by R. L. King
For a moment nothing happened. Jason felt Stone’s hand shaking as it grasped his shoulder. He forced his eyes shut and concentrated as hard as he could on giving whatever power he had to Stone to use. He didn’t care if he died now, drained of all his vitality, if it meant getting that door open and getting his sister and the others out safely. The sacrifice would be worthwhile. An absurd thought flitted through his mind: You can’t say I never gave you anything now, V.
Stone barked out a command, thundering it at the top of his lungs and nearly deafening Jason. Instantly a loud BOOM split the air, drowning out the sounds of the fire, the moans of the dying, the muffled explosions. Jason’s eyes flew open in time to see a massive bolt of glowing, magical energy arc out from Stone’s hand and hit the door. The lock hissed and deformed and cracked open like it wasn’t even there, the heavy chains dropping away like two dead snakes.
“Go! Go! Go!” Verity cried in near panic, throwing herself against the right-side door’s exit bar. It flew open, and she nearly fell over in her rush to get outside.
The fire flared brighter with the new influx of oxygen from outside, licking at their clothes and singeing their skin. Stone’s hand dropped from Jason’s shoulder. Stunned, Jason looked down at himself in amazement. He wasn’t hurt—not aside from his bleeding arm and all the other bumps and cuts and bruises he’d taken inside the building. Whatever Stone had done to him—the thing that under the best of circumstances was supposed to drain him of his vitality to the point where he’d take days to recover—hadn’t even made him dizzy. What the hell—?
Stone had recovered his senses sufficiently to shove him hard in the back. “Outside!” he ordered. The Forgotten man was already in motion too, casting a quick, regretful glance back toward the burning forms of his former companions before ducking outside the door. Jason allowed himself to be shoved, and in a moment the four of them stood, pale and shocked, in the cold night air. Far away, they could hear the sounds of sirens. Someone must have seen the fire and reported it.
Jason was breathing hard, coughing, bent over with his hands on his knees. “Holy crap, that was close,” he got out between breaths. “We—”
Stone ignored him. “You,” he snapped at the Forgotten man. He was white as death, barely able to get words out. “Focus. Concealment.” He thrust out an impatient hand.
Fortunately the man seemed to make sense of his ravings. Reaching in the pocket of his ragged jacket, he pulled out the crystal Stone had given him before and dropped it into the mage’s hand. Stone muttered something over it and then started moving. “Come on,” he said, without waiting to see if they followed. “We don’t want to be nearby when that place blows.”
The four of them made it halfway down the block on the other side of the building away from the club when the top front part of the theater building imploded with a crash that shook the area like a minor earthquake. The entire front end of the building collapsed into itself, sending up choking plumes of thick dust and smoke into the night sky. Flames shot up from the front end to mingle with those that were steadily consuming the back part of the building, joined briefly by shafts of weird, flickering, multicolored light that winked out in mere seconds. The sirens were getting closer.
Jason sagged back against the side of a building and just watched the theater burn. He kept shaking his head, unable to form a coherent thought. Verity watched the building too, tears streaming down her cheeks for which the smoke and fire couldn’t take full credit. The Forgotten man, shaking and confused, merely stood there and stared at nothing in a state of near catatonia. And Stone, staggered from exhaustion, watched Jason, an odd expression in his eyes that nobody else noticed.
They all stayed that way for a long time, hiding in plain sight as the fire trucks and police cars and the media vans and gawkers moved into what had been nearly deserted streets.
Chapter Forty-Nine
If the proprietors of the upscale steakhouse in Palo Alto had any issues with the strange collection of individuals who trooped up into their private second-floor meeting room the following night, they didn’t mention them. Given the large sum of money the organizer of the event had paid them to provide a lavish dinner and otherwise stay out of the way as much as possible, they contented themselves with hoping that the group would at least remain back there and stay away from the rest of the clientele.
Stone had been unusually quiet for the remainder of the previous night as they’d managed, eventually, to hail a taxi and ridden back to their hotel suite in San Francisco, and equally quiet on the drive back to the house in Mountain View. They’d given the Forgotten man a ride to the area where he last remembered seeing his friends—they were able to follow the chalked signs and reunite him with a small group of ragged men and women who were shocked and surprised to see him. Stone, Jason, and Verity didn’t remain to swap stories; Stone just gave him a little cash with a nod of thanks, then just as silently went back to the car and waited for Jason and Verity to join him.
Jason and Verity didn’t bother him. They too weren’t feeling much like talking; reeling from all the shocks of the evening, they simply sat and stared out the window as the lights of the freeway flashed past. Jason was astonished that anything as normal as traffic could be happening around them after what they’d been through. He wondered if anything would ever be normal again. He knew the screams of the dying, burning people in the building would haunt him for years to come, and his mind wouldn’t stop going over ways in which he could possibly have saved them. Saved the boy, at least. Verity seemed to know what was on his mind, for at one point during the drive her hand had crept across the seat and settled on his. He’d smiled faintly at her, but said nothing.
The next day passed in a blur. They tended their wounds, slept a lot—though fitfully—and waited with trepidation for the phone call that would indicate that someone had seen them near the theater building, that the police wanted to talk to them, that somebody had spotted Stone doing magic. But the call didn’t come, and as the day went on they began to relax, just a bit.
