Core of Stone

by King, R. L.

  “He helped us shut down one of the portals, but…he had some odd abilities that I’ve never seen before. He recovered from a point-blank gunshot wound to the chest that should have killed him instantly…and somehow, he managed to escape from inside the portal to the Evil’s home dimension after it closed. There’s no way he should have been able to do that, even if he wasn’t as badly injured as he was. I can’t even begin to comprehend the level of power and training it would take to do that. I didn’t even think it was possible.”

  “And you know he recovered, and escaped, because he sent you this notebook explaining his technique?” She tilted her head. “Have you seen him since then? Are you sure someone else didn’t send it to you? Perhaps he left instructions?”

  Stone thought of Harrison’s assistant Nakamura, but shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think part of what he was doing by sending it to me was telling me he was still alive.”

  Madame Huan nodded. “Have you thought of contacting him?”

  Stone stared at her. He hadn’t thought of that. He suspected it wouldn’t be easy: Harrison had made it fairly clear that none of them should try to contact him again. But if he could… “I have not,” he said slowly. “And that…is a very good idea.”

  “If he’s used to practicing this form of magic, perhaps he might have some insights for you. And if he’s as powerful as you say, he might even be able to reverse the damage.”

  Stone doubted the latter—Harrison had never struck him as the type who spent much effort on the healing end of the magical arts. But still…

  “Thank you,” he said. He reached across the table and this time gripped her hand. “For everything. I thought I might go mad if I didn’t talk to someone.”

  “You haven’t told Jason and Verity, then, I take it?” Her tone held the tiniest hint of reproach.

  He shook his head. “No, nor will I. And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t either.”

  “Why not?” she asked. “Of course I will honor your wishes, but why do you seek to shut them out? They’re your friends. They care about you.”

  “I’m sure they do,” he said. “But they don’t need to know. Not yet. Not until I’m sure. The last thing I want is their pity.”

  “Verity is your apprentice,” she said. “If you’re no longer able to fulfill your duty as her master—”

  “I know. I know.” His tone was more harsh than he’d intended it to be. When he continued, it was softer. “I’ll tell them. Eventually. But they can’t help me with this.”

  “And you don’t want them to see you without your power,” she said gently.

  He snapped his gaze up, ready to deny her words, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sighed. “Look,” he said. “I never said I wasn’t a bit of a broken toy. Maybe you’re right—I don’t want them to see me like this. But that’s my right, isn’t it? Let me see if I can get this sorted first, and then I’ll decide where to go from there.”

  “Of course,” she said. “But I want something from you for my silence. And my assistance.”

  He looked at her oddly. She had never asked for any kind of payment for the help she’d given him in the past, beyond the cost of purchased supplies. “What do you want?”

  “I want your word on something.”

  “What…?” he asked, afraid he already knew where this was going.

  “I want your word that you won’t do anything drastic for six months,” she said.

  “Drastic?”

  “Alastair, I know you.” She got up and came around the table, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve known you a long time, since you were an apprentice. Magic is your life. It’s all that matters to you. Even your position at the University pales before your devotion to the Art. And without it…” She squeezed. “I’m quite fond of you, you know. I’m not ready to let you go yet, magic or no magic. So I want you to promise me—give me your word that, even if you discover your magic loss is permanent, you’ll give it six months before you make any irrevocable decisions. Go wherever you like, do whatever you want to do—I’ll help you, if you wish. But promise me you’ll live.”

  “Why?” he asked, bitterly. “If you care for me, why would you want me to live like that?”

  Her expression was unreadable. “I won’t make that decision for you. Perhaps you’ll discover that you can’t…in which case, I won’t like your decision—and I will try with all my being to persuade you from it—but I won’t interfere. But I think you’ll find there is more to life than magic.” She shrugged. “And in any case, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t know yet that the damage is permanent. Go and talk to this Harrison, and see if he can help you.”

  Stone stood. “Yes,” he said with a sigh. “Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you, Madame Huan.” He turned and took a step toward the beaded curtain.

  “Alastair.”

  He stopped. “Yes?”

  “You haven’t yet given me your word.”

  Why the hell did he insist on surrounding himself with such intelligent and perceptive people, anyway? He turned back to her and met her gaze. “I give you my word,” he said, his tone colorless and without inflection, “that I will make no permanent decisions regarding my future for six months from this date.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “There. Happy?”

  She smiled a tiny, sad smile. “No. Of course I’m not happy, because a dear friend is in distress. But at least now I know that my dear friend will remain among us for a time.” She pulled him into a hug. “Take care of yourself, Alastair. And be kind. You ask more of yourself than anyone I know, and forgive yourself less when you feel you haven’t measured up.”

  Chapter Four

  He had a message from Verity when he got home. He listened to it while sorting through the mail. “Hey,” she said. “Hope you’re doing okay. If you’re not busy, Jason and I were wondering if you wanted to get together for dinner tonight. We can go out somewhere, or come to your place and I’ll cook. Whichever. Let us know.”

