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

by R. L. King

  “Holy fuck!” the guy yelled, scrambling to pull his feet up as if he expected something to attack him from below. All around them the other Forgotten leaped up and stared wild-eyed at their friend and Stone.

  The mage, demonstration complete, gently lowered the man and his chair back down to their original spot. “Anything else?” he asked. “I can probably take out everyone in this room, shotgun notwithstanding, but that’s counterproductive. We want your help, remember? We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

  Luke seemed to be having trouble recovering from the sight of real magic in his sanctuary. “You—” he began, pointing at Stone. “You—fuck. You really are—”

  “That I am,” Stone confirmed. “And Verity here is as well. She’s my student. As for Jason—he’s more adept with his fists than with magic, but I assure you, he’s quite capable of handling himself in a fight. So, what do you say? Will you help us?”

  But to their surprise, Luke shook his head. “No, man.”

  Jason’s eyes widened. “No? Why not?”

  Luke glared at him. “Why not? Because we don’t even fuckin’ know you guys. Maybe you’re who you say you are. Maybe you really do know how to stop the Evil comin’ in. Okay, you got the mojo. But unless you’re hidin’ an army somewhere, you ain’t gonna go against the Evil. They’ll chew you up and spit you out, and us too if we help you. And if you screw up and they kill you—which they will—then we still gotta live here. Only now we’d be on their radar screen.” He switched his focus to Stone. “Only reason we stay alive down here is ’cause we only mess with ’em when we know we can get away with it. We pick ‘em off when we can, and they barely notice. We’re flies to them. They mostly leave us alone if we don’t make waves. They got plenty to keep ’em happy up there with their murders and all the fuckin’ tourists losin’ all their money, and the junkies and the drunks and the guys beatin’ up their wives and their kids, and the mob hits—that’s what they eat, you know. That’s what they want. And as long as they’re gettin’ it, they leave us mostly alone.”

  “But we can stop them,” Jason protested. “Don’t you get it? If we do this, they’ll be gone.”

  “So they’ll all just go away, like poof?” Luke demanded. “You said you could shut the door. I don’t believe you, but whatever. But will that get rid of all the ones here now? Did you even listen to what I said? This town’s crawlin’ with ’em. They’re like maggots on a stiff. So you stop ’em, and you go back to your nice little houses in San Fran, and we’re stuck here with a town full of pissed-off Evil.” He shook his head. “Naw, man. Maybe you can do this. It’d be great if you could. But we ain’t gettin’ involved.”

  Stone stared at him. “You’re frightened.”

  “Damn fuckin’ right we are!” Luke was almost yelling now, and the other Forgotten shifted with restless agitation. Even the dogs roused themselves from their post-meal naps and growled. “You’d be too, if you had any brains. You don’t mess with the Evil.”

  He reached in his pocket and tossed Verity’s flashlight back to her. “C’mon. We’ll show you a place where you can get out safe. Don’t try to come back down here—if you do, we won’t be in such a good mood. And you’ll never see us before we get you.”

  Stone sighed, standing up. “All right, then, if that’s the way you want it.” He looked disappointed and surprised, as if he had never expected this response.

  “Listen,” Jason said, pulling out his ever-present notebook and pencil stub. “I know you don’t want to get involved, and maybe there’s nothing we can say to change your minds. But if you hear of anything weird—like someplace where a lot more Evil than usual congregate, or maybe like they’re starting to do it now when they never did before—call this number and leave a message. It’s my answering machine back home in California, and I can check it from here. You won’t have to help, or do anything, or put yourselves in any danger. But maybe you can do some small thing to make this better.” He tore off the sheet and held it out.

  For a minute he didn’t think Luke would take it, but then his big, callused hand shot out and he snatched it from Jason and stuffed it inside his jacket. “Let’s go,” he said. “I want you guys outta here. The sooner the better.”

