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

by R. L. King

  He turned back around and shooed Ethan out to the main aisleway. “All right,” he said, glancing around. “You go left, I’ll go right. Look for bookcases, chests, anything that might contain books or papers or anything like that. Use your magical sight, but unless it’s got words on it or it’s glowing with magic, I’m not interested in it. If you see anything that looks likely, grab it if you can, otherwise mark where it was and come find me. All right?”

  Ethan nodded. “Okay. Anything specific I’m looking for?”

  “If you find anything with the name ‘Selena Darklight’ on it or anything that looks like it might be the name of that thing downstairs, call me right away. Other than that, just use your discretion. You know what magical texts look like. We don’t have time for a thorough search, so we’ll have to do what we can. Meet me back here in a couple of hours and we’ll decide what to do from there.”

  Ethan hefted his backpack over his shoulder, picked up the bag Stone had given him, and set off. It was cold up here; he was glad he’d worn his parka. He hoped he would be able to find something—ideally he would run across something that he could show Stone along with information he could take back to Trin.

  He had no idea what she and the others wanted to do with the thing downstairs; in fact, the thought made him a little nervous. From what Stone was saying, it sounded like whatever it was, it was incredibly powerful. Did they want to try to control it? He didn’t think they’d be interested in sending it back; that didn’t seem like their style. But he wondered if they had any idea how powerful it was. Even the small glimpse he’d gotten today had shown him it wasn’t something to be trifled with. Did Trin and her friends have the power to deal with it? Stone was powerful and he obviously was concerned about being able to handle it—that’s why he kept adding bits to its prison like a desperate homeowner nailing up new scraps of wood over his window.

  He remembered what Trin had told him, though, about how she and Miguel and Oliver were good at joining their power together and making things happen. Individually they might not be as strong as Stone, but together? Besides, it wouldn’t just be the three of them. He’d be there, too. He wouldn’t be much help yet, but every little bit added to the shared power.

  Picking his way over bits of broken furniture, rusting toys, and piles of ancient, yellowing magazines, he wondered if he was even going to have a chance to find anything. The attic was huge, and there was so much junk up here! Who let stuff accumulate like this? It wasn’t like they were ever going to use it again.

  He turned back to see if he could still spot Stone. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the mage’s light spell bobbing away from him, far off in the distance. He hoped Stone wouldn’t find the information first—if it was even here to find.

  Time passed, and he grew increasingly discouraged. He’d poked through the drawers in dusty dressers, opened chests, examined bookcases, pulled apart piles of haphazard, broken objects, looked inside armoires, and even gone through a pile of brittle movie magazines he found in a corner. He’d encountered countless spiders, mice (and evidence of where mice had been), the skeletons of three small creatures that might have been large rats or small raccoons, and more dust than he wanted to see again for the rest of his life. He’d resorted to pulling up his T-shirt to cover his mouth and nose to keep from breaking out in coughing fits. A couple of times from far off in the distance he heard Stone coughing as well.

  He glanced at his watch: almost 4:00. It was getting close to Stone’s two-hour mark, but he’d almost reached the end of a pile of junk and he wanted to finish checking it. He knew he’d have to head back soon: evening visiting hours at the hospital started at 5:30, and he wanted to see his mother that evening. For him to have time to get home, clean up, and get to the hospital, he’d have to leave no later than 4:30. He stepped up his pace, tossing aside junk until his arms grew sore, but found nothing. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair in an unconscious imitation of Stone’s habitual gesture.

  He’d have to accept it: maybe there was just nothing here to find. Disheartened, he trudged back toward where he and Stone had first separated.

  Idly as he got closer, he thought of the footprints again, wondering where they’d come from. They seemed oddly familiar somehow, but he had no idea why. He’d certainly never been up here before; he’d remember if he had. But there was something about that mirror—

  And then a thought came to him. The kind of thought that made you smack your head and go, “Of course!”

  His breath quickened, as did his pace. He had about ten minutes before Stone was due back at the rendezvous point. Would it be enough time?

  Arriving back at the footprints, he followed them to the mirror. It was taller than he was, intricately carved and very fancy. It also looked quite heavy. It hadn’t even occurred to Stone to try to move it. But what if—

  He took hold of one side of it and pulled.

  Nothing happened.

  Disappointment washed over him. He’d been so sure! He moved over, took hold of the other side, and pulled again.

  The mirror swung toward him.

  Ethan grinned. “Yes!” he whispered, pumping his fist. Quickly he slipped behind it and pulled it back to its original position.

  There was no secret room here, no fancy ritual circle or anything like that. Just a continuation of the same pathway through the junk. But at the end of it, his gaze immediately fell on a small stack of books and papers piled in an untidy heap on the floor. He hurried over and dropped to his knees, picking up the first book and examining it.

  It was small, the size of a diary, bound in cracked red leather. There was some kind of strange sigil on the front of it, and a lock holding it shut. He turned it sideways, and on the edge of the pages he could see something written. Pulling his flashlight close, he shone it down and was rewarded by the initials “S. D.”

  Selena Darklight!

