Stone and Claw: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  “No—I was suspicious when I saw how quickly you healed the injuries from the night of Hubbard’s party, and wondered if it had any connection to your antique hunt.”

  “I see.” She glanced out the window, then back at him. “So that’s how you knew I had a meeting tonight. And why you followed me.”

  “Yes. I thought it odd that you’d be meeting someone about antiques that late, and in that part of town. I thought perhaps you might be pursuing something illegal, dangerous, or both. Those men who attacked you—you truly don’t know who they were?”

  “No…not specifically. But I might know what they wanted.”

  “Does it have something to do with the chalice you had a sketch of in your planner?”

  She glared at him. “You are thorough in your snooping, aren’t you?” But then she sighed, and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Did they attack you in the park after Hubbard’s party?” Suddenly he remembered something and another puzzle piece fell into place. “That night, when I was out on the deck chatting with Hubbard and his wife, we heard a wildcat scream. They said it was a mountain lion. It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. Only one man tried to attack me that night. I think they underestimated my capabilities. I drove him off without too much trouble, but he must have slashed me with a knife or something. You found me before my injuries healed completely.”

  Stone pondered that as he sipped his coffee. “So, why are you here, Dr. Garra? Why did you go to all the trouble to fake your identity and get a job as a university lecturer? I assume you’re here looking for that chalice, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s start at the beginning, then: how did you fake your identity? You do know there’s a real Dr. Marciella Garra, right?”

  She gave him a withering look. “Of course I do. She was an old friend I knew when I was a young girl.”

  “So she knows who—and what—you are?”

  “No—not precisely. I lost touch with her years ago, but she’s not teaching any longer. I’m not even sure she’s still alive, but if she is, she’s very reclusive. I was sure no one would track her down, and her work is obscure enough that with a little help, I was able to fake some of her publications as my own. They didn’t check that closely—I think they were fairly anxious to bring me on. And I really am a scholar of anthropology. It’s just that my schooling wasn’t…conventional.”

  “You learned from the real Garra?”

  “No, but I learned a lot of things from her when I was young. Including quite a lot about magic.”

  “Indeed?” Stone leaned forward. “She’s a practitioner, then?”

  “She’s a witch, yes.”

  “Ah—did she make that amulet of yours?”

  “She did. I’ve had it for years. You were right—it’s an illusion generator, attuned to me specifically. As you noticed, we have a bit of trouble with clothing when we shift. It’s one of the reasons you don’t see many of us in cities. Even though we don’t have a problem with nudity, human society tends to frown on people walking down the street stark naked. Most of us, if we come out at all, we do it at night.”

  “I see. Well—I was serious when I said I can probably fix it for you, if you’ll trust me to do it.”

  Her gaze chilled. “I’m still not sure I do trust you, Dr. Stone. I…have a lot of reasons not to trust your kind.”

  “My kind?” He remembered the last time he’d heard that, from the Harpies. “Mages? Or men?”

  “Mages.”

  “But you said your friend was—”

  “Marciella was a witch, not a mage. She specialized in more subtle arts: healing, enchantment, potions. She didn’t seek to rip the world apart with her will.”

  Stone struggled not to roll his eyes. He was getting very tired of being accused of that. “Look,” he said, annoyed, “I’m not trying to rip anything apart—not even those two men who came after you. They do disturb me, though. Their auras were unusual. I wonder if they weren’t under some kind of magical influence.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised, if I’m right about why they were after me.”

  “Suppose you tell me. What is that chalice, and why are you looking for it?”

  She didn’t answer for a while; instead, she sipped her coffee, gazed out the window, and toyed with her napkin.

  “Dr. Garra—I can help you, if you let me. Assuming you’re not trying to hurt anyone, you might find advantages in having me on your side. World-ripping aside, I know this area—including the stranger aspects of it—much better than you do.”

  She glared at him. “How did you find out about the real Dr. Garra, anyway? I don’t even know where she is, if she’s still alive. She dropped off the face of the earth years ago.”

  “I had a friend—a private investigator—check up on you after Hubbard’s party.”

  Her glare intensified. “You checked up on me? So someone else knows?”

  “Don’t worry—he’s a good friend, and very discreet. Aside from him and my former apprentice, who’s also discreet, nobody else knows. But if I’m to keep your secret, you need to convince me that the students and faculty aren’t at risk.”

  “Why would they be at risk? Has anyone complained about my teaching?”

  “No. I’ve heard nothing but good reports about you in that regard. But given what happened tonight, I’m concerned about what might happen if someone came after you in a more public place.”

  She stared into her cup. “I don’t think that’s going to happen—but I can’t be certain. I don’t even know how they found out I was here.”

  “Who did you think you were meeting at that school tonight?”

  “I know…I was a fool. I should never have done it. A man contacted me, saying he’d heard I was looking for the chalice. He told me he didn’t have it, but he might be able to get it. He said I’d have to meet with him first, though. I thought he might be a thief or a fence—but I’m willing to deal with whoever can help me find it. I don’t care about legality at this point.”

  “Dr. Garra—tell me about this chalice. Is it a magical artifact?”

