Mortal Imperative: An Alastair Stone Urban Fantasy Novel (Alastair Stone Chronicles Book 24)

by R. L. King

  “Sure, why not? It’s not like we’re joined at the hip or anything. He’s given me some assignments to work on—and invitations to a couple pretty impressive parties.” He grinned. “Don’t worry—I won’t have trouble finding things to do.”

  “No doubt.” He briskly shifted mental gears. “So—getting back to the problem at hand—I’m trying to track the people who kidnapped one of the ghouls and lured the other two off. I want to find the one they’ve still got, before he ends up like the one they killed.”

  Ian gave a sober nod. “Okay. So, what leads do you have?”

  “You don’t speak German, do you?” It was a long shot, but worth asking.

  “Yeah, some. Why?”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. I took it in school before I ran away, and I’ve picked up more from all the parties we go to. I’m not fluent or anything, but I get by. Why?”

  “Brilliant. Maybe I won’t have to bother Kolinsky again after all. At least not yet.” He pulled out his phone. “Listen to this, please, and see if you can tell me what they’re saying.”

  Ian closed his eyes, leaning back on the sofa as he listened to the recording. “Who is that?”

  “Verity, channeling one of the ghouls. She was held captive, drugged so they didn’t think she’d heard them. Come on,” he urged. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What did they say?”

  “Play it one more time, slower if you can.”

  Stone replayed the recording at three-quarter speed. “Well?”

  “Hang on.” Ian closed his eyes, thinking. “Okay. I think I got most of it. It’s kind of like, ‘Hurry up, we need to report to Lane. The boss wants more fresh blood for the…not sure what gruselige means…woman by tomorrow.’” He snorted. “That’s not at all creepy. Who’s this ‘Lane’? Do you know them?”

  Stone’s heart was already beating faster, and once again his anger was rising. “I do, unfortunately,” he growled. “He’s a nasty individual, and one I’d very much like the chance to deal with once and for all.”

  “Slow down.” Ian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It sounds like there’s more to this story than you’ve told me.”

  “There…is. But I’d rather not go into all of it, if you don’t mind. Some of it is…highly personal, and not relevant to the matter at hand. But what you do need to know is that Lane works—or at least used to—for a man named Elias Richter.” He watched Ian for any sign of recognition; his son moved in some pretty rarefied European circles with Gabriel, so it was possible the two might have met.

  “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

  “Not necessarily.” In truth, Stone was relieved he didn’t. “He’s a powerful mage, very old, fairly reclusive. Mostly operates out of various parts of Europe, which meant I was surprised to discover he might be after something over here.”

  “And you’ve dealt with him before? And this Lane guy?”

  “Yes. He was searching for a magical tome full of horrific rituals. The kind that involve human sacrifices.”

  “Nice guy.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t have much of a sense of humor about him. He’s managed to stay off my radar for the past three years or so, but I’d definitely welcome the opportunity to have another go at him.”

  “Did he ever find the tome? Is that what you think he’s doing now—still looking for it? Or using it for something?”

  “No. The book was destroyed.”

  “Did you destroy it?”

  Stone gave a thin smile. “I did, yes.” He sobered. “But not before he almost managed to complete one of the rituals. My friends and I stopped him before he finished, but…the whole thing resulted in the death of someone close to me.” He bowed his head as the image of Deirdre rose in his mind’s eye. Her stunningly beautiful face morphed into the wrinkled, white-haired woman whose bony hand he’d held on the last day of her life.

  “I’m sorry,” Ian murmured.

  “Yes, so am I. But it’s done now. I probably didn’t make finding Richter the priority I should, and that’s on me. But if he’s involved in this, I want to know what he’s up to and why he’s got a sudden interest in both ghouls and necromancy.”

  “Why did he want the book in the first place? What was the ritual he was trying to do for?”

  “Immortality, allegedly.”

  “Allegedly?”