  As they headed out, Verity caught up with him. “Hey,” she said, fishing in her bag. “Do you know a street preacher? Kinda crazy guy, preaches up on the Strip? We saw him get picked up by the cops and he dropped his Bible.” She held it up. “You think you could give it back to him if you see him?”

  Luke’s expression clouded, but then grew hard again. “Keep it, kid. Yeah, I know him. Knew him. Name was Manfred. Some kids found his body in a dumpster yesterday. Fuckin’ idiot. We told him to keep his head down, but I guess maybe he just figured God’d look after him.” His glittering dark eyes met Verity’s. “I’ll tell you a secret, honey. In this town, God don’t look after nobody.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Fifteen minutes later, Stone, Jason, and Verity stood on a sidewalk on an out-of-the-way street three miles closer to the Strip than where they had entered the tunnels.

  For a moment they lingered there, getting their bearings and making sure nobody was approaching them, and then Stone sighed. “Well. That was all rather pointless.” To add emphasis to his words, he bent, slipped off one shoe, and dumped stinking water onto the sidewalk.

  “Yeah,” Jason said, dejected. “I wouldn’t even have guessed that they might not help. I thought we might not be able to find ’em, but I never figured they’d say no.”

  Verity pointed up the street. “There’s the all-night market Luke told us about. Let’s go call a cab and get back to the car. We still gotta find a place to stay, and right now bed and a long hot shower sound really good. We can figure this out in the morning.”

  Their cab showed up barely five minutes from the time they called, and to the driver’s credit he didn’t even say anything about how his passengers looked—or smelled—possibly because the existing aroma inside the cab wasn’t much better. “Damn,” Stone muttered under his breath. “I’ll have to get the bloody car fumigated if we drive it like this.”

  “First world problems, Al.” Jason grinned.

  At their direction, the cabdriver let them off half a block from the parking lot where they’d left the car. Stone paid the fare along with a tip generous enough to make the cabbie forget them, and as soon as the cab rolled off he said under his breath, “I’m going to use the concealment spell on us, so stay close. Once we’re in the car we can pay the attendant and with any luck get out before anyone spots us.”

  They crowded in next to Stone and together the three of them moved through the open gate into the parking lot and back toward the rear corner where they’d parked.

  The BMW was gone.

  The spot where they had left it was occupied now by a beige late-model Toyota with Iowa plates and a fading “Baby on Board” sticker. Stone stopped and swore under his breath. “How the hell—”

  “Are you sure this is where we were?” Verity asked. “Maybe we got turned around—”

  “It was here,” Jason said with a sigh. “Right here.” He pointed at the Toyota. “Well, fuck. And all our stuff was in there too.”

  “And the notebooks!” Verity scrubbed at her hair as a substitute for yelling out in frustration. “Oh, man—”

  “Maybe they’ve got security cameras,” Jason said, looking around. “We could ask—”

  Stone glared toward the attendant’s booth far up at the front of the lot, clearly intending to stalk over there and grill the man about how stupid and unobservant he’d have to be to let someone waltz in and make off with a car under his care, but he only got one step before he stopped again.

  A long, gleaming, black limousine, its entire bank of rear windows blacked out, pulled silently up alongside them and stopped, angled in such a way that they would have to go completely around its front or leap over its hood if they wanted to escape.

  “Oh, shit...” Jas
on muttered.

  The limo’s rear door closest to them opened, as silent as the rest of the car, and a man leaned out. “Dr. Stone, Mr. Thayer, Ms. Thayer. Please join me inside. My employer would like to meet with you.” Tall but unassuming, the man had wide shoulders and wore a thousand-dollar suit. Dark glasses concealed his eyes, even this late at night, and he held a large elegant-looking pistol in his lap. It wasn’t pointed at them, but the implication was there.

  The three of them exchanged glances and weighed options. They might be able to get away—but they might not. They had no idea how many other people were hidden in the parking lot, or inside the car.

  “Who’s your employer?” Stone demanded.

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” the man said. “But I assure you, he means you no harm. He simply wants to speak with you.”

