by R. L. King
A sudden fear rose: what if one of them had activated, but his wards hadn’t warned him—or what if the wards had tried to warn him, but he was too far away?
Stop it, he told himself. He shifted in his seat and clenched his fists in his lap.
“You all right, sir?” the cabbie asked, casting a quick glance at Stone in his rearview mirror.
“Yes, fine.” He settled back and unclenched his fists, trying to force himself to relax.
The cabbie’s aura, a bright, healthy orange, glittered enticingly, flaring a bit as another car cut the cab off and then settling back down to its usual placid calm. So much potential power, there. All Stone would need to do was lean forward a little, and…
He jerked back, abruptly dropping the magical sight he hadn’t even been aware he’d shifted to as he realized he’d leaned in toward the front seat and raised his hand. Horror gripped him, a chill sluicing through his body.
“Sir?” This time, the cabdriver actually turned his head for a second to glance back at Stone. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
No. I’m not sure at all. Aloud, he said quickly, “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. A—a bit too much to drink at lunchtime, I think.”
“Quite all right, sir.” He turned once again to his driving.
Stone jammed his hands into his overcoat pockets, heart still pounding with the fear of what he’d almost done. He noticed the cabbie glancing into the mirror periodically for the rest of the trip, and didn’t miss the look of relief on the man’s face when he at last pulled up to the London house. Stone paid the fare, along with a generous tip, and got out of there as fast as he could manage without arousing more suspicion.
Once inside the house, he stopped to lean against the wall, staring down at his hands. What’s happening to me? He’d almost taken power from the cabdriver. He’d almost stolen someone’s life energy without permission. And what would have happened if he’d tried? Would he have been able to stop, or would it have gone down as it had with Phoebe?
Damn it, get hold of yourself. That isn’t going to happen.
But could he be so sure?
He thought about what Eddie had told him—about how his ancestors, the powerful practitioners who’d contributed to what he was today, had all been black mages. Hell, even his own father had succumbed to the lure, though like himself, Orion Stone had had good reason for it. Had all those others had good reasons too? Had it been something they hadn’t expected, a decision made in a moment of desperation—or had they wanted it? Had their fathers and those before them trained them from childhood to claim this power, to use other people they considered lesser than themselves? Had they considered it their right to take power from these “lesser” beings?
Stop it!
He clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms. You’re not like that. You don’t need this. It’s just magic. You don’t need power to live—only to fuel your magic. You made your choice, now live with it.
With a soft growl of frustration, he pushed himself explosively off the wall and strode down the hall toward the hidden entrance to the portal. The last thing he wanted right now was to run into one of the skeleton staff who maintained the house.
He told himself it was because he didn’t want to talk to anyone, and even tried to believe it.
Aubrey was dusting the great room when Stone returned to the Surrey house. “You’re back early,” the caretaker said, putting down his feather duster. “I thought you’d be at Caventhorne all day.”
“No. Went up to London to see Eddie. I’ve got to be getting back home, though. Things to do.” The temptation to take a quick look at Aubrey’s aura was overpowering, but he quelled it.
Aubrey paused a moment, as if trying to decide whether to say something. Finally he ventured, “Sir—?”
“Yes?”
“May I…speak to you for a moment before you go?”
“About what? Is something wrong?”
“Please, sir—come to the kitchen, and I’ll fix you a cup of tea.”
There it was again—Aubrey’s answer to every problem had always been a nice hot cup of tea. “Are you all right?”
“I’m—I’m fine, sir. It’s not about me.”
“I really need to get going—”
“It won’t take long, sir, I promise.”
Stone sighed. He didn’t have a good excuse for getting out of it, and the last thing he wanted to do was make Aubrey suspicious. “Fine. But please do make it quick. I’ve got quite a lot to do yet today.”
Aubrey didn’t speak until he’d made two cups of tea, put one in front of Stone, and took the seat across from him at the kitchen table. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but—it’s just that I’ve noticed something that concerns me.”
“And what’s that?” Stone’s mind flitted back, as it sometimes did when he was here at the old table, to the times during his childhood when he’d sat in this exact spot and unburdened his concerns to Aubrey. He didn’t do it often—his father’s teachings had run deep, and he’d been trained from a young age to keep his problems to himself and sort them out on his own—but sometimes the kindly caretaker’s fatherly instincts had coaxed his younger self to reveal things he might not otherwise have been so forthcoming with. He certainly couldn’t do it with his own father.
He glanced up at Aubrey, who was looking down into his own cup of tea, and waited.
“It’s—you, sir.”
“Me?”
The old man’s gaze came up to meet his. “Are you all right?”
Stone blinked. “Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve been acting strangely, lately. Even for you,” he added with an amused half-smile to take the edge off his words.
Stone stiffened, glad Aubrey couldn’t read auras. “Strangely.”
