, their fragile détente regarding the subject would almost certainly suffer a setback. “I’ll—have to check the schedule. Anyway—what do you say? If you agree to my offer, we can have my solicitor draw up some terms to keep it all nice and legal, and you can get started shopping for office space and night-vision goggles and a tuxedo and whatever else private investigators need to do their job.”

  “I’m gonna be a PI, not an international spy.” He shook his head with a loud sigh, casting another glance down at the napkin. “Can I think about it? I’ll give you my answer tomorrow, if that’s okay. Believe me, Al, I appreciate it. But I gotta decide if this is something I can deal with.” His eyes narrowed. “Hey, you didn’t cook this up with V, right? She didn’t ask you to—”

  Stone held up his hands. “No, no. I promise. She doesn’t know anything about it. That’s why I wanted to meet with you privately at first. But you know…if you need a consultant, you could do worse than her. She’s already proven she can be a big help with missing-person cases.”

  Jason’s gaze lingered on him for several more seconds—it couldn’t have been more obvious he was trying to determine to his satisfaction that Stone was telling him the truth about not colluding with Verity. Finally he took another sip of his beer. “That’s not a bad idea, if she’s willing. Of course, I’d have to figure out how to show my work—can’t tell the client we found their missing child using magic—but that’s down the road. First I need to decide If I’m going to do it this way at all—and get it off the ground.”

  He finished the beer and stood. “Thanks, Al. Really. No matter which way I decide, I want you to know I appreciate the offer. And—please don’t tell V about it, okay?”

  “My lips are sealed. It will remain between us until you decide otherwise.”

  “Great.” He clapped Stone on the shoulder as they both stood to go. “See you later.”

  6

  Stone half-expected Jason or Verity to call later, suggesting the three of them all go out to dinner together. When he looked up from his work and discovered it was already almost seven, he decided they must have made other plans. Perhaps Jason was talking his offer over with Verity after all; Stone didn’t expect he’d be too successful at keeping it a secret from her, especially if she checked out his aura.

  He closed the book he’d been reading and leaned back in his chair to discover Raider perched on the edge of the desk, watching him with a steady, green-eyed gaze. “Well,” he said, holding out his hand to the cat. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, mate. Fancy a pizza?”

  Actually, he wasn’t even sure the pizza places delivered in Encantada—he’d never checked, and he didn’t recall seeing any in the town’s tiny downtown area. Back at the Palo Alto place, he’d occasionally find ads for pizza or Chinese food delivery hanging from his front doorknob, but he supposed they didn’t do things that way around here. For one thing, the houses were farther apart and most of them were either set far back from the road, surrounded by walls or fences, or both.

  He supposed it was as good a time as any to take a walk into town and check things out. Before he’d officially moved in, his visits had been limited to poking around the house doing his little DIY projects and trying to stay out of the way of the contractors doing the real work. He still had to unpack the boxes in the basement and set up his magical sanctum, not to mention going shopping for some proper furniture so the place didn’t look like an upscale warehouse. He had a lot of rooms to fill, but didn’t feel in any pressing hurry to finish the project.

  Raider was still watching him, still sitting neatly on the desk corner with his striped tail wrapped around him. He’d always been expressive for a cat, but tonight his gaze looked particularly perceptive, almost as if he had something he wanted to say.

  Stone reached out and ruffled his fur. “What do you think? Shall I bring you back some pizza? Chinese food? A nice lobster tail with drawn butter? Mouse à l’Orange?”

  “Meow,” said the cat.

  “That’s not an answer.” It amused him how often he carried on one-sided conversations with Raider. Before the cat had come into his life, he’d always thought of such behavior as borderline mental—the province of crazy cat ladies and old men who spent too much time alone. Now, though, after more than a year, he did it without even thinking about it. He supposed he shouldn’t worry too much about it unless he did it in front of other people—or unless the cat answered.

