The Stone (Lockstone Book 1)

by Seb L. Carter

  Patrick took a spot in the center of the living room. Liam watched him like he expected him to pull something amazing on the order of flooding a basement and escaping through a shattered window into Lake Michigan. But all he did was stand there.

  “Do you need something?” Liam asked him.

  Patrick turned to him. “Something personal to your aunt can’t hurt, but it’s not required.”

  “Sure,” Liam said. “Give me a sec.”

  Liam turned and went into the kitchen. He stopped and stared. From where he stood, he was able to see into the back room and the destruction caused by whatever they used to make their way into the house. It used to be the study. His uncle was a contractor before he died, and that was the room where he worked, where he organized his laborers, where he ran his business and fed the four of them. It was the room where most of the memories of him were stored.

  And it was also the room where Liam liked to spend his time. His uncle Dale became the replacement for his own father. It was almost as if Dale was trying to apologize to Liam every day of his life for what Liam’s own father—or the man he believed was his father up until a few hours ago—had done to him and his entire family. And many times, Liam sat in that room and did his homework while Uncle Dale did his work at the desk. It was a comfortable room, probably the favorite room he had in the house, because it was the one place he could feel close to his uncle since the cancer took him.

  But now the room was in rubble. The entire back wall had been torn out, glass littered across the hardwood floor like whatever they used to break Liam’s home hit in a massive, crushing blow. It only made bigger the hole in Liam’s heart. His life had been one of loss, and this was just one more piece of that terrible puzzle.

  Liam searched in the kitchen for something he knew his aunt liked to use. She was the cook of the household, and a lot of her time was spent in the kitchen. There was even talk of starting a catering business at one point, up until Uncle Dale got sick. Then she put all those dreams on hold to take a job at the school so she could afford to support both Trey and him. And now she was being held captive.

  Because of Liam.

  He turned to the counter and grabbed a thick binder from its usual place, and he carried it out. It was a rather plain binder, not even a marking on the outside of it. But it was still a special book.

  “Here,” Liam said, and he handed the binder to Patrick. “This has all my aunt’s recipes. It’s something she looks at almost every day.” Before he let go of the binder, he locked his eyes with Patrick’s. “This is going to work, isn’t it?”

  Patrick took the binder and held it with both hands. “I can’t promise that,” he said. “But it’s our best shot.”

  “Then why are we here, exactly?” Liam asked him. He wanted to be more active in this, out searching. Seeing the back of the house only made this all the more urgent.

  Patrick looked to him with that always unreadable expression, the one that was a cross between complete satisfaction and being a split second away from cold-blooded murder. “If I’m going to have any sort of success, this is how I can do it.”

  Liam let go of the binder. He turned around and moved to the sofa to flop down in the way he had probably a thousand times since moving up here to Chicago. He resisted the urge to reach over and turn on the television. Instead, he watched as Patrick go to work.

  Patrick closed his eyes and held the binder in his hands like he didn’t want to move it. He held it in such a way that Liam was surprised his arms weren’t hurting yet.

  After what seemed like barely a minute, Patrick opened his eyes. “Still not working like it’s supposed to.”

  Liam stood up. “Big surprise.” He turned on Eoin. “Let’s just go to Cyril’s house.”

  Eoin held up a hand. “What if they’re being held at the building downtown?”

  “This is a waste of time. I said it would be.” Liam turned to Patrick. “Because you were already going with the story that it didn’t work back at the library.”

  Patrick’s brow crossed. “I wasn’t lying.”

  “Well, it didn’t work now either, did it?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Patrick said.

  Liam stared at him. “Then what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I can feel her. Your aunt. The book helped.” He met Liam’s gaze. “And I can tell you that she’s alive.”

