Steel and Stone: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  Steel and Stone

  Alastair Stone Chronicles Book Fourteen

  R. L. King

  Contents

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Part II

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

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  Books by R. L. King

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 by R. L. King

  Steel and Stone: Alastair Stone Chronicles Book Fourteen

  First Edition, June 2018

  Edited by John Helfers

  Cover Art by Streetlight Graphics

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people, except by agreement with the vendor of the book. If you would like to share this book with another person, please use the proper avenues. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Part I

  1

  It took Alastair Stone three weeks to work out the ritual.

  Part of that was because he wanted to make sure he got it right. This wasn’t the kind of thing you wanted to cut corners on—if he allowed his mind to wander or got a variable wrong somewhere in the circle formula, he could end up sending himself off gods knew where. Quite possibly someplace where he wouldn’t live long enough to figure out how to get back.

  He spent every spare moment working on the project, checking and re-checking numbers, equations, and symbols. He’d figured out quite some time ago how to channel minuscule amounts of the strange magical power Trevor Harrison had taught him to access without burning himself out for indefinite periods; it wasn’t enough to manage even the smallest of proper spells, but for his purposes this time, it was just what he needed.

  A way to tap into the source of that energy so he could figure out how to reach it.

  He still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t caught on to the idea ages ago: if he could identify the source of Harrison’s magic power, he could design a ritual to travel there. If he could get there, maybe he could find Harrison himself, since his assistant Nakamura had all but admitted the man didn’t spend much of his time on Earth. He had to go somewhere, and this seemed as logical a choice as any.

  At least that was what Stone hoped. It might just be wishful thinking, and all of this effort would be for nothing. He might figure out how to reach the dimension only to discover that not only was Harrison not there, but the whole place was nothing but a raging cauldron of powerful energy that would consume him the moment he arrived.

  When he was being honest with himself, that had definitely figured into why he’d taken so long to get the ritual worked out.

  You don’t have to do this, you know, he told himself one evening as he paced the circle he’d painstakingly drawn on the floor of his townhouse’s attic. You have other options.

  It was true: he did have other options. Jason, for a big one. His friend had literally come to blows with him a few weeks back, trying to convince him he was willing and able to supply the power Stone needed to use his magic. It didn’t hurt Jason, caused him no distress, and the only inconvenience was that one of them would have to travel to the other’s location for the next couple of months until Jason passed his private investigator’s exam and moved back to the Bay Area. Putting aside Stone’s reluctance to make himself dependent on Jason—or anyone—for his power, it was a no-lose situation.

  Stone knew his reluctance was irrational: he would have done the same for Jason, or Verity, in a heartbeat if their situations had been reversed, and wouldn’t have resented it in the slightest. But the situations weren’t reversed, and the thought of such dependence went against wiring so deeply entrenched in Stone’s psyche that it would probably take a whole fleet of therapists several years to unsnarl it.

  And in any case, it wasn’t just the reluctance. If it had been, Stone could probably have managed to suck it up and at least give it a try for a while. Perhaps it might even have worked out fine.

  He stopped, throwing himself into a nearby chair and tossing back the last of the pint of Guinness he’d brought with him. Slumped, his elbows on his knees, he regarded the circle without truly seeing it. No, it wasn’t just the reluctance.

  It was his craving for the addictive rush of sensation he got when he took power from others. Jason, for whatever reason, couldn’t provide that. Whatever had given him his unusual ability to provide power to mages—black or white—without experiencing fatigue or other negative effects had also arranged things so taking the power didn’t come with any sensation for the recipient.

  When Stone had been a white mage he hadn’t minded that; he’d used Jason’s power only when he’d needed a little extra punch for his spells, and hadn’t known the difference. But once he’d gone black—once he’d ashed his own twin sister and claimed her massive well of power in order to prevent a series of horrific events—something had changed irrevocably. He didn’t know if it was physical or psychological, but it didn’t matter.

  He liked the rush now. He craved it.