  Stone tossed the mail aside and almost called her back to tell her he still wasn’t feeling up to seeing anyone, but then he hesitated. He’d planned to pack tonight and head out to Vegas first thing in the morning, but it wasn’t fair to Verity or her brother Jason to just disappear on them—not so soon after what had happened. He hadn’t actually seen them since he’d left the hospital; he’d told them to go on ahead and he’d get in touch when he was home. They’d been reluctant to leave him, but aside from Jason’s injured arm, shot by one of the Evil’s minions, they hadn’t suffered any notable injuries, so there was little point in them hanging around.

  The thought of Verity sent another wave of regret and despair slicing through him. He hadn’t wanted to take on another apprentice—his experience with his last one, several years ago, had gone badly, and convinced him that he wasn’t ready. But then he’d crossed paths with Verity’s older brother Jason. The two of them had tracked her down among the Forgotten after she stumbled upon a murder committed by the Evil and ran away from her halfway house. In the course of discovering that the open portals and the presence of the Evil were the cause of her ongoing mental-health issues, Stone had also discovered that she had the ability to be a mage, inherited from her mother. She’d asked him to train her, and despite his initial reluctance, he’d agreed, because at that point he’d begun to feel responsible for her.

  He’d been training her for a year now, and she exceeded most of his expectations. She had a quick mind and learned fast, though she exhibited frequent impatience with his highly structured, mathematically precise approach to the Art. They had many spirited discussions as her abilities and magical background grew; her own skills displayed a decided slant toward techniques like healing, and an approach that was more organic, more naturalistic than his ego-driven, power-focused methods. She’d commented once during a lesson that his style of magic forced the world to conform to his
vision of it, while she felt more comfortable manipulating existing structures to cooperate with her. She’d thought she was teasing, but it had given him several nights’ worth of things to think about. He’d occasionally wondered how much longer he would be able to teach her, and if he should start looking around for someone who fit better with her style.

  None of that matters now, though, he thought bitterly. If his magic didn’t return, he’d be forced to find her another instructor. That was part of the obligation he’d assumed when he agreed to teach her: if for some reason he either couldn’t or didn’t wish to continue as her master, he had to find someone else to take up her training.

  Another loose end he had to tie up. At least now, thanks to Madame Huan and her meddling (her caring, he reminded himself), he had six months to do it.

  Before he changed his mind, he picked up the phone and punched in Jason and Verity’s number. She answered quickly. “Haven’t you had enough cooking for a while?” he asked.

  “Hey!” She sounded happy to hear from him. “How are you?”

  He wished people would stop asking him that. “Fine. Got back a couple of days ago. Been lying around being lazy and catching up on sleep, mostly.”

  “Yeah, us too. Jason won’t stop bitching about his arm. I wish I could heal it for him, but it’s been too long. Anyway, you want to do dinner and catch up?”

  “Sure.”

  “Your place or out somewhere?”

  “Whichever you prefer.”

  “Hang on a sec.” She put the phone down; Stone heard muffled voices, and then she was back. “How about we come over there? I’m sure you’d just hate a home-cooked meal, right?”

  “Terribly,” he said. “Usual arrangement, of course.” Verity loved to cook and had gotten quite good at it over the past year, so she and Jason often came over to Stone’s place for dinner since he had a much better (and otherwise unused) kitchen. He paid for the ingredients, and she made sure he didn’t spend his life eating takeout when he remembered to eat at all.

  “Cool. We’ll see you in an hour or so, then.”

  While waiting for them to come over, Stone flipped on the TV and switched to a news channel. By now, the stories about the massacre at Burning Man were beginning to wind down a bit—third or fourth on the newscast instead of the lead story. During his time in the hospital, it had remained a headliner in the national news, as authorities sifted through the wreckage and tried to reconstruct what had happened from their findings and interviews with as many people as they could track down. It was quickly determined, though, that most of the witnesses must have been impaired in some way, because the stories of odd glowing patterns in the sky and giant black humanoid creatures and exploding dancers could not have been anything more than a mass hallucination. Even the videotapes confiscated from some of the attendees hadn’t provided definitive proof: it had to be some sort of weather condition, or fireworks, or a trick of the smoke.

  Tonight, a somber reporter spoke over background shots of the playa showing the remains of the Man, mangled tents and RVs, and dozens of emergency vehicles and helicopters on the scene. They were still going with the terrorist angle, and Stone wondered if another explanation—at least one they could get past the majority of the general public—would ever arise, or if the whole thing would simply be swept under the rug. In truth, it didn’t matter to him: there was no way he was ever going back to Burning Man even if his magic did return, regardless of what they decided. All he regretted was the loss of life that he and his friends had been unable to prevent.

  Jason and Verity arrived soon after, bearing four stuffed bags from the nearby supermarket. Verity came in first, grinning. “You’re gonna like this,” she said, heading toward the kitchen. “New recipe. You get to play guinea pig.”

  “Great,” Stone said. He eyed Jason, focusing pointedly on his arm in a sling. “How much longer do you have to wear that?”

  “Few more days,” Jason said. “It’s a drag, but I guess it’s worth it.” He held up the two bags he carried in his other hand. “Better get these where they’re going—got ice cream in here.”

