Stone and Claw: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  “There it is,” Garra said, pointing.

  The single-story house was small by neighborhood standards, situated at the top of a rise. It was visible from the road but surrounded by trees. The neat yard sported an equally neat NO TRESPASSING sign. Stone drove past it and parked a short distance away. When they got out, Garra retrieved a dark backpack from the rear seat and slung it over one shoulder.

  Stone cast a disregarding spell over the car, then another one over himself and Garra. “Let’s go.”

  They left the road and slipped into the trees so they’d be less visible to anyone driving past. “Keep that nose of yours going,” Stone said, switching to magical sight. “If you notice anything at all, let me know.” At the moment, he didn’t spot anything beyond the pale-green auras of the trees and the occasional brighter one of a small animal or bird moving through them.

  Garra paused as they reached the edge of the trees near the house. She raised her head and sniffed at the air, looking around. “I don’t notice anyone out here—but my senses aren’t as strong in this form.”

  “I don’t see anyone either. I don’t think we need to worry about it—I doubt anyone’s watching the house at this point. Come on—let’s get inside. I can keep us invisible long enough to get through the door, which I hope will foil any motion-sensor lights.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought of that…”

  “I wouldn’t either, until recently. My law-enforcement friends have been rubbing off on me. Speaking of—” He pulled two pairs of latex gloves from his pocket and handed her one. “Put these on, so we don’t leave any fingerprints.”

  He held the invisibility spell as they crossed the yard, noting as he drew closer that the NO TRESPASSING sign he’d spotted from the road also read, BY ORDER OF OAKLAND POLICE DEPARTMENT. As he’d hoped, no floodlights came on—either there weren’t any or the spell fooled them. The heavy wooden front door had a sign posted on it, likewise warning would-be intruders that entering the house was a violation of the law.

  Stone exchanged glances with Garra, then popped the lock on the door and the two of them slipped inside.

  Immediately, a strident electronic beep began to sound.

  “Burglar alarm,” Stone said. “Quickly—let’s find it. Code is seven-two-four-three.”

  It didn’t take long to find the panel, just down the hall. It glowed in the darkness, flashing its red light and emitting its harsh, rhythmic warning. Stone entered the code and pressed the Disarm button, and it immediately shut up. “Thank you, Detective,” he murmured.

  Behind him, Garra let her breath out.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Something definitely happened in here, and not too long ago.”

  “What do you smell?”

  “Death. Blood. Maybe fear—hard to tell unless I shift.”

  “Don’t do that yet—I don’t think it’s a good idea to have the police find jaguar prints in here. We should look around. Whatever it is, it’s probably not hard to find.”

  “Let me go first—I can see in the darkness better than you can.”

  It didn’t take long to find the scene of Jimmy Tanuki’s murder. After checking the living room, the kitchen, and what looked like an office, Garra stopped in front of a closed door at the end of a wide, tiled hallway. “I think it’s in there. That’s where the scent is strongest.”

  “Can you tell if anything’s alive in there?”

  “Not with all the interference. I don’t think so, though.”

  Stone motioned her to flatten herself against the hallway wall. He did likewise across from her, then used magic to open the door, shield ready in case anything leaped out or took a shot at them.

  Nothing did. The door opened on a large room, mostly empty except for a king-size bed on the far wall, two dressers—one low and squat, the other tall and narrow—and an overstuffed chair.

  Even with only the light from the moon shining in through a skylight, it was obvious something had gone wrong here. The bed, nothing more than a mattress and box spring now, was splattered with dark stains. More stains covered the carpet around it, and still more spattered the walls. Whatever had happened in here, it had been violent. A faint hint of decomposition hung in the air.

  “My friend the private investigator once told me that when these sorts of things happen, the police don’t handle the cleanup,” Stone said, his voice low as he scanned the room. “Best they do once they’ve finished their investigation is give the victims the numbers of crime-scene cleanup companies. It’s down to them to handle it.”

  “That’s horrible.” Garra spoke softly too. “I can’t imagine how it must be for a family to have to deal with such a thing in the midst of their grief.”

  “Works to our advantage this time, though. The owner’s down in Los Angeles—he probably hasn’t got ’round to arranging anything yet.” He began pacing the room. “I’m going to take a look around magically. You do whatever you do—with luck, one of us will get something.”

  He shifted to magical sight. The first thing that showed up was Garra’s bright green aura, lighting up the darkness as she too circled the room. He concentrated a moment to mute it, then focused on the bloodstains, starting with the bed.

  The murder had occurred long enough ago that he knew he wouldn’t get solid readings—even something this horrific faded eventually. But even two months’ time hadn’t taken all the edges off the psychic energy, especially with his heightened senses.

  He got more impressions than specific information. He narrowed his eyes, frowning. The largest and strongest feeling he got was terror, which was completely expected. Jimmy Tanuki would have been frightened even if this had been a “normal” murder, but most home invasion victims didn’t expect to have their limbs torn off.

  What Stone didn’t expect, though, was how much confusion he was picking up. If he was reading the scene correctly, Jimmy Tanuki hadn’t only been afraid of his attackers—he’d had no idea why they were there, or their nature had been so unusual that they’d caught him off guard.