  He could control himself—mostly. It wasn’t as if he went around tapping random strangers for power, like some black mages did. But he’d already killed one person, and very nearly killed another. He couldn’t even say he’d lost control, because he hadn’t. He’d wanted to do it.

  And that scared the hell out of him.

  No, this was the only answer. He had to do this, as distasteful as the alternatives it presented him were: either risk sending himself into instant death if he�
��d guessed wrong about the dimension’s purpose, or, if he did manage to find Harrison, begging the man to teach him what he needed to control the energy and use it as an alternate source of power.

  He set the empty glass on the desk, got up, and took a final look at the circle.

  Everything was ready. He’d tweaked and re-tweaked the symbols and sigils, checked and double-checked the ritual, examined and re-examined every potential pitfall he could think of. Several times over the past three weeks he’d awakened in the middle of the night with some new insight, leaping out of bed to rush up here and add it to his research notes. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t anything left for him to do, except gather the courage he’d need.

  He closed the attic door behind him and paused, leaning against it as he looked down the narrow stairway.

  Getting up the courage to do the ritual was only part of what he’d need to do—and probably the easiest part.

  2

  “I was wondering when I’d see you again,” Verity said.

  “Been—busy.” Stone focused on unpacking one of the grocery bags she’d brought.

  “You’re always busy. But I didn’t think ending my apprenticeship would mean we’d barely see each other anymore. If it had, I’d have argued for stretching it out a few more months.” She was unloading the other bag, spreading out various items on the counter. Raider the cat leapt nimbly up to investigate the new additions; she scratched behind his ears and nudged him away. “I’m glad you invited me over. It’s been like two weeks.”

  Nearly three, actually. She’d called him a couple times, but he’d made excuses, claiming to be too busy with work to get together. “I’m telling you, you didn’t need to cook dinner. I could have picked something up on the way home.”

  “And I keep telling you: I like cooking for you. I really do. And this way I know you’re eating something healthy instead of all that random takeout stuff you grab from God knows where.” She grinned. “Win-win, right?”

  “Yes, all right.” Stone finished unpacking the bag and drifted over to examine the contents of the wine rack.

  “Doc?”

  “Yes?”

  When she didn’t reply, he turned back. She stood with her back to the counter, watching him with an odd look. “What is it?” he pressed.

  “You doing okay?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “I dunno. I’m getting the feeling you’ve been…avoiding me.”

  “I told you—I’ve been busy. That’s all it is.”

  “And I told you—you’re always busy, but you still don’t avoid me like this. You used to find time for my magic lessons a few times a week, so I’d think you’d have more free time than ever now. Unless you’ve already got yourself another apprentice.”

  He chuckled, forcing a light tone. “Hardly. You were quite enough for me. I’m not ready to take on another beginner yet.”

  “What is it, then?”

  Stone turned back to the wine rack. He crouched, studying the bottles a moment, and selected one. “What have you been doing with yourself lately? Still got the job at the coffee shop?”

  There was a long pause, then a sigh. “Yeah. I’m working there during the day. They like me a lot. Even got a raise already.”

  “Brilliant. And you and Kyla are still getting on?” he asked, deceptively casual.

  “Yeah.”

  She’d seen right through him, of course; he’d have been surprised if she hadn’t. “Well, that’s good.”

  “Yeah,” she said again. “I helped out the Harpies the other night,” she added, almost defiantly.

  “Did you?” He set the bottle on the counter and paced at the edge of the kitchen, staying out of her way as she worked.

  “Here,” she said, levitating a knife toward him handle-first and nodding at the cutting board. “Cut that chicken into cubes, will you?”

  He plucked the knife from the air, washed his hands, and set about the task without looking at her. “Helped them do what?”

  “We caught this guy who’s been preying on homeless women.”

  Stone didn’t answer.

  “He had some mental issues,” she continued, putting a wok on the stove and firing up the burner. “We tied him up and made an anonymous call to the cops. They picked him up. Maybe he’ll get the help he needs—or at least those women will be safer.”

  “That’s quite admirable,” he said.

  “You don’t approve, do you?”

