Alastair Stone Chronicles Box Set: Alastair Stone Chronicles, Books 1 through 4

by R. L. King

  “Sure, sure.” Langley plucked a random book off a nearby shelf and leaned back in his chair. “Just call me when you’re done communing with the spooks.”

  Out in the hall, Ethan moved quickly. His path was purposeful, but he felt oddly detached, like he was watching his body from somewhere up above it. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t in control of his actions, but rather that he was proceeding according to some directive that he didn’t even understand.

  He hurried down the hall, but instead of making the first right as Langley had indicated, he continued in a straight line. He moved unerringly, even as he entered a part of the house that they had not passed through to reach the library. He—or some part of him, at least—knew exactly where he was headed.

  At the end of the hall was a small, unassuming door. He reached for the knob, knowing it would be unlocked, and slipped through, closing it behind him. His fingers found the light switch like he had lived here all his life, his feet mounting the narrow wooden staircase with complete confidence.

  At the top of the stairway was another door, also unlocked. He emerged into a vast, dark space, illuminated only by the moonlight coming in through the skylights high above. All around him rose the bulky, covered forms of furniture and other stored items, with the smell of dust and long disuse hovering heavily in the air. Ethan didn’t look down, only peripherally noticing the puffs of dust raised by his sure steps across the space. Even though his mind wasn’t truly here, a corner of it knew that he didn’t have long before he’d be missed. He’d have to do this fast.

  Operating on unseen instructions, he shoved aside a large, sheet-covered object to reveal a taller, narrower one behind it, a few feet out from a wall. He crouched, grabbing the bottom of the sheet and whipping it free to reveal a mirror, taller than he was and surrounded by an ornately carved wooden frame. Then he backed up a few feet and waited, staring into its depths as if he expected to see something other than his own reflection in its milky, grime-encrusted surface.

  When the glow appeared, he was not surprised, nor was he frightened. He waited in silence, unmoving. After a few moments passed, he nodded.

  By the time he descended the stairs and reached the familiar hallway leading back to the library, he couldn’t remember what he was doing there. Must have taken a wrong turn, he figured, hurrying back to where he’d left the others.

  Stone was just finishing his inspection of the library’s bookshelves when Ethan hurried back into the room, puffing. The mage raised an eyebrow. “Took you a while, Ethan. You all right?”

  “Little upset stomach,” he said with a self-conscious grin. “Plus I missed the first right, so I kinda got lost and had to backtrack a little.”

  “Yeah, that happens a lot,” Langley said, nodding. “First few times I was here I could barely find my way back to the main part of the house without a trail of breadcrumbs and a Sherpa.” He glanced at Stone. “So—have you seen enough? Are you ready to go? It is getting kind of late.”

  Stone paused in the middle of the room, took one last look around, and then nodded. “I think so,” he said. “For now, anyway.”

  “For now?” Langley was confused. “What’s that mean?”

  “Tell you later. Don’t worry, I won’t frighten Aunt Adelaide. You’re right—she really is a delightful old lady.”

  Seemingly mollified, Langley led them out of the room and back down the two flights of stairs. Instead of going to the sitting room where they’d all talked before, he led them in the opposite direction toward a cozy little room with an overstuffed couch and chair, both aimed at a surprisingly small, antiquated television set. Aunt Adelaide and Iona Li sat at opposite ends of the couch, watching Murder, She Wrote.

  They both looked up as the three came in. “Well,” Adelaide said with a smile, “did you find anything, dear?”

  Stone paused, his mind whirling as it considered and discarded responses. If he told the old lady the truth—even a fraction of it—he would probably give her quite a scare. And for what? It wasn’t like she was going to leave the house in any case, and so far whatever was there hadn’t done her any harm, beyond making her uneasy. But if he told her he hadn’t found anything and the place was clean, not only would he forfeit any chance to get back into the house for a more thorough investigation later, but as a mage he couldn’t bring himself to leave these people exposed to potential danger without at least warning them that it might exist.

