by R. L. King
“Oh?”
“Yes.” She pointed at the second name, Del Wright. “Dr. Wright is on the faculty here. In this department, as it happens.”
He stared at her. “Really?” Things didn’t often go that well for him. “Are you sure it’s the same Del Wright?”
“His photo will be on the wall—I’m not sure when he started here, but it was before my time. Probably sometime back in the Eighties.”
“Indeed? Excuse me a moment.” He hurried down the hall and scanned the photos again, starting shortly after the one of Thaddeus Benchley and working his way through the more recent ones. It couldn’t be the same man—that was too easy. But the age was right…
When he saw the photo, he was sure. It was in the section covering the late Eighties, so that would make Wright only about fifteen years older than he’d been in the Daily photo. Even accounting for the graininess in Stone’s clipping, the resemblance was too close to be a coincidence. Both had wide foreheads, curly dark hair, and easy, laid-back smiles.
He returned to the admin. “You’re brilliant—that’s him, all right. Is he in his office right now? I’d love to chat with him.”
“He’s not—he doesn’t spend much time here, since he only teaches a couple of courses a week.” She typed something and consulted her screen. “He should be in on Monday. Why don’t you give him a call then, or stop by? Maybe he can help you find out what you’re looking for.””
“That’s great. Thank you so much.”
19
Friday evening Stone drove down to San Jose, stopping for dinner at A Passage To India on the way.
Marta Bellwood, the proprietor, smiled as he came in. “Alastair. Haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been? You look like you’re finally getting some sleep, at least.”
“I am, yes. How are you?”
She indicated the dining room, full of couples and groups enjoying their meals. “Can’t complain. Want to try the tandoori chicken? Nikhil really outdid himself tonight.”
“Sold.”
When it was ready, she delivered it to his table herself. “Do you mind if I sit with you for a few minutes, or are you meeting someone?”
“Please.” He indicated the chair across from him. “Not meeting anyone—I’m on my own tonight.”
He’d thought about asking Verity or Jason to accompany him on his scouting mission, but Verity was spending the weekend in San Francisco with Kyla, and had told him last time they’d talked that Jason had a date with a woman who worked at the law office next door to his new agency. “Dunno if it’ll go anywhere,” she’d said slyly, “but maybe if he gets some action he’ll quit giving us the side-eye.”
“What brings you down here?” Marta asked. “Are you heading back home for a bit?”
It was a reasonable question—he’d been using the portal in the restaurant’s downstairs storage room quite a lot this past summer to travel back and forth between California and England, helping his friends Eddie Monkton and Arthur Ward convert Caventhorne, the late William Desmond’s massive manor house, to a resource center for use by the magical community. He’d also been doing quite a lot of research about his family’s dark past following the shocking revelations he’d discovered. He hadn’t been back since his trip to Calanar, however.
“No—got some things to do down in San Jose.”
She brightened. “Jason and Verity stopped by the other day. I’m so glad he’s back in the area again. I think it’ll be good for you to have your friends back.”
He chuckled. “It’s not like we’re setting up play dates, Marta. They’ve got their own things to do. Jason’s busy as hell getting his agency started.”
“Oh, I know—he told me. But still—I think he’s glad to be back too.”
Stone lingered over the chicken—it really was delicious—chatting with Marta about innocuous topics for the next hour, as the restaurant’s customers gradually trickled out following the dinner rush. Finally, though, he couldn’t stall any longer, and stood.
“Please send my compliments to Nikhil. I promise I’ll stop by more often. Got to go now, though.”
“Take care of yourself, Alastair. And if you’re off to do something dangerous, I don’t want to hear it. Unless I can talk you out of it, at least.”
“Nothing dangerous—I hope. Good night, Marta.”
Stone was right about the area containing the location of Garra’s meet: it was a run-down section of east San Jose, dominated by warehouses and uninspiring light-industrial buildings. Surprisingly, though, the address he was searching for was not either of these, but an abandoned school.
He’d deliberately headed there nearly an hour before the scheduled time, so he could scope the place out before either Garra or whoever she was meeting with arrived. He parked the BMW on the next block, cast a disregarding spell over it so it would blend in with the surroundings, and activated his disguise amulet to make him look like a twentyish man in a hoodie and jeans. Then he walked back, looking the place over as he approached.
It was hard to see much, as it was quite dark around here. The only illumination came from two street lights and a few perimeter spotlights placed at strategic points around the razor-wire-topped chain link fence surrounding the buildings. From what he could tell it had been a typical California elementary or middle school: most of the buildings single-story, with a few two- or three-story ones scattered around. It had clearly not been occupied for quite some time; even from where he stood outside the fence, Stone could see signs of scrubby weeds poking up through the asphalt of the playground, and graffiti-sprayed plywood covered many of the windows.
He paused, hands in his pockets, and took the place in as best he could from where he stood. Garra was meeting a contact here? He couldn’t be sure this had anything to do with her search for antiques or artifacts, since the planner entry hadn’t provided any clarification, but what else could it be? It hardly seemed likely she was meeting someone here for a romantic encounter.
