by R. L. King
And blinked.
Dez Griffith loomed in front of him, her eyes wide and her face pale. “Stone!” she yelled. “Come on, man—snap out of it!”
Stone looked around. The feeling of impending dread, as well as the one that he’d been on the verge of locating the source of the teenagers’ madness, had disappeared as if it had never existed. He was in the middle of the clearing, seated on a weathered tree stump. The rain fell harder than ever, drenching his hair, his legs, his face.
How the hell did he get here?
Last he remembered, he was out in the forest, walking away from Dez while both of them tried to identify anything unusual in the woods.
“Are you back?” Dez demanded, still looking fearful. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me! What do you think you were doing? Why didn’t you answer my radio calls?”
“Radio…calls?” His voice sounded shaky and thin to him. He looked around the clearing, which appeared the same as ever, and then glanced up at the trees. The bare branches swayed in a light wind, but he could easily see the gray clouds through them. They weren’t weaving together into something that blotted out the sky. “I—”
She grabbed his arm. “Come on—we’re heading home. I don’t know what the hell happened out there, but the rain’s coming down harder than ever and if we don’t get out of here soon, we’re gonna be in trouble.”
“What…did happen?” Stone got to his feet, feeling inexplicably shaky, as if he’d been fighting something. “How did I get back to the clearing? How did you—”
“How did I find you, is what you should be asking!” Now she sounded angry, but it was fear-anger—he could see that from her aura. “I thought the plan was we were each gonna walk for five minutes around the clearing, and we were gonna stay in communication!”
“I—” He tried to bring the memories back, but it felt like he was grasping at them at the bottom of a bucket of oil. He pulled the little radio from his pocket and switched it on. It crackled to life immediately, the green light strong and steady. “I tried,” he said. “You didn’t answer.”
“You didn’t call,” she insisted. “I tried to call you several times, and I got no answer. After five minutes, I went back the way I thought you were, but you weren’t there. I couldn’t see you anywhere! What was going on?”
He let his breath out. His brain still felt muddled, his thoughts refusing to come together. “How did you find me? How did I get back here?” He looked down at his leg, which still throbbed with a dull but fading ache, expecting to see blood. “Something hurt my leg.”
“That was me. I gave you a hard pinch. I had to do something to snap you out of it. You were freaking me out.” She let out a loud sigh. “And as for where I found you—you’re lucky you made as much noise as you did, stomping around out here. I tracked you down going the wrong way—you were heading away from the clearing, and when I finally caught up with you, you didn’t even acknowledge me.” She crouched next to him. “Are you okay? Did you find something? You…aren’t gonna go all weird on me like those kids did, are you?”
Bloody hell…did I find something? “Just…give me a moment.”
“What are you going to do?”
He raised his hand to hold her off, then closed his eyes and focused. It was easier now, as the last vestiges of whatever had occurred out there finally burned off. Carefully, he reinforced his mental defenses, weaving them together to block out any outside influences that might be trying to affect his thoughts or his behavior. It would mean that, for now at least, he wouldn’t have a prayer of locating whatever was out in the forest—but right now he didn’t want to. If anything had gotten through to him during the time he was AWOL, he couldn’t afford to let it get to him now. He shuddered as he thought of the kind of damage somebody with his power could do if he were taken over by the same force that had gripped the teenagers.
“There,” he whispered. “That should take care of it. You’re right—we need to go back. We can’t do anything else out here today.” He looked up again: the sun had already started to set, which meant it would be full dark by the time they got down to the campground and the Jeep.
“Take care of what? What did you find out there?”
He rose to his feet, standing still for a moment until he was certain his legs would hold him. “I don’t know. I don’t think I found anything—but I think I sensed something. It tried to reach me, but even at a lower level, my mental defenses were too strong for it to do anything but confuse me. How long was I away?”
“Not too long—ten minutes, maybe, before I found you.”
“And you didn’t see anything odd near me when you did? No—trees darker than usual, or strange interlocking branches?”
“No.” She tilted her head at him, looking nervous again. “Did you see those things?”
“I’m not sure if I saw them or imagined them.” He sighed again. “I’m convinced there’s something out there, but I’m not equipped to deal with it right now. Come on—let’s go.” He headed for the trail leading back down the hill toward the campsite.
She didn’t follow him. “I need to know you’re safe, Dr. Stone. I’m letting you sleep in my house. I don’t want to wake up to find you standing over me with a kitchen knife.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know how I can prove it to you—but whatever happened to me out there, it’s not going to affect my behavior. As I said, I think something did try, but I’ve got a lot stronger mind than a load of teenagers. If you don’t trust me, though, I’ll find somewhere else to say. Perhaps some of those reporters and curious tourists will leave now that it’s raining.”
She hesitated. “No…you’re probably right. And anyway, if you wanted to come after me, you showed me earlier today that my locked door won’t even slow you down. But…you were right, weren’t you? There is something out there.” She caught up with him, and together they started down the trail, mindful of the slippery footing.