  Liam closed his mouth at that announcement. He crossed his arms, defensively. He was holding onto the belief that, if anything had happened to his aunt, he’d know about it. Somebody would tell him. Apocalypse Annie would have something to say about it. Or, at least she’d make some hand motions about it. He didn’t really care. Bottom line, he felt like he would know if she was dead. Hearing Patrick say he could sense that she was alive was some small comfort, even in light of the source. “Okay,” Liam said. “So why isn’t it working?”

  Patrick shook his head. “I don’t know. Usually, once I get a sense of the person or object I’m looking for, the direction that it’s in becomes apparent quickly. But with your aunt, I can’t get a feeling for the direction she’s in.”

  Eoin crossed his arms. “Then it’s being blocked by magic.” He turned to Liam. “Liam, use the stone and hold Patrick’s hand,” Eoin said.

  For a second, Liam thought Eoin was joking. “What? Fuck you.”

  “I mean it. Take Patrick’s hand.”

  Liam glared at Eoin, but Eoin wasn’t joking. He dug the stone out of his backpack, and, reluctantly, he turned to Patrick. He held out a hand. Patrick took it.

  Immediately, the same familiar feeling of electricity jolted between them, and Liam’s heartbeat quickened. His whole body tingled and centered on his groin in a heady rush that sent him flashbacks of their night in the motel. But Liam put it all out of his mind. He looked to Eoin. “Okay. Now what?”

  “The rest of us help like we did before,” Eoin said.

  Liam glared at Eoin. Hold hands. He didn’t need to hold hands for this, if they were going to feed Patrick power like they did him back in the library. Jerk.

  But he didn’t let go of Patrick’s hand. The others reached out and put their hands on Patrick. Even Agent Shepard touched Patrick.

  “Now, everyone concentrate on feeding power to Patrick,” Eoin said.

  As ideas go, Liam had to admit, it worked before, so why not now? He turned to look into Patrick’s eyes, eyes he found, in spite of his anger, still attractive. Hazel with those flecks of green and gold. The glint in Patrick’s eye suggested he felt the same way. But Liam shook his head. “Let’s get on with it,” Liam said.

  Patrick nodded his head, and he closed his eyes again, holding the binder in his other hand, this time underneath an arm.

  The power that he and Patrick shared picked up. It grew, and Liam was certain it wasn’t just him doing it. Patrick was pulling power from him.

  As Liam focused on sending his own personal magic to Patrick, Patrick threw his head back and opened his mouth slack. “Oh god!” Patrick said.

  Liam almost let go. But Patrick gripped his hand too tight, almost to the point of it hurting.

  The house started shaking. A small earthquake that caused the pictures hanging on the wall, the pictures of Liam in high school, Liam and Trey standing in the backyard, Liam with his uncle and Aunt Jonie, turning sideways. Somewhere in the house, a glass broke.

  Patrick’s eyes snapped open, and the shaking in the house stopped. “I know where they are,” he said. “I know exactly where they are.”

  Before he could say anything else, there was a commotion at the front door. Liam turned to see the detective followed by a group of uniformed cops. “What’s going on in here? Everybody okay?”

  “Yeah,” Liam said. “Everything’s fine.” He turned to see that he was still holding Patrick’s hand. He and Patrick’s eyes met briefly, then Liam let go. He grabbed his backpack, the stone still in his hand, and headed for the door. “We’re just peachy,” Liam said as he pa
ssed the detective.

  Thirty-Three

  Chicago, IL

  Liam didn’t talk about what happened back at the house with Patrick. It got them on their way, which, to Liam, was the only thing that mattered. It was a means to an end, being with Patrick on this. It didn’t mean he trusted him. Not by a long shot. And there was a long way to go before Liam would be ready to trust him again. It still played in the back of his mind that there was a good chance that Patrick was leading them into a trap, one set by him and Cyril long before any of this even started.

  But that was a chance he was willing to take. He hadn’t yet put the stone back in the bag, preferring the feel of its rough exterior against the palm of his hand and the weight of it in his lap. This stone was his friend, if that didn’t sound like the most pitiful thing to his logical mind. But he’d come to trust the stone again. The focus and the power that it gave him had gotten him out of some serious situations, even after the times it didn’t.