Frowning, he had another thought: Garra had faked her identity to get the job at the University. That showed her willingness to lie—perhaps she’d lied to him about her reasons for seeking the antique shops, too. If the chalice in the sketch was her target, could she perhaps be planning not to buy it, but to steal it? Her aura hadn’t budged when he’d asked her about her interest in the shops, but that might not mean anything. If she had connections to the supernatural world, she might even know how to conceal her reactions—or she might not have any to start with.
But if she wasn’t looking for items to add to her collection—either the chalice alone or others, too—what was she looking for? Or, alternatively, maybe she was looking to add to her collection, but having failed to find what she was seeking by legal means, she’d branched out and now sought to obtain items by less aboveboard methods. Perhaps she didn’t plan to steal them herself, but to arrange with someone else to do it for her.
That actually made the most sense of anything so far, given the meet’s location. A thief or fence might not operate from a fixed location, or might not want to reveal that location to someone he wasn’t familiar with.
He wondered if the attack outside Hubbard’s party had anything to do with this. If she’d tried this before, perhaps she’d somehow gotten on the bad side of some shady character, who’d decided to come after her. That doesn’t make sense either, though, he thought, frustrated. Why would someone follow her all the way out to Los Gatos? Surely there would be better places to jump her if that was their intent.
You won’t know until you check out this meet, so you’d best get going.
He glanced around with magical sight to make sure nobody was watching, then pulled up a disregarding spell and levitated over the fence. When he touched down on the other side, he dropped to a crouch and looked around again, but nothing moved.
There was one major problem with his plan: he had no idea which of these buildings Garra would be meeting her contact in. When he’d seen the addre
ss, he’d expected it to be a warehouse or other single structure, making it easy for him to hide somewhere and observe, but this made things much more difficult. Even though the school wasn’t a large example of its kind, it still spread out over two or three sizable blocks. Long, narrow classroom buildings mixed with larger gym, auditorium, and administration buildings, with wide expanses of cracked blacktop and scrubby dirt playgrounds separating them. There were all sorts of places she could go, and if he picked the wrong one it would take him enough time to cross the campus and reach her that he might miss her—especially if the conversation or exchange took place quickly. If she was doing something illegal, he doubted they’d hang about and chat afterward.
He looked around again, pondering. He still had some time—he could take a walk around the area and look for open doors, uncovered windows, or some other indication of a convenient meeting spot. That would take quite a while, though; if either Garra or her contact showed up early, they might spot him wandering around. Even if they mistook him for a homeless squatter or teenage tagger, it still might spook them into relocating.
His gaze fell on the auditorium building. It was some distance away, located in the center of campus. More importantly, though, it included a bell tower rising above a tall, steeply pitched roof. He smiled. There we go.
Less than five minutes later he was in the tower, perched where he could look down and observe nearly every other part of the campus.
It was a better vantage point than he could have hoped for. The space inside the top of the tower that had once held the bell—it was long gone now—was only about four feet on a side, with open arches in all four directions. Below his feet, a trap door in the dusty wooden floor no doubt covered a ladder downward, but it was locked. Nobody would sneak up on him from there. It wasn’t ideal—since the tower was at one end of the auditorium, he couldn’t see what was going on at ground level at the other end—but if he turned around frequently and used magical sight, he should be able to spot anyone approaching from nearly every angle.
He glanced at his watch—a little less than half an hour until the meet time, and he expected both Garra and her contact to show up early. Hell, the contact might already be hiding somewhere inside one of the buildings, waiting for her to show so he could get a look at her as she approached. That couldn’t be helped, though—magical sight was a versatile thing, but it didn’t let him see through walls.
So now, all he had to do was wait.
It was quiet out here; except for the occasional distant rumble of a car or truck driving by or the occasional far-off howl of a police or ambulance siren, Stone heard no other sound of human habitation. It made sense: most of the businesses out here wouldn’t be open this late, and the school had obviously been derelict for a long time. With the possible exception of homeless people seeking shelter or perhaps drug dealers using the place to conduct business, it was unlikely anybody else would go through the trouble of finding a way through the stout chain-link fence.
He pulled his coat closed against the light wind. It was starting to get chillier at night now, in mid-October, but at least it wasn’t raining. The moon shone bright in a clear, black sky, providing a bit more illumination now as Stone’s vision adjusted to the darkness.
Where was she? He glanced at his watch again: nine fifty-five. If she didn’t want to be late for her ten o’clock appointment, she’d need to already be on campus somewhere. Had he managed to miss her? Had she come in from the one side he couldn’t see from his vantage point?
The longer he crouched there, scanning as far around the area as he could, the more convinced he grew that she had entered the campus behind him. Hell, she could be directly under him now, conducting her business inside the auditorium.
I’d better check, or I’ll be sitting here all night.