  Stone shrugged. “I had the book for a while, before he managed to get it back. Long enough to study the rituals myself. I’m not convinced the one he used would have worked, even if he’d managed to complete it.”

  “But you don’t know for sure.”

  “No,” he said slowly. “I don’t.” Back when he’d first tangled with Richter, he’d been certain it wasn’t possible to bestow immortality through magic. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  Regardless, Ian might be on to something. “It would make sense that this is another of his mad little plans to try achieving immortality…but I don’t see what ghouls and necromancy have to do with it. Ghouls regenerate, but they’re not immortal. They do age and die, just a lot slower than mundanes do. And the undead…” He shook his head, remembering Sharra. “The best I’ve seen anyone manage to do with necromancy is to create a creature with the intellect of a young child, and no magic. He certainly wouldn’t want to risk that.”

  Ian was looking hard at him. “You’ve…seen that? You’ve dealt with necromancy again, after the time at the house?”

  “Yes. Once. And I’m quite concerned that the same woman I dealt with before is the one Richter’s working with now. What was that German word again? The one you didn’t know?”

  “Gruselige.”

  “Can you spell it?” He pulled out his phone and found the translation app again.

  “Uh…maybe. I can give you my best guess, anyway.”

  Stone tapped in the word and stared at the result. “Well. That’s apropos, at least.” He held the phone up. “Creepy. And Miriam Cheltham is without a doubt the creepiest woman I’ve met in quite some time.”

  Ian ran his hand down a purring Raider’s back, and the cat nuzzled into his side. “So let me see if I have this straight. You think this Richter guy is trying to use ghouls and necromancy to…become immortal somehow, and he’s working with a necromancer who can make creatures that are more than mindless zombies?”

  Stone spread his hands with sigh. “It’s farfetched, I know. It’s built on a ridiculously flimsy house of cards, with a lot of assumptions. But I’ll be damned if I can think of anything else that fits better. Unless Lane’s gone freelance or is working for someone else, but Richter isn’t the kind of man to let his people stray too far out of his orbit.”

  “So what’s your next step? Do you have a way to find any of these people?”

  “That’s the difficult part. Richter is a damned good, and damned powerful, mage. He’s a lot older than I am, and while I’ve got a few nonstandard tricks that might make us equal in power, he’s got it all over me in experience. I’ve got no idea if he knows I’m even investigating this situation, but if he does, I don’t doubt he could make a pretty good go at hiding from me.”

  “What about the other two? The necromancer woman and this Lane guy?”

  “Cheltham’s probably deeper underground than Richter. They might both still be in Europe somewhere, pulling strings from behind the scenes.” He considered. “If Lane is here directing onsite, he might be easier to find.” He jumped up. “I’ve got to go talk to someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Gabriel’s father.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  “Nothing to do with you. But we’ve been friends for a long time, and he’s bloody good at finding people. Might be time to bring in the big guns at this point. You can come if you like…”

  “Yeah, no. Not really in a hurry to meet Gabriel’s dad yet. Can I just stay here until you get back?”

  “Sure—or you can call Jason. He and Amber were going to work on the mu
ndane angle and see if they can come up with anything.”

  “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that. Good luck.”

  Stone nodded grimly. “I think this whole thing just took on a new dimension of complexity.”

  20

  Kolinsky was in his shop when Stone arrived, once again examining the black onion-like object. He’d done something to it that had made its “leaves” droop, and it lay spread out on the table looking rather disconsolate. The dragon bent over it, focusing a strong light on its left side.

  “I’d swear,” Stone said, “that you’ve got some kind of astral trigger that lets you know who’s entered your shop, and you pop over here just in time for us to catch you in residence.”

  Kolinsky didn’t reply, but merely continued examining one of the thing’s leaves. “What can I do for you, Alastair? I’m afraid my sources have not yet returned with any useful information regarding your current requests.”

  “No, I’m not asking about those, though they’re definitely still on the table. I’ve got a new question for you.”

