by R. L. King
Jason nodded quickly. He’d be glad to be rid of it. To his uninitiated eyes, the thing looked like nothing more than a demon straight from Hell. He was a little worried that it might not just settle for finding Verity and bringing back news, but he knew he’d come way too far now not to trust Stone.
The mage reached out and put his hands directly on the mirror, one on either side of the spirit’s “body.” He met its eyes without blinking, and uttered a short, sharp sentence that sounded like a command.
The spirit glared at him for several seconds, but then made a noise that could have been a resigned grumble, executed the most infinitesimal of all possible bows, and winked out.
“There,” Stone said in a rush of breath, finally allowing himself to focus on Jason.
“Did it work?” Jason moved to step back out of the circle, but Stone grabbed his arm and shook his head emphatically.
“Don’t do that,” he said, panting. “We can’t leave the circle until the spirit’s returned and been dismissed. And as for your question: I don’t know. We won’t know until it comes back. But it didn’t rip us limb from limb, and my commands seem to have worked on it, so at least it appears that I performed the summoning correctly.” He swiped sweat off his forehead with his sleeve.
Jason let his breath out. “You’re—sure that thing won’t hurt Verity?”
“I’m not sure of anything,” Stone told him. “If it follows my orders, it won’t, but there’s no way to know that right now. Might as well get as comfortable as you can in here. I don’t expect it will be long before it’s back, if it’s had success.”
There wasn’t any good way to get comfortable within the tiny confines of the circle: there wasn’t enough room to sit down, and Jason didn’t want to lean against the table for fear of knocking over the book or one of the candles. So he just stood there, shifting from foot to foot and trying to keep himself occupied by studying the strange characters on the open page. Every few seconds he’d glance up at the mirror to make sure it hadn’t sprouted any extra reflections, but so far the two of them were alone in the room. Stone, meanwhile, stood without moving, staring moodily into the mirror without appearing to see it.
A minute passed, then five, then ten. Jason looked at his watch. “You said this would be quick if it worked, right?”
“I said I thought so,” Stone reminded him. “Remember, this is as new to me as it is to you. Be patient.” Jason noticed that he was starting to look a little restless himself, though.
Fifteen minutes. Twenty. Still no sign of the spirit. Jason let out a loud sigh, his natural tendency to want to move nearly overwhelming now. “How do we know if it doesn’t work? Do we have to stand in here forever?”
Stone was about to answer when he stiffened, startled. “It’s back,” he said, pointing at the mirror.
Jason spun around. Sure enough, the reddish figure had reappeared behind them in the mirror, looking as angry as ever. It said something to Stone in its bones-and-parchment voice, punctuated by many growls and other sounds of displeasure. The mage nodded. “She’s there now, then?” he asked.
The figure snarled and glared at Stone. It appeared to be contemplating another lunge out into the real world, but eyed the mage warily and decided against it. Instead, it spat at him. The spittle flew out, contacted its own side of the mirror, and ran down toward the table with a sizzle. Then it reached out with a ropy, muscular arm and attempted to sweep all the objects off the table on its side of the mirror. The candles, knife, and chalice went, careening silently over the edge and out of sight. The book remained, and the creature screamed in agony as its arm contacted it.
“It’s fighting me—” Stone said under his breath. “I’m going to release it now.” He reached up with both hands and put them on the mirror again. Loudly and clearly, he uttered a long sentence in the strange Latin-like language, then pulled his hands back abruptly and clapped them together in a sudden, sharp sound that made Jason jump. He stumbled, reeling back, realizing with horror even as he did so that he had no way of stopping himself. He was going to fall over backwards, taking out a good chunk of the circle when he landed.
As he went over, he got a last look at the creature’s face. Instead of looking angry, it looked suddenly surprised and triumphant. That lasted about two seconds. It flung itself forward again, clawed hands eagerly reaching in front of it, reaching for Stone, for Jason—
—and it winked out, its scream of frustration and agony abruptly cut off as it was sent back to whatever dimension it called home.
A second after that, Jason crashed to the floor and, just as he thought he would, smudged a significant portion of the circle. A look of absolute terror flashed across Stone’s face before he realized the spirit had already departed.
Stone leaned over, clutching the table and breathing like he’d just run a marathon. “Good lord, Jason,” he got out between breaths. “If you’d fallen only three seconds sooner—”
Jason was already rolling back up to his feet, shaking as what had almost happened hit him full force. He couldn’t even say anything, so he just nodded.
“If we ever have to do this again, remind me to make a bigger circle. Or find a companion with smaller feet.” The mage had recovered himself sufficiently to stand up, and was already blowing out the candles. “Switch on the light, will you? And bring those bags back over here. We have to hurry.”
Jason did as he was told. “Did it—find her? It sounds like it did.”
“It told me where she is now,” Stone said, gathering the candles and chalice and stuffing them into a bag. “I’ll clean this stuff up later—we need to get going.” He put the knife back in the sheath and put that in the satchel along with the bookstand, then carefully picked up the book, closed it, and slipped it into the briefcase. “Can’t do anything about the sand—it’ll take too long to clean up. Just scatter it around. With any luck, we can get back here with a broom before Madame Huan’s friend returns from his trip.”
