by R. L. King
“Not even close to the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” Stone said. “You’ll learn that as you get to know me better.”
Ian pondered, looking out the window, then turned back. “Let me do it, then.”
“Out of the question.” Stone’s reply was immediate and firm.
“Why not? It’s okay for you to take the risk but not me?”
“Yes. That’s exactly right. Don’t argue with me, Ian—I’m not changing my mind. I don’t know why you might think you’d be a better choice in any case.”
“Why not? It’s my family too. I’m younger and—no offense—probably in better shape physically.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, actually.”
“Wouldn’t be too sure of what?”
Stone glanced up to see Verity coming in. She had a leather bag slung over her shoulder.
“Perfect timing,” he said. “Ian thinks he’s in better physical shape than I am.”
She tilted her head. “Depends on how you define it. But why does that matter?”
“Because he says he’s better suited to do the sacrifice.”
“I am,” Ian said. “He’s just too stubborn to admit it.”
Verity snorted. “Guys are funny. Listen to you two, arguing over who gets to pretend to die. But trust me, Ian—I’ve known him longer than you have, and getting him to change his mind when he’s set on something is like trying to divert a freight train. Don’t waste your time.”
“Did you get the potion?” Stone asked, trying to change the subject before things got out of hand.
Her expression sobered. “Yeah, I got it. Hezzie’s teacher wanted to know what I wanted it for. She’s…very strange, by the way. Like, strange enough to make me uncomfortable around her.” She opened her bag and withdrew a tiny, clear glass vial, displaying it for Stone to see.
He took it, holding it up to the light to observe the oily liquid swirling inside. It was a deep red, and when it caught the late-afternoon sunlight, it seemed to have silver flecks wriggling around within it. “Did she need the blood I gave you?”
“Yeah. I destroyed what she didn’t use, so you don’t have to worry about it getting out.”
“Do you trust her?”
“Hezzie does, and I trust Hezzie.”
“What did you tell her about why you wanted it?”
“I was honest with her, as much as I could be. Told her a friend needed to fake his death to fool a few echoes that were bothering him. I didn’t tell her how many echoes, though. And,” she added, shifting her gaze to Ian, “it doesn’t matter if you convince Doc to let you do it. You can’t. The potion’s made specifically for him. That’s true for a lot of the more complicated alchemical preparations, as it turns out.”
“So it won’t work for me because I’m not him, even though we’re related?”
“Nope. Well—it might do something, but almost certainly not what it’s supposed to do. So you’re off the hook.”
Stone wasn’t sure he caught a fleeting look of relief on Ian’s face, but he wasn’t sure he didn’t, either.
35
Poppy Willoughby returned later that evening through the portal. This time, she didn’t look as if she’d just stepped away from a club date, except for the blue Mohawk and bright purple satchel. Stone didn’t miss the fact that both her expression and her aura revealed her apprehension.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked her. “Believe me, I appreciate it, but I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“Don’t worry, luv. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you lot could keep me safe. I’m not thrilled about it, mind you, but for what you offered—” She flashed a cheeky grin. “Part of your last payment got me a pair of sexy Louboutins I’ve had my eye on for months, and some o’ this one’s gonna buy me a matching bag.” Patting his arm, she added, “You just make sure I make it out of here so I can enjoy them, and I’ll be happy.”
Instead of waiting in their makeshift garage command center while Eddie, Ward, and Verity headed up to the house with Poppy, Stone and Ian stationed themselves outside a window where they could observe the proceedings. They’d decided since this was a simpler séance, there was no point in taking the extra step to try convincing the echoes to allow the two of them inside. Either they’d agree to the sacrifice or they wouldn’t. Unless something went catastrophically wrong, their position outside the window should allow Stone and Ian to assist in protecting Poppy if she needed it.
Ian leaned against the wall, peering in as the séance participants set up their table. They used the same circle Poppy had constructed last time; it had only taken her a few minutes to refresh it, and another few to rearrange the items on the table. “Do you think Brathwaite will bother them?”
“I hope not. If Eddie’s right, burning his body released him and he’s already moved on to…wherever he ended up.”
“This is all pretty unreal.” His sigh sounded in the darkness. “I mean, I’ve gotten my mind around magic fairly well in the last couple of years, but the stuff Trin taught me was straightforward. Powerful, but simple. But necromancy…that’s a whole different level.”
“For me as well. Remember, this is new to me too. I’ve been studying magic for longer than you’ve been alive, and no one even hinted that it might be possible.” He watched as Eddie, Ward, Poppy, and Verity clasped hands around the table. “And let’s hope it won’t be much longer,” he added. “I plan to destroy those materials as soon as Eddie and Ward and I finish looking them over.”
“I thought mages didn’t destroy stuff like that.”
“Normally that’s true. But in this case, I don’t think it’s wise to take any chance of someone getting hold of it.” He pointed. “Looks like they’re starting.”