  It helped that he understood he was holding a stone shaped and built by one of his ancestors, probably one of the most important ancestors that the world had ever known. His ancestor was the one who made it possible for humanity to exist the way it did now. And, while humanity sure as hell wouldn’t win any prizes for being exceptional, each and every success—along with all of the fuck ups—in the world could be attributed to the autonomy afforded to them by Fionn mac Cumhaill leading an army into battle against the Fae, the beings who would have been their slavemasters for the entirety of their existence. And who’s to say that humanity would have even existed today if his ancestor hadn’t done what he did and shaped a stone—a stone that, Liam increasingly believed, was there to guard him just as much as it was there to maintain the Veil between the worlds.

  They drove back to the police station. En route, the two FBI agents called in some support. They labeled it a hostage situation, and backup was required. When they arrived back at the station, Liam was surprised at how quickly it all mobilized.

  A SWAT team was outfitted, twelve guys and two women in city-assault black. Liam was in the back entrance to the police station.

  Eoin was right once again. This was the right way to do things, not resorting to blasting his way out of everything with magic, even if having control of magic was like having access to a new toy, one he’d already come to believe he could master in a short amount of time.

  The two FBI agents briefed the tactical team while Liam stood with Eoin and Patrick.

  “Shouldn’t we be involved in that?” Liam asked as he watched the briefing take place. Some of the men in the group worked with their assault rifles, checking them over, popping in clips.

  “I doubt they’re going to want our help,” Patrick said. He continued to study the group, craning his head like he was trying to hear.

  “I thought you were some kind of tactical guy,” Liam said to Patrick. “Being with the CIA and all.”

  Patrick shot him a glance. “I didn’t offer.”

  “Well maybe you should.”

  “You want my help now?” There was a hint of frustration in Patrick’s voice that caused Liam to give him more of his attention for how out of character it was for him.

  “Right now, you’re the only one who seems to know anything about where they’re located.” Liam’s jaw tightened. “So don’t read too much into it.”

  Patrick squared his stance to Liam. “You felt what it was back there,” he said. “Back at the house.”

  Liam didn’t answer. He crossed his arms with the stone hugged next to his chest, and he leaned against the SUV they were standing next to.

  “I know you experienced the same thing, Liam. We are not at odds. We’re on the same side.”

  Liam turned on Patrick. “I don’t know that,” he said. “I only know what’s happened in the past, and, in the immortal words of Dr. Phil, the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior.”

  “What’s that even supposed to mean?” Patrick asked.

  “It means you lied to me once, and that’s all well and good. But I let you lie to me twice, then who’s the fool in this scenario?” Liam shook his head.

  Patrick frowned. The expression of sadness on his face was almost enough for Liam to believe the sincerity of it. “I told you, I’m not going to lie to you again.”

  “Damn right,” Liam said. “Because I’m not going to be dumb enough to let you get close enough, so that, if and when you do end up lying to me, it’s not going to hurt so damn much.”

  Patrick turned away from Liam. He bowed his head. “And I’m sorry that I hurt you. What else do you want me to say?”

  Liam shrugged. “There really isn’t much to be said. Other than where my aunt and Nina are being held. If that’s what you have to say, you can talk all damn day long.”

  Chicago, IL - The Loop

  It was going well into the late evening when they finally started on their way. They drove in a convoy of black SUVs and two tactical support vehicles into the Loop. Patrick had marked on a GPS where he said Liam’s aunt and Nina were being held, and they were headed, quickly as they could, with lights flashing and sirens, to the location almost in the middle of downtown.

  “We got the warrant,” Agent Alvarez said as they drove.