  “Are you getting anything, Dr. Garra?” he murmured, without shifting back to normal sight.

  “It smells…odd,” she said, sounding distracted. “I can’t get a better idea unless I shift, though. The blood smell is too strong—it’s masking something else.”

  Stone glanced toward the window, covered by blinds. It was a risk—what if the police came back here and found big-cat prints on the carpet?—but they had to find out as much as they could about what had occurred here. “Do it,” he said. “But let me levitate you so you don’t leave prints.”

  She gave him an odd look, but then nodded. “All right.” She slipped off her jacket and began unbuttoning her blouse.

  “What are you doing?” Stone asked, startled.

  “I like this outfit. I don’t want to destroy it.” She flashed him a wicked smile as she tossed the blouse on the bed. “I thought we’d already discussed this whole nudity-taboo thing.”

  Stone pointedly stared at the blood-spatter pattern on the far wall as Garra continued shucking clothing. He didn’t have a problem with nudity—under the right conditions. However, having his partner in crime—his very attractive partner in crime—blithely stripping off in the middle of a gore-strewn murder scene was a bit beyond his usual experience.

  “All right, ready.”

  He turned back. She stood in the middle of the floor, stark naked, her clothes in a neat pile on the bed. “Er…”

  She laughed. “You’re so funny—I thought you had a reputation as quite a ladies’ man. You act like you’ve never seen a naked woman before. Now, are you going to levitate me so I can do this? It’s chilly in here.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Focusing on her face and trying to concentrate on anything but her trim, athletic curves, he raised his hand and visualized the spell pattern. Immediately she rose off the ground.

  “Hold on tight,” she said, still clearly amused. “I’ll get heavier in a moment.”
>
  The transformation was fascinating to watch—so much so that he stopped thinking about her human body as he watched it shift and morph, growing larger, more muscular, changing from her normal deep tan to shimmering, furred black. In only a few seconds, a full-grown black jaguar floated a few feet away from him.

  Her yellow-gold eyes fixed on him. She made a sound like a rumbling growl, followed by a snuffled chuff that could only be continued amusement. Once she seemed satisfied he wasn’t going to drop her, she began looking around the room, sniffing the air.

  Tentatively, Stone moved her closer to the bed. When she didn’t object, he slowly continued steering her around the entire room, paying particular attention to the bloodstained areas.

  After a few minutes, she twisted around toward him and gave a very human-like nod. Then she was morphing again, back to her nude human form. She let her breath out.

  “Did you find anything?” Stone demanded. By now, he was so interested in the results of her scan that he barely paid attention to her state of undress.

  “It’s still hard to get much—the stench of blood and fear is very strong, even now. But I do know one thing for sure.”

  “What’s that?”

  She retrieved her clothes and began dressing. “The same people who attacked me at the school in San Jose killed this man.”

  “That was the same impression I got. The psychic residue is quite muddy—I suspect they probably tortured him to reveal the chalice’s location—but their auras were unusual enough that they were hard to miss.” He tilted his head at her. “Do you know who they are, or more importantly, why their auras were odd?”

  “Odd in what way?” Garra pulled on her slacks and zipped them.

  “When I saw them at the school, they had a sort of…green overlay.”

  “And that’s unusual?”

  “Yes, especially for mundanes. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  She shook her head, looking contemplative. “I don’t know who they were. I think one of them attacked me near Dr. Hubbard’s party, but I didn’t recognize his scent from before that.”

  “So you don’t think they’re the ones who stole the chalice originally?”

  “It’s possible, but—” She stopped in the act of buttoning her blouse, her body going still and her gaze darting around.

  “What is it?”

  She held up a hand. “I’m not sure. I thought I noticed a—”

  Something crashed through the window, shattering the glass. Before either of them could react, it rolled across the floor and began emitting a cloud of gray, acrid smoke.

  29

  “Bloody hell!” Stone snapped. “Come on!”

  Garra was already moving toward the door. Even in her human form, she moved faster than Stone did, and she reached it before him. “Hurry!” she urged, coughing.

  Another crash sounded toward the front of the house as another window broke, and then yet another on the other side. More smoke billowed toward them.

  Stone crouched, moving as fast as he could, already coughing too. The smoke tasted odd—sweet and cloying. “Fire?”

  “I don’t smell fire,” she said. “Just smoke.”

  By now, the hallway leading to the front door was a solid wall of smoke. They weren’t getting out that way. “Can you shift and break through one of the windows?” Stone called. He flung shut one of the doors where the smoke was coming through, but it didn’t help much. He doubled over, coughing harder. Unfortunately, his shield was meant for physical attacks and magic—it wouldn’t be as effective at blocking the smoke.

  Garra poked her head through another door. “This room’s still clear. Come on.” She ducked inside and motioned for him to follow.

  As soon as he was inside the room, she slammed the door shut. Stone looked around—they stood in a small bedroom, its only furnishings a twin bed and an armoire. He paused a moment, catching his breath.