  “Yes. A very old one.”

  “Where did it come from? Did you hear something about it? That it’s around here somewhere?”

  Garra’s gaze came up, flashing anger. “It was stolen, Dr. Stone. From us.”

  That wasn’t what Stone had been expecting to hear. “Us?”

  “My clan.”

  “So there’s a whole group of you?”

  “In Peru, yes. In the Amazon rainforest. They mostly stay well hidden and don’t interact with human society.”

  “But you do.”

  “My upbringing was unusual. After my father was killed, my mother fled our clan and fell in love with a human man. He knew what my mother was, but I spent a lot of my childhood among humans. As I got older, I tried to return to the clan, but you know that old saying about ‘you can’t go home again’? That happened with me. They tried to accept me, and I tried to fit in, but it didn’t work. It had been too long. We’re still cordial, but I was away so long that living with them isn’t really an option for either of us.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “That’s where the real Dr. Garra came in. She met me through the others, and we talked a lot because she wanted to learn more about shifter society. As I said, she’s a witch and an anthropologist. We became friends when I was a child.”

  “And where does the chalice figure in? You said it was stolen from your clan?”

  “Yes. They’ve asked my help in recovering it, and I’ve managed to trace it to somewhere in this area.”

  “What is it? What’s its purpose?”

  Her gaze was steady, and sad. “Life, Dr. Stone.”

  23

  “Life? What do you mean?” Stone studied Garra, shifting to magical sight. For the first time, her aura seemed troubled—not as if she was lying, but more a deep sadness that mirrored the look in her eyes.

  She consi
dered her words carefully, swirling the remains of the coffee in her cup. She waited as the waitress came by to give her a refill and drop off a basket of chips and salsa. “I mean exactly what I said. If you’re a mage, I’m sure you’re aware that magical power in the world used to be higher than it is now.”

  “Yes, of course.” It had long been speculated among magical scholars that, as the world grew ever more technologically advanced and belief in the supernatural waned, the ambient arcane energy suffusing the Earth had correspondingly decreased in power. It was one of the reasons ancient magic artifacts were so valuable—because it was difficult or even impossible to duplicate them given the current levels of magic, even in areas where multiple ley lines converged. Stone remembered the frightening potency of the set of game pieces he’d dealt with earlier that summer; no doubt there were many other, equally powerful items out there in private collections, or buried in the ruins of long-dead civilizations.

  “I’m sure you’re also aware that weaker magic in general also means any creatures that need magic to function have been correspondingly weakened.”

  “Or have disappeared entirely,” Stone said soberly. He’d never seen proof of it, but many scholarly mages believed that a number of the Earth-based magical beings immortalized in folklore—vampires, werewolves, faeries, even dragons—had existed at one point, but couldn’t remain viable in modern times due to decreased magical energy. Stone didn’t know whether he believed that, but he’d met enough strange things and people in his life to consider it possible. The question remained, though: even if such beings and creatures had existed, what had become of them? Had they died out, or had the features that made them special simply waned along with the magic, leaving them nothing more than normal humans and animals? As far as Stone knew, no one had more than theories. “What’s that got to do with you, though? Obviously if you and your lot still exist, then there’s enough magic to sustain you.”

  “Yes. But…” Her grip on her cup tightened. “We’re dying out, Dr. Stone. And that’s where the chalice comes in.”

  “Dying? How?”

  “I don’t mean we’re literally dying. Our kind lives a long time, and nothing’s killing us directly. But…we’re not replacing ourselves. Not fast enough. Cubs are rare, and many of them die either before they’re born or shortly after.”

  Stone frowned. “Why? Has something changed in your environment?”

  “No one knows. It might just be the lack of magical energy catching up with us. It might be nature trying to tell us we don’t have a right to exist anymore. But whatever it is—we don’t just want to let it happen. Nobody wants to die, Dr. Stone. And nobody wants to watch their children die.”

  Stone dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “That’s terrible. Is this only happening with your clan—with jaguars—or…I assume there are other types of shifters, aren’t there?”

  “Of course. There are different clans and groups all over the world. Most of them are isolated and reclusive, but they exist. I don’t know if they’re having the same issues we are, but right now I hope you understand that I’m mostly concerned with what’s happening to my own people.”

  “Of course. But I still don’t see—”

  “The chalice is a magical artifact,” Garra said. “It’s been in the possession of our people for countless generations. On its own it has value as an artifact, of course, but its main purpose—the purpose it was created for—is of use only to us.”

  Stone made a ‘go on’ gesture.

  “When used by females of our kind, it can produce an elixir that increases our fertility—and allows us to produce healthy, strong cubs despite the lessened magical level.”

  “I…see. And you say it was stolen?”

  “Yes. Three months ago.” Her features twisted with hatred. “By your kind.”

  “Mages? But why would they—”

  “The clan doesn’t know why they stole it. They think they were treasure hunters—the sort who seek out magical artifacts for their own collections, or for wealthy patrons. They must have heard about it somehow, and decided to go after it. We’re not even certain if they knew its true purpose, but only that it was highly magical and therefore valuable. Several of my people were killed trying to protect it, but they couldn’t do it.”

