The Seventh Stone: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  He staggered back, panting, his entire body awash with energy, and stared down in shock at the pile of gray ashes on the floor. He’d believed Blake in a theoretical sense that it was possible to do this, but seeing it in front of him brought the whole thing home in a much more visceral way. Everything that had been Bobby was gone now, with nothing left but the ash and his clothing—a white T-shirt with his home-improvement store’s logo, faded Wranglers, a pair of white athletic socks, and a cheap digital watch—in a vaguely humanoid shape.

  Ian’s heart pounded hard, and he could hear his harsh breathing. Had anyone seen what he’d done? Had anyone heard Bobby yelling?

  But then a sense of calm settled over him. Nobody would find out. Nobody had to. He had the power now—the power to make it all go away.

  It was stupidly easy to gather up the ashes and wash them down the kitchen sink, to rinse the clothes and toss them in the familiar wicker hamper in the laundry room. He was careful to leave no fingerprints, and the whole process took only a few minutes.

  When he left the house under cover of darkness afterward, after taking a few minutes to look around, he used an invisibility spell to get back to the car. He didn’t drop it until he was driving off, back the way he’d come.

  He felt no guilt, but only a sense of satisfaction. Of closure. He couldn’t bring his mother back, but at least he’d taken care of the reason she’d died.

  As he merged back on the freeway, he thought about Bobby’s words. Had his mother resumed a relationship with his father? He knew the man’s name now, from the photo he’d found in his mother’s Bible: Alastair Stone. But Blake wouldn’t tell him anything else yet. “You’ll be ready soon,” she promised him. “Trust me—you’ll want to be prepared before you face him.”

  That was fine. And now, there was one more thing Stone would have to answer for. Add it to the list.

  The list was growing ever longer.

  The power sang through him as he drove toward the airport. He fished in his pocket for his phone and hit one of the presets. When Blake answered, he said only two words: “It’s done.” Then he hung up. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone tonight—not even her.

  24

  Flores was occupied with other business when Stone left the precinct house, which was a good thing because he had no idea what to tell him. He’d promised to share any information he’d discovered with the captain, but he couldn’t exactly say, “Your suspect is under a magical oath preventing him from revealing what he knows, and no matter how hard you question him, you won’t be able to break through it,” could he?

  This complicated matters considerably. Magical oaths were not easy things to manage, which meant at least one of the people associated with Portas Justitiæ was not only a mage, but a relatively skilled one. But why would a mage assist an organization dedicated to killing his (or her) own kind? The whole thing didn’t make sense, but Stone was sure of one thing: this was bigger than he thought. The man who’d killed Amy Detmire hadn’t been a crazy acting alone. At least two people were involved, and the one still out there was more dangerous than the one they had in custody.

  He got back in his car and looked at his watch. Five-fifteen, which meant he still had a couple hours before Ian was due at the house. He dug out his phone and called Jason, hoping his friend was still in the office.

  “Thayer Investigations.”

  “Ah, good. You’re still there.”

  “Hey, Al. Yeah, this isn’t exactly a nine-to-five job, especially when I’m still tryin’ to build a client base. What’s up?”

  “Are you busy at present? I’ve got something I’d like to discuss with you. I’m in San Jose now—mind if I drop by?”

  “Come on over. You had dinner yet?”

  “I’ve—got plans later this evening.”

  “No problem. I’ll be here.”

  Stone hadn’t been by Jason’s office since shortly after he’d moved in. It had changed a lot in the intervening few months. For one thing, Thayer Investigations had replaced the old bail-bonds logo on the front window, complete with the logo designed by one of the graphic-design students at the University. As Stone pushed open the door and entered, he noticed Jason had added a couple of framed art prints (probably Verity’s doing), a selection of magazines on the table in the waiting area, and a TV set in the back. Jason’s desk, formerly nearly bare, now had several file folders stacked on it along with a coffee cup and several newspapers.