  Stone drifted out to the kitchen and perched on one of the breakfast-bar stools, watching the two of them as they moved around his kitchen with a familiarity far greater than his own.

  To the casual observer, they didn’t look much like brother and sister: Verity was small and slim with big, expressive eyes and spiky dyed-black hair; she favored black goth gear and dramatic makeup. Jason, by contrast, looked like the textbook California surfer dude: tall, athletic, tanned, with long dirty-blond hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore his usual outfit of snug-fitting T-shirt, jeans, and athletic shoes.

  “So,” Stone said. “One of your number seems to be missing.”

  Verity paused from dragging various pots and pans from the cabinets. “Oh, Sharra? She went back home when we left Reno. We’re getting together again in a month or so.”

  He nodded. “And how are you two getting on? Settling back in to routines?”

  “Mostly,” Jason said. He was trying to help Verity by digging things out of the bags, but his nonfunctional arm hindered him. She shooed him out of the kitchen, so instead he lounged in the doorway. “We both have to go back to work next week. Fortunately it’s me with the bum arm instead of V.” He studied Stone. “How’s it going with you? Feeling okay?”

  Stone shrugged. “Getting there. Mostly just random aches and pains—more annoying than debilitating.”

  “The new quarter starts in a couple weeks, doesn’t it? You gonna be ready?”

  “Don’t see why not. I could do it now if I had to, but I won’t lie: the two weeks’ rest will be nice.”

  “Are you just staying around here?” Verity asked. She was holding a large pot under the faucet as it filled with water.

  And just like that, the perfect lie presented itself, tied up with a neat bow. “No, I thought I might go back home for a bit. Aubrey’s been pestering me to stay a while, so I’ll finish recuperating there and let him hover over me like a mother hen. I leave tomorrow.”

  Verity regarded him for just a second longer than might be expected, then nodded. “Sounds like a plan. When are we gonna get back to magic lessons? After you settle in with your classes?”

  “I’ll—let you know,” he said. “Until then, I’ll give you some books to read. Bit more advanced concepts, but I think you’re ready for them. Don’t let it go to your head, but you did a brilliant job out there, Verity. I couldn’t have expected anything more of an apprentice with at least a year’s more training than you’ve had.”

  “Thanks, Teach.” She grinned, but quickly sobered. “Are you still having bad dreams? About—”

  About going through life without magic? Every night. “A few,” he admitted. “More at first. They’re tailing off now.”

  “Yeah…” Jason shook his head. “I’m still getting my mind around everything that happened. It almost seems like a dream itself now, except for this.” He lifted his sling-clad arm a bit. “I wonder how long it’ll be before somebody gets around to interviewing us about what happened.”

  “Why would they?” Verity asked. “I doubt anyone had it together enough to see what we were doing. And by the time Dr. Stone zapped that spirit, everybody was running around in a panic anyway.” She frowned at Stone. “That reminds me: I was meaning to ask you—what the hell did you do to that thing? I’ve never seen you do magic anything like that before. Wait a sec…” She stopped what she was doing. “Was that the stuff you got from Harrison? Did you finally figure out how to use it?”

  Stone decided he definitely had to start cultivating less perceptive friends. “It was,” he admitted. “I still have a lot of work to go with it, but I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Wow,” Jason said, impressed. “You blew the shit out of that spirit. If that’s the kind of power we’ll be seeing from you from
now on, remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  Stone clenched his fists in his lap, where neither Jason nor Verity could see. Damn it, stop talking about magic. Just…stop. “Let’s move on to something else,” he said. “I’m trying to forget about that whole business for now. The Evil’s done for, and we can finally rest for a bit. So what exactly are you making there, Verity?”

  They spent the rest of the meal—the main course was some kind of pasta-based Middle Eastern dish that Stone didn’t get the name of—talking about everything but magic and Burning Man. Every time Jason or Verity tried to steer the conversation to those topics, Stone steered it deftly away.

  After they’d finished eating, and were lingering over dishes of ice cream and little glasses of after-dinner liqueur, he smiled. “Well,” he said, indicating the empty serving dish in the center of the table, “I’d call this experiment a success. Well done, Verity, as always.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I honestly wasn’t sure it would work out—it had a couple tricky spots—but I think it turned out okay.” She pointed her hand at the dishes and, one by one, they lifted off and formed themselves into a neat stack above the table.

  Stone froze like someone had just punched him in the gut, and was sure he’d gone pale as well. He quickly rose to cover it. “Excuse me,” he said, and forced himself to walk nonchalantly until he was out of their sight.

  He ducked into the downstairs bathroom and closed the door, then grasped the edges of the sink and faced the mirror. “Damn it,” he murmured to his glaring reflection, “You can’t lose it every time someone uses magic around you. Get a grip.”

  He ran some water and splashed it over his face, waiting for the color to come back, and then headed back out.

  Verity already had the dishes out in the kitchen, and Jason was carrying the last of the glasses in his good hand. “You okay?” he asked.

  Stone nodded. “Fine. Leave those—I’ll wash them up later.”