  The two agents were intent on doing this the legal way, as if Cyril was simply going to surrender to a piece of paper issued by the US Government. Liam didn’t believe that for a second, and, if he was there, he expected they were going to be hit with something that none of these soldiers were even prepared for. But if a piece of paper made their entry into wherever they were going easier, then he was fine with them getting one.

  They turned into a parking garage. According to the GPS Liam could see standing on the dashboard, they were still a half a block away or so from the location marked with a red dot on the screen. They got out and gathered next to the parking-garage entrance, and they began to coordinate.

  This time, however, Liam made sure he was in with the group. The tactical team leader stopped speaking once he noticed Liam standing there. The name on his vest said Grenier, though formal introductions weren’t ever made. He got that cross, serious look on his face that Liam had come to associate with cops and telling him what he couldn’t do.

  “What are you doing here, son?” Grenier said to him. He was dressed in a black tactical suit with a shaved head—extremely military and grizzled like he’d seen a lot of combat. He carried an assault rifle aimed toward the concrete floor.

  “I’m preparing,” he said. “Same as you.”

  Shepard looked at Liam. “Liam…” he said.

  Liam lifted a hand to shut him up. “I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m probably one of the only ones here now prepared enough to handle what they might come up against inside that building.” Cyril was an unknown. And, if the different types of magic Liam had experienced over even the past couple of days was any indication, they were about to take a step from one reality to another one completely out of their control. “Eoin, Brodie, and Katina should be going too,” he said.

  Grenier’s brow furrowed. “And who are you with? What branch? I’m going to need to see some ID.”

  Patrick moved in behind Liam. “Our designation is top secret,” Patrick said. “But you can check my clearance.”

  Liam watched as Patrick pulled the team leader aside and spoke to him quietly. He thought about going up there to listen, but he didn’t. After a short while, Grenier called one of the other tactical officers over, named Soyinka, and the guy got on the phone.

  Grenier came back over to the group with Patrick at his side. Soon, Soyinka came back over with a small tablet he showed the results to the commander. When Grenier glanced at them, he turned his attention back to Patrick. “How about you start by telling me what the CIA is doing here on this mission?”

  Shepard stared at Patrick. Alvarez looked as if she was about to say something, but Shepard stopped her. Liam could read the tension in the lines on Shepard�
��s face. Apparently, Patrick neglected to mention his day job in their initial interviews.

  “Joint CIA-FBI task force,” Patrick said. He seemed to stare at Shepard as he spoke. “You can clear it with Agents Alvarez and Shepard if you need further proof. Otherwise, you need to make some time to hear our briefing before you go in there.”

  Liam really had no idea what was happening, and from the angry glances Agent Alvarez gave both Patrick and Shepard, Liam guessed she didn’t either. But she didn’t say anything, and neither did Liam. Clearly, though, Patrick pulled some kind of rank. And maybe this checked out one part of his story, the part about Patrick being in the CIA. Otherwise, why would the commander be so willing to accept his answer?

  “And what sort of information other than what we have do you need to give us?”

  Patrick turned away and lifted an arm. “Eoin?” He got Eoin’s attention and waved him over. When he was standing as part of the crowd, Patrick turned to him. “Fill our officers in with what they can expect once we go inside there?”

  Eoin looked to Patrick. He seemed to be assessing him for a second. Then he nodded. “Okay. I guess it’s all out in the open now, so here goes,” Eoin said. He turned to the gathered tactical men. “These are probably not the type of people you’re used to. They may have access to certain skills unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. If anyone comes out hostile against you, my advice to you is to shoot. Don’t wait for them to act first. If you do, I can’t really prepare you for what might happen otherwise.”

  Grenier squint. “Are these some sort of foreign operatives?”

  Eoin considered the question, but Patrick interrupted and too the answer. “They work for an international organization that, we believe, is out to harm national security interests both here and abroad. There’s not much more than we can tell you other than what Eoin just did. Consider everything else top secret, and letting this information get out anywhere other than here, to be punishable as an act of treason.”