He’d never openly confirmed—nor had he ever denied—an attraction to other men. It was there. He’d taken to thinking of himself as bisexual, even though his scant dating life usually was with women. Men in the military and in the middle of Afghanistan weren’t usually interested in spending time on a date. And it was just easier to keep it quiet while he was over there. But what he was feeling now with Liam was undoubtedly an attraction, and one sourced from deep down. An ancient kind of attraction.
“Are you feeling that?” Patrick asked.
Liam nodded.
“What is that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Have you ever…”
“…Felt this before?” Liam shook his head. “Not with anybody,” he said.
“Is it always going to be like this?” But even as they held hands, he could sense the rush of whatever it was even out and become more bearable. There was still movement between them, but now it was a shared power of sorts, an exchange of currents.
It was pleasurable, this feeling. And it made him wonder what it would be like if he and Liam ever grew so close as to…
“I could get used to this,” Liam said.
“Yeah,” Patrick said, and he looked down at Liam’s hand that he held. Then he remembered and turned Liam’s hand over. It was the same hand he’d tried to apply the tracker to. And there, on the back of his hand was a mark that looked like a mole, a slightly raised bump on the back of Liam’s hand.
Fused to the skin, very hard to remove.
Patrick had been successful. And now, after everything, as he sat there with Liam’s hand in his and the continued exchange of this energy, he had a strong signal of doubt about his mission.
Chicago, IL – Later
When Patrick returned to his hotel room from the hospital, someone was waiting for him. On instinct, he reached for a gun that wasn’t there. He hadn’t retrieved his gun from the hospital as it would raise too many questions he didn’t want to answer.
But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
The air around him filled with a static charge—that was the only way he could describe it. A current of static electricity that suddenly materialized around him and forced him to do whatever they wanted. And it was becoming all too familiar to him.
This time, it was a woman with blond hair cut short and professional. She didn’t even bother to get up from the chair she sat in as whatever…thing? Power?…she used on him forced him to freeze in place.
She wore a white dress and a thin black belt that made her look clean and in control. She smoothed the skirt when she stood. She was alone, but he guessed that a woman who could cause an operative to freeze in place in what seemed to be a mere thought probably didn’t have much use for a bodyguard.
“Mr. Rowe,” she said. “I apologize for my intrusion.”
Patrick tried to speak and found he couldn’t. He could do nothing.
She stood up and walked over to him. “I shall only take a moment of your time.” She reached out and caressed his face. When she turned her back to him, he found himself suddenly able to move again.
“What the fuck?” he said. He took deep breaths. As before, even taking in air was difficult, so he gulped it in like a beached fish. “That’s really starting to piss me off.”
“It’s a new spell. We’re all finding it quite useful,” she said, taking the chair again.
“A spell.”
“I haven’t come to discuss the finer points of magic with you, Mr. Rowe. I’ve come to give you a message.”
Magic? But Patrick only squinted at her, but before he could say anything, his phone buzzed in his pocket with the sound of a text message. He ignored it.
“You’ll want to check that,” she said. Her attitude struck him as bored.
Patrick dug into his pocket and grabbed out his phone, the one given to him by the professor. There was one message on the screen: Well done.
“What is this?” Patrick asked her.
“It’s your reward,” she said.
Reward? Patrick unlocked the phone and opened the messaging app. Attached to the message was a link that Patrick followed.
It was a grainy video, and it took him a moment to figure out what he was watching. The inside of a building was all he could make out, dark and impossible to really discern much detail.
A light came on, and Patrick realized then what he was seeing: Four men were chained to a wall, their arms suspended above their heads. They were unclothed and filthy. It was the tattoo on one of the men that he recognized.
His SEAL team.
Patrick’s heart sunk, and he felt for the edge of his bed to sit.
“What is this?” he demanded, without looking up.
“Keep watching,” she said.
A man dressed in black with his head covered entered the frame. He was accompanied by two other men, neither of them making any effort to hide their faces. They wore the typical brown, round-top pakol favored by the Taliban. When they stopped in front of one of the members of Patrick’s team, they grabbed him roughly by the hair and showed him to the man in black. There was an exchange between them, but the video had no sound. The man they showed was Hollis.
This was it. He was going to have to watch his team be tortured.
He stood up again, this time in anger.
“What is this?” he asked again, this time, meeting her icy gaze.
“I said, keep watching.” Her words were succinct, her expression stern.
Patrick wanted to argue and make more demands, but he forced himself to return to the video. As he watched, they undid Hollis’s chains. He fell to the ground, and one of the guards bent down and reached off-camera where he was handed a cup of water. The Taliban guard then helped Hollis to his feet, and they stood together and faced the camera like they were showing him off. They moved him away from the camera.
“Where are they taking him?”
“This has already happened,” she said. She made a move of her hand that stood the hairs on Patrick’s arm on edge, covered in gooseflesh. The television caused Patrick to flinch, the sudden sound filling the room. A news station.
