Stone and Claw: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  “Right, then,” he said firmly, shifting back and wondering, not for the first time, if he was drifting toward being one of those sorts who carried photos of his cat around in his wallet. “I’ll give you some time to sort out whatever’s bothering you. I’ll bring you back something from wherever I end up. How’s that sound?”

  “Meow,” said Raider.

  “Downtown” was an ambitious term to describe the tiny cluster of buildings comprising Encantada’s business district. Spread out along a half-mile of heavily wooded two-lane road, the picturesque village reminded Stone of a smaller version of Woodside or Portola Valley, two more upscale, woodsy little towns not far from Stanford. The difference was that Encantada made it clear, in its genteel way, that it didn’t encourage visitors who didn’t have reason to be in the town. The main road—the only way in—wasn’t well marked. The sign pointing the way tended to get overgrown by vegetation and was rarely maintained, whether by inattention or design, so you either had to intend to go there or take a wrong turn looking for something else. Once you got in, getting out wasn’t any easier: at the other end, the road terminated at a large church that dated back almost two centuries, meaning the lost traveler would be forced to turn around and retrace their route to get back out.

  To his surprise, though, Stone had discovered something unexpected during his infrequent trips down to pick up something from the tiny hardware store. Encantada’s residents, despite their near-pathological passion for privacy, seemed a pleasant lot and not at all the snobbish and elitist bunch he’d been expecting. When he’d first learned of the town, he’d feared he was moving into a nest of the sort of wealthy Americans he despised: the crass, materialistic types who considered others somehow lesser beings because they hadn’t had the same advantages in life.

  To test this hypothesis, he’d deployed an illusion on one of his early visits, disguising himself as a disheveled young man in torn jeans and an old T-shirt before stopping by a tiny sandwich shop tucked into a secluded alcove. Contrary to his expectation—that he’d either be shown the door or served with cold efficiency while being constantly watched—the shop’s proprietor had greeted him warmly and even offered suggestions about some selections he might find to his liking. The worst he could say was that Encantada’s residents seemed, as a rule, to treat both newcomers and each other with a kind of quiet reserve. Stone didn’t mind that at all. To him, the only thing worse than finding himself in a town full of snobs would be finding himself in one full of busybodies. Snobs, at least, could be entertaining if properly handled.

  On this pleasant, late-summer evening, it took Stone less than half an hour at a leisurely walk to traverse the short distance from his home to downtown. On his way, he passed two joggers and one dog-walker, all of whom smiled at him as they passed but didn’t stop to chat.

  He didn’t have a lot of options for food if he wanted to stay in town. The only restaurants he’d discovered were the sandwich shop, an elegant, expensive place that didn’t do takeout, a gastropub called “The Enchanted Grotto,” and an indie coffee shop that boasted excellent brew but didn’t serve food. He supposed he could stop by the tiny gourmet grocery store and pick up something to attempt to cook—though Verity didn’t think he’d noticed her subtle efforts to involve him when she prepared meals, he had actually managed to pick up a rudimentary skill or two—but that would take too long. If he got back soon, he could get some more work done on his latest magical research project: trying to reverse-engineer the spell they’d used on Calanar to enchant clothing to adjust to its wearer’s size. He’d been so busy he hadn’t had much time to work on it lately, but he was sure he almost had it. Such a thing could prove quite useful.

  Sandwich shop it was, then. He’d pick up something for himself, a small, all-meat version for Raider, and be back home before eight.

  The place was popular—a few other customers stood around inside its narrow dining area, obviously waiting for takeout orders. Stone placed his and took a seat at one of the tiny tables, idly watching the others with magical sight: a mother and father with two preteen children, an older woman on her own, and a man in sweatpants and T-shirt who looked like he’d just finished a run. The man got his food and departed, and two more women entered.