“I think there is. And I want to come back here, but not without better preparation. And possibly some more assistance.”
“More assistance? You mean more mages?”
“Yes. Not sure yet, but I might want to bring in my former apprentice, if she’s available.” He didn’t want to admit how much the scene out there had unsettled him; he’d definitely feel better about going back out there if he had some decent backup.
“Well, that’s up to you. But for now, let’s just get back home. I’ve had enough of this weather and whatever freaky stuff is out there in the woods.”
10
The hike back down the trail took twice as long as it had taken to go up, mostly due to the combination of heavy rainfall and fatigue. By the time Stone and Dez reached the Jeep they were both soaked to the skin; the sun had completed its descent when they were halfway down, so they’d had to walk the last mile with their flashlights out. They made the hour-long drive back to Treadley in sodden silence, except for the softly playing radio tuned to a classic-rock station. As they passed the convenience store on the way out of the campground, Stone noticed a big CLOSED sign on the door.
He closed his eyes and slumped into the passenger door, finally allowing himself to relax and try to ease the dull throbbing in his head. He did a full inventory of his mental state, aware of the fact that if something had messed with his mind, he might not even be aware of it. He didn’t think it had, though. As far as he could remember, nothing had called to him specifically—it was more as if he’d been picking up on a broadcast that wasn’t meant for him.
Whatever it was, though, it had to be powerful. He normally kept a baseline level of mental defenses up, enough to protect his mind from simple assaults, and today he had augmented those during their search. He hadn’t raised his defenses to full “red alert” status, though, since maintaining them at that level required a lot of energy. As always, it was a trade-off between having strong enough shielding to keep out harmful influences, but not so strong that it drained his m
ental resources and made him vulnerable in other ways. Even with his new Calanarian power, he wasn’t invincible. He still had limitations—they were just higher now than they used to be. Careless mages often became dead mages—or worse—regardless of power level.
“So what’s your next step?” Dez asked when the lights of Treadley appeared in the distance ahead of them.
“You mean after a hot shower and a good night’s sleep?” He stretched, sitting up straighter in his seat. “I don’t think you’re going to like the answer.”
“I don’t think I am either—because you’re going to say we have to go back up there, or else you want to talk to the kids, right?”
“The latter, actually. Now that I’ve had a taste of what’s up there, I don’t think blundering blindly about in the woods is going to get us the data we need. I need more detailed information about where those students were, and perhaps what they encountered.”
“Do you think they know? Like I told you, they haven’t been talking much. I’ve heard that they won’t even talk much to the doctors at Maple Ridge. According to the reports I’ve seen, they’re not catatonic or anything—they eat and shower and even play cards and games with each other in the day room—but when anybody questions them about what happened, they act like they have no idea what they’re talking about.” She pointed. “Mind if I hit the drive-thru here and pick us up some burgers and fries? I don’t feel like cooking tonight.”
“Absolutely fine.” He handed her a damp twenty from his coat pocket. “Let me get this. But in answer to your question—I think they know something. They’ve got to, at some level. I think whatever had hold of them blocked it, though. Prevented them from accessing it.”
“And you have ways around that?”
“I do—and my apprentice is even better at it than I am.”
The rain had settled to a drizzle by now, but the drive-thru line at the burger place (a local outfit called Rocco’s Supreme Burgers) was empty. Dez pulled in, placed their order, and they left with two steaming bags in less than five minutes. She remained silent as they drove toward her house, but finally said, “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll help you. I haven’t got a clue how I’ll do it, but if you can figure out a way to get in there to talk to those kids without getting us arrested or me losing my job, I’m in.” She glanced sideways at him. “But please, I’m begging you, make sure your plan is solid. Let’s discuss it ahead of time. No winging it. You might be able to wriggle out of any consequences if we get caught, but I won’t. Okay?”
He nodded soberly. “Absolutely. If I can work out a way to do it without involving you—aside from keeping quiet about whatever I end up having to do—I will. I promise.” He had both bags in his lap, and the delicious aroma wafting from them was making his stomach growl.
“Okay, then.”
“Dez?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For…everything. For letting me stay at your place. For helping me with this. For dragging me out of there today. You may not think you’re doing much, but believe me, you are.”
She offered a faint, tight smile. “This is my town, Dr. Stone. I grew up here. I know these people. They’re good people—I even still think those kids are, despite the horrible things they did. If there’s some chance I can help make this right, I’m going to do it.”
Stone didn’t answer. He knew—and he was sure she did too—that it would be a long time before things were “right” again in Treadley. Too much had occurred, and there was no taking it back. Too many ripples had been set into motion, and it would probably take years for them to run their course. But if he could figure out what was going on out there in the remote woods, maybe he could make sure no more ripples were added to the pond.
Sometimes, that was the best he could hope for.
11
Stone retired to his room after he and Dez devoured the burgers, telling her he was tired and wanted to go to bed early. It wasn’t entirely true—he was tired, but he thought perhaps she might like some time to herself so she could talk to her husband or simply decompress on the sofa with a favorite television show without having to entertain a relative stranger.