  “And if we say no, are you gonna shoot us?” Jason glared into the car, but he could see nothing past the man.

  “It will simply prolong the inevitable,” the man said, unruffled. “Please—let’s keep this civil. As I said, you’ll come to no harm. And when your meeting is finished, your car will be returned to you.”

  “You’ve got my car? Bloody hell...” Stone took a deep breath. To Jason and Verity, he said, “I’ll go talk to him, whoever he is. No point in all of us taking the risk. You two call a cab and find someplace to stay. I’ll—”

  “No way, Al,” Jason said, shaking his head. “If we go, we go together.” Verity nodded agreement.

  Stone sighed. “All right, then. Verity, please be ready to—”

  “Already on it, Teach,” she said with a grin. “He makes an Evil-ish move, he’ll find himself booted out of his ride.”

  “All right,” Stone said to the man. “We’ll go with you. It seems we don’t have a lot of choice.”

  The man nodded. “Please be quick—some unpleasant individuals are approaching.” He got out of the car and stood aside to allow them to climb in. He held the gun loosely at his side; once they were inside, he stowed it under his coat where it didn’t make even a hint of a bulge. He got in after them and closed the door. The car immediately moved off.

  This was not the kind of limousine that was rented by drunken fraternity boys for a night on the town. This was the kind of limousine that carried people who had access to more money than any of the three of them were likely to see in their lifetimes. The leather of the seats was black and butter soft, the carpet impossibly plush, the trim exotic wood.

  “Sorry about your seats,” Stone said. “We’ve had a bit of a long night.”

  The man didn’t reply. Now that they were inside, it seemed he didn’t have much to say.

  The blacked-out windows were actually blacked out, not just heavily tinted. So was the partition between their compartment and the one where the driver sat.

  “Looks like you don’t want us to know where we’re going,” Verity said. “How do we know you’re not taking us out to the desert to shoot us or something?”

  “It isn’t far,” the man said. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.” He indicated a small hatch. “Refreshments there, if you want them.”

  Nobody took him up on his offer. They sat silently on the soft leather seats and waited for the limo to come to a halt. Jason wondered if they’d just made the biggest—and last—mistake they would ever make.

  The car moved as if it rode on a cushion of air, barely even giving them any impression that it was turning. It was impossible to tell where they were headed—even Jason, who’d been trained for careful observation, couldn’t keep it straight. By the time the limo slid to a stop a few minutes later, he was as lost as his two companions.

  The door opened and the man in the thousand-dollar suit got out and motioned for them to follow. Scrambling out, they found themselves in a nearly featureless concrete and steel area that looked like the section of a commercial parking garage reserved for maintenance and service vehicles. Currently, the long black car was the only vehicle here, though. The only other point of interest was a set of double doors with a keypad next to it, and it was toward these that the man indicated.

  “Where are we?” Jason asked, not expecting an answer.

  “You can discuss everything with my employer,” the man said. Shielding the keypad with his body, he tapped in a code, and the doors clicked and swung open.

  Beyond them a long corridor, as featureless as the parking area, stretched out. Several unmarked doors lined either side, with an elevator at the end. It was to this that the man led them. He tapped another code into another keypad and the door slid silently open onto a small compartment, large enough to hold perhaps five people. There were no buttons, only yet another keypad.

  “The elevator will take you to your destination,” the man said. He keyed in another code and stood aside for them to enter. “Please don’t try to interfere with its operation—you won’t be successful.” He stepped back, reached around to press a final button on the pad, then pulled his arm back and allowed the door to slide shut. The elevator started immediately, its movement so subtle that it was impossible to tell which direction it was going.

  Jason took a deep breath. “What did we just get ourselves into?” He looked around. “I wonder if we’re in one of the casinos.”

  “Quite probably,” Stone said. “Though I’m sure there are other tall buildings in this town that aren’t casinos.”

  “That have guys that ride around in cars like that?” Verity asked.