  It was all Ethan could do not to whoop in elation. He turned to make sure Stone wasn’t coming up behind him, then stashed the little book in the inner pocket of his parka. He was sure Trin would very much like to see it. And she would be very happy with him for delivering it.

  Quickly he turned his attention to the other books and papers. There weren’t many papers; they contained diagrams of circles and densely packed handwritten text that was nearly impossible to read. None of the rest of the books looked like diaries: they were all large, thick, leatherbound tomes, and all of them had the look of magic to them. He picked up a couple and riffled through their pages. They looked very old, but professionally printed, not written in someone’s hand. He couldn’t make out much of what they were about because they weren’t written in English, but by the diagrams it seemed like they had something to do with summoning. Unfortunately, all but two of them were too big to fit in his backpack. He stuffed those two in along with the papers, but there wasn’t anything he could do about the rest of them.

  “Ethan?”

  It was Stone, and he was very close. Ethan’s gaze darted around, but he didn’t see any way to get out of here unseen and hide his find from the mage. Instead, since there was no way he could take the rest of the books to Trin, he decided to try to allay some of Stone’s suspicions about him. “Over here, Dr. Stone! I found something!”

  “Where are you?” He was closer now: he sounded like he was near the point where they’d separated.

  “Behind the mirror! I found some books here!”

  He could hear Stone’s footsteps hurrying toward him. In a moment, the mirror swung open and the mage appeared, grime-streaked, sweating and flustered. “Bloody hell!” he swore. “You mean it was right here all along?”

  Ethan grinned. “I guess it was,” he said, pointing at the books.

  “How did you find them?” Stone dropped to his knees and picked up one of the books, paging through it as Ethan had.

  “I thought about the footprints,” he said. “I figured maybe if there was nothing special about the mirror, maybe ther
e was something behind it.”

  Stone let out a long sigh. “I must be tired,” he said. “Either that, or I’m an idiot. Well done, Ethan. I’m glad one of us is thinking, at least.”

  Even knowing what he was planning to do, Ethan felt a swell of pride at Stone’s words. He really did like and respect the mage, he realized—he just didn’t agree with his method of teaching. He glanced at his watch again. “Uh—Dr. Stone?”

  Stone was still focused on the books, looking through one after the other. He didn’t look up. “Yes?”

  “I—kinda need to get going. I want to go see Mom tonight, and visiting hours start pretty soon.”

  Stone shut the book he was examining, and began gathering up the rest of them. “Yes, of course. Sorry. Here—help me with these. I’ll take them home tonight and look them over. Hopefully there’s something useful in here somewhere.”

  Ethan helped him pick up the rest of the books, and together they carried them back downstairs. Adelaide and Iona were still in the sitting room watching television. Iona looked up as they came in. “Oh!” she called. “You two are a mess! I hope you found what you were looking for.”

  Stone nodded. “I hope so, too. Adelaide—is it all right if I take these books with me? I’ll bring them back when I’m finished.”

  “You keep them, Dr. Stone. I have no use for them. Are they what you were hoping to find?”

  “Not sure yet. I’ll find out tonight. But it’s quite possible.”

  They said their goodbyes and headed out. “Home, or straight to the hospital?” Stone asked as they exited back onto the winding road toward Los Gatos.

  “Home,” he said. “I gotta clean up a bit. Thanks, Dr. Stone.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Good job finding that hiding place. Give my best to your mum. I should come and see her sometime soon—tell her how well you’re doing with your studies.”

  Ethan grinned. “Yeah, but maybe not tonight,” he said, looking Stone over. “What did you do, take a dust bath?”

  “Damn close,” he muttered. “Got a bit overzealous in my search there toward the end.”

  By the time Stone dropped Ethan off at his apartment building, it was already nearly 5:30. Ethan hurried inside, tossed his backpack and parka on his bed, and dug fresh clothes out of his pile of clean laundry. He’d have preferred to have a shower, but he didn’t want to be late. He hoped Mom was doing better today—maybe even well enough that they could talk. He had a lot he wanted to talk to her about.

  He threw on jeans, T-shirt, and hooded sweatshirt, ran a comb through his hair, and headed straight back out. Less than five minutes later he was on the road, and fifteen minutes after that he reached the hospital. On a whim, he stopped at the gift shop on the first floor and bought a bouquet of flowers. His mother had never been much of a flower type, but he figured they’d brighten up her room and give her something nice to look at when she was awake. Then he took the elevator up to the fourth floor where her room was.

  He knew something was wrong when Matilda, the desk nurse for this shift, spotted him and rose from her chair. “Ethan,” she said softly.

  “Hi Matilda,” he greeted, waving the flowers. “How’s Mom doing? Is she awake?”

  Her dark eyes met his, and she came out around the desk. “Ethan, I’m sorry. We’ve been trying to reach you. We called your place, but there was no answer. You didn’t get the message to call us?”

  His blood froze. “What’s—going on?”