  “Yes?” He still didn’t look up. As Stone continued watching, he focused more closely on the object. All of its leaves retracted like a plant furling in the night’s chill, returning it to a mostly spherical shape. He made a satisfied “hmm!” under his breath, and only then looked up.

  Stone moved in closer, shifting to magical sight, curious in spite of himself. He barely caught a flickering, electric-blue aura around it, but in its spherical state it had none. He pulled himself away from looking further—that wasn’t why he was here. “Do you remember Elias Richter?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well—now I’ve got reason to believe he might be involved in this mess.”

  “Oh?” Kolinsky’s eyebrow rose. “Why do you think so?”

  He described Verity’s attempts to unlock Maisie’s memories. “I might be seeing things that aren’t there, but the combination of the German workers, the mention of Lane, and the reference to ‘reporting back to the boss’ leads me to think it’s not as farfetched as it could be.”

  “Hmm…” Kolinsky pushed back from the table and used magic to return the black object to a shelf on the other side of the room. “You may be correct.”

  Stone tensed. “Why do you say that?”

  The dragon held up a hand. “Do not get ahead of yourself, Alastair. I said may. I am not personally aware of Richter’s involvement with necromancy—but I will admit discovering his specific activities has not been an area to which I have devoted much time.”

  “Okay…so what makes you think he might be involved?”

  “Since you dealt with him last, I have spent a bit more effort on determining his areas of interest.”

  “But you didn’t know about the necromancy?”

  “No—which leads me to believe that is relatively new.”

  “That’s good, I suppose. But what else is he involved with?”

  Kolinsky gave him an appraising look. “You might remember I mentioned to you that certain aspects of our relationship would not fundamentally change, the information I have shared with you notwithstanding.”

  Stone barked a half-amused, half frustrated laugh. “Right. Of course. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised—the fact that you’re a bloody dragon makes all the more sense about how you’re fixated on collecting shiny baubles of information.” The laugh turned to a chuckle. “Be honest, Stefan: have you got a hoard somewhere? If I ever made it to your real home, would I find you sitting on top of a big pile of gold?”

  Kolinsky did not reply, but merely crossed his arms. His expression suggested he was waiting for Stone to get it out of his system.

  Stone sighed. “Fine. Right, then. Far be it from me to alter the time-honored customs. Since I’m sure you’ve been having me on about your wards all these years, suppose I give you access to that volume of ancient black-magic techniques Eddie and Ward found at Caventhorne? They don’t want to include it in the collection there, and I don’t really want it in my library. If you help me enough, I’ll let you have it.” Oddly, he felt a lot more confident giving such things to his old friend now that he knew he was a dragon and not merely a powerful and somewhat greedy black mage. It would probably be safer in Stefan’s hands than it would be almost anywhere else.

  “Hmm.” The dragon returned to his desk and sat. “Yes, I think that would constitute an acceptable trade for the information I can provide you.”

  “Brilliant. I’ll pop over and pick it up in the next few days. Is that acceptable?”

  “It is.” He nodded toward the black sphere. “I still have more study to do on my new acquisition, so it will be some time before I can get to it.”

  Again, Stone resisted the temptation to ask about it. “So—what have you got to tell me about good old Elias?”

  Kolinsky met his gaze. “Have you heard of an organization called the Ordo Purpuratus?”

  Stone went still. He had never mentioned the Ordo to the dragon. A couple of times he’d meant to, particularly when he’d discovered they’d resurfaced in modern times while dealing with the situation in Massachusetts last year, but the subject had never come up.

  “You have.” Kolinsky looked mildly surprised.

  “Bloody right I have.” He sighed and threw himself down in the guest chair. “I assume if you have too, you know my ancestors were heavily involved.”

  “Yes…I am aware of that as well.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, if you knew?”

  “It was not something I felt there would be any good in sharing with you. Especially since, up until recently, I believed the organization to be long defunct.”

