by R. L. King
“Shit…” the cop muttered. “Okay—both of you just stay put.” He keyed his radio and began talking into it.
As soon as he turned his attention away from Stone, the mage faded to invisibility and lifted off the ground, floating toward the door. The cop would be looking for him, of course—but he’d be looking for his illusionary-disguised version. As far as anyone here knew, nobody who looked like the real Alastair Stone had ever been here tonight.
He scanned the dwindling crowd, now mostly cops and firefighters, on his way out, and didn’t see any sign of either Verity or anyone who looked like a teenager. They’d gotten out, then—good. He picked up speed and darted toward the door. If anyone heard him coughing from high above them, he was sure they’d write it off to nerves.
45
“So, do you think the cops will be able to hold him?” Verity asked.
It was two hours after they’d gotten free of Caliente, and she and Stone sat in a back booth in a busy diner in San Francisco. The strong smell of grilled meat and onions mostly masked the fact that both of them reeked of smoke.
“I’ve no idea.” Stone sipped his coffee, finally allowing himself to relax following a stressful trip working their way through the snarled traffic around the scene and then back across the Bay Bridge. “I think the block is strong, and I saw quite a lot of guilt. Perhaps he’ll allow them to hold him because he thinks he deserves it. Especially if they take him out of the Oakland area. The farther he gets away from that…er…ley line, the better off he’ll be.” He looked around, marveling at how normal everyone seemed here compared to the scene in Oakland.
They hadn’t talked much on the way back by mutual unspoken agreement. Verity had stared out the window, deep in thought, and Stone had concentrated on the traffic, glad for something mundane to occupy his mind. Halfway across the bridge, Verity pulled out her phone and called Jason, reassuring him that everything was fine and the danger was over but refusing to go into details. “Tomorrow,” she said. “I don’t feel like rehashing it right now.”
Now, Stone watched Verity closely from across the table. He’d found her a block away from the Caliente complex, huddled with Daisy and a boy he didn’t recognize. Both teens had melted into the darkness when he approached, and she’d turned to him without further comment, motioning him back toward the car.
“So…” he said. “Is there something going on with you and Daisy and that other boy?”
She ducked her gaze. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
“Care to share?”
For a while, she didn’t answer, focusing on her burger. “They need help,” she said at last. “I was thinking maybe I could give them some.”
“What kind of help?” He narrowed his eyes, wondering what she was up to. So often these days he had no idea what was going on in her mind.
She shrugged. “Ben didn’t teach them much. He wasn’t much of a teacher—he barely knew anything about magic himself, Daisy said. All he did was show them a few tricks they could use for their crime stuff.”
“And…?”
“Well…I thought maybe I could help them out a little. You know, go over there every once in a while and teach them a few things. Make sure they get the stuff they need.”
Ah. Should have expected that. “Taking on apprentices already, are you?”
“Not apprentices,” she protested. “Not…the way you mean it, anyway. But I was talking to Ian a while back, and he was telling me about some…nonstandard approaches he’d been exploring.”
Her gaze came up, meeting his head-on. “You know we’ve had the conversation too many times already about needing somebody to deal with mages who get out of hand. And I mean that more than ever. But…I also think there might be room for different approaches to learning magic. These kids don’t want to be classically-trained mages. Hell, some of them just want to know where their next meal’s coming from, or where they’re gonna sleep tomorrow night. If I can help make their lives a little easier, maybe they won’t have to resort to crime.” Her expression hardened. “I don’t think they need to be punished for just trying to make a decent life for themselves.”
Stone held up his hand. “No. No, of course they don’t. And if that’s what you want to do, it’s not my place to try to stop you. I’m not sure I’d want to, anyway. I’ve been talking to Ian as well, and you’re right—the world is changing, and there’s room for all sorts of magic. Just—don’t ask me to help, all right? I’ve got enough on my plate without taking on magical high school.”
She chuckled. “Don’t worry, Doc. I won’t. I know it’s not your thing. But thanks for being understanding. I actually even hope Ben gets the help he needs. This whole thing is just a big mess, isn’t it?”
Before Stone could answer, her phone rang. Confused, she pulled it out, and then her eyes widened. “Uh…hey.”
Stone made as if to get up, but she waved him back down. “Yeah. Yeah, we were. It’s all taken care of now. The guy’s in custody. A few people got hurt, but I’m fine. What?” A small smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah. I’d like that. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Stone watched her as she slowly returned the phone to her bag. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah. I think so. That was Kyla. She wants to get together tomorrow and talk.”
“So things are looking better.”
“I hope so.”
Stone didn’t miss the relief in both her demeanor and her aura. “I’m so glad. I told you they’d come around.”
“I’m not sure if all of them will—but Kyla’s pretty influential, so we’ll see. At least it sounds like there’s a better chance now than there was earlier tonight.” She finished her shake, sucking the last of it up with an exaggerated loud smack, and smiled at him. “But that’s tomorrow. What do you say we go back to my place for tonight and…see what happens? I don’t think I could sleep if my life depended on it.”
