by R. L. King
Something in her expression changed, and so did her aura. Stone sensed annoyance, but not at him. He waited.
She looked around the lobby to make sure no one else was there, then dropped the bills into her drawer. “They’re…difficult guests,” she admitted under her breath.
“How so?” He leaned forward, his elbows on the counter, as if he were chatting her up in anticipation of asking her for a date.
She shook her head, looking disgusted. “They’re rude to the maids, they never tip…they act like they’re better than everyone here, especially the female staff. None of us will be sorry to see them go.”
“Indeed. Interesting but not unexpected, given who they work for. Can you tell me their names?”
She consulted her computer. “Jacob Kroyer and Michael Lang.”
Stone didn’t recognize either name. He leaned in a little closer. “One more question, if you please—what rooms are they in?”
Suspicion flickered again; clearly, she was an honest employee and felt uncomfortable revealing such privileged information to a stranger, even about such obnoxious guests and for a nice payoff. He slipped her another sixty dollars—he needed to know this, and he’d pay whatever was necessary to get it. “That’s the last thing I’ll ask, I promise.”
She swallowed. The money joined the other bills in her drawer, and she tapped something on her keyboard. “I couldn’t tell you that, sir. I’m sorry. Please excuse me for a moment.” She swung her chair around to retrieve something behind her, bumping her screen in the process so it swiveled around enough for Stone to see.
He took a quick look, scanning the screen for a room number, and after only a couple seconds saw Room: 29 and Guests: 2 in the corner. His own room number was 24, so they must be just down the hall from him.
“They’re sharing?” That was a surprise.
She swiveled back around and pulled her screen back. “No choice. That was the only room we had when they checked in.” Her eyes narrowed. “They made a big stink about that too, but there was no helping it. The whole town was full a few days ago. It was a take-it-or-leave-it situation.” She smiled slyly. “Actually, if I’d been paying attention, you wouldn’t have gotten your room. They had a standing request on file to take any vacant one that opened up. But I didn’t notice these two had become available until they were already claimed.” Her smile widened, and she shrugged. “Oops.”
Stone chuckled. Never underestimate the power of a pissed-off employee to sow a little productive chaos. This wasn’t the first time he’d made use of that. “Thank you so much. I appreciate your help. And I assure you, I won’t be any trouble, I tip very well, and I’ve learned my manners. Anyway, I’d best get settled in now.”
“Have a good stay, sir, and please call if you need anything.”
Stone hurried up the stairs and quickly found room 24. It was at the end of the hall to the left, next to a framed painting depicting a storm-tossed sailing ship. The desk clerk wasn’t wrong about the view: it looked out over the parking lot, a fence, and a row of trash cans, but Stone didn’t care. He also didn’t care that it was small, dimly lit, and cramped. It could have been a broom closet, as long as it had a bed and a bathroom with a shower.
He tossed his bag on the bed, but didn’t sit down. He’d been planning to call Edwin Blodgett and see if the reverend had any insights into the video, but he had an opportunity now, while Jacob Kroyer and Michael Lang were out chasing down rumors. Perhaps they’d heard about Neil Warby’s suicide already—those types always seemed to hear things, and he wouldn’t put it past them to be monitoring Treadley’s police scanner for tidbits. If they did have magic, it would help them get in and out of places they didn’t belong.
Just as it would help Stone to do the same thing now, before they returned.
He pulled up a disregarding spell and slipped out into the hallway. It was deserted; he didn’t even see any signs that the maid was nearby, doing her rounds. He quickly scanned the hall for cameras—Jason had taught him a thing or two about what to look for, and even though he didn’t expect this rustic little small-town inn to have any, he couldn’t afford to take chances. But unless they were hiding them much better than Stone thought possible, the Schooner Inn’s management didn’t seem to be keeping an eye on their guests in public areas.
He strode down the hall to room 29’s door, which was near the stairs at the middle of the long hallway. Glancing around again to make sure nobody was coming up the stairs or out of their rooms, he switched his disregarding spell to invisibility and then quickly shifted to magical sight, checking for any wards or magical warning measures the two men might have left on the door. When he saw none, he popped the lock on 29’s door and slipped inside. He’d have to hurry, since he had no idea how long Kroyer and Lang would be away.
The room was larger than his own, with a pair of twin beds, a small desk, a tiny table with two chairs, an old-fashioned dresser with a mirror, and a heavy wooden armoire. Stone scanned the area, noting the open suitcases at the foot of each bed, a few articles of clothing tossed over the chairs, and an empty bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. Nothing out of the ordinary yet.
He switched to magical sight, and at that point the view became more interesting. Faint hints of magic hung in the air, indicating that at least one of the duo must indeed be magically talented. Possibly both of them.
Stone didn’t have gloves, so he didn’t touch anything. Instead, he used magic to take a quick look around. He found nothing in the first suitcase, but at the bottom of the second he discovered a familiar laptop computer buried under some clothes. “Aha…” he murmured, satisfied. “So you two are our thieves.”