  Stone sighed. “Yes. I thought that too. I don’t know how much influence they’ve got, or if they ever truly went away, but they’re definitely back now, in one form or another. I dealt with them last year.”

  “Did you?” Once again, Kolinsky’s eyebrow crept up.

  Stone could almost hear his unspoken words: and you didn’t tell me about it? “Yes. Back East. I discovered a couple of them trying to learn about an attempt to resurrect some nasty Great Old One type from a lake in western Massachusetts. I would have called you—you know, if you didn’t live in the bloody nineteenth century and had yourself a phone, or email.” Mentally, he drew an arrow between Kolinsky and Ordo Purpuratus on his mental scorecard.

  Kolinsky didn’t seem offended. “In any case,” he continued, “they have returned, or resurfaced.”

  “All right. So far you haven’t told me anything I don’t already know. What’s this got to do with Richter?”

  “I suspect he is largely responsible for its resurgence.”

  That, Stone didn’t know. “Responsible?”

  “Yes. He has resurrected the organization, either by contacting members deeply underground or merely by seeking out new members. It operates primarily in Europe, but a sizable offshoot also exists in North America.”

  Stone frowned. “You could have mentioned this…”

  “The subject did not come up.”

  Touché. He couldn’t very well fault Kolinsky for holding information close, since he himself was a master at it. “All right—so they’re back. I haven’t got much sense of what they’re up to this time. The two members I met seemed more like scholars, albeit ones with somewhat dented moral compasses, than anything more sinister. Neither one of them survived what we were dealing with, by the way. And no, I didn’t kill them.”

  “I did not ask.”

  It was a good point. Stone supposed the dragon didn’t care. “Why would Richter resurrect the Ordo? How did he even know about it?”

  “He has been associated with the organization for a long time.”

  “But you just said—ah.” Stone nodded, getting it. “Of course. I always thought he was considerably older than I am, but it seems he might be even older than I thought.” His expression sharpened and a chill ran up his back as another idea occurred to him. “Bloody hell, Stefan—Richter’s not a drag
on, is he?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s a relief, anyway. Though considering how long you lot live, I suppose he’d have no real reason to be searching for immortality if he were.”

  Kolinsky didn’t answer.

  Stone resumed pacing. “So…given that your little bombshell about the Ordo didn’t quite have the impact you expected, so far all you’ve told me is that Richter’s connected with Ordo 2.0. That’s useful information, but it doesn’t help me much. What else can you tell me, either about Richter or the Ordo? Are there other dragons in it? Seems like their whole pursuit-of-knowledge-and-damn-the-consequences thing would be right up some of your alleys.”

  “You would be wrong.”

  He stopped, turning back in surprise. “Wrong about the knowledge? Or the dragons in the Ordo?”

  “Both.”

  Stone snorted. “Come on, Stefan. I’ve seen you do some pretty shady things in search of information.”

  “I do not deny it, though I might take issue with your choice of terminology.”

  “Okay…so suppose you tell me where the difference is.”

  “It is simple.” Kolinsky settled back in his chair. “The Ordo are fools. Seeking knowledge and understanding is a noble pursuit, but they have neither the power nor the wisdom to effectively control some of the things they seek to unearth.”

  Stone thought about that. Kroyer and Lang in Massachusetts hadn’t been trying to summon the thing in Lake Nepauhauk—but they’d certainly been salivating over the chance to study it if it got here. His mind flashed back to his grandmother and her druid cabal, trying to bring over a primal extradimensional entity, and to the long-dead mages who’d attempted to summon the horrific thing in Adelaide Bonham’s basement. Were those two groups associated with the Ordo too? “Bloody hell.”

  “Yes. If you are familiar with the original version of the Ordo, you know that arrogance was one of their overriding traits. They believed magical power gave them the right to do as they pleased, but refused to accept that there are things they have no hope to control.”