“Brilliant idea.” Stone tossed some cash on the table and stood. Tomorrow, he’d have to call Blum and give him an update, and he’d have to figure out what, if anything, he wanted to do about the rift, which meant another uncomfortable conversation with Stefan Kolinsky.
But that was tomorrow. Tonight, he owed himself a little rest.
46
Two weeks later
Blum called while Stone was at a delicate point in his portal formula.
“This had better be important, Detective,” he said, sounding grumpier than he meant to. The interruption meant he’d have to start from scratch with the latest calculations, which would take him at least an hour.
“Hey, sorry to take you away from turning things into toads or whatever you guys do in your spare time.” Blum didn’t sound at all contrite. “I just thought you’d want to know this. I can call back later—”
“No, no—what is it?” The tingle at the back of Stone’s neck, the one that told him he was about to hear something he didn’t want to hear, was going off full strength.
“It’s about Ben Halstrom.”
The tingle intensified. Last he’d heard of Ben, he’d been sent off to some high-security psych hospital for further treatment. Astonishingly, no mention of anything magical or paranormal had made it to the news; a probable reason for that was that something inexplicable had happened to everyone’s phones inside Caliente the night of the fire, rendering them temporarily inoperative. That was why Daisy hadn’t been able to respond to Verity’s texts, and why no one got any usable photos or videos from inside the club. If the people in there believed they’d seen something supernatural, they couldn’t prove it. Beyond a few stories in crackpot tabloids, the media had written the whole thing off as temporary hysteria. Unofficially, anyway.
“Do I want to know?” Stone asked. “Is he all right? Did he hurt anyone?”
“He’s gone.”
“What?” Stone sat up straighter. “Gone? You mean he escaped?” He would have bet a lot of money that Ben was no longer in a frame of mind to do that, even if he
had the power to manage it.
“Not sure. They think he might have had help. Somebody showed up to visit him—said he was a long-lost relative—and the next thing the folks at the facility knew, both the relative and Ben were gone.”
“Bloody hell.” Who would have broken Ben out of a psych facility? As far as he knew, the man had no more living relatives, and no friends now that his group of teens had broken ties with him. “And they have nothing? No video, no description of this person?”
“Nothing. That’s the weird part—nobody who saw the guy could remember anything about what he looked like, and the cameras show nothing.” He sighed. “Sounds like your crowd again, Stone. Somebody wanted this guy.”
Something knotted in the pit of Stone’s stomach as the realization came to him. “Er—yes, it certainly seems so.”
“I’m not askin’ you to look into it—honestly, as long as he’s out of this area, I don’t give a fuck what he does. He’s become somebody else’s problem. But I figured you’d want to know.”
“Yes, Detective. Thank you.”
“Hey, at least we got Julio, right? That’s something. And I doubt anybody’s gonna be getting him out anytime soon.”
“Yes, yes, good.” Stone was barely listening to him now, his thoughts already spinning. The fact that the police had picked up Julio Gutierrez as he and his bodyguard tried to escape the area around the Caliente complex was old news, and frankly of no interest to him. “I’ll talk to you later.”
He hung up slowly and drifted back over to the half-finished circle on his floor. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe whoever had sprung Ben Halstrom had done it for some other reason.
But…the man’s original power, before the rift had taken full hold and twisted his mind, had been the ability to spot latent magical ability. As far as Stone knew, that power was unique among mages—which could well make it highly sought-after by any number of people.
The problem was, he had no idea who.
He was still studying the circle, his mind only half present, when his phone buzzed again. He didn’t recognize the number.
Damn. I’m not going to get anything done today, am I? “Yes, hello?”
“Dr. Stone? It’s Selby.”
That was a surprise. He hadn’t heard from the man in weeks, and assumed everything had gone back to normal for him. “Er—hello, Selby. How are you?”
“I…was wondering if you might have time to join me for a cup of coffee, or perhaps a pint. In London, I mean.”
There was something strange in Selby’s voice. “Is everything all right?” he asked. “Those people aren’t bothering you again, are they?” He couldn’t believe the blackmailers would be brave enough to have another go at Selby, especially now that they knew who he had on his side.
“No, no. Nothing like that. I’ve heard nothing more from them.” There was a pause, and Stone thought he detected a hard swallow. “I’d appreciate it if you could join me. I won’t take much of your time.”
“Er—all right. Yes, of course. I’ll need a couple of hours.” He glanced at his watch and did the time-zone calculation unconsciously. “How’s half six? That’s about the soonest I can make it.”
“That’s fine. Thank you. Let’s meet at the Boar’s Head—that’s not far from the London house, if I recall correctly.”
Stone narrowed his eyes. “Selby, you sound like something’s wrong. Can’t you just tell me—”
“I’ll see you there. Thank you so much, Dr. Stone.”
The line went dead.
The Boar’s Head Inn was a venerable pub catering equally to local businessmen and middle-aged tourists. Selby was already there when Stone arrived, seated near the front and watching the steady stream of people meandering by along the rain-soaked street. He didn’t appear to have noticed Stone’s entrance.
