Blood and Stone

by King, R. L.

  Merrill nodded. “Yeah. We even went out a little bit yesterday and checked a few places we thought he might be, but he wasn’t there. We thought maybe he mighta gone off with one of the strippers or something.”

  “But he didn’t?”

  “No. Kurt called ’em, and they both said they left around two a.m. and went home. The cops came the next day to talk to all of us, but nobody could remember seeing Jase leave.”

  This wasn’t helping at all. If nobody had seen him leave, that meant he hadn’t talked with anybody. And if he’d been as drunk as Merrill had implied, it was quite possible that whatever “weird thing” he’d seen had been entirely in his head. People called friends with all sorts of strange declarations when they were smashed off their asses.

  Except...

  Stone’s mind went back to the message on his machine. Jason had sounded odd, but he hadn’t sounded drunk. A little freaked out, maybe. Nervous. But not drunk. He took a deep breath. “All right, Mr. Merrill. Thank you for your time.”

  Merrill nodded. “Yeah, no problem.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but instead stared at the ground. “I’d better get back to work.”

  Stone started back toward his car, wondering where he was going to look next for answers. Maybe he’d have to bribe the desk clerk at the Nest to let him into Jason’s old room, to see if he could get any readings from—

  “Mr. Stone?” Merrill’s tone was strange, tentative.

  He stopped, turning back. “Yes?”

  Merrill came closer. He glanced around like he wanted to make sure nobody was watching, then said quietly, “There is one other thing...maybe.”

  Stone raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer. “What other thing?”

  He glanced around again. “When the cops came to talk to us—they didn’t say anything about it to us, but I overheard a couple of ’em talking when they didn’t think I noticed.” He paused, and his next words came from him as if he didn’t want to say them. “I don’t know if you know this, but they found a girl murdered in that area the day after the party. I think…maybe they might think Jason killed her.”

  Chapter Four

  Stone barely remembered the drive from the hardware store back to the motel. He dropped into the room’s single chair and scrubbed at his hair, his mind whirling. Chris Merrill’s words had rocked him hard; he was still recovering enough to think clearly.

  Merrill hadn’t had anything else to offer regarding the speculation—he said the two policemen had noticed him right after that and glared at him hard enough that he made himself scarce. The only other thing he’d told Stone was that he hadn’t shared what he’d heard with anyone else. “I don’t know why,” he mumbled when asked, not meeting Stone’s gaze. “But I know there’s no way he killed anybody. No fucking way.”

  “Well, we’re in agreement on that,” Stone had said, and left after giving Merrill the phone number of his room and asking him to call if he learned anything else or if Jason turned up.

  The only thing was, Stone realized as he sat there staring at a framed print of a local mountain range tinged with eerie pink, he couldn’t be sure that they were in agreement on that, and that was what had hit him so hard. Of course, he knew Jason would never kill anyone—let alone slit the throat of a sixteen-year-old girl—if he was in control of himself. That kind of act would be so contrary to his core nature as a protector and defender of the weak as to be unthinkable.

  But there was the matter of the “weird thing.” That was the variable that made everything much less cut and dried, and much more potentially horrific. There were plenty of “weird things” out there capable of controlling an unsuspecting human’s mind, or taking over their body and wearing them like a cheap suit. Stone, Jason, and Verity had just spent the better part of the previous year dealing with just such a thing: the extradimensional creatures dubbed “the Evil,” who possessed usually willing hosts and fed on negative emotion. Still, even though the Evil were mostly under control at this point, with only the scattered remnants of their invasion force left leaderless and adrift all over the country with no way to reproduce or supplement their number, that didn’t mean there weren’t at least five other things capable of similar possession or control that Stone could think of without even trying hard. And that was just the relatively “common” ones. His years of experience dealing with the spirit world had taught him long ago that even the “common” entities didn’t have that much in common, and the more esoteric varieties were all unique, mostly powerful, and always dangerous.

  What the hell had Jason gotten himself into?

  Stone took out his notebook and began jotting down a timeline to help him keep everything straight in his mind. Jason had arrived in Ojai on Thursday afternoon, attended the bachelor party on Friday night, and walked back to the Nest Motel (or at least started to) sometime in the wee hours of Saturday morning. The message he’d left on Stone’s phone had been timestamped a little before seven a.m. on Saturday, which meant he must have disappeared sometime between then and when the police had called Stone late Sunday afternoon.

  Grabbing the local phone book again, he opened it to the back and was pleased to find a map of Ojai taking up two of the last few pages. He studied it carefully but could find no street labeled “Arbolada.” Chris Merrill had said it was a part of town, but the map didn’t list it. He tossed the book back on the bed, gathered up his overcoat, and headed to the motel office.

  The clerk nodded when Stone mentioned the name and asked where it might be found. He dug a map out of his desk drawer, spread it on the counter, and pointed out a jumble of streets not far to the northwest of the motel, on the other side of the main drag.

  “Hmm...” Stone mused. “So it wouldn’t be at all odd for someone to walk back here from there, say if he’d had a bit too much to drink and didn’t want to drive?”