  As Stone continued to wait, switching off magical sight and instead studying the shop’s old-fashioned décor, he noticed one of the children was watching him. The two of them, a boy and a girl, had wandered away from their parents and stood near the opposite wall. The boy, perhaps ten or eleven, ducked his gaze when he realized Stone had spotted him, but then seemed to gather his courage. He whispered something to his sister, then moved closer to Stone.

  “Hi,” the kid said. He looked nervous, which made sense—children that age had it drilled into them from infancy not to talk to strangers, but yet here he was.

  “Hello.” Stone glanced toward the boy’s parents, who were chatting with the counterman about their order.

  “You just moved here, didn’t you?”

  “Er—yes. Why?”

  “I rode my bike past your place and saw you out front talkin’ to the truck guy.”

  Stone had never been comfortable around children. They were unpredictable, difficult to read, and he never knew what they might say or how to respond to it. “Er,” he said again, noncommittally.

  “That place has been empty a long time. Have you seen the ghost?”

  “Ghost?” Well. This was interesting, at least.

  The boy looked pleased, as if he’d stepped onto firmer ground. His tone took on more eagerness. “Yeah. That place is haunted. Didn’t you know? Wow, your real estate guy shoulda told you or something.”

  Neither the real estate guy nor the solicitor had mentioned anything about the place being haunted—but there had been that business with the encyclopedia…

  “Is that so? How do you know that?”

  “Everybody knows. Some old lady owned it.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I heard she died in it and they never found her body.”

  “Well, that’s not true. I knew the lady who owned it. She was a lovely person. Died recently, yes, but not in the house. So if that’s who you think the ghost is—”

  “Nah.” The kid waved him off. “She’s not the ghost. S’posed to be some old professor guy.”

  “Is that right? Where did you hear this?”

  “Like I said, everybody knows it. He really did die in it. Long time ago. They say he just dropped dead while he was readin’ a book one night.” He looked Stone up and down. “You got any kids?”

  “Er—no. Sorry. It’s just me.”

  “Just you? All by yourself in that big ol’ house?”

  “Aidan! What are you doing?”

  The boy’s mother had finally noticed her son wasn’t where she’d left him. She hurried over, shooting Stone a suspicious look, and gripped the boy’s shoulder. “Get back over here—we’re leaving in a minute. Don’t bother this man.”

  “Oh, it’s no bother,” Stone said. He stood and offered his hand and an encouraging grin. “Alastair Stone. I just moved into town recently, and your son has informed me I’m living in a haunted house.”

  “Oh!” She shook his hand and returned the smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, then. I’m Tricia Carey. That’s my husband Scott, and these two monkeys are Aidan and Hannah.”

  “Pleasure’s mine.” Stone could sense her tension dissipating even without looking at her aura—score another one for the charm and the accent.

  “I hope Aidan wasn’t disturbing you.”

  “No, not at all. I’m fascinated. Do you know anything about this so-called ‘haunting’?”

  “He’s livin’ in that big old place on Wilding Road,” Aidan said, excited.

  “Really?” She eyed Stone with more interest as her husband came over carrying their bag of sandwiches. “I’d heard someone moved in there—saw a few contractors’ trucks when I drove by. Honestly, I was beginning to wonder if anyone would
ever live there again. They used to rent it out, but it’s been vacant for years. Are you renting?”

  “No. I knew Adelaide Bonham, the owner, several years ago. Did some work for her. She passed away recently and left the place to me.”

  Next to Tricia, Aidan and Hannah’s eyes got huge. “The old lady gave you that place?” Aidan demanded.

  “Wow…” Hannah breathed. She looked to be a year or so younger than her brother.

  “Guys, enough,” Scott Carey warned. He offered Stone his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr.—”

  “Stone. It’s a pleasure.”

  “I was tellin’ him about the ghost,” Aidan said. “Askin’ if he’s seen it yet.”

  Tricia sighed, rolling her eyes at her son, then shot an apologetic look at Stone. “I’m sorry. That place is—well, I guess it’s sort of a local legend among the kids in town.” Once again, she turned sternly to Aidan and Hannah. “Listen, both of you—I know kids sometimes used to go there and look in the windows. No more of that. Do you understand? I don’t want you two disturbing Mr. Stone.”