“…And they’re saying that the Taliban simply let him go. Lieutenant Roger L. Hollis, a member of the Navy’s SEAL Team Four…”
“They released his name,” Patrick said to the woman.
She quirked an eyebrow. “He’s freed, and that’s the first thing you have to say?”
“His career is over,” Patrick said. Hollis would likely be permanently assigned stateside. He turned to the woman. “And what about the others? The deal was—”
“The deal was for you follow through with your duties as given to you by Cyril.”
“And what are those duties? What’s left? I did what you asked for. I put the tracker on Liam.”
“You took one step toward freeing your friends.”
“There wasn’t supposed to be anything else. I’m done.”
“You’re done when Thaddeus is free.”
Thaddeus. He still hadn’t met this guy, but it all seemed to come back to him. Who was he? Patrick had the sense that this Thaddeus was the real power behind this entire operation, that Cyril was only a pawn in whatever game they were playing.
“Why did you come here to tell me all of this? Why not just send me the text message?”
“Because, Mr. Rowe, you’re an investment. I was sent to ensure our investment is on track.”
On track. He wanted to punch her in the face, even though he wasn’t one to ever want to hit a woman. But she was something else, someone who could use magic.
Magic. Was that really a thing?
“We can count on you, can’t we, Mr. Rowe?” She stared at him, and it made Patrick extremely uncomfortable.
But he thought about the other three guys still hanging from chains in a Taliban basement somewhere in Afghanistan. “Yes,” he said.
“Good,” she said with a smile. “I’ll inform Cyril that everything is still o
n track.” She started to leave.
“What else do I have to do?” he asked.
“You’re already doing it,” she said, and she left him alone in his hotel room.
Ten
Chicago, IL - Lincoln Park
Liam woke to someone pounding on his door, and he sat up quickly in bed. He dreamt of Apocalypse Annie, and she was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t hear her. He glanced over to Justin’s bed. Empty, which wasn’t uncommon. Justin was a jock. He was usually up well before Liam to hit the gym. It was morning, the sun blinding inside the dorm room they shared.
The pounding at the door came again. “Are you up?”
Liam let out a breath. Nina. He looked at the clock. It was seven in the morning, and all he wanted to do was roll back over and go to sleep. But the second time Nina pounded on his door, Liam got out of bed and padded over to the door. He was dressed only in a pair of boxer briefs when he opened the door.
Nina’s eyes glanced down, and she tilted her head. “Is that how you answer the door all the time?”
“As if it was the first time you saw me in underwear,” Liam said. He and Nina had become fast friends, and Liam really thought nothing of it to change clothes in front of her. That’s how it was when there was no sexual tension in a friendship. It was like changing clothes in front of a sibling. Liam moved back over to his bed to flop down on top of it, making half an effort to pull the covers back over himself again.
“No you don’t, mister,” Nina said. She followed him in and shut the door with a kick back of her foot. She carried a bag that smelled of food, and the stomach-grumbling scent of coffee came from the cups in a cardboard cupholder. “I brought coffee and breakfast,” she said. “I’m under strict orders from your aunt to see to it that you’re taken care of after yesterday’s episode.”
“Of course you are,” Liam said. It was just like his aunt. She worried too much. Granted, he gave her a lot to worry about, but still, and yesterday’s fainting issue didn’t help matters. When they released him from the hospital, his aunt wanted him to go home with her back to their Norwood Park house, but Liam convinced her that it would be too stressful for him to have to deal with taking the train then the bus to get to back to DePaul’s campus the next day. Nina and her early-morning wake-up call was clearly his aunt’s response to that. Liam forced himself into a sitting position and accepted a cup of coffee, which he opened and breathed in the scent. It wasn’t exactly a hand-brewed cup of coffee, but it would do.
“She says you’re too skinny, so I got ham and cheese croissants and some donuts.” She sat down on the bed next to Liam and pulled out the wrapped food and a box.
“I doubt donuts are what she had in mind.”
“We’re in college. We’re supposed to binge on sugar and caffeine.” She tossed him a sandwich. It hit him in the chest. It was still warm, and he began unwrapping it as Nina peered over at him. “So…” she said.
Liam paused. “So what?”
Nina stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “You and Patrick! Spill!”
With a shrug, Liam said, “There’s nothing to spill.”
“Oh, shut up. He came to see you in the hospital.” She had the look like an excited puppy waiting for a ball to be thrown.
“He didn’t quite come to see me. He was there already, remember?”
“Doesn’t matter. He had the chance to leave. Instead, he stopped in to see you.”
Liam broke off a piece of croissant from his sandwich. “We met in Target yesterday. That’s all.”
“And you were enjoying a warm beverage when we found you,” Nina said. “I’d say that’s more than just a chance meeting.” When Liam tried again to keep silent about it, she hit him on the leg. “You know I’m not going to let this go until you tell me everything.”
“We talked.”
“What did you guys talk about?”
“School and stuff. He’s in the military.”