Stone had disappeared for an hour at midday; Jason didn’t ask him where he went, but when he returned he announced that they had a dinner engagement that evening. Jason suspected he knew what it was about, but again didn’t ask. It was a strange feeling, and he thought both Stone and Verity shared it—that it wasn’t time to talk about it yet. He wasn’t sure what they were waiting for, but perhaps this evening would reveal it. When they arrived at the steakhouse and spotted Lamar, Marilee, and the rest of the Forgotten group huddling outside near the back of the parking lot dressed in shabby but clean clothes, he knew he was right.
Now, they all sat in the wood-paneled room, the kind of room where business deals and decisions affecting thousands of people were made over cocktails, staring down at the plates of appetizers the tuxedo-clad waiters were placing in the middle of the long table, and they waited. Of Lamar’s group, only Lamar himself looked like he’d ever been inside a place like this; the others shifted in their seats and clearly felt out of their element. Jason, nursing a beer and feeling out of place himself, wanted to force Stone to speak—but he knew the mage would do it in his own time.
Stone didn’t say anything until the waiters had finished bringing the appetizers and drinks. When the door closed behind them, he looked around the table. “Please,” he said, his voice oddly soft. “Eat. Enjoy.”
Tentatively, the others began passing around the dishes. “Dr. Stone,” Lamar said at last. “Is it over? Is that why you’ve asked us here?”
Stone stared down at his plate. He hadn’t joined in partaking of the food yet, though he had already polished off half a large drink. He sighed. “No. It’s not over. Not completely. But it’s a good start, at least for a while.” He looked over across the table. “Jason, if you would be so kind…”
Jason wasn’t quite sure what he meant for a moment, but the Forgotten were all starting to ask que
stions now, and he realized what Stone wanted. The mage still didn’t want to talk, to explain, to answer questions yet. He nodded. “Yeah.”
With Verity’s help, he explained to the Forgotten what had happened. Their voices shook as they got to the part about the fire—by mutual agreement following a quick glance at Stone, they didn’t mention anything about the failed portal. All around the table, tears sprang to the Forgotten group’s eyes as Jason told them about the ones who didn’t make it out. “How horrible, how horrible…” Marilee sobbed, fumbling in her single tote bag for a tissue.
“I can’t believe it…” Lamar said softly, shaking his head. “Gordon Lucas…I don’t think any of us ever suspected—He must have used non-Evil to run his events, or someone would have noticed…”
“No doubt,” Stone said, speaking for the first time. “I doubt they’ll be able to identify his body in that wreckage, but I suspect the Evil involvement in that organization confined itself to the upper echelons. It was brilliant, really—giving them access to the very people they wanted to destroy without causing any suspicion. I’m quite surprised he didn’t get hold of more of your people.”
“He’d have to be careful,” Marilee said. “Forgotten look out for each other. If too many of us started to disappear, especially after attending one of his events, the groups would get suspicious.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes with her tissue. “But with him gone now—”
Jason sighed. “I don’t think it’ll stop it completely. The DMW are still out there, though I guess fewer of them now, and without their leaders, they might go back to being disorganized again.” He shrugged and looked at Stone questioningly.
“You’re still not safe,” Stone said, his normally animated tones still sounding dulled. “But I think for a while you’re safer. Until another of those things shows up to fill the vacuum. But who knows how long that will take? Who knows if there even is another one? There are so many things about them that we don’t know.” He’d already explained to Jason and Verity earlier that he had put the cube in a safe location where he could keep an eye on it to see how long it took the spirit inside to die, but there was no need to go into that kind of detail here.
The waiters arrived again shortly to begin bringing the main course, and for a while everyone was silent again as they ate. The Forgotten, faced with the best meal many of them had ever eaten, polished off the food with gusto. Jason, Verity, and Stone, still haunted by the images from the previous night, merely picked, though both Stone and Jason ordered second drinks.
When things began to wind down, and the waiters returned to pick up the plates, Jason leaned over to Stone. “Can I talk to you for a couple of minutes?”
Stone nodded, getting up. The banquet room had a small balcony for guests who smoked; he led Jason out there and stood staring out over the back parking lot, waiting.
Jason took a deep breath. “Are you okay, Al?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You’ve been acting…weird since last night.”
Stone raised an eyebrow at him. “Haven’t we all?”
“Al—”
Stone sighed, staring down at his hands. “I’ve been thinking about what happened.”
“What—”
“About how I got that door open.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. I know you didn’t want to do it, but if you didn’t, we’d all be dead. It was worth it.”
Now Stone turned to face him. He had that burning, intense thing going on with his eyes again. “Don’t you see, Jason? That’s the thing. You’re fine.”
“You’re being cryptic again. Spit it out. What’s going on?”
“I could have killed you. But I didn’t. And it wasn’t because I had the control. I didn’t have it. Something…protected you. Jason,” he said, reaching out to grip his shoulders. “If what I think is true, it’s—amazing. Unprecedented.”
“What?” Jason tried and failed to keep the frustration from his voice.