He rose, took one more look around, then cast a disregarding spell on himself. He could use invisibility, but since no one would expect someone to be floating around high overhead, this one should be fine to conceal him for his brief scouting mission. He stepped onto the roof and levitated upward, drifting to the opposite end of the auditorium building. Once there, he activated magical sight and repeated his sweeping scan. If Garra was here, her green aura would glow brightly against the drab, lifeless darkness of the abandoned campus.
Nothing.
He checked the walkways, the playgrounds, even along the edge of the chain-link fence, but spotted no sign of Garra or any other human presence. The only living thing that showed up was the faint green aura of a cat creeping along the perimeter of the gymnasium, probably out hunting for careless mice. He felt a certain frustrated kinship with the cat—apparently neither of them was finding what they were looking for. Perhaps in his haste he’d misread the address, or the time, or—
A loud, screaming snarl ripped through the silence.
20
Startled, Stone jerked in the air and nearly bobbled the levitation spell. He caught himself an instant before it slipped and sent him plummeting to the ground, then quickly reoriented and scanned the area again.
What the hell had that been? It had come from in front of him—probably inside the gym—and whatever it was, it hadn’t sounded human. It hadn’t even sounded like an animal—unless a tiger or some equally large predator had escaped from a local zoo. He had time for two absurd thoughts: had the sound somehow come from the stalking cat he’d spotted, or had the mountain lion from near Hubbard’s house managed to make it all the way to San Jose?—before he dropped lower and flew toward the gym.
It occurred to him that the sound might be a diversion—had someone spotted him and used it to draw him away from the action? But there were a lot easier ways to do that than to mimic the scream of a predatory beast. Whatever was in there, it had to be connected with Garra’s meeting.
The scream sounded again, followed by the unmistakable crack of a gunshot.
Bloody hell! Stone touched ground and immediately dropped both spells, swapping them for a shield. He took off at a run, scanning the building’s sides for a way in.
There! At the far end, he spotted a closed door. Was it unlocked? Was that the way they’d gotten in? It didn’t matter—locks wouldn’t stop him. He picked up his pace and reached the door in a few seconds as the roar once again echoed from inside. There must be a window broken or open somewhere, since the walls were far too thick to hear it through. He couldn’t see it, though, and didn’t have time to search for it.
The door was locked. Stone popped it with a flick of his mind and flung the door open, darting inside and ducking quickly to his left to take in the scene.
The door led directly into the open expanse of the gym’s floor—enough moonlight streamed in through windows high above him to tell that—but the cavernous space was otherwise dark. Stone looked around for a flashlight beam or other clue about where the scream might have come from; when he saw none, he switched to magical sight.
He stiffened at what he saw.
Far away, on the other side of the gym, three figures’ auras lit up. Two were tall, hulking men, broad-shouldered and powerful. The third, crouched and growling on top of a tall bank of half-destroyed bleachers, looked like—
Was that some kind of jungle cat? It was so black it seemed to blend in with the shadowy darkness, but its aura blazed bright green. Right now, it seemed fully focused on the two men ahead of it, and as Stone watched, it leaped from the bleachers, paws out and claws extended, toward one of the men.
The gun went off again. The cat screamed defiance, jerking in the air and landing hard on its side, but then it rolled up and darted away.
What the hell was going on?
Stone shifted his gaze back to the two men. Both were running after the cat, seemingly unafraid of facing it. As they passed through a patch of moonlight, he got a brief look at their faces: feral, focused, as predatory as the cat itself. They moved with athletic, muscular grace, intent on the creature. Startled, Stone noticed their auras: one man’s was
red, the other gold, but both had thin bands of green at their edges.
The cat had leaped to the top of another bank of bleachers. Its bright green aura shone as strong as ever, but red patches in it indicated that at least one of the men might have hit it with their shots. Before they could draw a bead on it again, it launched itself toward them, yowling its rage.
This time, one of them didn’t get out of the way in time. The cat landed on him, taking him down. He was almost as big as it was, and it wasn’t a small creature.
Stone expected it to be over quickly, but the man yelled something—it sounded more angry than frightened—and scrabbled until he got a grip on the cat, then wrenched it free of him and flung it away. Once again, the cat landed on its side and rolled quickly to its feet.
Meanwhile, the other man had spotted Stone over by the door. “Help us!” he yelled. “This thing’s a maneater! It’ll kill us all if we don’t stop it!”
The cat roared, moving with frightening speed, and dived at the second man. He barely got out of the way in time, throwing himself to the side. The cat’s wide-open, fang-filled jaws snapped shut on air, barely missing his leg.
Stone hesitated, unsure of what he’d burst in on. Did this have anything to do with Garra’s meet, or had he somehow stumbled upon something completely unrelated?
The cat twisted with inhuman grace, spinning around and raking its claws across the man before he could scramble back to his feet. He screamed as his shirt ripped, his aura flaring red.
Stone made a decision. None of this situation was making sense, but until he sorted it out, he’d have to take the side of the humans over the enraged jungle cat. He raised his hands and grabbed hold of the beast with a telekinetic hold, sliding it across the ground and slamming it into the side of the bleachers. He didn’t want to use magic in front of the men, but if he was careful he could hide the worst of the evidence under cover of darkness.