  “What makes you think so? You’re not my apprentice anymore—I can’t tell you what to do. I know you’ll be careful.”

  “I will. They’re not just a bunch of vigilantes. I’ve gotten to know them better—did you know one of them’s a lawyer?”

  “I suppose I didn’t meet that one.” He finished chopping up the chicken, put it on a plate, and set it on the sideboard next to the stove.

  “No, I don’t think so. And I’ve been teaching Hezzie a little bit, too.”

  “Thinking about taking an apprentice of your own already?”

  “Yeah, no, that’s not happening. But I figure if I can show her some things, I can help her be a better witch. Oh—and I forgot to tell you. I talked to Scuro again a couple weeks ago.”

  “Planning to get a magical tattoo?”

  “Not yet. Maybe a normal one, but I’m still thinking about it. But no—I took him up on his offer.”

  “Which offer is that?”

  “Remember when I was there with you?”

  “Ah. Right.” He touched his chest; the night he’d gotten the tattoo that helped him channel power more efficiently, Verity had accompanied him and healed the worst of the damage. Scuro had offered her a job doing the same thing for his other “special” clients. “I thought he was joking.”

  “Turns out he wasn’t. He doesn’t do that many of the magical tattoos—maybe one every couple weeks or so—but he was really impressed with how I handled yours, and how fast it healed up naturally after. So I’ve been playing freelance healer for him. He pays really well, too—if I keep it up, between that and the coffee-shop job I should be able to afford to pay for my place on my own.”

  Stone pondered that as he watched her stir-frying the chicken. He had been out of touch, if he had no idea about any of this. “That’s—great news. I’m sure it’s satisfying to earn money doing something you enjoy.”

  “It is. So far both the clients I’ve worked on have been really grateful—they even tipped me on top of what Scuro paid me.”

  “But I told you before—you needn’t worry about your rent. It’s certainly not a hardship for me to help you, and technically your apprenticeship was supposed to last a few more months.”

  “Yeah, but it’s over now, and I’m sure you understand I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  Stone almost made a joke about how much he enjoyed it when she ‘took advantage of him,’ but something stopped him. They hadn’t been together since the night he’d had the revelation about Harrison’s magic. “It’s no imposition, Verity. You know that.”

  “Speaking of housing,” she said, deftly and obviously changing the subject, “When are you moving in to that new place of yours? It should be almost ready, right? Is working on it part of why you’ve been so busy?”

  “No. I think my DIY days are at an end—I’ve already done everything I can safely do without buggering something up beyond repair. I’ve still got to have some professionals in to check it over and do the big jobs.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  He started to answer, then let his breath out. “Verity…I want to talk to you about something. But let’s eat first, shall we?”

  Her gaze flicked up to meet his. “Talk to me about what?”

  “After dinner.” He retrieved a pair of wineglasses from the cabinet and carried them to the table along with the bottle. Raider followed him and jumped onto the table.

  “Uh…yeah, okay.”

  Despite both their attempts at light conversation, t
he meal crackled with a low undercurrent of tension. Stone picked at his food, his mind refusing to settle down despite the decisions he’d already made. This wasn’t the way he normally did things, and the conversation he’d need to have with Verity wouldn’t be easy—but that didn’t matter. He had obligations now, and this, as painful as it would be, was the only honorable thing he could do.

  That didn’t mean he was looking forward to it, though.

  He didn’t miss Verity’s nervous, suspicious glances at him throughout the meal, but he didn’t acknowledge them, either. He wondered what she thought he planned to tell her. Finally, unable to eat anything else, he rose and took his plate back to the kitchen. Then he retrieved his wineglass. “Come out to the sitting room with me, will you?”

  She’d already finished; wordlessly, she picked up her own glass and followed him out. When they’d settled into their familiar places—he in his ratty leather armchair, she with her legs curled beneath her on the sofa and Raider in her lap—she looked at him. “What’s this about, Doc?”

  He took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet her gaze. After all they’d been through together, he owed her this. “I…have a few things I need to tell you. I’d appreciate it if you’d listen to me, and save your comments or questions for the end. Can you do that?”