“Where’s V?” Jason kicked the sand around until it no longer resembled a semicircle, then hustled the table back over where they’d found it while Stone finished arranging the rest of the gear in the bags.
“San Jose, in an area near downtown. There’s some kind of encampment near the Guadalupe River—more than one, I think. But the spirit’s given me enough information that I can find her. Come on—let’s go. It won’t take that long to get there from here, but the way things have been going, I want to be as fast as possible in case something spooks her and she moves again. Especially since we won’t be able to drive the whole way.”
Jason waited until Stone had shut off the lights, locked up, and stashed all the gear in the trunk before speaking again. “Encampment? You mean homeless encampment?”
“Probably.” Stone started the car and headed out through the gate and back down the winding road as fast as he dared.
Jason shivered. He knew about homeless encampments—they didn’t have as many back in Ventura County, but one of his outings when he’d still been a police cadet had been helping to roust the vagrants out of places they weren’t supposed to be. It was a dirty business—even when the homeless themselves didn’t cause any trouble, the lack of sanitation facilities made the larger camps into smelly cesspools full of flies and scavengers. “You think she’s hooked up with one of these groups of magic bums?”
“I’d be surprised if she hadn’t,” Stone said. “It makes sense—the woman we know she was with seems to be affiliated with them, and from what you’ve told me, she doesn’t have the street savvy to survive on her own. If she’s still alive, she must have joined up with someone—or multiple someones, more likely—for protection.”
Jason leaned forward, willing the car to go faster. He knew it wasn’t safe for Stone to push the old Ford any harder, but that didn’t stop every nerve in his body from being on edge. They were close now—they had to be!
Chapter Thirty-Five
They were back to the freeway. Jason checked his watch: it was almost eight o’clock. At least it wasn’t raining, and there was enough of a moon out that they’d have some visibility.
Stone drove for a few miles, then took another exit. A left turn and a few more blocks took them into the heart of downtown San Jose. Jason noticed clusters of homeless again, squatting under overpasses and in abandoned parking lots. They eyed the car as it went by, and when it stopped for lights a couple of them approached carrying signs. Stone ignored them and drove on when the light changed. Jason looked everywhere at once, always on the watch for potential danger. “Pretty quiet down here, really.”
“San Jose is fairly dead at night, from what I hear,” Stone told him. “Unless something’s going on at the Arena, which there doesn’t appear to be tonight.” He pointed up ahead. “There’s the Guadalupe River Bridge.”
“She’s down there?” Jason peered out the passenger window as they drove over it, as if he might be able to see Verity standing there waving at him.
“Close by.” Stone took the next right and drove down another quarter-mile or so, then pulled off and parked. He looked grim. “I hate to leave this stuff in the car, but I think it’s safer than taking it with us. I’ll do what I can to mask it.”
“Hurry up,” Jason said, impatient. He was already out of the car, and it was all he could do not to just take off running, calling his sister’s name.
“No offense,” Stone said, moving around to the trunk. “But I’m going to make sure no one gets hold of this book. Just keep yourself together for another minute or two and we’ll be off.”
Jason grumbled but didn’t argue. He spent the two minutes prowling around near the car, keeping watch for anyone approaching them.
“There,” Stone said at last, coming up alongside him. “Let’s go.”
Stone had parked the car near a large, open area that Jason could see was a park as they got closer. He could identify a volleyball court, a couple barbecue pits, and several picnic tables in their vicinity, and the park itself seemed to stretch out a fair distance on both sides. “They’re in here?” he asked quietly.
Stone shook his head and pointed ahead of them. “The river’s up there, and the encampment is near it. As I said, there are quite a few of them—under overpasses, under the branches of large trees, hidden in bushes—they’re all along the river. The police don’t bother them much because they don’t have the manpower, and as soon as they break up one camp, another one forms. I see stories about them in the newspapers sometimes.”
Jason was looking around as they moved forward. “This whole place is pretty creepy in the dark.”
Stone nodded. “Keep your wits about you. Do you have any sort of weapon?”
Jason pulled his knife out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Never did find a gun.” He wished now that he’d tried harder.
They were moving out of the park area now, down into thicker underbrush. Jason could see evidence of human habitation: discarded food wrappers, a mangled old shoe, some newspapers, a shredded sleeping bag. He was reminded of the story he’d read what seemed like an eternity ago, about the group of homeless who’d been discovered murdered around the remains of their campfire, and wondered if it was near here. He couldn’t recall if the article had contained any details. He glanced over at Stone; the mage was still looking grim. “You okay?” he whispered.
“Fine,” Stone replied. “Just—this sort of terrain isn’t exactly my forte.”
Jason grinned. “Guess they didn’t have Boy Scouts in England, eh?”
Stone didn’t answer. They continued to move forward; the ground sloped down now, and Jason could see trees and bushes stretching out ahead of them on either side, hiding the river mostly from view. Stone touched his arm and pointed to the left, then started moving in that direction.