The room was small and cluttered; its base layer was of the same Early American style as the rest of the house, but most of its surfaces were covered by stacks of boxes, clothes, Christmas decorations, sporting equipment, and the other random bits of life growing families stash away in the disused corners of their homes. The double bed was covered with a knitted quilt composed of colorful squares, and the walls with yellowing crayon drawings, probably done by Dez’s two sons many years ago. The only concession to “real” art was a faded framed print of a pastoral scene above the bed. Stone could see it reflected in the dresser mirror as he sat propped against the pillows, since the room didn’t have a chair.
He felt strange here, as if he was intruding on a world he’d never been part of and could never properly relate to. As much as he appreciated Dez allowing him to stay here, he hoped he could be out and into a hotel room before Walt and the boys returned home from Boston.
In only a couple of days, it would be Thanksgiving. A sad thought, given how little Treadley would have to be thankful for, and how many families had been destroyed by whatever force or entity was lurking in the forest to the north.
To take his mind off these morose thoughts, Stone flipped on the tiny television set on the dresser—it was a tube model, and he had to get up to turn it on since it didn’t have a remote—and then slumped back to the bed, pulled out his phone, and sent off a text to Verity: Are you there?
The little dots appeared after a few seconds, reassuringly quick. Hi Doc! Are you still in Mass?
Yes. Do you have a few minutes to talk?
Sure, call away.
She answered instantly, on the first ring. “Hi! It’s good to hear from you.”
“Good to hear you too.” Stone kicked off his boots and lay back on the pillows, ignoring whatever old sitcom had come up on the TV; he’d only turned it on for background noise. “How was Disneyland?”
“Great! A little crowded because a lot of kids are off for the holiday, but we had fun. We hit California Adventure today, and now we’re vegging out until it’s time to leave for dinner and meet up with some friends for the concert. Kyla went out to grab some munchies, so you picked a good time.”
Stone smiled; Verity never failed to elevate his darker moods, and tonight was no exception. “That’s brilliant. I’m glad you’re having fun.”
“What about you? How’s your situation going? You never did tell me what it was.”
“I’m not sure you want to hear it. It’s not pleasant, I’m afraid.”
“Go ahead, tell me.”
So he did. He caught her up on what he’d been doing since Blodgett had called him, all the way through to the trip out to the campground today.
She listened in silence until he finished. “That’s…terrible,” she said. “I think I did see something in the news about those murders last week, but I had no idea anything supernatural might be involved. I thought those kids got hold of some bad drugs or something. Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
“Not yet. Still investigating. We didn’t get anything definitive today, unfortunately, except that I’m sure whatever touched this off has to be out near that campground somewhere. I also think there’s at least one other practitioner looking for information—possibly a tabloid reporter. Some with magic stole my associate’s laptop from her house this morning, the one that had the video of the students’ chant on it.”
“Wow. I didn’t know tabloids employed mages.”
“I didn’t know tattoo artists did either until recently,” he said dryly. “I suppose we have all sorts of jobs, given that ‘professional mage’ isn’t a viable career path for most of us.”
“Except you,” she said with a laugh. “And even you
have to moonlight as a college professor.” She paused, then said, “Do you need help? Want me to come back there? Maybe if the two of us get together we can come up with something.”
“I wouldn’t turn down a bit of help,” he admitted. “But I don’t want you to cut short your holiday on my account. When are you getting back to the Bay Area?”
“We’re flying back early tomorrow morning. Kyla has a thing she has to do in the afternoon.”
“Hmm.” There weren’t any portals anywhere near Los Angeles, which meant that on that timetable, the earliest she could arrive in Massachusetts through the Sunnyvale portal would be late tomorrow afternoon, and then she’d have to drive two more hours to get to Treadley. That would effectively make it impossible for them to get anything done on Wednesday. “I was hoping to figure out a way to talk to at least one of the students tomorrow, but—” He stopped, thinking. “Wait a moment. That might work out well, on second thought.”
“What might?”
“I was thinking it wouldn’t be good to do anything on Thanksgiving, but it actually might. Did you have plans?”
“Not really. Jason’s off with Amber, so I was just going to hang with the Harpies. Nothing definite.”
“All right, then. Let me check on something tomorrow morning and get back to you. Don’t come unless you hear from me—there won’t be anywhere for you to stay.”
“There won’t?”
“No—the hotels and whatnot are stuffed full of curious tourists and reporters, but I think they’re starting to leave. I doubt any but the most persistent of them want to stick around through the holidays, so there should be some rooms opening up. I’ll check in the morning.”
“So where are you now?”
“In Officer Griffith’s guest bedroom, sharing space with her sons’ old stuffies and a television set that’s older than you are.”
She laughed. “Bet you’re loving that.”
“I feel like I belong here about as much as Kolinsky belongs in a strip club—but I’m grateful Ms. Griffith is trusting me enough to let me stay here. Things would be quite inconvenient if she didn’t.”