“Don’t you see? If this wasn’t a fluke, some sort of anomaly—it means that it’s possible for you to power magic without suffering psychic drain. And that—” He shook his head. “That is—astonishing. There’s no other word for it.”
Jason stared at him. “No way,” he said. “Can’t be.” Something came back to him from last night. “Wait a sec—I know it can’t be. I think that’s what that Evil mage guy tried to do to me. Remember he went for me right before I shoved him through that portal? He tried something, but it didn’t work. He looked freaked out, like he was amazed it didn’t work. That’s how I caught him off guard.”
Stone’s intense gaze was fixed on him. “That’s what happened? I was a bit out of things at the time. You—he tried to—”
Jason nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I can’t think what else he was trying to do. He—” he stopped, because Stone’s expression had just gone strange. “Al?”
“Jason—could I try just a small experiment? It might hurt a bit, but if I’m right about this, it won’t.”
“Uh—sure?”
Stone took a deep breath. He reached out and gripped Jason’s arm, focusing his gaze on one of the potted plants that stood guard on either side of the balcony. “Work with me here,” he murmured. “If you sense anything, don’t fight it.” He stared at the plant for a moment, and after a few seconds it exploded with a soft little whoosh and disappeared. He spun to face Jason. “How do you feel?” he demanded, urgency in his tone.
“Um…I feel fine. Why?”
Stone nearly sagged, having to grasp the balcony rail for balance. Jason grabbed his arm. “Are you okay? Did casting the spell—”
“No!” Stone was breathing hard, his eyes alight with some sort of mad energy. “Jason!” Again, he gripped Jason’s shoulders, shaking him with intensity. “It worked!”
“What worked?” But then it clicked. His own gaze locked on Stone’s. “You mean—I can be a spell energy battery, and it won’t hurt me?”
Stone took a moment to get himself together before answering. “I think so, Jason. And—I think you have to want it! Which means that nobody can do it to you against your will!” Excitement rose in his voice. “It must be your mother. You’re not a mage—you can’t be—but she must have given you this.”
“And it didn’t—hurt your soul to do it?” Jason demanded, fighting his way past how absurd that sentence sounded when exposed to the air.
Stone shook his head. “I—I don’t think so. That was powerful magic last night. More powerful than anything I’ve ever done without a ritual. And—I feel fine. I feel right.” He took more deep breaths. “Jason—I don’t know if you want to continue with this. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to just leave this whole area behind you and forget you ever saw any of this. You can, if you want to. But if you don’t want to—if you want to stay here and help me—we could be quite a team. The Evil are still here. We’ve not gotten rid of them yet. To do that, we need to find out where they came from. And that’s what I’m planning to do.”
Jason stared at him, stunned. Truth be told, he hadn’t given any thought at all to what he was going to do now that this was over. He had begun to think it would never be over, so he’d never have to worry about the future. But now, did he even want to go back home to Ventura and resume his safe, boring life of freelance mechanic jobs and Friday night bar fights? “I—”
“Before you answer that,” came a new voice from the doorway, “You might want to hear something.”
Both men turned; Verity stood there, leaning against the frame, watching them. Jason had no idea how long she’d been there, how much she’d heard. “V?”
She didn’t address Jason, though; she addressed Stone. “You said before I could pick somebody to train me for magic. Will—will you do it, Dr. Stone? I don’t want to go back home. There’s nothing for me there. I don’t think there ever was, after—what
happened to me. I want to stay here and learn magic, and help track down the Evil and get rid of it. You know I can help. And if you can teach me how to control this ability of mine better, then I’ll never have to worry about them.”
Jason’s eyes widened. “V, you—”
“It’s not your decision, Jason,” she said softly but firmly. “I’m eighteen in a month. This is what I want to do. You can either stay here too, or you can go back home. I hope you’ll stay, but even if you don’t—I am. I’ve made up my mind.” She looked at Stone. “So…will you?”
Stone didn’t answer for a long moment. He looked at Jason, then at the pot that had formerly held the disintegrated plant, and finally at Verity. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I had an apprentice once…a few years ago. It didn’t end well.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He died. And it was partly my fault.”
“How was it your fault?”
Stone sighed. “I thought all I had to do was teach him magic. I barely paid any attention to him as a person. He got into some trouble he never would have done if I’d been doing my proper job.”
“You’re not gonna do that with me,” she said. She punched Jason in the arm. “And besides, I’ve got Big Brother hovering over me. You think he’s gonna let me do anything stupid?”
He considered. “It won’t be easy,” he said at last. “I was trained in the old style, and that’s what I teach. No slapdash methods. No quick fixes. If I take you on, you’ll work harder than you ever did in your life. I’ve been told I’m quite the taskmaster. And I’ve been on my own for so long that you’ll probably find me very difficult to get on with after you’ve gotten over the novelty of it all.”
Verity grinned. “You won’t make me do your laundry, will you? Or call you ‘Master’?”
Stone’s eyebrow quirked up. “And if I did?”
She paused. “I guess maybe, all things considered, it’d be worth it. But you’d better watch out once I’m fully trained. I’m gonna give you a run for your money.”