  “Nah, it’s not far. Although if he was really drunk, he might get lost. It’s kind of a maze over there if you aren’t familiar with the area.” He tilted his head. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you—uh—know somebody else who was staying here?” His voice was carefully noncommittal.

  Stone crossed his arms over his chest. “You mean the man who’s gone missing?”

  The clerk looked relieved. “Yeah.”

  “What makes you think I do?”

  He shrugged. “Well, that’s your Beemer in the lot, right?”

  Stone nodded.

  “It’s got a Stanford license plate frame, and he was from the Bay Area too. I mean, we get a lot of folks in here from up that way, but—”

  “—but usually not odd single Englishmen who don’t act like tourists?” Stone asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well—yeah. I mean, my other guess would have been you’re up from Hollywood scouting locations for a picture or something, but the license plate—”

  “I do know him, yes. He’s a friend of mine. I was concerned after the police called me, so I came down to see if I could help find him.” He tilted his head. “I trust the police have already gone through his room?”

  The clerk nodded. “Yeah. They took his stuff and did a pretty thorough search. They released the room, though. There’s somebody else in there now.”

  “Thank you,” Stone said. “I appreciate your help. I’m trying to get a sense of where he might have gone after he left the party he attended on Friday night. Hence my question about walking back here from the Arbolada. You don’t know whether he came back here, do you?”

  “No, sorry. We don’t keep tabs on our guests’ comings and goings. We’re not modern enough to have those fancy electronic key cards. Just regular normal keys here.”

  Stone nodded and thanked him for his help.

  He considered his next steps: clearly he needed to conduct a ritual to find Jason’s whereabouts, and h
e needed to do it soon. The problem was that his motel room was far too small for even a rudimentary circle—and he wanted something more than rudimentary for this spell. Even if he pushed all the movable furniture (which didn’t include the bed) up against the wall, it barely left enough room for a circle he could stand comfortably in and stretch out his arms. That meant he was going to have to find a bigger space.

  Mundanes never had to worry about problems like this. If he was home, he had a large open space in the attic of his townhouse that had been set up for just this sort of ritual. But down here, he was limited by a tiny motel room, of all things. And since every hotel room he was likely to find around here was probably not much bigger, that meant looking for something larger he could rent.

  He procured the current issue of the local paper, located a coffee shop downtown, got a respectably sized infusion of caffeine, and settled into a back corner to look over the real estate ads. It took him a while to find a couple of places that looked like possibilities, as it wasn’t that easy to find rentals by anything less than a month. With the new quarter starting in two weeks, he sincerely hoped he’d be able to wrap this up a lot faster than that. Possibly today with any luck at all, assuming he could secure the premises that fast. His ritual to track people was a good one, and there was no reason it shouldn’t zero in on Jason’s location with little fuss and bother.

  Assuming, of course, that he was still alive.

  No. Not going there. He’s alive, and I’m going to find him. He circled the ads he’d found, tore out that portion of the page, and left the rest of the paper for the next customer.

  The real estate agency, it turned out, wasn’t far from the coffee shop (Stone was beginning to suspect that nothing in this town was very far from anything else), so he left the car where it was and walked over. He found the place amid a collection of artsy little shops that comprised most of Ojai’s picturesque downtown area.

  The woman behind one of the two desks looked up as he came in. She smiled, rising to come to the counter. “Good morning. May I help you?” She was a little younger than he was, her trim frame clad in a suit that somehow managed to simultaneously pull off “businesslike” and “bohemian.”

  He returned her smile. “I hope so. I’m looking for a short-term rental, and this one seems to fit the bill nicely.” He slid the ad across the counter and indicated his preference.

  She glanced at it and frowned a little. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, and sounded like she actually meant it. “That one was just rented yesterday. If you tell me what you’re looking for, though, I might be able to help you. We have a few new listings in today.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not terribly picky. I just need something for a few days while I’m here. I’m—not fond of motel rooms.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “I don’t blame you,” she said. “There are some nice places here in town, but they’re not cheap.” She offered him her hand, grinning. “I’m Lindsey Cole, by the way. And you’re not from around here.”

  “What was your first clue?” he asked, chuckling, as he shook her hand. Her grip was firm and warm. “Alastair Stone.”

  “Nice to meet you, Alastair Stone. And my first clue was that if I’d seen you around here before, I’d remember it.” She met his gaze with cheerful forthrightness. Her eyes were a warm brown. “Now, let’s find you a rental, shall we?” Turning, she grabbed a sheaf of papers from her desk and riffled through them, then pulled out two and brought them back. “These should fit your needs. They’re both detached houses—a one-bedroom cottage and a small two-bedroom home. Do you have a preference, or would you like to take a look at both of them?”

  Stone considered. He wanted to get started with the ritual as quickly as possible, but it wouldn’t do him any good if he picked one at random and it didn’t have the space he needed. He couldn’t exactly tell her he needed something appropriate for setting up a magical circle. Better if he saw it for himself. “Suppose I take a look at both? Just to be sure.”