They hadn’t bothered with a radio because of the interference, so Stone couldn’t hear what the people around the table were saying. Poppy had her eyes closed and was speaking, probably reciting the invitation for the spirits to rejoin the group. He couldn’t see Verity’s or Ward’s faces, but Eddie appeared calm. When Stone shifted to magical sight, their auras likewise looked watchful, tense, but mostly untroubled. He gripped the windowsill, barely breathing, his gaze locked on Poppy’s face and ready to add his power to a shield at the first sign of agitation.
The sign never came. Poppy continued to speak calmly, her eyes closed and her head tilted forward slightly, for several minutes. Then everyone around the table pulled back and released their joined hands. The candles winked out, followed a second later by a light spell flaring around Verity’s hand. The group got up from the table and headed back toward the front door.
Stone and Ian hurried to meet them. “How did it go?” Stone demanded. “Did they go for it? Did you have any trouble?”
“No trouble,” Poppy said. “I almost feel guilty about taking such a big payment this time. Almost,” she added with a grin.
“You didn’t get any feeling that the other presence was there? The one from last time?”
“None,” Eddie said. “Believe me, we were watchin’. If ’e was there, ’e was keepin’ it quiet.”
“I don’t think he was,” Verity said. “Last time, he seemed to agitate the other spirits just by being there. They were a lot calmer this time.”
“I’m not sure ‘calm’ is the right word,” Poppy said. “They’re still pretty worked up. I could still feel how much they hate you, Alastair, and your whole family. But they perked up when I suggested you’d be willing to go through with the sacrifice.”
They’d almost reached the garage by now. She waited until they were inside, then dropped to a near-whisper. “You…uh…aren’t planning to really sacrifice yourself, are you?”
“No. But I don’t want to let the echoes know that.” He explained their plan, with Verity adding more information about the potion and its effect. “You know spirits better than any of us do, Poppy. Do you think it will work?”
She pondered. “I
t’s a little underhanded, but I can see why you don’t have much choice. Yeah, I think it’ll work. Echoes are simple things, really. They can get violent if they’re wound up about somethin’, but it’s not like they’re givin’ things careful consideration.” She tilted her head, her smooth brow furrowing. “It’s more like…they have a condition they need to fulfill, and if they do it, they move on. That’s why you never see people who died peacefully in bed leavin’ echoes. They don’t have any conditions left before they go.”
“So if they think Doc’s dead, if his spirit leaves his body, they’ll all go?” Verity asked. “That should be it?”
“Should be. They’re mundanes, so it’s not like they know about what magic can do—though even if they did, it probably wouldn’t matter. They’re not complex enough for that kind of thinkin’.”
Stone nodded in satisfaction, pleased to have his hypothesis validated by an expert. “Brilliant. Thank you, Poppy, for everything.”
“No problem, luv. Give me a ring when this is all over and we can all go have a drink.”
“I’ll do that. Let me walk you back to the portal.”
The others remained behind in the garage while Stone accompanied Poppy back to the mausoleum. When they reached it and had climbed down the stairs to the portal room, the young medium paused. “Listen…Alastair…I didn’t want to say it in front of everyone, but I’m not sure this plan of yours is the best idea.”
“Why not? I thought you said the echoes wouldn’t know the difference.”
“They probably won’t. But…any time you interact with the spirit realm as a living being—even a living spirit—it can be dangerous. Living people aren’t supposed to be there.”
A little shiver ran up Stone’s spine. “What happens to them when they are?”
She shook her head, her cheerful face uncharacteristically serious. “There isn’t a lot of data to go on, but I’ve heard stories of people…getting lost. Just wandering off and losing their way back to their bodies.”
“Isn’t there a…sort of cord joining the two together? Similar to what you have in a tracking ritual?”
“Normally, yes. But I’ve heard of this elixir you’re plannin’ to use. The whole point of it—the reason it feigns death so well—is that it obscures that cord to the point where it’s nearly invisible. It would have to, or else the echoes would see it and know you weren’t truly dead.”
She gripped his arm. “All I’m sayin’ is…be careful. Don’t stay away long, and don’t stray far away from your body. I’d hate to see your spirit wander off and never come back.”
“Er…yes. I will. Thank you, Poppy.”
Stone began to wonder if this had been a good idea after all.
36
Verity took Stone’s hand. “You okay? You don’t have to go through with this, you know.”
Stone looked around the circular chamber, which didn’t look much different from the last time he’d seen it. “I think it’s the only way to be sure,” he said softly. “I trust you.” The two of them stood off to the side, watching as Eddie, Ward, and Ian transformed the circle surrounding the burned-out altar where James Brathwaite’s remains had lain. Normally, Ian wouldn’t have been able to help, since he as yet had no training in ritual magic, but since this particular circle was only for show, that didn’t matter. It gave him something to do, anyway, and he seemed grateful for the diversion.
“I’m not sure I trust me. What if Hezzie’s teacher got something wrong with the formula? What if it doesn’t work?”
“It will work. I know I’m taking a risk, but I think it’s a reasonable one. And once it’s over, the echoes will have peace. Believe it or not, I care more about that than I do about getting the house back. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully come to terms with what my family did to these people.”
They’d already walked the hallways, Verity a silent presence next to Stone as he examined the blasted remains of the bricked alcoves. As he suspected, no trace of the skeletal remains had been left behind, and no identifying information marked the insides of the small chambers.