  “And you’ve traced it here.”

  “Yes. My people may live primarily in their true forms—their animal forms—but they’re not without resources. Through a combination of mundane and magical means, they tracked it to this area. But it wouldn’t be practical for the other clan members to travel to an unfamiliar area. So they came to me.”

  “Because you’ve got experience with the human world,” Stone said.

  “Yes. And because I understand, as no one but one of our own people can, how important it is to get the chalice back. Already our females are having trouble conceiving, and the only two cubs born since then have both died in their first few days.” She fixed blazing eyes on Stone, and her voice shook with emotion. “We need our property back, Dr. Stone. It’s not a toy or a bauble for some rich mage to study, or display in his collection. It’s our lives.”

  Her gaze dropped, and she snatched up a chip and plunged it into the salsa bowl. “So there it is. You know my story now. I don’t care if you don’t believe me—it’s the truth. And I won’t let you or anyone else get in my way. If you want to tell the University I’m a fake, go ahead. I’ll find another way to get the chalice back.”

  Stone didn’t respond right away. Instead he studied her again, across the table. She looked different from what he’d grown used to, in T-shirt and leather jacket instead of her usual stylish, tailored suit. Her hair, normally pulled back into a bun or braid, hung loose around her shoulders now; it would have given her a vulnerable look, except for the steady, resolute way her gaze met his. This, he could see, was a woman who would do whatever was necessary to accomplish her mission. He found it oddly compelling on several levels.

  “I believe you,” he said softly. “I won’t tell anyone about you, as long as you continue to do your job and you don’t put anyone at risk. And I’ll help you, if you let me.”

  The resolute expression changed back to suspicion. “Why would you help me? And what can you do? I’ve been to every junk and antique shop between here and San Francisco, and found nothing. I haven’t found many dealers in magical items, but the ones I’ve found haven’t heard of it either. I can tell when people are lying to me—their scent changes. That’s how I knew for sure you’d been in my office. No one has seen it. I’m terrified that the thieves might have brought it here so they could ship it off somewhere—to China, maybe, or Russia. Or else—I’ve heard rumors of other shifter clans who’ve heard of it. I didn’t think they’d be dishonorable enough to steal it from us. The clans—especially the different animal types—don’t usually interact, but if they came to us, we could make the elixir available to them as well. But perhaps one of them has grown as desperate as we have.”

  “I can help you in a number of ways. I’m much more familiar with the magical community around here—and I guarantee I know of at least one collector of artifacts you haven’t met yet.”

  “You do?” She asked quickly, leaning forward. “Who?”

  “I won’t say. He’s a very private man, and he’s not in town right now. But I can talk to him for you—ask about the item. Even if he hasn’t seen it, he might have heard of it, or be able to track it.”

  “How do you know he’ll tell you the truth? You should bring me along when you talk to him. I will know.”

  “I’m not so certain you will, to be honest. He is a…unique individual, and very powerful. There’s little that happens around here he doesn’t know about. But if you want me to chat with him when he returns, you’ll have to trust me.”

  She closed her eyes and let her breath out. “It seems I don’t have a choice, do I?” Her gaze rose again, and Stone could see the rage of the jaguar lurking in her golden-brown eyes
, and the hint of a feral snarl around her full lips. “All right. I will trust you, Dr. Stone—for now. But if you betray me, I promise, magic or no magic, I will rip your throat out.”

  He didn’t doubt her for a moment.

  24

  Stone stopped by the Chemistry department office after lunch on Monday afternoon, hoping perhaps his conversation with Del Wright might prove more fruitful than his search for Marciella Garra’s stolen chalice.

  He’d spent most of the weekend doing research: he sent out a few subtle feelers to some magical-artifact dealers he knew, including a handwritten note delivered through the mail slot at Stefan Kolinsky’s shop. The black mage was still away, or at least the shop was still closed and the sign was still behind the wards, but perhaps he checked in every now and then. Stone even popped over to London to consult with Eddie Monkton, who promised to check his reference material for any mentions of the chalice. In all of these inquiries, he didn’t bring up the existence of the shifters, but merely framed it as an object he might be interested in acquiring.

  It had only been three days, two of them on a weekend, so it didn’t completely surprise him that nothing had come back yet, but it was odd that none of his sources seemed to know anything at all. It was generally difficult to keep the existence of an item that powerful in the area secret for long, even if it involved nothing more than rumors.

  Aside from that, Raider had remained echo-free. He’d tried to talk with the cat a couple times over the weekend, but every time he checked Raider’s eyes, the blue glow had been nowhere in evidence. He’d finally given it up; if Thaddeus Benchley had anything else to say to him, he could bloody well make an effort.

  “Hello, Dr. Stone,” the admin—whose name, he’d found out, was Pamela—greeted. “I wondered if you’d come by today.”

  “Is Dr. Wright here? I’ve got a bit of time, so I figured I’d drop by and check.”

  “He is. He’s in his office, and I don’t think he has any meetings scheduled for a while. Second floor, number 213.”