  “Well,” he said, looking around. “This place looks a fair bit more lived-in than last time I was here.”

  Jason got up from behind the desk, where he’d been looking at something on a computer screen. He wore a blue polo shirt and jeans; he’d adopted a style slightly more formal than his usual T-shirts since starting his venture. He’d also gotten his long, dark-blond hair cut much shorter, which Stone was still getting used to.

  He grinned when he saw Stone. “Yeah, well, I might actually make a go of this thing.” He indicated the stack of folders. “Got a few cases going now. None of them are anything big, but they’re keeping the lights on. I’ve got an ad out for a clerical person, since V doesn’t want the job. It’s getting to be a little much for me to handle on my own.” He waved toward a chair. “Have a seat. You want a cup of coffee or something?”

  “No, thank you. I can’t stay long.”

  “Is this about those people you wanted me to check up on before?”

  “No—something different this time.” He didn’t sit, but paced. “Jason—if I wanted to question someone in police custody, how would I go about it?”

  Jason’s brow furrowed, and he frowned. “What are you involved with now, Al?”

  Stone quickly filled his friend in on the Amy Detmire situation. This time, he didn’t leave anything out, including the part about Portas Justitiæ.

  “Wait a sec,” Jason said when he finished. “So you’re sayin’ some nutjob is running around killing apprentices, and they’ve got a mage on their side?”

  “Well, I’d hardly say they’re ‘running around killing apprentices’ since it’s just the one case so far, but yes, apparently that’s what’s happening.” He continued pacing. “Myra Lindstrom mentioned she’d heard of another case of an apprentice being murdered, but she couldn’t remember the details and didn’t know if it was related.”

  “How does that even work, though? Why would a mage kill other mages? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t, which is why I’m looking into it.”

  “Are you sure about this magical oath? I mean, if this guy is some kind of fanatic, they can be pretty good at resisting interrogation. Especially if he’s working for some larger organization. They could be working behind the scenes to get him out, but only if he keeps his mouth shut.”

  “I’m not positive—I didn’t get a good look at him. But it certainly looked that way to me.”

  “And nobody but a mage could do one of those, right? A powerful one?”

  Stone pondered. “It would definitely require magic talent to arrange a magical oath. A mundane couldn’t do it, even if they knew how. But…powerful? Not necessarily. Knowledgeable, certainly. They don’t require a lot of raw power, but they’re tricky to manage. Whoever did it has to be fairly well-versed in magical arts.”

  “So you want to talk to the guy they have in custody why?”

  “As I said—I want to get a closer look at him, and not through a one-way mirror.”

  “Could you break the oath if you did that?”

  “Possibly. Depends on how it was set up, and who did it. Once again, it’s tricky—I could certainly power through it, but it would look quite odd to observers and it might injure the man. I don’t want that.”

  “Did you talk to Blum about it? Maybe he can arrange something.”

  “It’s not Blum’s jurisdiction, and I don’t want to go to that well too many times. I’ve been working with the captain down here, Flores, but he’s a skeptic. Not as much as some, but I dou
bt I’d be able to convince him.”

  Jason thought about it. “Hmm. I doubt they’d just let you go visit the guy—especially after Flores already knows you’re involved. If only you could—hey, wait a sec.”

  “What?”

  “You mentioned the old lady who first told you about this—”

  “Myra Lindstrom, yes.”

  “She wanted you to find out what happened to Amy.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Jason held up a hand. “Wait, just hear me out. Do you think Myra still wants to find out what happened, now that they’ve found Amy dead?”

  “I’m certain of it. What are you getting at, Jason?”

  “Well—if she wasn’t satisfied with how much effort the police were putting into finding the truth, maybe she could hire a private investigator to look into it for her. And if she did, you could just happen to be consulting with that investigator…” Jason tilted his chair back and shot Stone a satisfied grin. “You do the math.”

  Stone returned the grin. “Jason, you’re brilliant.”

  “Yeah, well, we mundanes have to do something to keep up with you hocus-pocus types.”