  The old lady watched him with an expectant expression. “Well—” he said at last, “—I didn’t find anything conclusive.” That much was true. He knew there was something there, but he had no idea what it was.

  Ignoring Langley’s what the hell? glare, he continued, “It’s probably nothing, but I can’t be completely sure without a bit more examination, and for that I’ll need some more equipment. It’s up to you—like I said, it’s probably nothing. But—” He spread his hands.

  Now Iona was looking at him with suspicion as well. Obviously, Langley and she were both trying to figure out why he’d chosen to deviate from the agreed-upon game plan.

  Adelaide, however, was contemplative. Her round glasses shone as she shifted her gaze between her nephew, her friend, and the odd stranger she’d invited into her home. “I know you two think I’m crazy,” she said at last. “I don’t blame you—I’d think I was crazy too, if I didn’t know for sure that I’d seen and felt what I did. And I know you probably brought this nice young man along to assure me that everything was fine.” She settled on Stone. “Are you really an occult investigator at all, Dr. Stone?”

  Langley and Iona exchanged glances. Busted!

  But Stone was unperturbed. He came around in front of the couch, careful not to block the ladies’ view of the TV, crouched down, and met Adelaide’s eyes. “I’m a professor of Occult Studies at Stanford,” he told her. “That’s where I know Tommy from. I’m not an occult investigator per se, but I do have a fairly extensive knowledge of the occult and the supernatural.”

  “Are you—sensitive?” she asked.

  “If you mean do I notice things that others might not, then yes. Mostly because I know what to look for.”

  Behind the couch, Langley and Iona let their breaths out simultaneously. At least it was no longer looking like Aunt Adelaide would chuck the lot of them out of the house for trying to put one over on her. The old dear was sharper than either of them had given her credit for.

  Adelaide considered. “Did you feel what I felt, up there in the library? Did you hear anything in the bedroom?”

  “I didn’t hear anything.” Again, the truth was the best course when he could employ it. That would make the half-truths and outright lies he’d have to tell go down easier. “And, as for the library—I think there could be something there. I didn’t feel a draft, though, or a sense of coldness. It was more subtle than that. And again, it might well be nothing.”

  “But it might be something.”

  “It—might,” Stone admitted, acutely aware of Langley’s and Iona’s eyes on him.

  “Then you’re welcome to come back and check further,” Adelaide said with a nod. “If Tommy trusts you, then I trust you. What do you charge for your services, by the way?”

  Stone looked startled. “Mrs. Bonham—”

  “Adelaide, please, dear. If we’re going to be friends, let’s not be so formal.”

  “Adelaide, then. And of course I wouldn’t dream of charging you anything.” He deployed the charming grin. “As you said—we’re friends. I’m happy to help.” Pulling a card from his pocket, he handed it to her with a slight bow. “Don’t hesitate to call if you discover anything else.”

  “Oh, you’re sweet. That’s so kind of you.” She smiled at him, tucking the card away in her own pocket, and turned back toward the television. “I think it’ll have to be another time, though. It’s getting late, and I do so want to find out who killed poor Mr. Chalmers. Give me a call when you want to come back.”

  “What the hell was all that about?
” Langley demanded when they were back in the Jaguar and heading back down the twisting road toward Los Gatos. “You were supposed to tell her everything was fine. Why did you—”

  “Because it wasn’t,” Stone said flatly.

  “What do you mean, it wasn’t?”

  “There’s something going on in that house. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know whether it’s supernatural or mundane. But I do know it’s there. And I’d like to figure out what it is.”