  Garra ran to the window. “I’ll shift, and—” She paused. “No!”

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t shift!” She whirled on him in sudden terror. “Alastair, I can’t shift!”

  “Bugger! It must be something in the smoke! Back up.”

  She got out of the way. “What are you going to do?”

  Stone didn’t answer. Instead, he used magic to wrench the armoire free of the wall and lift it. Good—it was made of solid wood, not one of those cheap pressboard things. Struggling not to drop it—the magic came easily, but the smoke had gotten into his lungs and he couldn’t stop coughing—he flung it toward the window. It broke through with a satisfying crash. “Come on—let’s—”

  Another missile sailed through the now-open window and landed on the floor near them, pumping out more gray smoke.

  “Damn!” Stone yelled. “Stay close to me so I can shield us.”

  She hurried over to him. He summoned a shield around them both and levitated them outside. He’d been correct. As soon as they cleared the window, shots spanged off the shield, sending up little pink flares in its nearly invisible wall.

  “Can you tell where they are?” he demanded. His eyes streamed from the acrid smoke, making it hard to see anything. He switched to magical sight, but it didn’t help. Too much smoke choked the air.

  She coughed again. “Let me down. I need to go after them!”

  “I thought you said—”

  “Let me down!” she yelled.

  He lowered both of them to the ground, still keeping the shield up. Another round from the unseen shooter hit it from the left side, then one from the right. Two shooters. The same two men they’d fought before? They were strong—were they strong enough to rip a man limb from limb? And more importantly: how did they know Stone and Garra were here? Had they been watching the house?

  Garra morphed again, her clothes ripping as the black jaguar shimmered into being. She roared something at Stone and then took off into the forest.

  Stone, panting, staggered away from the house. His head felt woozy, his chest tight and throbbing from all the coughing, and he could barely see anything through slitted, watering eyes. At least nobody was shooting at him at the moment. But where had Garra gone?

  He moved farther from the house, then levitated up onto the roof for a better view. Fortunately the smoke seemed confined to the house—the attack had probably been designed not to injure them, but to flush them out so the snipers could take them down. They’re still out there, he reminded himself.

  The air was better up here. He was still coughing, but less now. He swiped an impatient hand across his eyes and forced himself to open them more fully, shifting to magical sight. He had to find Garra and help her. Why couldn’t she shift inside the house? Had it been the smoke, or had momentary panic overcome her?

  At first he didn’t see anything, his vision still blurring from the smoke’s effects. He swung his gaze left and right, scanning the trees, trying to spot anything against the pale green of their auras. From far off in the distance, he thought he heard a siren. Had someone seen the smoke or heard the gunshots and called the police? They needed to get out of here! But where the hell was Garra?

  Something burst through the trees to his right. From the roof, he spotted a low, dark form running with a hitching, jerky gait.

  Bloody hell, she’s injured! Keeping the shield up in case someone was following her, he dropped to the ground as fast as the levitation spell would allow and sprinted toward her.

  She was still in cat form, hunched and panting. A wet, bloody streak tore along her right flank, and another, smaller splash stained her left shoulder.

  “Dr. Garra!” He crouched next to her, still looking for approaching attackers. “Are they still following you?”

  She didn’t reply. Her head lay on her massive paws, her sides heaving with her fast, shallow breaths.

  “If you can understand me, the authorities are coming. We’ve got to get out of here! Are they gone?”

  Her head tilted up. The golden-brown
gaze settled on him, her skin rippled, and then she was human again. She panted harder, wincing, her breath catching. The bloody wound was now on the side of her leg, running up her hip. Teeth gritted, she clutched at Stone. “I’ll be—all right—” she got out between breaths. “I…heal fast…”

  He hoped so, because there wasn’t much he could do for her here. “Are they gone?”

  “Took…off…in car…” She indicated the blood on her shoulder. “This isn’t…mine. I managed to…slash one of them.”

  Well, that was something. “Come on—let’s get you out of here.” He bent to gather her in his arms, all business now, no thought to the fact that she was naked or that she was getting blood on his coat. All he wanted to do was get both of them away from this scene before the police showed up.

  She gripped his arm. “Get…clothes…Backpack…”

  Even though all he wanted to do was run as fast as he could with her to the car, he knew she was right. If the cops found her ripped clothes or her backpack with spares, it wouldn’t end well—either if they traced them to her, or if they ended up on a wild-goose chase looking for an injured woman who didn’t exist. “Hang on…” he panted, still coughing a little from the aftereffects of the smoke. He laid her back down and hurried off to collect her shredded outfit and the pack.

  By the time he got back less than a minute later, she’d already risen to her feet. She looked unsteady, but much better than she had. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice still shaky. “I’ll get dressed when we’re away.”

  Stone slipped out of his coat, put it over her shoulders, and summoned a disregarding spell around them, but he nonetheless hoped the cops didn’t show up until they’d gotten away. The spell relied on making its subjects unobtrusive, helping them blend in to the surroundings so no one would notice them. It worked better if the spell’s subject was already unobtrusive, and a man running next to a naked woman in a long black coat didn’t qualify under any definition of the word.