Nina’s face lit up. “Ooh, really? I thought he looked rather well built underneath that t-shirt. What else?”
“There isn’t much else. We both passed out not long after that.”
“Well clearly that means you have some sort of mystical connection. I mean, you both passed out at the same time. That’s got to mean something in the big scheme of things,” Nina said.
“Hardly,” Liam said with a skeptical expression. “We both passed out at the same time. You don’t think that’s just a bit beyond weird?”
Nina shrugged it off. “It’s weird, sure. But coincidences happen,” she said.
He didn’t ask about it again. And he didn’t tell her about the weird energy experience in the hospital. That was something he was still trying to process. They finished eating their breakfast, Nina badgering him for more information as much as she could. But Liam was insistent that there was nothing else to tell.
She was right about one thing: There was something weird there, and Liam wasn’t sure yet what it was. Maybe talking about it would help. That was a common tenant from much of his time in therapy, talk about what’s troubling you in order to solve it as sometimes two heads working on a problem really are better than one. But that was more about letting people into your world and realizing that you’re not alone. This was something totally different. This was an experience that was likely unique.
He’d planned on skipping his morning class. An evening in the hospital was as good a reason as any, and it’s rare that a truly good reason to skip class ever pops up. Why not take advantage of it? But he’d planned on sleeping through that class. After Nina left, he saw that it was still half an hour before his class started. Cursing his sense of personal guilt, he scooted off the bed and grabbed his shower kit.
When he returned to his room, his phone chirped, and toweling off his wet hair, he picked it up to see what it was. A text message.
A text message that made him stop with the towel and grin at the screen.
It was a simple message from Patrick: Good morning! How you feeling this morning?
Liam texted him back. It wasn’t much of a conversation that went back and forth as Liam finished getting ready for class. More an exchange of emojis and those tentative, surface messages that two people who just met the day before might share. But it was enough. It was a first for Liam. A man thought enough about him to send him a good-morning text message. When he finished getting ready, he reached for the door handle to his room, grinning like an idiot.
But then he stopped. The stone. It was silly. Who carries a rock with them to class? But he wanted to. He turned back and grabbed the stone and shoved it into a side pocket of his backpack, and he headed to class.
The day was bright and warm as Liam left the dorms to walk across campus. He passed other students who shared in the misfortune of having an early-morning class, but Liam didn’t care to partake in any sense of camaraderie through the drudgery. Normally, he was right there with them as a typical college student, bleary eyed and a little perturbed at the idea of sunlight and early morning hours. But that morning, he spent most of his walk lost in his own cheerful thoughts as he moved into the flow of students heading toward the main campus buildings up in Lincoln Park. Surprising, all things considered. For somebody who spent the previous evening in a hospital bed, he was rather chipper. Maybe Nina was right. Maybe gorging on donuts and coffee was the right prescription for an ailing college student.
He stood at a street crossing, waiting for the lights to change so he and the larger group of students could cross, when he noticed the guy staring at him. Until then, he’d maintained the easy smile. The guy was on the other side of the street.
Why does this keep happening? But at least this guy wasn’t homeless. In fact, he was well dressed. And he didn’t appear to be holding on to any stones. One weird stone was more than enough.
At first, he thought maybe it was somebody cruising him, checking him out and giving him the once over. The guy was older than Liam, probably late twenties, e
arly thirties, and he had a scar on his face. That was really what made Liam notice him. The scar went from the apple of his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth like a smile gone askew. Otherwise, he looked in shape. Not necessarily attractive, but not bad either. Liam let it go and let himself feel a bit of flattery that somebody thought him attractive enough for a good stare as the light changed and he crossed the street.
Sorry, dude, but I met somebody.
That thought made him a little giddy. But it was short lived when, as Liam made it to the sidewalk on the other side, closer to the guy, the guy kept staring to the point that Liam grew uncomfortable about it. His grin faded. It sent a chill down his spine, the similarities once again to the homeless man a few nights before. The guy took a step closer until Liam thought he might say something to him, and Liam turned and sped up his walking. Flattery was over. Weirdness had set in.
When Liam glanced back, the guy was still standing in the same spot. That was something of a small relief. And, at the entrance to the quad on campus, Liam turned down the pathway and glanced behind him. He didn’t see the guy anymore, and that let him blow out a small sigh of relief as he made his way to the entrance of the McGowan class building where he was in for the treat of a class in biology.
After thirty minutes, Liam had settled into the process of taking notes and drawing little scribbles on his paper that were supposed to represent the leaf structure of some plant. It kind of matched what the professor drew on the overhead screen, even though both drawings looked like a jumbled mess to Liam. But then that’s what biology was to him—a big, jumbled mess.
It was one of those classes with a lot of students, a core requirement from which he had to choose in a life sciences category. While he was never one for science in general, he thought that this class and learning how different organisms worked in the world might be interesting. Imagine the disappointment when he realized how wrong he was.
The Stone (Lockstone Book 1) Page 14