  “You got it,” she said, and looked pleased about it. “C’mon. Do you have a little time? Business is slow this time of day, so I can take you out there now if you want.”

  “Er—sure.” He was surprised, figuring she’d just give him the addresses and turn him loose on his own. “Let’s go, then.”

  She jotted a note for the door, picked up her purse, and motioned for him to follow her.

  The first house, the one-bedroom, was less than half a mile away, up one of the side streets that crossed Ojai Avenue. It was a guest cottage behind a larger home, and Stone knew immediately it wasn’t going to be big enough.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” he said, shaking his head as soon as they entered. “This won’t do for what I need. It’s got to be a bit larger.”

  “That’s all right,” she said briskly. “The other one’s bigger. Farther out, though. It’s almost out to the East End. Is that okay?”

  Stone shrugged. “Since I’ve next to no familiarity with this area, I haven’t the faintest idea. Let’s find out.”

  They headed back to her car and soon they were cruising back up Ojai Avenue. “So what brings you to Ojai, Mr. Stone?” Lindsey Cole asked. “On vacation?”

  “Not exactly. I’m meeting up with a friend down here.” That wasn’t technically a lie. Maybe if he played this right, he could get a little free information along with a rental recommendation. “I noticed in the paper that you’ve had a bit of unpleasantness here recently.”

  She glanced over. “Oh, you mean the murder?” she asked. “Terrible thing. We haven’t had a murder around here in as long as I can remember. I just hope the police catch whoever did it soon. Everybody’s a little on edge. You don’t have to worry, though,” she added quickly. “It really is quite safe here.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried,” he assured her. “Besides, I’m sure it didn’t occur anywhere near the house we’re looking at, right?”

  “No, nowhere close. They found her just off Foothill, in the Arbolada. The police haven’t released any information yet, but everybody knows. Small town and all. Some of the high-school kids have already even started a little memorial up there.”

  Stone had stopped listening when she said “Arbolada.” He forced himself back to awareness, replaying what she’d said until he caught up. “And—they’ve no idea who might have done it?”

  “Not that they’ve said, but that doesn’t mean anything, I suppose. I’m sure it wasn’t anyone from around here.” She shook her head. “Anyway, as I said, I’m sure it won’t affect your stay in town.”

  They both fell silent for a couple of minutes, then she asked, “So, what do you do, wherever you are normally?”

  “I—teach,” he said, watching the scenery roll by without really seeing it.

  “Really? That’s great! What grade?”

  He chuckled. “No, no. My students are a bit further along than that. I’m a professor at Stanford.”

  “Oh!” She grinned. “Well, I have to admit I was having a hard time picturing you shepherding a herd of kindergartners around.”

  “No, I’m allergic to children, actually.”

  That got her to look over in surprise, and then she laughed. She took a left and drove about half a mile up another road, then turned into a short driveway and parked in front of a small, neat house with a FOR RENT sign staked into the yard. “Well, here we are,” she said, getting out.

  This time, he knew he’d found a place he could work with. The house was fairly generic as befitted its rental status, a small, tan, stucco-sided affair with a shake roof and windows covered with the same standard-issue blinds that graced every cheap rental property in the western world. It wouldn’t win any prizes for aesthetics, but it was furnished with more taste than Stone expected and it featured a large, wooden-floored living room that would be easily big enough for his ritual needs. He took a cursory look around to verify that
the rest of the place was acceptable, then nodded. “This will do nicely.”

  “It’s not too far out of town for you?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve come from the Bay Area. We routinely drive half an hour for take-away. No, this isn’t too far.” Moving toward the door, he added, “I’d like to get settled in as soon as possible, if that’s all right. Shall we go back and finish up whatever paperwork is necessary?”

  She seemed surprised that he was in such a hurry, but nodded. “Of course.”

  Once they got back to the office, it took only a few minutes for Stone to sign the required papers and hand over the requisite funds. He collected the keys, thanked Lindsey Cole and started to leave, already plotting out the circle he’d need to build for the ritual to ensure that it went off without any unexpected surprises.

  “Mr. Stone?” Her voice sounded a little different.

  “Yes?”

  She smiled. “Since—you’re new in town, there’s a wonderful Mexican restaurant downtown here that just opened. Would you be interested in having dinner with me tonight?”

  His eyebrow crept up again. “Ms. Cole, are you asking me out?”

  She shrugged, grinning impishly. “I know, it’s forward, but all you can say is no, right? I’m a realtor. We get told no all the time. I’m used to it. And the yeses make it worth all the rejections.”

  He thought about it. Finding Jason was without doubt his number-one priority, but the ritual would only take an hour or so, after which if all went well he should be able to pinpoint his friend’s location and track him down. And if not— “I’d like that,” he said. “On two conditions.”

  “Yes?”

  “I might need to cancel at the last minute, depending on what my friend has planned. So you’ll have to promise you’ll not take that personally.”

  “Fair enough. And the other one?”

  “Even though you’ve asked me out, you must let me buy you dinner. I’m a bit old fashioned that way, at least on the first date.”