They walked in silence for another five minutes or so, Jason getting more and more impatient. Every once in a while, they could hear or see indications that they weren’t alone: the far-off glow of a campfire, the sudden sound of a laugh or a raised voice, a snatch of music from somebody’s portable radio—but they all sounded far away. “Are we getting close?”
Stone nodded. “Yes. This looks like the area the spirit showed me. Spirits are notoriously bad about giving directions—they don’t understand North or South or ‘three hundred yards past the rock shaped like a bird’s head.’ They’re more about impressions. I’ve been looking around trying to match the vision it gave me with the landscape, and this looks about right. Come on—let’s go down closer to the trees.”
Jason followed him. “Did the spirit show you the camp? Is it under an overpass, or under a tree, or what?”
“Hard to say. It couldn’t really show me the camp itself. It tried, but the vision was—fuzzy. I can’t explain it better than that. It might just have been the spirit exerting its will any way it could. As you might have noticed, it wasn’t exactly ecstatic to be doing my bidding.”
“But it couldn’t have—I dunno—shown you the wrong place, right?” Suddenly Jason was even more nervous than he had been before. He wished his mind would shut up and stop giving him ideas like that.
“I don’t think so,” Stone assured him. “If I had it under control, it had to follow my orders. If I hadn’t had it under control, you saw what would have happened. I think the best it could do is try to circumvent my wishes as much as it could.”
Jason nodded, hoping the mage knew what he was talking about. They were approaching the trees now, only about twenty yards away. He squinted into the dimness, looking for movement and wishing there was more illumination than what the moon and the few functional lights in the park were providing. “See anything?” he whispered.
“Not yet.” He crept forward, moving more slowly now and trying to keep as quiet as he could, and Jason followed him. As they reached the trees and stepped under their canopy, the dim light was cut in half, leaving them with visibility of only a few feet. “If I’m interpreting the spirit’s instructions correctly, they should be somewhere close on the other side of these trees.”
Jason stayed level with him, his gaze never holding still. He spotted the symbol first, and grabbed Stone’s arm.
The mage jumped a little. “What?” he asked irritably.
“Look.” Jason pointed. On the large trunk of a nearby tree was the triangle-and-rays symbol, sprayed there in white paint.
Stone nodded, satisfied. “Then we are in the right place. Good. We—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Suddenly there was laughter—high, maniacal laughter—and it was all around them. Leather-jacketed figures stepped out from behind three of the trees, including the one with the symbol on it.
“Hey, assholes!” one yelled. “ Right on time!” The others laughed even louder, as if that were the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
Jason spun around. More figures were moving from behind other trees. All of them held knives, chains, or other close-fighting weapons. “Shit!” he whispered under his breath to Stone. “DMW—we’re surrounded!”
“Stay calm,” Stone muttered. He didn’t look calm, though. He looked tense. He remained facing forward while Jason, his back to him, watched the rear.
So far the gangers weren’t moving, content to form a ring around their prey. The one who’d spoken before laughed again. “We thought you might be here. The boss told us about you, that you might be comin’. Big mistake. And now you’re gonna die. Any last words?”
“The boss?” Stone asked, sounding a lot more confident than Jason knew he was. “And who would that be? Who’s telling you lot what to do?”
Another ganger snorted in contempt. The leader moved a little closer to Stone. “None o’ yer business. But we know everything. We know you’re a magic man, and we know you should keep closer track of your little f
riends so they don’t talk to the wrong people.” He laughed again. “’Cause, see, I think he liked us better’n he liked you.”
“What’s he mean by that?” Jason whispered, barely moving his lips.
Stone didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “Get ready. I’m going to try to take out the leader. If he drops, try to break through the line where he’s standing.”
“Hey!” the lead ganger yelled. “No talking. You’re here to die, not to chat. And we’re gonna make it nice and slow, so we can enjoy it. How d’you like that?” He took a step forward, as did the other gangers.
Jason, back to back with Stone, could feel the mage tense. He turned his head in time to see Stone raise his arms and snap out a command. Bright light formed around his hands, then flew out and hit the lead ganger and the one next to him. They screamed and staggered backward; the second ganger fell, and the leader dropped to his knees.
“Get ’em!” the ganger screamed as behind Jason, Stone stumbled, reeling.
Jason didn’t hesitate. Grabbing Stone’s arm, he vaulted forward into the space vacated by the fallen ganger. If they could get out of the circle so they weren’t surrounded anymore, they might have a chance. He slashed at the lead ganger’s arm as he went by and was rewarded by an angry grunt of pain. “Are we shielded at all?” he muttered in Stone’s ear.
“Barely. Be careful.”
The gangers approached now, trying to circle back around behind them. “Take ’em!” the leader yelled, clutching his arm and trying to struggle back to his feet. “Boss says they can’t get to the bitch! Just fuckin’ kill ’em!”
Jason clutched his knife, dropping into a defensive stance as two gangers surged forward. He could feel Stone tense again, preparing another spell. The mage was still on his feet, but Jason didn’t think he’d be able to get off too much more magic before he was exhausted. He lunged at the ganger on the right, getting in under his wild swing and stabbing through his leather jacket. Dark red blood sprayed out and the ganger roared in pain.