  “Meow,” Raider said again. He padded forward and planted himself on top of Stone’s closed book, ducking his head for more petting.

  Stone obliged as he gathered up his books with magic and stacked them on the edge of the massive desk. He’d been surprised and pleased at how fast the cat had adjusted to this change in circumstances. After Edwina Mortenson had come by last year to help him deal with the traumatized feline, he’d picked up a couple of books on the subject and learned cats were creatures of routine—they were at their happiest when life moved at a steady and reliable pace, mealtimes occurred consistently, and disruptions were kept at a minimum. Since Stone’s life was the very definition of “disrupted,” he’d occasionally thought early on that it would be kinder to Raider if he found him another home with someone more regular in their habits.

  He kept meaning to do it, but after several months had passed and the tabby seemed to be handling things with aplomb, Stone decided that perhaps his new roommate was an exception to the usual feline stereotype. Of course it had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he’d grown attached to the little beast.

  Nothing at all.

  Ever since he’d stepped out of the carrier into the sparsely furnished living room, Raider had settled in to the new place with the curiosity of a scientist and the demeanor of a monarch surveying his new realm. Stone wasn’t sure how much of the place he’d explored—in fact, he worried a bit because he himself hadn’t examined the entire house with enough attention to detail to ensure there weren’t any small holes or openings Raider could lose himself in—but he’d already located his litter boxes on all three levels, identified several favorite sleeping places, and claimed a perch in front of one of the larger picture windows looking out into the sizable backyard. He seemed pleased at the amount of local wildlife, entertaining himself for hours watching squirrels, birds, roaming cats, and the occasional raccoon. One evening while Stone lounged on the sofa, the cat had leaped into his lap, put his paws on his chest, and looked him in the eye as if to say, “Yes, human—this place will do.”

  Raider’s favorite place, though, without a doubt, was the study. It had been obvious from the moment Stone had done his first walkthrough of the house on the day the solicitor had informed him of Adelaide Bonham’s bequest that this room had been designed as a study or library: it had two walls of built-in bookshelves as well as a large window looking over the backyard. As soon as he entered it, Stone felt a sense of peace and contentment, almost as if the room were welcoming him. He still hadn’t explained the old book that had dropped off one of the shelves while he was checking it out, but it hadn’t recurred so he wrote it off as the house settling or some
thing. Just because the place had a ley line running through it didn’t mean there was anything magical going on inside.

  At least not before he moved in, anyway.

  Raider was still watching him. It was a bit unnerving, honestly—the cat’s wide-eyed green stare was pleasant enough, but he usually deployed it on mice, birds, or errant dust bunnies. Now, it was fixed firmly on Stone.

  “Something I can do for you?” he asked, ruffling Raider’s fur again.

  “Meow.”

  That was the other odd thing: Raider wasn’t normally that talkative.

  “You’ll have to give me more to go on than that, I’m afraid. My feline language skills are regrettably lacking.”

  Raider tilted his head, held Stone’s gaze for a couple more seconds, then leaped from the desk and up onto one of the lower shelves. There, he settled himself on another book.

  “Raider, whatever you’re up to, you’ll have to sort it out on your own. I’m off to get something to eat.” He stood, pushed in the chair, and prepared to leave the room.

  He stopped when he realized what book the cat was sitting on.

  He hadn’t unpacked all his boxes yet; several of them, all full of books, still waited for his attention in the room’s corner. But Raider wasn’t sitting on any of those he had unpacked. Instead, he was comfortably positioned atop the same old encyclopedia volume that had startled Stone by sliding off the shelf and dropping to the floor during his walkthrough, seemingly of its own accord. The cat continued to regard Stone with smug interest.

  Stone shifted to magical sight. He felt a little embarrassed about doing it, especially when he spotted nothing out of the ordinary. Raider’s aura looked as it always did: green and vibrant. Animals’ auras were all green. Many humans’ were too, of course, but those usually glowed much more brightly unless something was wrong.