“It’s as if they’ve disappeared from the earth,” he murmured, gazing into one of the last ones. “That shouldn’t be. They need to be remembered.”
“We’ll do what we can, once they’re gone. I’ll help if I can, though I’m not sure what I can do.”
He hadn’t responded to that. What could he say? Aside from the incomplete records in the ledger, they had nothing to go on. He could donate the items they’d found in the chest to a museum and attempt to track the descendants of the more well-documented of the victims, but he might have to settle for that.
Stone didn’t like settling for things.
He’d spent nearly half an hour examining every surface of the sealed chamber at the end of the wider hallway, but it likewise had sparked no flashes of insight. All he could do was agree with Eddie and Ward that the sigils and symbols lining the walls and ceiling had been put there for a protective purpose: to contain something and keep its magic suppressed. But as for what it was guarding, he had no idea. He hadn’t spotted any names or identifying information during his own examination, and he knew Eddie and Ward were not only even more thorough than he was, but they’d had more time to look over the work. If anything had been there, they’d have found it.
That left only Brathwaite’s journal, and the reference to the mysterious “A,” also known as “the fiend.” Who—or what—could they refer to?
Reluctantly he’d turned away from the chamber and headed back toward the circular ritual room. If the “sacrifice” ritual worked and the echoes departed, he’d have all the time he needed to do a careful study of all the data they had: the chamber, the journals and ledgers, and the rest of the catacombs. Reluctantly, he had to admit to himself that the destruction of the foundation sacrifices’ remains did have one positive by-product: with no evidence that anyone had been killed here, he would no longer be required—by the law, anyway, if not by his conscience—to bring in the authorities. Technically he supposed he still should, but it was another decision he could put off for a while. One problem at a time.
“Have you got the knife?” he asked Verity.
“Yeah.” She pulled it from her bag and withdrew it from its sheath. “I don’t like hurting you, even a little.”
“We have to make it look good. Some blood will help sell it.” He examined the knife. It had a wicked-looking black blade around five inches long, with a leather-wrapped hilt slightly longer. She and Ian had popped over to Tolliver’s earlier to pick it up, and she’d reported back to Stone with amusement that the saleswoman had been surprised at their request. “They don’t get much call for mundane magical gear,” she’d said. “She had to hunt around for it.”
He took it from her, pressing the blade against the wall and watching it retract into the hilt until a point barely half an inch long poked out. “Just be careful where you stab me. Pick somewhere that won’t do permanent damage, and go straight in and out.”
“Don’t worry. I’m planning to make a mark on your chest to be sure. And I’ll heal it up as soon as you give the word.” She reclaimed the knife and returned it to the sheath. “Are you sure the echoes can’t see what we’re doing?”
“They can’t—or at least they won’t understand it. That’s why we needed Poppy to play medium so we could talk to them. They can’t follow anything that’s not directly related to them.”
“What about Professor Benchley? He could understand you, right?”
“Only when he was possessing Raider, I think. Otherwise, it was more of a generalized thing. Don’t worry—it will be fine.” He glanced at the circle, where the others appeared to be finishing their work. “I’d better go get prepared. Looks like it’s almost showtime.”
Stone walked past Eddie, Ward, and Ian to the other side of the room. Despite his confident words to Verity, he still had misgivings about this plan. He didn’t try to hide his aura, though, in case the
echoes were more aware of their surroundings than he expected. As far as they were concerned, he was preparing to die, so some apprehension would be expected.
The knife had been his idea. Verity had assured him that the potion, which was thick and viscous, would function equally well if he drank it or if he was stabbed with a blade smeared with it. “It’s potent stuff,” she said, indicating the tiny bottle. “She said you don’t need much to make it work. We’ll have to be careful that none of the rest of us touches it.”
She hadn’t been in favor of the idea, of course, but he’d convinced her. “We have to make it look good—like a real sacrifice. Having me drink something from that little nothing bottle and keel over isn’t very dramatic. Let’s give them a show.”
Now, though, as he stood with his hands against the wall, doubts began to creep in. Would the potion work as advertised? Would he be able to return to his body when the ritual was done and the echoes were gone? Would the fake ritual fool the echoes?
You were ready to do it for real before, he reminded himself. Sure, he was drunk off his ass at the time, but he’d been drunk often enough in his life to know that sometimes the deeper emotions that surfaced then weren’t altogether wrong. These people—forty-one innocent men, women, and children—had died because of his family. The least he could do was take a fairly safe chance to help them move on from a prison every bit as bad as the tiny brick alcoves had been.
“Dad?”
Stone turned, pushing himself off the wall. Ian stood there, looking pensive. “Finished the circle?”
“Yeah. We’re ready when you are.”
Behind him, Eddie and Ward had moved off to a table where they’d arranged some books and papers, and Verity had joined them.
“Everything all right?” Stone examined the circle. The three of them had altered it with chalk and sand, creating a simple but impressive-looking protective working. Much of it was extraneous, done only for show, but even from where he stood Stone could pick out its basic structure.