  “So you think if she hires you to investigate, they might let you talk to the suspect?”

  “Maybe—at least for a visit. And you could come along with me. Flores would probably think it’s a little sketchy, but I can’t see how they’d object, if the guy’s lawyer’s okay with it.”

  “I saw his lawyer. She’s a public defender—a bit rubbish, honestly. Barely seemed bothered about what was going on with her client.”

  “Yeah, that happens. If you can’t afford your own lawyer, you get whoever turns up in the pool, and sometimes you get screwed.”

  “Hmm,” Stone said. “Sort of makes me think Portas Justitiæ isn’t a powerful organization, or else they’d have set him up with better counsel.”

  “Either that, or they’re hangin’ him out to dry. That happens too. Let the fall guy do the dirty work, and you sit back and reap the benefit without getting any on you.”

  “Perhaps so.” Stone glanced at his watch. It was shortly after six, it would take him at least an hour to get home in rush hour traffic, and he still had to pick up some takeaway for dinner. “Anyway, must go. I’ll talk to Myra Lindstrom and see if I can persuade her to hire you, and we’ll go from there. I’ll get back to you with the details. Thank you, Jason.”

  “No problem. You’ve got me kind of intrigued—and I’m sure V will be too, when she gets back.”

  25

  Stone was sure he must be confusing Raider with his aimless pacing. The cat followed him around, occasionally getting underfoot or dashing ahead to cast questioning glances at him. This was not typical behavior for his human housemate, and he was clearly stumped.

  It was seven-forty, and Ian still hadn’t shown up. Stone had stopped on the way home at a Thai place not far from the University and pulled into the garage at seven twenty-five with a selection of entrées in tow, looking around for an unfamiliar car waiting for him outside the gate, but saw none. He left it open and hurried inside, hastily selecting a bottle of wine to go with the meal. He set the table, then took another look out the front window.

  Perhaps the boy had been stuck in traffic, or had trouble finding the place. Encantada was not an easy town to find if you didn’t know what you were looking for; the residents maintained it that way on purpose, since they enjoyed their small-town privacy in the middle of the Bay Area sprawl. Even the sign pointing toward it from the main road was usually obscured by a large, leafy tree branch that nobody ever seemed in a hurry to trim back. Stone wondered if he should have given Ian better directions, or if he—

  The bright glow of headlights appeared at the gate, and a shadowy vehicle crawled slowly up the gravel driveway toward the house. It pulled up in front of the garage, the lights shut off, and a figure got out. Stone recognized the aura before anything else and went out to meet him.

  “Hope you didn’t have trouble finding the house,” he called. “I forgot it can be a bit of a challenge if you aren’t familiar with the area.”

  Ian paused to examine the area, taking in the three-story house, separate garage, and the grounds surrounding it. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

  “Thank you. Haven’t been here long—I moved in at the end of last year. Used to have a place in downtown Palo Alto. Sort of a long story. How are you?”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since we talked last.”

  “As have I. Come on in—I’ve got dinner, if you’re hungry. Hope you like Thai—as I said, it’s takeaway, but the restaurant is quite good. We can eat now, or chat for a bit and I’ll heat it up later on.”

  Stone realized as he followed Ian back into the house that he was talking far more than usual. Was he nervous? He supposed he had a right to be—it wasn’t every day you were about to have dinner with the son you’d never known you had.

  Ian continued to look around as they entered the house and headed back toward the dining room. “Doesn’t matter. Whichever you like is fine.”

  “Right, then. Let’s get it over with while it’s still hot, and then we can chat for as long as you like. I’ve set aside the whole evening. Have a seat.”

  As Ian settled at the dining table, Stone noticed Raider was nowhere to be seen. He’d wondered how the cat would react to a stranger in his sanctum, since Stone rarely had visitors other than Jason and Verity. He’d probably venture out later, his curiosity overcoming his trepidation when he realized the new human wouldn’t be leaving for a while.

