Circle of Stone

by R. L. King

  Hezzie rolled her eyes as she put the phone down. “You’re determined to do this, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. You don’t have to help—though like I said, it would be great to have more magical sight to help find them if they’re there.”

  “Fine. I’ll go.” She pointed at the beaker. “But next time, I want to see you do this all on your own. No help. Okay?”

  “You got it. Let’s go.”

  9

  “Tonight?” Oh, bloody hell.

  “Yes.” Selby’s voice shook with stress. “I’ve just boarded the train heading back to Paris. I was going to call you as soon as I was settled.”

  “You have the book already?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t hard to secure. The Bertrands aren’t due to return home until later this week, so if we can take care of this quickly I can return it to the room before they suspect anything.” He swallowed loudly. “I hope you’ve come up with something, Dr. Stone. Please tell me that’s why you’re calling.”

  Stone wished he could. Instead, he changed the subject. “Listen, Selby—did you do what I asked you to? Did you do the meditation technique and try to remember everything you saw in the video?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure I have anything useful for you.”

  The despair in Selby’s voice told Stone he wouldn’t provide much extra help. “Okay. Are you somewhere private, where no one will hear you?”

  “Yes—there isn’t anyone else in my train car at the moment. But—”

  “Tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out, no matter how insignificant.” Stone spotted a nearby bar, slipped inside, and took a seat in the back corner. “I don’t think I have to tell you how important this is, Selby. Everything.”

  “All right…all right…” He sounded flustered, but obviously like he was trying to pull himself together. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Good man. Start by describing the room.”

  “It…looked like a private chamber. As I said before, the bedspread was blue—a floral print. Beyond the bed was a dresser with a large, circular mirror. The bed and the mirror were the only things the camera showed. I think she might have had an accomplice in the room with her, hiding in the closet. I could see the closet reflected in the mirror.” His voice shook. “It was partially open, and I saw a small red light. Probably the camera. I can’t believe I missed it at the time.”

  “Probably,” Stone agreed. “If they drugged you or otherwise magically compelled you, I’m not surprised you missed it. What happened with you and the woman? I know this is difficult for you, but I need to you to give me all the details. Anything could be relevant.” He glanced around the bar, checking with magical sight to see if anybody was paying him attention, but nobody was. He remembered he was still wearing his illusionary disguise.

  “All right…” His voice shook even more. “At first it was shadowy. The woman came in first, and I followed her. There wasn’t any sound, but the body language was enough to see what was going on: she asked me for money. Of course I would never patronize a…woman like that. She didn’t give me any indication at the café that she was a prostitute. I refused. She grew angry and tried to order me out of the room. It was then that I—I—”

  “Please, Selby,” Stone said gently. “I know it’s not easy, but please go on.”

  “I…pushed her down on the bed. She tried to get back up, but I climbed on top of her and put my hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming.” Now he sounded like he was a few seconds away from sobbing. “She…she tried to fight me off, but I’m much larger. I…I pulled down my trousers and pushed her dress up.”

  “When did she scratch your chest?” Stone asked.

  There was a long pause, punctuated by several loud, shuddering breaths. “She was…flailing around…I couldn’t hold her arms and her mouth. She…ripped my shirt open and slashed at me with her nails. I—” He trailed off, breath hitching.

  “You what, Selby?” Stone leaned forward, barely noticing the tension in his own body.

  “I…I struck her across the face. And then, while she was stunned, I…I…”

  “All right…” Stone spoke softly now. “There’s no need to describe the act, unless you remember anything relevant.”

  “Not…not until…after it was finished. She must have been gathering her strength again…caught me by surprise…because she managed to get me off balance and shove me off the side of the bed.”

  “What did she do then?”

  “She…leaped off the bed and tried to run away. But she…she hadn’t injured me, only surprised me. I jumped up and chased her. We both left the frame for a moment then, before I dragged her back.”

  Stone sighed. This was not sounding good. So far, Selby hadn’t said anything that suggested the attack hadn’t occurred exactly as he’d described it. “Okay,” he said. “What happened next?”

  Selby sounded thoroughly miserable now. “It’s pointless, Dr. Stone. I don’t even know why I’m doing this…betraying the Bertrands when I know these horrible people aren’t going to give up. What will they demand of me next?”

  “Selby! Calm down. I know this doesn’t look good, but try hard—can you remember anything else about the scene? Try to picture the background. Anything that might identify where it occurred?”

  A longer pause this time. And then, tentatively: “There was one thing I thought to be a bit odd.”

  “What is it?”

  “In the video, when I rose up from behind the bed, right before I ran after the woman to drag her back into the room, I noticed the little red light was gone. The closet door had been open a couple inches, but now it was closed. I must have been wrong, though.”

  “Are you sure it was closed? Maybe the cameraman realized the light was showing and covered it with his hand.”

  “I’m sure. It was a sliding door. I didn’t notice it at the time—I was too horrified by what I was doing—but I’m certain it was closed. It must have been that other man. The one with the misshapen finger.” His voice hitched in a sob again. “Oh, what’s the point? I should just go back to Montrésor and let them do what they will. Thank you for everything you’ve tried to do.” He gasped. “Some people are coming in. I’ve got to go. Thank you, Dr. Stone…”

  “Selby—”

  The line went dead.