“Yes, sir.” Aubrey took another sip of tea and shifted in his chair. “Ever since you returned from—wherever you went—with Miss Thayer. Possibly even before that, but definitely after you returned. You showed up in those odd robes, barefoot…and neither of you would speak of what happened.” He sighed, gripping his cup more tightly. “If I didn’t know better, sir, I’d say it reminded me of your father, when he returned with you as a baby all those years ago.”
Almost without realizing he’d done it, Stone shifted to magical sight again. Aubrey’s blue aura swirled with uneasiness, but he could feel the deep regard the old man held for him. Whatever was wrong with Stone, he wanted to help.
Let him help, then, said a little voice in the back of his head. He did with your father. He’d do it in an instant if you asked him—
No! His hand tightened around his cup so hard it shook. He flung himself up from the chair and spun away from the sight of that enticing aura. When he spoke, his voice sounded more harsh than he intended. “There’s nothing wrong with me, Aubrey. I’m fine.”
“Sir—”
“I’m serious. Let it go. I understand you want to help, but there’s nothing to help with here. I’m fine. And I’ve got to go.”
He heard the scrape of Aubrey’s chair as the old man stood, but he didn’t turn back around.
“Sir—please. Look at me.”
Reluctantly he did, forcing himself to drop magical sight before he turned. “What?”
“Well—” Aubrey still held his cup and his hands worried at it like they sometimes did with his old flat cap. Then he firmed his shoulders and his expression settled into one of resolve. “The truth is, sir, I don’t believe you. I think something is wrong. I know I’m speaking out of place, but I’ve known you since you were born, and I can tell when something’s troubling you.”
“Aubrey—”
Aubrey held up a hand. “No, sir. It’s all right. I won’t pry. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s your prerogative, and it’s not my place to expect otherwise.” He moved forward and put a gentle hand on Stone’s shoulder. “But I want you to know that if you should decide you want to talk about it—about a
nything—I’m always here to listen. You know that.”
At Aubrey’s touch, a sharp, electric tingle passed through Stone’s body and he had to exercise all his control not to shudder—and not to latch on and claim some of that glowing, willing power. Aubrey would give it to him. He’d be honored to give it to him, as he’d done with his father all those years ago. How good it would feel to have it coursing through him again—
He wrenched himself away and spun off once more. “Just—leave me alone, Aubrey,” he snapped. He hated himself for speaking in such a way to the man he trusted more than anyone else on Earth—the man who loved him like a son—but that aura, that feeling of giving, of wanting to help…
“Look,” he said, once again not turning. “I know. I appreciate it. But the only way you can help me is by letting it go. I’m fine. I don’t need help. And I’ve got to go.”
Still not looking at Aubrey, he strode from the kitchen with every nerve on edge and his heart hammering hard.
“Sir?” Aubrey’s voice called as he reached the door.
“What?”
“Please be careful,” he said. “And if you won’t talk to me—please talk to someone.”
Stone swept out of the room without reply. By the time he got outside the house on the way toward the cemetery, he was running.
32
Stone threw himself into his work at the University for the next several days, spending as much time alone as he could manage. The quarter was coming to an end soon, which meant he had a number of students visiting his office to get last-minute help, clear up questions about assignments, and turn in extra-credit projects. More than once, he caught himself sneaking glances at their auras before switching off magical sight in disgust.
Several times when he was alone, he pulled the three cards Kolinsky had given him from his wallet and examined them—perhaps if he couldn’t bring himself to call Phoebe, he could call one of the other two. He could explain the situation to them, taking even more care this time since he knew what could go wrong. It could be fine this time. He had no way to know if he didn’t try.
But if he did try, and it did go wrong again…
The sensation was an odd one. It didn’t feel like an addiction. At no time did he feel physically ill—his stress came in equal parts from his concern about what might happen if he tried to draw power again and took too much, and from the desire to experience the rush as he pulled the power into his body. He wanted to feel that rush again, and sometimes almost convinced himself it was safe to try it—but he never felt compelled to seek it out. Not like a drug, anyway. The compulsion was there, but it was…different.
To take his mind off the situation, and the fact that he needed to avoid all but the most rudimentary magic until he figured out a solution to his problem, he took to spending more of his evenings at the house in Encantada. He bought a few books on home repair and taught himself how to do some of the more minor jobs, figuring if he failed miserably at it, he could always pay someone who knew what they were doing to come behind him and do it right. But to his surprise he found he enjoyed the work, alone in the big empty house with nothing but an old portable stereo for company. With no other people around, the thoughts of drawing power settled down. He didn’t need magic to work on the house, and the feeling of doing physical tasks with nothing but his own hands gave him a sense of contentment of a different kind.
Of course he wouldn’t admit to himself that he was avoiding Verity, even though he was. She called him a couple times during the week, but he apologized and told her he was busy with work. “We’ll pick up again after finals are over, all right? I’ll be much better company then.”
“Sure,” she said, sounding dubious. “Want me to come over and cook you dinner, at least?”
“No, no, that’s fine. I appreciate the offer, but I’ve been working late and I need to decompress a bit in the evenings.”
He could tell she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t insist.
