The Seventh Stone: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  “When did you get so wise, anyway?”

  She grinned. “One of us has to be. And I did have a good teacher.”

  “I think she’s right,” Jason said. “Just give him a little space. You might be surprised at the results.” He waved at his computer. “Now, though, I gotta get back to this research. It’s boring, but it pays the bills.”

  40

  Stone’s phone buzzed as he was leaving Jason’s parking lot.

  “Dr. Stone?” A familiar, hesitant female voice.

  “Ms. Lindstrom. How are you?” Stone switched the phone to speaker mode and tossed it on the passenger seat as he pulled into traffic.

  “Oh, getting by, I suppose.” The old lady sounded sad. “Still not coping very well with losing Amy. I miss her. We would have had a session today. It was right there on my calendar. When I saw it, I nearly burst into tears.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Is there something I can do for you?”

  Her loud sigh came through even over the road noise. “You’d asked me about what I remembered about the other apprentice who was killed. I went through some of my old papers. It took me a while—I had to look through some boxes in the attic, and all the dust irritated my allergies. I’ve got such terrible allergies. My nose gets all stuffed up, and I—”

  “Did you find anything, Ms. Lindstrom?” Stone felt a little guilty cutting her off, but only a little.

  “Oh!—Uh, yes, I did.” She paused a moment, as if expecting Stone to prompt her, but then continued, “My friend’s name was Jean Tinsley. She’s gone now, bless her soul. Passed away last year. She lived in Ohio, in a little town a few miles from Dayton.”

  Stone made a ‘go on’ gesture which of course Myra couldn’t see, and made a left onto the freeway onramp. “And?”

  “Jean was a minor talent, like me. Dabbled in potions, little rituals, that kind of thing. Not a lot of magical ability, but she knew quite a bit about folk magic and natural remedies. She had a woman she taught. I can’t remember her name. Karen, or Kathryn—something like that. Older lady, even older than Amy. Discovered her magic late. The two of them ran a little natural-healing shop together.”

  “And what happened to her?” Stone asked. He glanced at his watch, wondering if he’d need to go see Myra Lindstrom in person to coax her story out of her, and hoping that wouldn’t be necessary.

  “She was murdered.” Myra’s voice shook. “This was about three years ago, I think. Right there in the shop. Jean came in one morning and found her there, on the floor.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Stone said. “That’s horrible. But what makes you think this has anything to do with—”

  “They found a cross on her body. Jean told me about it.”

  “A cross? Not the same symbol—” he almost said ‘carved into Amy,’ but remembered Myra didn’t know that part. “—associated with Amy?”

  “No…she didn’t tell me anything about any symbol like that. I would have remembered it. Just a normal cross. She’d been strangled, and whoever killed her posed her on her back, holding the cross in her hands.” Her voice shook harder. “She told me the police thought it was probably some religious fanatic who had a problem with their little shop. Even though neither of them ever hurt anybody. All they wanted to do was help, Dr. Stone. Healing. Nature magic. Helpful things.”

  “Did they ever catch the person who did it?”

  “No…not that I heard. Jean was never the same after that. She couldn’t bear running the shop anymore after such a terrible thing happened there, so she closed it. I tried to reach out to her, but she withdrew into herself. I think that’s why she died.” Now, Stone could clearly hear her trying to hold back tears, even over the phone’s tiny speaker.

  “I’m so sorry. Thank you for letting me know, but I’m sorry I had to remind you of such a terrible memory.”

  “I—I just hope it can help you. I’m still afraid to do much magic, and every time I hear a strange noise I get jumpy.”

  “I’ll do my best to get to the bottom of this. I don’t think you’ve got much to worry about now that Mr. Rivera’s been apprehended, but caution is a good thing. Thank you for calling, Ms. Lindstrom.”

  “Be careful, Dr. Stone.”

  Stone spent the rest of the trip home thinking about Myra’s story. He had no idea whether the two incidents were connected—on the one hand, in both cases a low-powered, female apprentice was killed and some kind of religious symbol was left on the body. But on the other hand, one victim was strangled while the other was hanged, the symbols weren’t the same, and one had been carved into the body while the other had merely been left on it. Without any notes or mentions of Portas Justitiæ, it was hard to be sure.

  He grabbed the phone and hit Jason’s number. When his friend answered, he quickly relayed Myra’s story and asked him to look into it. Perhaps a private investigator would have access to information a nervous old lady didn’t.