He didn’t move the laptop out of the suitcase. When he finished here, he planned to call Dez and ask her what she wanted to do. If she hadn’t even reported her property missing, it would seem strange if he called in an anonymous tip about its location.
Another laptop sat open on the desk, its screensaver showing a beach scene. Stone used magic to tap a key, but it was protected by a password and did not open. He wouldn’t get anything there, unfortunately, without a lot more effort than he could afford to spend right now.
Instead, he focused his attention on the notebooks and papers next to it. Several clippings from local newspapers showed a timeline of the tragic events starting from the night the murders and the students were discovered. In a folder, Stone found a copy of the police report that included the transcription of the students’ chant. A notebook nearby contained several pages of notes written in a shorthand Stone wasn’t familiar with. So far, everything he’d seen was consistent with what he’d suspected: that Kroyer and Lang were a pair of reporters—he wasn’t sure if they worked for a tabloid or some other publication—who were in town digging up dirt on the murders. Nothing illegal there, even if they used magic. Except the theft of the laptop, of course. Stone didn’t know where they’d gotten the police-report copy, but given that he’d obtained one illegally himself, he couldn’t say much about that.
He stood in the middle of the room and sighed. He could probably get Dez’s computer back if she had reported it missing, but aside from that, there wasn’t much else he could do except keep close tabs on his conversations and whatever he left lying around in his room. He could confront them, but that would mean tipping his hand that he knew not only that they had magic, but that they’d stolen the laptop. With any luck, if he did it anonymously the two reporters would be arrested for the theft and would either be locked up or leave town.
He was about to leave before he risked getting caught, but then a thought occurred to him. The two men had left this information out in plain sight, where anyone who got into the room—such as the maids, who apparently weren’t too fond of them—could look at it. The only thing they’d hidden was the stolen laptop. Almost as if they want the rest of it to be noticed.
I wonder if that means there might be something else around here they don’t want noticed…
&nb
sp; Stone crossed to the door and peered out through the peephole, which showed a wide-angle view of the hallway. Still no sign of anyone approaching. Better hurry anyway.
Moving quickly, he shifted to magical sight and levitated to get a look at the top of the armoire, then stretched out on the floor and checked under the bed, the table, and the chairs. He examined the carpet for loose edges, peered in the vanity cabinet and the toilet tank, and even scanned the light fixture. Finally, he used a telekinetic spell to levitate each of the mattresses, grateful as always for the extra Calanarian punch that made it easy.
He’d almost given up, lowering the first mattress and raising the second, when a faint glow caught his eye. He lifted the mattress higher and studied the glow. It didn’t seem as if anything was there, but concentrated magical glows didn’t just occur for no good reason. This wasn’t the vague, swirling traces indicating recent magic use, but something more specific.
Still holding the mattress up, he moved in closer and crouched near the space. Was it an illusion, hiding something Kroyer and Lang didn’t want anyone to find? It would be tricky to see past that, since he didn’t know what he was looking for, but he focused more of his power on it and stared hard at the space. Come on…show me what you’re hiding…
Suddenly, the magic flared and dissipated, leaving behind a small notebook bound in brown leather. “Yes,” Stone murmured in triumph. He used another spell to lift the book free of the space, then lowered the mattress back into place. “Let’s have a look at you, shall we? What are you—”
When his gaze fell on the symbol embossed on the cover, he nearly lost control of the spell. He bobbled the notebook, his heart pounding harder as he regained his magical grip and held the thing suspended in front of him, still closed.
“Bloody…hell…” he whispered.
He’d seen the symbol on the notebook’s cover only once before, a couple of years ago, inscribed on some old records he’d discovered hidden in a crypt inside his family mausoleum.
It was the symbol of an organization he’d thought long dead—and certainly not one that had ever made it over to the United States.
An organization composed of wealthy European mages who cared little for the lives of anyone they considered a lesser being—and included among that number all mundanes, mages who were members of the lower classes, and essentially anyone who didn’t agree with their ideas about how the world should be run.
An organization that thought nothing of practicing human sacrifice of these “lesser beings” to fuel their powerful rituals.
An organization of which Stone’s own ancestors had been prominent members.
“Dear gods…” he murmured allowed, staring down at the notebook in stunned shock.
Had the Ordo Purpuratus resurfaced in modern times?
If it had—and if Jacob Kroyer and Michael Lang were part of it—that would change a lot of things.
14
Stone had some calls to make, but after his examination of Room 29 he didn’t feel comfortable making them in his room. Too close if Lang and Kroyer returned, and he had no idea if they knew who he was.
Better to be careful, so he got back in his car and drove to a park just outside town. The park was deserted on this blustery day except for a pair of small boys playing catch with an exuberant Golden Retriever under the attentive eyes of two women; he idly watched them and scanned the area around the park as he made his first call.
“’Ey, Stone,” Eddie said. “’Ow’s your mystery going? ’Aven’t got anything new for you yet, but we’re getting closer. We’re at the Dragon now with a few mates, fortifyin’ ourselves a bit before we go back in for more research. Got something new?”