When Stone heard a knock on the door later that week, it surprised him. It was Saturday, and since he was caught up on grading final projects and the white figurines had still shown no signs of activating, he’d decided to spend the day at the house taking care of some small projects. Now, in early afternoon, he’d been forced reluctantly to admit that the latest project he’d chosen—replacing the damaged floor in one of the smaller bedrooms—might have been a bit more ambitious than he’d planned. When the knock came, he had one of his books open on a makeshift table and was studying it as he tried to figure out where he’d gone wrong.
“Yes, just a moment!” he called, hurrying down the stairs. He hoped it wasn’t one of his new neighbors stopping by to greet him—he’d hardly make a favorable impression in his ripped jeans, sweat-stained T-shirt, and disheveled hair. He flung open the door, expecting to see either a shocked middle-aged socialite or perhaps a couple of well-scrubbed missionaries trying to save his soul. Bit late for that, he thought wryly.
It wasn’t a socialite, though, and it wasn’t missionaries. Instead, Jason Thayer stood there, grinning. “Hey, Al. Nice place you’ve got here.”
Stone blinked. “Er—Jason! What a surprise.” It was a surprise; he hadn’t seen Jason for months, since their schedules didn’t often coincide. He stepped aside. “Come in.”
Jason looked him up and down ask he entered. “Wow—I couldn’t believe it when V told me about this. She said it needed work, but…man.” He redirected his gaze to what he could see of the house’s interior and let out a low, impressed whistle. “This place has some nice bones. Are you…uh…working on it yourself?” His tone suggested he wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
“Trying to. Learning, but slowly.” He swiped his hair off his forehead. “What brings you here? Are you up visiting Verity?” He looked past him through the still-open door. “Is she with you?”
“Nah—she’s covering for one of the other folks at the coffee shop. Yeah, I’m visiting her—got some vacation time—but I figured if she was busy for a few hours I’d come see what you were up to.” He gave a wry grin. “Looks like I showed up just in time. What are you trying to do, besides get covered in sawdust? They didn’t let you near power tools, did they?”
“Sod off,” Stone muttered, but then he sighed. “Just trying to do a few things on my own before I have the professionals in to do the big jobs. But I’m finding that learning DIY from a book is a bit harder than learning spells from one.”
“Let me have a look. I used to do some seasonal construction work right after I got kicked out of the Academy. You want some help?”
“I wouldn’t turn it down. Let me give you the tour, and then perhaps you can offer a few suggestions on how I’ve buggered up my attempt at flooring.”
He took Jason around the house, starting with the basement and ending in the attic, with the exception that he saved the room he was working on for last.
“This is a damn nice place,” Jason said, looking around wide-open space of the attic. “You said some old lady left you this?”
“I did some work for her many years ago. She had an extradimensional horror trying to escape from her basement, and I sorted it out for her.”
“Of course you did. Happens to everybody. You’ll have to tell me that story sometime, but right now let’s see what kind of trouble you’re having.”
Stone led him down to the small bedroom and stood aside so he could get a good look. “What do you think, Doctor? Can the patient be saved?”
Jason studied it for several moments. “Well…” he said at last, “the good news is that it’s not as bad as I thought it might be. You’re actually kinda getting the hang of this, which surprises me.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Looks like we’ll have to pull up a couple of these boards and replace them, but that shouldn’t take long. You got anything to drink here?”
“Yes—at least the hideous abomination of a refrigerator works, which is something. You’ll have to settle
for Guinness or bottled water, though, since I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I didn’t know I was coming until a couple days ago. Like I said, Fran finally admitted she hadn’t given me any vacation time for months, things are slow, so I figured I’d come up and see V’s new place.” He picked up a crowbar and began prying up one of the floorboards. “She seems really happy there.”
“Yes, well, I don’t think either of us thought it was the best idea for her to live with me. And since she is my apprentice, I’m responsible for her housing until she finishes.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that. She feels a little guilty that she’s not paying for more of it herself, but I gotta say I’m glad she’s out of your place. Nothing against you,” he added quickly. “I know there’s nothing to worry about, but it still looks a little weird for a girl her age to be living alone with an older guy.”
You don’t know the half of it. Stone turned away from him in the guise of reaching for a mallet until he could be sure his face wasn’t revealing anything. Damn good thing Jason couldn’t read auras, or he’d be in trouble. “Yes, probably best for all concerned. And it’s not as if it’s a financial imposition, after what happened with Desmond.”
“She told me about that. Like I said before, I’m really sorry. V said you two were close.”
Stone started to say more, but changed his mind and settled for a simple “We were, yes.”
For the next hour they worked in relative silence, with the exception of the radio playing softly and Jason giving Stone a bit of direction or asking where he could find a particular tool. Stone fell easily and willingly into the role of student, recognizing Jason’s superior skills in the job. Together, they finished the floor in less than half the time it would have taken Stone on his own.
While Jason swept up, he hurried down to the kitchen to retrieve more bottles of water. When he returned, he found Jason staring out the window into the trees bordering the backyard. “How long are you staying? When does Fran expect you back?”