  She reached out and gently took his arm. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, Ethan. Your mother passed away about an hour ago.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The Three were three again, and Trin for one was glad. She would never have told him, but she’d actually been concerned that Oliver would succumb to whatever Stone had hit him with back at the old woman’s house. Not that she loved him or anything—in truth, Trin didn’t love anything but herself, and power—but she’d gotten used to having him around. He was like a comfortable old shoe that she liked to slip into when she needed a good fuck. In any case, he blew the doors off that geeky little virgin Ethan, sex-wise. She consoled herself that she’d only have to deal with the kid for one more day, and then it would be over. If she played her cards right, she might not even have to fuck him again. It was getting harder to pretend she was enjoying it.

  They picked Oliver up at the hospital Friday morning. “About fuckin’ time they let me out,” he complained, climbing into the SUV. “They wanted to keep me an extra day because they still can’t figure out what the hell was wrong with me. I got this close to telling them that some asshole mage whacked me with a magic sledgehammer, and that I just needed to sleep it off.” He leaned back in his seat. “I need real food. No more hospital shit. And you guys need to tell me what I’ve missed.”

  They stopped at a favorite diner near their ritual space. Oliver ordered the biggest breakfast they had and demolished it while Trin explained what had happened over the last few days.

  “Lemme get this straight,” he said through a mouthful of pancakes. “This twerp Ethan’s gonna try to grill Stone for information about whatever’s in the house, and we’re gonna get whatever he’s got to tell us and get him to let us in for this ball thing on Saturday night so we can find it. I take it that’s why you guys haven’t killed Stone yet?”

  “We’ll kill him once we get what we’re after,” Trin said.

  “But how are we gonna do that?” Oliver asked, shoveling in another mouthful. “Do we even know how to control whatever this is? Do you really think the kid is gonna be able to get enough info out of Stone so we can do it? He seems like kind of a fail to me. You’re putting that much trust in him not fucking up?”

  Miguel smiled; a nearby waitress got a look at the smile and quickly found somewhere else to be. “Nah, Oliver. See, if he doesn’t come up with the name, we’ve got a Plan B.”

  “We do?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been doing some research on this place, and also on enslaving big spirits. It’s best if you have their true name, but there’s another way to do it, too.”

  “Yeah?” Oliver looked mildly interested, but still more interested in his breakfast. “What’s that?”

  “Human life force. Like the kind you get from a ritual sacrifice.”

  That was enough to bring Oliver up out of his pancakes. “You’re shittin’ me.”

  “Nope,” Trin said, looking satisfied. “And not any old human sacrifice, either. You get the best power when you use somebody who has power. Like a mage.”

  Oliver stared at her. “We’re gonna sacrifice Stone?”

  She shook her head. “Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to slice that bastard open and watch him bleed, but it’s too dangerous. Too much chance he’d get lucky and fuck us up. No, I was thinking of a little more—inexperienced mage.”

  “One that has such a puppy-love crush on Trin that he’d walk into a woodchipper if she told him to,” Miguel added with a nasty grin. “Especially if she fucked him before he stepped in.”

  Oliver grinned. “Ah, okay. I get it now. And if he does come up with the name?”

  Trin shrugged. “We might sacrifice him anyway, just for extra insurance. We need to get rid of him somehow, because if I have to fake being hot for him more than another day or two, I’m gonna hurl. Oh—that reminds me. I should call him today. Make sure everything’s set, find out what he knows, and figure out the plan for getting us in. I hope you guys have decent suits.”

  Thursday night and all of Friday passed as a blur of indistinct images for Ethan. He remained at the hospital until late Thursday night, answering questions, signing papers, and talking to a kindly counselor that Matilda found for him. He didn’t even remember what he said or what he signed. He stumbled home and fell into bed, sobbing and exhausted.

  Friday morning he briefly thought about calling Stone, but decided not to. He didn’t know what the mage would say: whether he’d insist on coming down and helpin
g Ethan deal with things, or whether he’d offer perfunctory condolences but be so distracted by the business at Adelaide’s that he’d remain distanced from the situation. Either way, Ethan didn’t think he could stand it.

  The hospital had introduced him to a woman who would help guide him through the process, and he was grateful for that because he was mostly numb. He didn’t have any relatives that he knew of; it had pretty much always been just his mom and himself since his father had died. He supposed he could contact Walter Yarborough, but it hardly seemed right to drag him all the way over here from England just to hold Ethan’s hand. He was eighteen now—an adult. He should be able to deal with this.

  But not too many eighteen-year-olds had to navigate the confusing seas of administering their mother’s last wishes and making sure that things like funeral arrangements and burial details were taken care of.

  The woman from the hospital, Mrs. Jackson, probably got him through the day. She gently explained what needed to be done, told him he didn’t need to make every decision right now, and helped him make the ones he did have to make. He drifted through the day on a fog of confusion and grief, signing where they told him to sign and going where they told him to go, and didn’t arrive back home at the apartment until after eight o’clock that night. He threw himself down on the couch, wishing he had a big bottle of something alcoholic to help dull the pain. Once again, he thought about calling Stone. At least the mage might take pity on him and buy him a bottle of booze.

  His answering-machine light was blinking. Blink-blink. Blink-blink. Two messages.

  He thought about not playing them. He’d already listened to the one from yesterday from the hospital, the carefully professional voice of Matilda the nurse letting him know that he should go there as soon as he got the message. These two were new. He didn’t want to listen to anybody right now.