  “So,” he said, putting out the food in serving dishes and opening the wine, “I suppose we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  “Yeah, I guess we do.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me—I’ll admit to being a bit apprehensive about this whole thing. I don’t want to botch it up.” He took his own chair and studied Ian from across the table. The boy seemed at ease, relaxed, even amused.

  “Don’t worry about it. I know it’s going to be awkward for both of us. I was ready for that.”

  “Did you find a place to stay yet?”

  “No, not yet. I’ll look tomorrow.”

  “Are you on holiday? Do you have to go back to Los Angeles for your work soon? Or are you at University?”

  “No, no college. I’m kind of between jobs right now, but I’ve got some money saved up. No hurry to go back.”

  “What do you do down there?”

  He shrugged. “A little of this, a little of that.”

  “You don’t want to tell me. That’s fine. None of my concern, really, is it?”

  “I don’t know—maybe it is, since you’re my dad. But it’s nothing mysterious. Just freelance stuff. I do a little acting sometimes.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you chose Los Angeles, then?” Stone didn’t miss the way Ian’s expression had sharpened; he sensed an evaluation.

  “One of the reasons, yeah.”

  “Any success?”

  “Not a lot. Everybody in L.A. is either trying to break into acting or sell a screenplay. Most of them don’t succeed.”

  “Fair enough.”

  An uncomfortable silence ensued, as both of them concentrated on eating. Stone sneaked the occasional glance, and noticed Ian was doing the same thing to him, but neither lofted another conversational balloon.

  When Stone reached for the wine bottle to refill his glass, Ian suddenly spoke. “Hey, buddy. Who are you?”

  He glanced up to follow the boy’s gaze across the room, where Raider had poked his head tentatively around the doorframe. He chuckled. “That’s Raider. I’m surprised he hasn’t leapt up on the table and tried to eat your dinner yet.”

  Ian tilted his head. “I wouldn’t have expected you to have a cat.”

  “He sort of found me, actually, some time ago. We get on well, though—a couple of bachelors who stay out of each other’s way.”

  Ian bent and held a hand out. For a long time, Raide
r remained where he was, eyeing the odd new human with wary fascination. Then, moving with deliberate caution, he inched his way across the room and delicately sniffed at the boy’s hand. He remained still and tense while Ian stroked his head, but didn’t dash away. “He’s cool.”

  “Apparently the feeling is mutual.”

  “I didn’t have any pets when I was growing up. I always wanted one—dog or cat, it wouldn’t have mattered—but when it was just Mom and me we couldn’t afford it.”

  “I didn’t either, as a child. Raider is my first, actually. Having him around has been quite a new experience for me.”

  Ian nodded, still stroking Raider. The cat had let go of most of his tension, and was now purring away as if he and the boy had known each other all their lives. “Yeah. And after Mom and Bobby got married and we moved to Winthrop, Bobby had this old hunting dog, but he wasn’t a pet. He hated me, and I was always scared of him. Then he got sick, and Bobby had to shoot him when I was thirteen. I was glad to see him go, honestly, but I still felt guilty about it. It wasn’t his fault he got stuck with a shithead like Bobby.”

  Once again, Stone saw the red flashes of unease around Ian’s aura. Something inside him tightened with anger at the thought of what the boy must have gone through, growing up in a house with an abusive stepfather and a terrified mother. He thought about how different Ian’s life could have been if things had gone in another direction, if Jessamy had only told him he had a son. “Ian, I—” He sighed and paused, suddenly at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry,” he said at last. “I wish I could have been around for you.”

  “Yeah, well, you didn’t know.”

  Stone detected more than a hint of bitterness in Ian’s tone, and thought he knew why. “You still don’t entirely believe me, do you?”

  “About what?”

  “About…anything. I don’t know what your mother told you about me, but I’m sure you had a lot of time to get comfortable with it, whatever it was. Knowing me for a few days isn’t going to change your mind, is it?”