by King, R. L.
Zack swallowed, trying to put up a front of false bravado, but his shaking knees gave him away. “Y-yeah. I get it, lady. Look, I’m sorry. I told ya—I was just tryin’ to help. I was tryin’ to do a good job.”
She sighed. “Get out of my sight, Zack. But be available. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
Zack wasted no time making himself scarce. Trin leaned back on her lounge and dropped her illusion. “Fucking idiot. If I had a talent like his, I’d be a millionaire. And he just wastes it on crap.”
Sam got up. “What did you mean about having something else for him to do? I thought you were finished. Especially now. If Stone finds out—”
She waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t give a damn whether Stone finds out or not. What’s he going to do with the knowledge? So somebody’s stealing magic books. How will he connect that with us?”
“You’d better hope he doesn’t,” Sam said.
Chapter Sixteen
Stone didn’t expect Stefan Kolinsky’s shop to be open when he stopped by the following day, but was surprised to find that the door swung open for him when he tried it.
Kolinsky looked up from his chair as Stone entered, eyebrow raised. “Alastair. I tried to reach you yesterday, but you didn’t respond. I even resorted to the—telephone.” His thin lips curled around the word, as if speaking an unwelcome obscenity.
Stone looked him up and down. “Yes, I got your message. Surprised the hell out of me, too. You’re looking—rather better than I expected you to, all things considered.” That was the truth: though Stone could detect a bit of leftover pallor, the black mage otherwise looked about the same as he always did. He didn’t even have a bandage on his hand.
“I must admit I am not entirely at my best,” Kolinsky said, waving Stone toward his usual chair, “but your timely intervention was no doubt responsible for my failure to suffer far worse consequences.” He reached in his desk drawer and removed a file, which he offered to Stone. “You didn’t take your copy of the ritual, by the way, when you left. It was part of our bargain.”
Stone took it, setting it aside. “Thank you, Stefan. Though I haven’t any plans to re-create it anytime soon.”
Kolinsky watched him for a moment, and then asked, “I would very much like to know how you dealt with that spirit, Alastair.”
So would I, Stone thought. That whole period was a bit of a blur for him: he remembered that he’d made some sort of foolhardy move involving Harrison’s technique to drive the spirit off, but he couldn’t remember exactly how he’d done it. He shrugged a little. “Desperation, mostly. And sheer brute luck.”
Kolinsky’s eyes glittered; it was clear he didn’t believe that for a minute. “Really.”
“Imminent death is one of life’s most effective motivators,” Stone said.
“Then it wouldn’t have anything to do with the odd aura residue I detected when I examined the site yesterday.”
Stone shrugged. “How are my translations coming, Stefan? If you’re well enough to be minding the shop, then I’ll guess you’re well enough to read a few papers and jot down a few notes.”
Kolinsky’s pause was just long enough to let Stone know that he was deliberately choosing to let his own questions go—for now. “I’ve already completed two of the smaller ones.” He pulled another folder from his desk and handed it over. “You should have the rest by the end of the week.”
Stone nodded approvingly. “You work fast.” He put that folder on top of the other one, then took a breath. “I have an odd question for you.”
“Oh?”
“Have you perhaps noticed anything missing from your library within the last few days?”
Kolinsky frowned. “Missing?”
“Wouldn’t be much, probably. A few volumes with no connection to each other.”
His frown deepened. “Why? Are you expecting me to be?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. I was in England yesterday, at home. My library there was missing some things, and a few friends of mine said theirs were as well.”
But Kolinsky shook his head. “No, I have not noticed anything missing.”
“Are you sure?”
He looked insulted. “Think of whom you are addressing, Alastair.”
Stone nodded slowly. That was true. Stefan Kolinsky lived and died by his information sources. He probably had special spells of his own design for nothing but keeping track of his stash. He let his breath out.
“Tell me why you ask this.” Kolinsky’s expression sharpened subtly, and Stone knew why: just as he had no doubt arranged for his magical holdings to be both safe and well catalogued, he would certainly react strongly to any potential threat to them. “Do you know who this thief might be, or what they might want with the stolen items?”
“Not—entirely. But I have some suspicions.” He glanced up. “And I want you to help me validate them.”
Kolinsky gave him an odd look, but didn’t reply except to watch him with continued focus.
Stone nodded. “I do. You owe me one, Stefan. I saved your life from that little fiasco the other night. If I hadn’t done—whatever I did—you’d be dead now, and you know it. So I’d say I’m ahead in our little game, and I’m calling that in. I know, I’m not being subtle. But I don’t have time to be subtle.”
Kolinsky’s gaze sharpened further. “There is more to this than a few stolen books, Alastair. I know you value your magical library, but this urgency is quite unlike you. Tell me.”
Stone made a decision. “Yes. There is.”
Kolinsky waited, not taking his eyes off Stone.
“Settle in, Stefan. This will take a while. And as much as you value unique information, I think you’ll find I’m at least two or three favors ahead by the time I’ve finished.”