  Aidan looked disappointed, but nodded. “Yeah. No more.” He brightened. “You aren’t gonna be havin’ a housewarming party or anything, are you?”

  “Aidan!”

  Stone chuckled. “I’m afraid not, Aidan. I’m not really much of a party sort. But if I see any ghosts, I’ll be sure to let you know next time I see you.”

  “Cool!” Aidan and Hannah allowed their father to herd them off toward the door. “Nice meetin’ ya!” the boy called back over his shoulder.

  “It is,” Tricia said. “I’m sure we’ll see you around—everyone eventually gets to know everyone around here. It’s a nice, quiet little town. I’m sure you’ll be happy here.”

  Stone picked up his bag and set off toward home, deep in thought. Normally, he would have written Aidan’s “ghost story” off as the kind of folklore passed on from child to child regarding anyplace that remained unoccupied for too long. Especially given the fact that his new house, with its high, steeply-peaked roof and gray stone façade, could easily fit a child’s idea of what a “haunted house” might look like.

  But there was still the matter of the book falling off the shelf…and now Raider was acting odd. It was well documented, even among mundanes, that animals were often sensitive to things humans couldn’t see. Could the cat have noticed something he’d missed, even with magical sight? Could the echo of the old professor Aidan mentioned, or even some other echo entirely, still be in the house? Possibly even more than one?

  Without consciously realizing he was doing it, Stone picked up his pace to a swift stride and arrived home a few minutes later. “Raider?” he called. “Where are you? I’ve got something for you.”

  Raider rarely came when called, but he must have smelled the sandwiches this time. A flurry of footfalls sounded from somewhere upstairs and a moment later the tabby came thundering down, skidding to a stop in front of Stone with his gaze fixed on the bag.

  “Ah, I see where I rate.” Stone ruffled Raider’s fur. “Come on—I want to have a look at you.”

  He pulled the meat out of Raider’s small sandwich, put it on a plate, and set it on the floor next to the dining table. Then he settled back with his own and a Guinness, switching to magical sight as he ate.

  Raider, tearing eagerly into the roast beef, looked no different than he had before. His aura glowed the same shade of green as always—the red flashes from the traumatic experience that had brought him to Stone in the first place were long gone and had been for months. Stone was no expert on animals, but from everything he could see, Raider looked like a textbook example of a contented, mellow cat.

  He finished the sandwich, tossed the wrapper, and stood in the dining room a moment holding his bottle of Guinness. Come on, he admonished himself. You’re not going to believe some fanciful story from a child you met in a sandwich shop, are you?

  But there was the matter of the encyclopedia…and the fact that a ley line ran right through the middle of the house.

  Fine. He’d work on the spell later. He could at least take the time to do a quick walkthrough and see if anything turned up.

  An hour later, after he’d tramped through the entire house—all three floors, the attic, the basement, and even a quick check around the perimeter outside—and examined each room with magical sight, he dropped into the desk chair in his study with a sigh.

  Nothing.

  Aside from the ley line itself, the magic items he’d brought with him, and the rudimentary wards he’d put up around the house until he had time to construct better ones, he hadn’t seen any sign of magical energy, echoes, or anything else of interest. He paid particular attention to the encyclopedia volume, thinking perhaps the “ghost” might be associated with it in some way, but it appeared as mundane as everything else.

  “Well, that was a waste of time,” he muttered.

  At least it wasn’t too late yet. He still had time to get in a decent amount of work on the tailoring spell, and maybe even work on some updates to his next series of lectures. He reached for one of the reference books on the corner of his desk.

  Raider sat in the study’s doorway, watching him intently.

  He frowned. The cat had followed him around during most of his wanderings, but that wasn’t anything new. Now, though, he sat in the exact center of the open doorway, tail wrapped around him, unmoving. Only his eyes followed Stone’s actions.