Stone paused to study him before approaching the table. He sat hunched over a half-empty pint, shoulders slumped and head down. It wasn’t cold inside the pub, but he still wore a dark coat and a scarf draped loosely around his neck. His thinning hair, neatly combed every time Stone had ever seen him, now hung over his forehead in disheveled disarray. Even more telling, he appeared not to have shaved in at least a day.
Selby chose that moment to glance up and notice Stone, but the recognition in his eyes did nothing to affect his disconsolate pose. He motioned toward the chair opposite him.
“Thank you so much for coming. Please, order whatever you like. I’ve got this.”
Stone, still confused, waved down a passing server and ordered a Guinness. “What’s this about? You sounded odd on the phone, and you definitely look like something’s wrong.”
Selby didn’t meet his gaze. “Yes, well, I suppose something is. But that’s not why I asked you to meet me here.”
“It…isn’t?”
“No. I just wanted to thank you again, for everything you did for me. I want you to know how much I appreciate it. Not only recently, but…before. When we were younger.”
“Selby…are you drunk?” He glanced at the half-full pint in front of the other man and wondered how many more he’d had before that one.
“Perhaps a little.” His eyes came up, and Stone saw now that they were more than a bit bloodshot. “The Bertrands sacked me, Dr. Stone.”
“What?” Stone glanced around, realizing he’d raised his voice, but no one appeared to have noticed. “You’re having me on. Why would they do that?”
Selby took another pull from his glass, draining half the remaining contents, and waved for another.
“Why would they sack you?” Stone repeated. “You said you hadn’t heard from the blackmailers again—” A thought chilled him. “Have they? The Bertrands?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” He let out a loud sigh. His hand on his glass trembled, and he made a bitter little laugh. “It might be amusing, under some other circumstances.”
“Tell me what happened.”
It was a while before he answered. He continued staring into the swirling dregs of his pint, even after the server set another one in front of him. “After we parted company in Paris that night, it was too late to take the train back to Montrésor, so I got a hotel room. I didn’t sleep at all—I was too afraid someone might break in and steal the Bertrands’ tome—so I sat up all night and waited until I could catch the first train back. I arrived at the chateau early the following morning.”
Stone nodded. “Were you able to return the book to its place?”
“I—When I arrived, I discovered the Bertrands were already there. They’d decided to return home early. They discovered the tome missing, and when they realized I was missing as well, they suspected I might have taken it. And when they saw me return with the satchel…”
“Bloody hell…” Stone murmured. An uncomfortable, crawling sensation tingled at the back of his neck. “Did you tell them what happened?”
“I did…to some extent, anyway. I told them about the blackmailers, though I didn’t share the specifics of what they claimed I’d done. I told them I had an associate with a plan to deal with them, but I needed to borrow the book temporarily to make it work. And of course I apologized profusely to them for my behavior.”
“Damn…” He jerked his head up. “Wait—I could speak to them—tell them I was the ‘associate’ you mentioned. Perhaps I can—”
Selby raised his hand, and shook his head. “No, no. That isn’t why I asked you here. I’d never ask you to do such a thing—and besides that, there’s no point in it. Madame Bertrand was quite understanding when I explained the situation to her. She said she doesn’t blame me for doing what I did—she understood that my desperation perhaps led me to making…less than optimal choices.”
“Well, then—”
“But it doesn’t change anything.” His tone was wistful now. “The Bertrands were very kind, but they told me that they couldn’t afford to have any hint of impropriety in their staff. Madame Bertrand promised to give me a good reference to my next position, bu
t…that’s all she can do.” He gazed into his glass again. “She honestly seemed sad about it. I don’t think she entirely wanted to do it, but the Bertrands have always been very…conservative. I don’t blame them for their decision.”
Stone let his breath out slowly. “Selby, I’m so sorry. I thought that after we dealt with the blackmailers…”
“So did I. But I can’t see how this could have gone any better than it did—unless, of course, those vile people hadn’t targeted me in the first place. You saved my reputation, and I’ll always be grateful to you for that. I truly can’t fault the Bertrands for their actions. They were quite merciful, given that I did steal their property, even if for the most justifiable of reasons.”
Stone didn’t answer. He studied the other customers in the pub, knowing that, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t fix this one. He could go to the Bertrands as he’d suggested, but even as he thought about it, he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere. He was familiar with other old mage families like them, and Selby’s label of “conservative” barely scratched the surface. Any hint of impropriety in their staff wouldn’t be tolerated, even in a man who had become like a member of the family. “What will you do, then?”
Selby shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Perhaps I’ll go to America for a while. I’ve been living on my savings since it happened, and I still have the income from the small property Mr. Desmond left me.” He forced a wistful smile. “Don’t worry about me, Dr. Stone. I’ll be fine. I’ve had setbacks before—worse ones than this—and I’ve overcome them. I’m quite certain the Bertrands won’t reveal anything that might stain my record.”
“Well,” Stone said, looking out the window at the rainy street. It seemed a fitting day for such revelations, foggy and disconsolate. “Thank you for telling me. You know I wish you the best, Selby. Please don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything I can do to help you.”