  Langley let out a loud sigh. “Look,” he said, clearly trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “This isn’t what I brought you up there for. She’s a sweet old lady, and she’s really suggestible about that kind of thing. If I’d thought you were going to fill her head with all this horseshit about evil spirits—”

  “I didn’t say a word about ‘evil spirits,’ Tommy, nor will I.” Stone still refused to get defensive. “Look yourself. I know how you feel about her. I understand. I liked her the moment I met her. I think she’s a lot more clever and a lot less dotty than you give her credit for, and I respect her enough to believe her when she claims to have heard something. And now you’ve given me a puzzle, and as long as she’s willing to go on with it, I’m not giving up until I solve it.”

  Another loud sigh. “I forgot about that,” Langley said, resigned. “You and your damned puzzles. Are you sure you didn’t have cats in your family tree somewhere? This curiosity thing of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

  They continued bickering the rest of the way down the hill. Neither of them paid more than a passing glance toward Ethan, who hadn’t spoken since they’d left Adelaide’s house and who now sat silently in the back seat.

  They reached San Jose, and Stone dropped Langley off at his house. “At least promise me this,” Langley said as he got out. “If you want to go up there again, call me first and let me go along. Okay?”

  Stone shrugged. “Sure, if that’s what you want. You’ll probably find my next steps pretty boring, though. I intend to get hold of some actual equipment that works and see if I can pick up any readings. That kind of thing can take hours, and usually turns up no usable results.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll bring a book. I know you mean well, Alastair, but a lot of the stuff you spend your days with your nose buried in is pretty freaky for your average everyday citizen. I just want to make sure you don’t end up giving her a heart attack with something you think is perfectly normal.”

  Back in the car, with Ethan now riding shotgun, Stone glanced over at him. “You’ve been quiet tonight. Anything wrong?”

  Ethan shook his head. “No, not really. Like I said, kind of an upset stomach.”

  “You’re sure that’s all it is? I still find it hard to believe that you didn’t feel anything in that library. I haven’t felt something that strong in quite some time.”

  “What do you think it is?”

  Stone took a deep breath and let it out. “I have no idea. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s centered on the library. The feeling was strong, but diffuse. It’s clearly connected with the house somehow, but it seems odd that she’d only start picking up on it now. That either means it’s only recently arrived, it’s been there all along and something or someone’s disturbed it, or something’s changed with Adelaide to make her notice it now when she never did before. Or possibly that it’s been gathering power, and only now has enough to be able to affect things around it.”

  “Any guesses about which?”

  “Not yet. Like I told Tommy, I want to get in there and get a better look. Which means I’m going to have to come up with some more convincing looking data-gathering gear, so he can amuse himself watching the lights flash and the meters move around while I’m actually getting a look at things magically.” He shrugged. “Anyway, none of this is helping you with your lessons. Let me drop you off at your place so you can get some rest, and we’ll get back to it tomorrow if you’re feeling up to it.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Stone glanced sideways at him, but didn’t reply.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The walls in the attic of the abandoned house that The Three used as their ritual space were painted black, dotted here and there with magical sigils spray-painted like graffiti. They had long since cleared the uneven wooden floor of debris and moved in the larger gear they needed for their activities. They didn’t worry about anyone getting in and disturbing it. Not only had they gone to the significant extra effort of weaving spells and wards around the place that prevented anyone but the most persistent fellow mage from finding it, but if anyone had managed to break in, the enchantments would trap them in place until such time as The Three could make use of them. It was kind of like a bonus.

  It was three a.m. on a rainy night. The door flew open and Oliver entered first, dripping, carrying a smaller box stacked on top of a larger one. Miguel came in behind him bearing a pizza box. Trin, of course, carried nothing. She never did.

  Oliver set the smaller box down and pulled out various bottles of liquor, a baggie of pot, and some rolling papers, setting them down on a nearby table. The larger box he placed in the middle of the floor. The three of them chattered on about their evening at a particularly good party, performing their jobs without needing to discuss them.

  For a while they just talked, eating pizza, passing a joint around, and downing shots of the liquor. Finally at about three-thirty, Trin pulled something from her pocket. “Okay. Ready to send that bitch a little fun?” She waved the lipsticked napkin that Angelique had given Oliver back at Will to Power.