  “Raider, what’s got into you? You’re acting quite odd tonight. Is something wrong?”

  “Meow.”

  Wait—he answered?

  Stone put the book aside and stood. “Did you just answer me?”

  “Meow.”

  Okay, this was strange even by Stone’s decidedly liberal standards. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “Meow.” Moving with deliberate calm, Raider padded across the room and leaped onto the desk, all without taking his gaze off Stone.

  “Okay…” Feeling foolish, Stone shifted once again to magical sight, this time making an extra effort to sharpen his focus. The magic came easily when he called for it—ever since he’d returned from Calanar, he’d noticed a definite increase in his power level, and his arcane perceptions were no exception.

  Still, at first he didn’t see anything. Raider’s aura was still its usual pale green, just as it always was. Nothing unusual about—

  “Hold on…” Stone tensed as he narrowed his focus to Raider’s face. Something about his eyes—

  There it was. Faint and difficult to see even with the extra power Stone was pumping into the spell, it was nonetheless there: a faint flicker of bright blue around the cat’s curious green eyes.

  “What the…?” He leaned back, keeping magical sight up so he didn’t lose track of the blue glow. “Raider—do you understand what I’m saying? Meow once—no, twice—if you do.”

  Raider tilted his head, looked him in the eye, and meowed twice.

  “Bloody…hell.” Stone’s heart thudded harder, and an electric flush crept over his body. Speaking with care, he said, “Have you…always understood what I’m saying? One meow for yes, two for no.”

  “Meow. Meow.”

  He frowned. “No? So when did you start? Wait, that’s not a yes-no question.” He thought of the odd way Raider had acted earlier that day—the way he’d seemed so unusually intent, and perched on the encyclopedia. “Is it only since you’ve moved in here?”

  “Meow.”

  Okay, so there was something about the house. That was curiously comforting—the thought that his feline companion had been capable of conversation and sentient thought ever since the two had begun sharing space was more than a little disturbing—especially given the number of times Raider had been in his bedroom during overnight visits from Verity and other women. He studied the cat, pondering.

  Raider held his gaze for a few more seconds, then leaped off the desk and returned to his spot on top of the encyclopedia volume.
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  Stone swiveled his chair around. “Is there something about that book you want me to notice?”

  “Meow.”

  It occurred to him then that he’d never actually examined the book, nor had he gotten rid of it when he moved in. It seemed logical that he would have done so—who wanted a single volume of an outdated encyclopedia set, after all? Even stranger, when he’d first arrived at the house the shelf had included other volumes of the incomplete set, but he’d gotten rid of those along with other useless items he’d found in other rooms. Why hadn’t he trashed this one along with the others?

  Curious now, he got up and walked to the shelf. Raider obligingly shifted position, moving farther down while still keeping him in view.

  He picked up the book. It was a volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica, and looked to be at least fifty years old. Nothing struck him as odd or unusual about its cover; it looked old and well used, weathered and faded from no doubt sitting on a shelf in a vacant house for many years, but otherwise fine. He carried it back to the desk, and Raider followed. The cat seemed unusually interested in what he was doing.

  He opened the front cover. No inscription on the flyleaf, which didn’t surprise him since it was Volume Fifteen of the set. “Is there some entry in here you want me to see?” he asked Raider. At this point, it didn’t even occur to him to feel strange about talking to a cat as if expecting the creature to understand him. His mind had shifted firmly from the mundane to the magical realm now, and in the world of magic, a talking cat didn’t even move the meter compared to some of the things he’d seen.

  “Meow. Meow.”

  “No? Hmm…all right, then—we’ll do this the hard way.” He picked up the heavy volume and began flipping through it.

  Puffs of dust rose, and some of the pages stuck together from disuse, but he did his best to flip each one. He had no idea what Raider was trying to tell him—perhaps someone had written something in one of the margins?

  The book had a lot of pages, and he almost missed it as he passed the halfway point and re-adjusted his grip on the spine. Something flashed by—something that didn’t look like part of the book itself.