  The elevator stopped, again so subtly that they didn’t notice it until the door slid open. This time, the view on the other side wasn’t featureless. They stood in an entry chamber, carpeted in deep blue. The walls were blue as well; the chamber had no windows, and no furniture. Scant light from indirect fixtures in the ceiling illuminated wide double doors of fine wood. As they stepped out of the elevator, these doors slowly swung open. Jason realized that since they had entered the elevator, they had heard no sound other than their own voices: no soft bong to indicate that the elevator had stopped, no sound of doors opening or closing, not even the low hum of the air conditioning.

  “I—guess we go in,” Verity whispered.

  Stone nodded. Taking the lead, he moved through the doors. The others followed.

  None of them were sure what they expected to see, but it was a good bet that the scene that greeted them on the other side of the doors did not fit any of their guesses. The room was large and oblong, stretching out on both sides from the entry. Everything about it suggested luxury: the hardwood floors covered with thick rugs; the small groupings of dark, simple furniture; the edgy, abstract crystal sculptures; the soaring floor-to-ceiling windows making up two of the room’s four walls. The furnishings and appointments were sparse to the point of being spartan, but even Jason, whose experience with wealth pretty much ended with Stone’s decaying manor house in England, could tell that everything in this room probably cost more than he would see in many years of working at A Passage to India.

  For a moment, the three of them stood in the doorway, looking around. The magnificent view clearly dominated the room: they were obviously a long way up, because even from where they stood they could see the neon forms of the Strip casinos and the lights beyond them all the way out to the darkness of the desert. Jason was glad he didn’t have acrophobia, or this place with all its windows would be making him very nervous.

  Momentarily dazzled by the view, they almost didn’t see the figure standing near one of the windows on the far side of the room, backlit by the lights of the Strip. The figure didn’t move until Stone finally spotted it. “Well,” the mage called. “Whoever you are, you’re brilliant with first impressions, I’ll say that much for you.”

  The figure turned then. It was still backlit, but they could now identify it as tall, slim, and male. “So I’ve been told,” he said. His low, soft voice betrayed no emotion. “Welcome, Dr. Stone. Mr. Thayer. Ms. Thayer. Please, sit down. We have much to discuss.”

  “Yeah. Let’s start
with who you are, and why you brought us here,” Jason growled. “And maybe where exactly ‘here’ is.”

  The man didn’t answer, except to motion toward a black leather sofa facing out toward the view of the Strip. “Would any of you care for a drink?”

  “We just want answers, I think,” Stone said. Again taking the lead, he moved over and sat down at one end of the indicated sofa. After a moment Jason and Verity joined him. The vast incongruity between this sofa and the one they’d all been seated on less than an hour earlier wasn’t lost on Jason.

  The man nodded and walked over to join them. He didn’t sit, but stood near them, pacing back and forth like a cat in front of the window. “You will have your answers, Dr. Stone, but first I will have mine.”

  “Perhaps you might at least tell us who you are?” Stone asked. “You obviously know who we are, and I’m guessing you’re not in any hurry to tell us where you got that bit of information.”

  “Little happens in this town that I don’t know about,” the man said. He turned to face them. “My name is Trevor Harrison. I suspect it will mean nothing to you.” Abruptly, he moved over and took a seat in a leather chair across from them.

  Stone shook his head. “No. Should it?” He studied the man now that he was closer: he looked about Stone’s own age, and everything about him, from his black hair gleaming bluely in the overhead light, to the perfectly tailored dark gray suit that made his underling’s look like it had come off the rack, to his handmade, spotlessly shining black shoes looked eerily off, as if no real person could have everything quite that well in place. He would have been handsome, almost preternaturally so, if it weren’t for his eyes: winter-cold and pale gray, they held no sign of connection or compassion, only a calculating curiosity.

  Again, Trevor Harrison didn’t answer Stone’s question directly. “May I ask what the three of you are doing in Las Vegas?”