Stone hadn’t needed his friend to tell him where they were; he could hear the sound of music, clinking glasses, and conversation in the background. “You…could say that, yes.”
“You sound strange. Something wrong?”
“Yes. But I’m not sure where it fits in with the current situation here. Eddie…do you remember a couple of years ago when you researched my family tree? When I found those papers in the mausoleum at the house?”
“Not likely to forget about that.”
Aside from Aubrey, Eddie and Ward had been the only people Stone had shared the whole story about his family’s connection with Ordo Purpuratus—the Order of the Purple. A lot of it had come out earlier that year when they’d discovered hidden catacombs beneath the manor house in Surrey, and he’d had to tell Jason and Verity more than he’d told them previously, but so far no one else, not even Ian, knew about the Ordo. Stone planned to tell them someday, but since the organization had apparently died out around his grandfather’s time, he didn’t see the urgency in it.
Now, that might have to change.
“Do you remember the Ordo Purpuratus?”
“Sure. Ancient secret society full of rich old mages carving up the world and doing nasty things because nobody could stop them.”
“Yes. Well…they may not be as dead as we thought they were.”
There was a pause. “’Ang on, Stone. Let me get someplace quieter.”
Stone waited, watching as one of the children missed a catch and had to chase after the ball.
A few moments later, Eddie came back on the line. “Right. I’m out back. Should be okay for a while, unless anyone comes out to ’ave a smoke. What’s this about the Ordo?”
Stone gave Eddie an abbreviated account of his search of Kroyer and Lang’s room, culminating with his discovery of the notebook with the embossed Ordo symbol.
Eddie whistled. “Bloody ’ell, mate. You’re sure?”
“Absolutely certain. I wouldn’t forget that symbol.”
Another pause. “You’re sure they didn’t just get ’old of something while they were lookin’ for info about the murders?”
Stone snorted. “Come on, Eddie. As far as three mages with a lot of research material between them could ever discover, the Ordo died out over a hundred years ago, and it never left Europe. Where would a couple of tabloid reporters—if that is, in fact, what they are, which I’m doubting now—get hold of something connected with them?”
“Does seem unlikely,” Eddie admitted. “So…what ’appened? You didn’t nick it, did you?” He didn’t even make a token effort to disguise the eagerness in his tone.
“No, of course not. I don’t want them to know I’m on to them. As it is, they might spot the magical traces from my presence in the room if they return soon, though I did the best I could to hide them. But I did do the next best thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I took photos of everything with my phone. There were about fifteen filled pages in the notebook, written in some coded language, and some other odd shorthand in another notebook they left out on the desk.”
“You couldn’t read any of it?”
“Not without more research. I was hoping if I sent it to you, you and Ward could make some sense of it.”
“Yeah, sure, send it on. We’ll put aside the other stuff and get right on it.” He whistled again. “Blimey, Stone. The Ordo’s back? I…don’t know what to make of that.”
“Nor do I. I wonder if these two are acting alone, or if some larger organization has resurfaced.”
“Good question. And we’ll ’ave to be careful about researching it, so they don’t find out we’re on to them.” A pause, and then: “A couple questions are naggin’ at me, though.”
“Yes?”
“First and most relevant to your current situation: even if the Ordo is somehow back, why the ’ell are they interested in this thing you’re investigatin’?”
“Good question. Maybe they heard the news story, made the same inferences Blodgett did—that something supernatural is involved—and sent somebody out here to look into it. Remember, they were a bunch of wealthy, upper-class mages—or at least their previous incarnation was. Maybe this version is a bit more egalitarian. Though from what the desk clerk told me, these two are a pair
of class-A entitled arseholes, so maybe some things never change. Anyway, it’s possible they’re just gathering information, same as we are.”
“And you said before that they know there’s another mage in town? Do you think they know who you are?”
“Who knows? Wouldn’t be hard to find out—I haven’t been spreading my name far and wide ’round here, but I haven’t exactly been discreet, either.”
“Be careful, mate. If those two are there, there might be more lurking around.”
“I’ll be careful. But please, I’ll send you those files as soon as I get off the phone—make them your number-one priority, will you?”
“You got it.”
Stone smiled. He knew he hadn’t had to ask—Eddie was no doubt already itching to get his hands on those files, and the only reason Ward wasn’t as well was that he didn’t know about them yet. “Right, then. I’ll—oh, Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“You said you had two questions. What’s the other one?”
“Oh. Right.” The line crackled with his longer pause.
“Eddie?”
“Well,” he said slowly. “I ’ate to bring this up, but…I can’t ’elp wonderin’ if it’s not a coincidence that the Ordo resurfaces again right around the same time Sleepin’ Beauty in that chamber under your ’ouse turns up.”
Stone froze, his grip on the phone tightening. “You could have gone all day without saying that, my friend.”
“Yeah, well—just keep your ’ead down and let’s get this business sorted. One problem at a time.”
“Assuming they aren’t just different bits of the same problem.”