  Miguel grinned. “What do you have planned?”

  “We could make all her hair fall out,” Oliver suggested.

  Trin glared at him. “The problem with you, Oliver, is that you don’t think big enough.”

  He frowned. “You’re not gonna kill her just for being a skank, are you?” He appeared mostly unfazed by the idea, as if he were merely bringing up another suggestion.

  “Oh, no. I thought maybe we could set her house on fire or something. Or blow up her car, if she’s got one.”

  “Nice,” Miguel said, nodding. “Or maybe give her an uncontrollable case of the shits. Less conspicuous, but a lot more embarrassing.”

  “Hmm...” Trin considered that. “Not a bad idea, but a little juvenile. And the fire’s going to be tough in this rain. I’ve got it: let’s flood her out. She’d better hope she can use those implants as flotation devices.”

  The other two recognized the finality in her tone, and didn’t bother suggesting anything else. Oliver picked up the large box and began passing out various pieces of ritual material, and The Three set to work customizing the magic circle they’d painted on the floor. As before, they moved as a single entity and without words, each one knowing his or her role in the ritual so well that they didn’t need to consult.

  When the circle was complete, the candles were lit, and the foul-smelling incense was burning in the brazier in the center, Trin flipped on a small radio in the corner. An eerie instrumental metal tune wafted over the attic, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to disturb them. She nodded to the others, and each stepped to their appointed place inside the circle.

  Oliver pulled a small knife from his pocket and waved it over the brazier, then used it to make small nicks in both of his palms. He handed it to Miguel, who did the same thing and gave it to Trin. Nicking her own palms, she set it aside and the three of them clasped hands around the circle. They could each feel the magic already forming, a low current of energy passing between and around them. They had hunted well tonight at the party, drawing energy from many of its guests—including one man Miguel had left stuporous and barely breathing in a back bedroom. They felt flush with power, eager to release it now.

  They had done variations on the same ritual many times—it didn’t pay to piss off The Three, because they truly enjoyed the process of revenge. They hadn’t killed anyone—yet—but they had discussed the possibility, an
d considered that it might be something they wanted to try if the perceived slight was sufficient.

  Trin, as always, took the lead, beginning a low chant that the other two took up. Their eyes were closed, their nerves singing with the power they were building between them. They writhed and swayed, punctuating the chant with moans of ecstasy as the power rose higher, joining their individual auras together into a coherent and more potent whole. If anyone had been watching them from the outside, their first thought would not have been of a magical ritual, but of an orgy. The energy around them was becoming visible now, tracings of magical power around their bodies, their hands, the circle.

  Trin shifted her focus for a moment, the napkin rising up from her pocket and moving into the center of the circle. It hovered over the brazier and then settled into it, the flames licking and dancing as they ignited and began to devour the tiny bit of paper. Preparing to send the spell on its way, she gathered the energies from her two companions, wove them into the pattern of the spell, and then joined it with the bit of Angelique from the napkin.

  Together, the fragments of energy formed a reddish cord that snaked up through the house’s roof. The Three followed it, their own consciousnesses riding along to its termination point.

  It didn’t take long—after all, it wasn’t like Angelique the bar skank had any magical protections. In less than a minute, the cord dropped down into a small, unremarkable apartment on the second floor of a three-story building. Most of it was nearly indistinguishable, lifeless to magical sight, but a glowing form was curled up in what looked like a bed in one of the small rooms.

  “Bonus,” Miguel murmured. “Maybe her neighbors will blame her for flooding them out.”

  “Shh,” Trin said, concentrating. “Help me with this.”

  Neither one of the guys had to ask for details. They focused together, feeding power into the reddish cord, directing it, shaping it to their will. It didn’t take much effort at all to find the water pipe leading to the bathroom and warp it until it snapped. They felt rather than saw the liquid spewing out inside the wall; though they couldn’t see each other’s grins, they all felt the squeezes of their hands.