  Stone let his breath out and stood, leaving cash on the table for the drink he hadn’t touched. He wondered if he’d hear from Selby again, or ever see him alive. He’d been so certain he could help, but—

  Outside, he narrowed his eyes as he looked for a cab. Something about Selby’s words scratched at his brain, but the harder he tried to pin it down, the more it danced away.

  It had something to do with the cameraman, he was sure of it. Why would he close the closet door? Was he concerned that Selby might spot him? It certainly hadn’t seemed as if he’d been worried about that before, so why at that point?

  A cab appeared. He almost waved it down, then lowered his arm. He had to think about this. Something was wrong, and perhaps a brisk walk around the darkened Paris streets would help.

  Something about that closed door…and the traces of magic he remembered from the apartment he’d visited earlier. Nonviolent magic, with no sign of agitation…

  A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face as the answer clicked into place.

  Of course. It all fits.

  He waved down another cab, already pulling out his phone and punching Selby’s number.

  As always, he answered quickly, breathlessly. “Yes? I can’t talk, Dr. Stone. People are here now. Please, just let me—”

  “Give me a place to meet you.”

  “Why?” Now he sounded surprised.

  “Just do it. I’m going with you to this meeting. Secretly, of course.”

  “But—”

  “Do you trust me, Selby?”

  “Yes, of course, but—”

  “Good. I told you I’d sort this out for you, and I’ve done it.
I’m sure of it. Just tell me where to meet you, and we’ll show these bastards why they’ve messed with the wrong man.”

  10

  The meet wasn’t in the same apartment where the blackmailers had shown Selby the video, but that didn’t surprise Stone. Instead, they had provided another address: the back room at a seedy bar near Rue Cler.

  “Are you sure about this?” Selby had asked when Stone met him outside the train station. He wore a satchel over his shoulder containing the book he’d taken from the Bertrands’ chateau, and his face was pale and blotchy.

  “I’m sure. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Why won’t you tell me, then?”

  “Because I don’t want you to give it away. Just trust me. You asked me to help you with this, so let me handle it.”

  “But if they catch on—if they discover I’ve told someone else, they’ll—”

  “No. They won’t.” He patted Selby’s shoulder. “I promise, you’ve nothing to worry about. Just do what they asked, and trust me.”

  They took separate cabs, arriving at the bar five minutes apart. When Stone’s cab let him off a few doors down, he ducked quickly into an alley and adjusted his disguise amulet from a dull businessman to a slouching young man in a shapeless jacket, baggy jeans, and a black stocking cap. When he emerged, he spotted Selby leaning against the wall in front of the bar, looking like he was trying to get his courage up to go in. He didn’t appear to notice or recognize Stone before turning to trudge inside.

  Stone gave him a couple of minutes’ head start, then followed.

  The place’s interior wasn’t large, but it was hard to see much due to the dim lighting, the smoky haze, and the tables, which seemed to be arranged specifically to provide bad sight lines. The bar itself was on the left, with tables made from wine barrels and a pair of decrepit pool tables dominating the center and right sides. The walls, plastered with graffiti and band posters, muffled the sound of pop music coming through bad speakers. The whole place smelled like beer and cigarette smoke.

  Nobody paid Stone much attention—he’d watched a few of the passers-by in the area before he switched his disguise, and he fit right in with the scattering of customers. Ignoring the bartender, he slid along the narrow passageways between the tables toward the back room, where Selby had told him the handoff was to occur. He wondered if prim Selby had ever been in a place like this in his life.

  He wished he could simply use an invisibility spell, sneaking into the room and hiding there until an opportune moment presented itself, but no way could he keep the spell running long enough for that to work. Instead, he went for the direct approach, pushing through the swinging door labeled Privé and into the smaller room beyond.

  It was empty except for two figures seated at a table near the rear: a stocky man with a hat pulled low over his forehead, and Selby with his back to the door. The leather-bound tome lay on the table between them, next to a closed laptop computer and a half-full pint of ale.

  “Get out of here,” the man in the hat snapped in French, gesturing sharply toward the door. “This is a private meeting.”

  Selby looked over his shoulder, but still didn’t seem to recognize Stone.

  “Sorry,” Stone said easily, continuing in. He pointed at the book, also speaking French and affecting the voice of a drunken young man. “Hey, that’s a nice book. What is it?”

  “Get the hell out,” the man said, louder this time. “Before I kick your ass.”

  Stone pondered, then shrugged and shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He indicated Selby. “My friend here invited me to this meeting. You don’t want to be rude, do you?” He noticed, just as Selby had said, that the man wore gloves and had a misshapen pinky finger on his right hand.

  “Your friend?” The man’s expression darkened, and he settled a cold gaze on Selby. “Is this correct? If it is, you’re a fool. You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

  Selby, looking stricken, didn’t reply, but Stone chuckled. “I don’t think so. In fact, I’d say you’re the one who made the mistake.”