Speaking with dispassionate precision, he told Kolinsky about the Evil. The only parts he left out were Verity’s ability to evict them from living hosts, and anything to do with Harrison and his unusual magical style.
Kolinsky listened with an odd stillness, his glittering black eyes fixed on Stone with a level of focus anyone else would have found deeply unsettling. Stone barely noticed. He remembered what Verity had said last year when she’d admitted to letting Madame Huan in on the secret: how cathartic it had felt to just let it out. He’d felt that way to some extent when he’d told his mage associates back in England, but with Kolinsky it was deeper. Maybe it was because he wasn’t in such a hurry, and could give the tale the breadth it deserved. Either way, when he finished he found himself physically slumping in his chair, his heart rate elevated as if he’d been indulging in mild exertion. He met Kolinsky’s eyes as if to say, Well?
For several seconds the black mage didn’t reply. Didn’t move. Didn’t seem even to be present mentally in the room. Then, at last, he asked softly: “Why did you not tell me of this before?”
“Truthfully?”
“Always.”
“Because I couldn’t be sure you weren’t one of them,” Stone said.
Kolinsky considered that. “But you said that they cannot possess our kind without permission.”
“We think they can’t. We’re fairly sure they can’t. But even so, they’ve convinced other mages. I’m not sure what they offer—right now we’ve got a working theory that they’ve gotten their claws into Pia Brandt through her family—but they might have other more positive inducements. That part we’ve no idea about.”
Kolinsky’s eyes narrowed, and his face grew hard. “Alastair. We have been associates for a very long time. Why do you offer me such insult?”
Stone raised an eyebrow. “It’s not insult, Stefan. It’s pure and simple paranoia. Perhaps you didn’t hear me: these things can be anyone. Seamlessly. There’s virtually no way to tell, including magically, unless you catch them in the act of doing something wildly out of character, or you k
ill them. Or you happen to have one of the Forgotten who can sniff them out handy, and I’m fresh out of those right now. Up until we closed the portals, they were getting regular supplies of foot soldiers sent to them that they could deploy anywhere they liked. I think things are better now, but even so—” He spread his hands as if to say you see where I’m going with this.
Kolinsky’s expression didn’t soften. “You thought, then, that I could be swayed by these promises of—what? Material wealth? I have that, Alastair, more than you know. Mundane power? The same. You think that I would give up the thing I value more than any other—the integrity of my mind—for empty promises?”
Stone sighed. “I wouldn’t have told you all of this if I did, Stefan. Before, I didn’t have reason to tell you. I didn’t tell anyone. The only ones of us who knew it were Jason, Verity, and myself. And the Forgotten, of course, but they were involved long before we were. The only reason Madame Huan knows is because Verity told her.”
He got up from his chair and began to pace. “Think about it before you get too angry with me: this knowledge is dangerous on its own. Telling anyone is an enormous gamble: even if they aren’t Evil themselves, they might have friends who are, and not even know it. Before the portals were down, we couldn’t risk it. There’s no putting that genie back in the bottle, once it’s out.”
He turned on Kolinsky. “I can’t tell you not to use this information, Stefan. I’ve given it to you, and you can do with it what you will. But I will tell you this: be careful who you trust. You’re even less trusting than I am, and probably with good reason. I know you have enemies. Imagine if they had access to the Evil’s knowledge—or worse, if they knew that somebody with your vast information network knew about them.”
Kolinsky didn’t reply, once again appearing to be thinking over what Stone had said with great care. Finally he leaned back in his chair. “You believe that these so-called Evil are behind these thefts, then. Why? If your hypothesis is correct, they have procured the services of Dr. Brandt to help them re-open a portal to their home dimension. Yet they’ve stolen no books on that topic.”
Stone shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything that connects spirit summoning with portal construction. Perhaps they’re diversifying their options, seeking multiple avenues to the same end.” He began pacing again. “If they determined from Dr. Brandt that they don’t have the means to create the portal, then perhaps they think they might be able to summon their reinforcements to our world instead of bringing them through a gateway.”
“I suppose that is possible,” Kolinsky said. “Impractical, though, unless they plan to summon a large number of them at once. As you’re well aware, summoning circles of that magnitude are inherently unstable. They wouldn’t be able to keep it functioning indefinitely.”
“Have those papers you translated given you any insights?”
He shook his head. “As I said, I’ve only finished the two smallest ones, and they’re essentially overviews. I am not an expert on portal creation, however. I will finish the others for you, and you can examine them yourself.” He glanced up. “You also said you wanted my assistance. In what way?”
Stone had almost forgotten about that in the process of giving Kolinsky the details about the Evil. “Oh, yes. That,” he said, his eyes gleaming with malicious amusement.
“I want to set a trap.”
Chapter Seventeen
“You look like your mind’s on another planet.”
Verity leaned back against the faded vinyl of the booth bench and stared out the window, watching the mid-afternoon crowds go by without truly seeing them. “Hm?”
Sharra grinned from across the booth, taking another pull from her latte. “See?”