  The man opened the laptop. “I’m sorry, Mr. Selby, but you’ve broken our deal. I’ll be emailing a link to this video to your employers, and—”

  Using magic, Stone slammed the laptop’s screen down on the man’s hand hard enough to break at least the screen and possibly the hand as well. The blackmailer shrieked in pain, jerking his hand back, and the laptop made buzzing noises and emitted a tiny puff of smoke.

  “What the hell?” the man demanded, leaping to his feet. This time he didn’t speak French, but English with a London accent.

  “As I said,” Stone repeated, “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re a fool too, whoever you are,” the man muttered, glaring and cradling his injured hand. “Maybe it didn’t occur to you that we’ve got copies of the video. And now that you’ve made me angry, you can be sure my associates will send them out to all sorts of places. You’ll be arrested before sunrise, Mr. Selby. You can thank your friend for that.”

  Selby was now watching Stone as if he’d taken leave of his senses. The terrified look in his eyes clearly said, Do you know what you’re doing?

  Stone waved him off, and offered the man a predatory smile. “He can thank me for something if he wants to, but not that.” He raised his hand, summoning flickering blue lightning around it. “Go on, then—send the video. Call your associates. Tell them to release it to the world. Send it to the bloody Queen if you happen to have her email address.”

  “What are you—” Selby started, his voice almost as high and shrieky as the man’s had been. His aura erupted with horror.

  Stone patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Selby. He won’t do it.”

  “Oh, you think so?” the man said. He was trying to look as certain and confident as he had before, but his aura gave him away. Inwardly, he was sweating. He pushed away the ruined laptop and made as if to reach for his pocket, but stopped halfway there.

  “I do.”

  “Why?” Selby demanded. “Why won’t he do it?”

  “Because there isn’t any video. There never was.”

  “What?” Selby’s eyes widened even further. “But I saw it! I told you, I—”

  “You saw something.” Stone focused back on the man, crossing his arms. “It was a nice scam, I’ll give you that. I wonder how many other people you’ve targeted, and how many other things you’ve managed to con them out of.” He tilted his head. “You’re the mage, I presume. Is your female colleague magically talented as well?”

  “What is going on?” Selby got to his feet too, snatching up the book and stuffing it back in his satchel. “What are you talking about? How can you say there isn’t any video?”

  “Because there isn’t. Is there?” he asked the man. “It’s an illusion. The whole thing was an illusion, wasn’t it?”

  Sweat broke out on the man’s forehead, and his aura billowed with agitation. “How—how did you—”

  “How did I know? Because Selby had the good sense to call me when you lot tried to take advantage of him, and I’m a far better mage than you are.” He indicated the ruined laptop, then nodded toward Selby’s satchel. “You found out about that book somehow—I’m still not sure whether you knew it was valuable because it was magical, or just because it was old, and it doesn’t matter. You arranged to have your associate meet Selby at the café, where she lured him somewhere private. One of you knocked him out, she put the slashes on his chest to make things more believable, and you left him in the hotel room. He never even saw the inside of your associate’s bedroom, did he?”

  Once again, the man’s hand strayed toward his pocket.

  Stone grabbed it in a crushing telekinetic hold and held it in place. “I wouldn’t. I don’t know if you’ve got a gun in there, and I’d rather not find out. Answer my question.”

  The man’s eyes bulged even further from his head. “I—”

  “Go on, answ
er. I already know the truth—I just want you to verify it for Selby here, so he does too. Did that bedroom even exist at all?”

  The man glared at his feet and remained sullenly silent.

  “Did it?” Stone snapped. He slammed the blackmailer against the wall and lifted him from the floor.

  “No!” he shouted, flailing. “No…no…You’re right—it was all an illusion. All of it. But—” His gaze came up. “How did you know?”

  “I shouldn’t tell you,” Stone said, pacing in front of him as he hung there waving his arms and legs in a desperate attempt to get free of the hold. “But then again, you won’t ever be pulling this little scheme again, will you?”

  “I—”

  Stone shook him. “No, I don’t think you will. So I will tell you.” He glanced back at Selby, who was clutching the satchel to his chest and trembling. “The thing is—illusions aren’t easy. Some mages think they are because they don’t require a lot of power, but they’re not. That’s doubly true of complex ones, and triply true of ones with multiple points of view. They require intelligence. Awareness. And above all, consistency. Especially if you’re trying to fool someone who’s examining them closely. That’s why most smart illusionists never include mirrors in them. Getting the angles right is a nightmare.”

  “I—” the blackmailer began again.

  “Shut up. The grown-ups are talking. Anyway,” he continued to Selby, “the thing that gave it to me was what you said about seeing the closet door closing in the mirror. At first I thought you might be right—that the cameraman covered up the red light with his hand, or he closed the door when you fell so you wouldn’t spot him lurking there.”

  “I—don’t follow,” Selby said.

  “You wouldn’t, would you?” Stone continued his pacing, making a show of holding the man suspended with no visible effort. “That’s completely understandable, given the circumstances. You’re a bright chap, Selby—you’d have worked it out eventually, once you didn’t have the stress of worrying about your future to deal with. Hell, it took me longer than I’m proud of to figure it out, until I realized one important fact.”