They sat in a threadbare deli/diner in a quaint little neighborhood in Brooklyn: Sharra had promised Verity they had the best burgers in the country, and Verity had to allow that she was right. The double cheeseburger with all the fixings she’d devoured was even better than In ‘n’ Out Burger, an admission that was practically sacrilege coming from a lifelong southern California girl like her. They had long since finished their burgers and fries, and now lingered over their second lattes, people-watching and enjoying a lazy summer day.
Verity snapped back to awareness. “Oh,” she said with a guilty grin. “Sorry.”
“Not getting homesick, are you?”
“Nah. I did call Jason last night, though.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine.”
She wasn’t sure exactly why she didn’t tell Sharra about what Jason had told her when she called him late last night for their usual weekly catch-up. It was mostly, she supposed, because it would require a lot more explanatory backstory than she was in the mood to give at the moment. Trying to provide a context for things like stolen books and missing magical researchers and the Evil was just more than she had the energy for right now. And besides, nobody was sure yet that it had anything to do with the Evil.
Sharra tilted her head. She was a tall young woman, tanned and athletic, with short hair currently dyed a deep red and clear brown eyes. “Come on, V. If you don’t want to tell me that’s cool, but I can see you’ve got something going on in that twisted little brain of yours.”
Verity took another sip. “Okay,” she admitted. “Maybe I am just a little bit homesick.” That wasn’t the truth, or at least not the whole truth, but she hoped it was good enough. That was the tough part about trying to have a relationship with another mage: it was hard enough to hide things from somebody you were close to in the first place, but when that person could just take a quick peek at your aura it got even harder.
Sharra nodded. “Makes sense. You haven’t really been away from home much.” She chuckled. “I got over that when I was twelve, at camp.”
“When I was twelve, I was in the funny farm,” Verity said with an arched eyebrow. Her amused tone took the edge off her words.
Sharra didn’t push that. Instead, she changed the subject: “You call Alastair at all?”
“Yeah. I call him once a week too, just to let him know I’m keeping up on my reading and that you’re not teaching me how to sacrifice virgins to Baal or anything.”
“That’s next week,” Sharra said. “Don’t tell him, though. He’ll freak.”
“Come on, where are we gonna find a virgin anyway?”
Sharra chuckled. “Point.” The waitress came by and refilled their water glasses; she waited until she’d gone away before speaking again. “I’m kind of surprised he didn’t give you more trouble about coming back here.”
“Why? Jason gave me way more crap than he did. He’s always been pretty cool about that kind of thing.”
“I just always thought he was more—old school, I guess,” Sharra said, shrugging. “I don’t really know him that well. Only met him a couple of times before Eleanor’s funeral, at mage things.”
“What do you mean by ‘old school’?” Verity asked. “I’ve heard that a couple of times, and not just in reference to Dr. Stone. Is there a ‘new school’?”
“Not exactly. It’s more a philosophical thing, like how you’re taught. Alastair apprenticed under this guy in England who’s one of the best in the world, but he’s also known for being a real hardcase. Those kind of mages can be stupid powerful and versatile because they devote their whole lives to learning magic the right way, but they also can be kind of rigid. They’re not usually good with new ideas.”
Verity pondered. “That doesn’t sound like Dr. Stone. I mean, yeah, he’s a purist and all. He’s got the musty old books and stuff, and he always insists that I know why things work the way they do, not just that they do. He gets pissed when I try to take shortcuts. But he’s all about new ideas. That’s what really gets him jazzed: discovering new things. He’s like a kid when he’s trying to solv
e a puzzle.”
“Good thing, I guess. Probably why you two haven’t killed each other yet.” She grinned. “That can happen a lot during apprenticeships. Not literally, I mean, but you see a lot of times when an apprentice ends up changing teachers because the two of them didn’t get along. It’s not like the old days when you were stuck.”
“Did it happen to you?” Verity asked, interested. “What was your teacher like?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Which one? The old perv who tried to teach me the magic of what was in his pants, or the cool hippie chick who used to try to get me to smoke weed with her in between lessons?”
Verity’s eyes widened. “Perv? That happens?”
“You’re such an innocent, V. It’s cute. You’re telling me Alastair’s never come on to you?”
“No!” The word came out shocked and louder than she expected, and a couple of customers and the waitress glanced over at them. “No,” she said more quietly. “He’s never—”
“Huh. Interesting. Maybe I’m just cynical, but I thought most of ’em do it eventually. You know, position of authority, innocent young student—it’s like a bad book. But it’s also human nature, when you’re together that often. They can’t help it. They start listening to their little head instead of their big one.”
Verity shook her head. The whole conversation made her uncomfortable. This was the first time they’d discussed magic in any depth since she’d arrived: she’d deliberately kept away from the subject because she just wanted to spend some time getting to know Sharra in a normal, mundane way. Still, this was interesting stuff and she couldn’t help being curious about it. “Tell me about the hippie chick,” she said. The waitress came by again to drop off their check, and she dug in her bag for her wallet.
Sharra waited until they were outside before continuing. “Not much to tell, really. She was a great teacher. Just loved her ‘medicinal herbs’ almost as much as she loved magic. That’s another thing that happens a lot, actually.”