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll check on it,” Jason said. “I’ve already got a few inquiries out that I’m waiting for results on—I’ll just add it to the list. So you think this murder in Ohio might be related?”

  “Who knows? It was three years ago—possibly the murderer moved out here and set up shop. Or, more likely, the two have nothing to do with each other. But it will be good if we can find out for sure.”

  “On it. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something.”

  41

  Ian was waiting when Verity arrived for lunch the next day.

  He’d deliberately arrived a few minutes early so he could observe her from the bar as she entered. He watched her, examining her emerald-green aura. It was a single color, unlike his and his father’s, but it pulsed strong and bright around her.

  She paused a moment, looking around. When she spotted him, he waved casually and she smiled, heading over.

  This was it—showtime. Inexplicably, he was more nervous about talking to Verity than he’d been with his father. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised: once his father had gotten past the initial shock of a long-lost son and proved to himself the relationship was legitimate, he’d shifted into a different mode. He wanted Ian to like him—that was obvious. Blake had been right about the “honeymoon” period. Ian would still have to be careful, of course—Stone was sharp and perceptive—but he had a little more leeway because he knew his father would overlook a few glitches as part of the natural process of getting to know each other.

  Verity, he suspected, wouldn’t give him the same benefit of the doubt. Especially if he was right and she was sleeping with Stone. She’d be highly protective of him, and even if she seemed inclined to accept Ian, she’d be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary.

  Just be careful, he told himself. You’ve got this. And the plus side was, if he could manage to get into Verity’s good graces, that would put him in an even better position with Stone.

  “Hi,” Verity called. She wore a purple T-shirt with the logo of a tattoo shop in San Francisco, faded jeans, and a black leather jacket. “Hope you didn’t have to wait long.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.” He rose, taking his drink with him. “Nice place. Do you come here a lot?” He’d let her pick the restaurant, and she’d chosen a trendy gourmet burrito place on the border of Palo Alto and Mountain View.

  “Never, actually—I saw it a couple weeks ago and wanted to try it. I heard it was good.” She glanced at the drink in his hand, but didn’t comment on it.

  The hostess took them to a secluded table near a window. Verity settled back in her chair and ordered an iced tea. After the waiter left, she studied Ian and smiled, her eyes glittering with amusement. “So…Doc has a long-lost son. I’m sure you understand Jason and I were both…surprised.”

  He returned the smile. “You can go ahead and say it—it shocked the hell out of you.”

  “Well…yeah. It kind of did. I hope we didn’t gape too much the other night. So you two knew nothing at all about each other?”
/>   “Nope. My mom wouldn’t ever tell me who my dad was. She said it would be easier that way.”

  “He told me a little about when they were together—her semester-abroad thing in England.”

  “Guess they were into movies, too.” Ian examined the menu, but flicked his gaze over the top of it as he spoke.

  She laughed. “Yeah, apparently. Believe me, I’d give a lot of money for a photo of Doc in fishnets and a bustier.”

  “Blackmail material?”

  “Maybe. But mostly just that I’m having a hard time picturing it in my mind, you know?”

  “Yeah. He doesn’t seem the type.”

  “I wish I’d known him back then. It’s different, being his student.”

  “How long have you two known each other? How did you meet?”

  “That is a long story,” she said with a grin. “Believe me, if I told you, we’d be here when this place closes. I’ll tell you sometime, but not now. The short version is that I was having some problems when I was a teenager, Jason was trying to help me out with them, and in the process he met Doc and the two of them joined forces. As it turns out, Doc knew my mom when he was younger. Small world, I guess.” She tilted her head. “Smaller still, in our case.”

  “So your meeting was related to magic?”

  “Indirectly. I had no idea I was a mage until he told me. I was only seventeen when we met and I signed on as his apprentice.”

  Ian glanced out the window. It was just after noon; crowds of workers on their lunch breaks ambled by, on their way to one of the many small eateries lining the street. “I guess that’s one of the things he wants us to talk about. How long were you his apprentice? When did you…uh…graduate?” He smiled. “Do you graduate? I’m still learning the terminology. This is all pretty new to me. Speaking of shocks—learning your dad is a big-deal magician and you’ve got powers too is right up there. I keep expecting some big guy with a beard to come by with an owl any day now.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, it’s a lot to take in. I had it a little easier, since I already knew Doc was a mage, and a little bit about magic from some other people I was with, before I found out I was one too. So it was only a big shock, not an enormous one.”

  “What made you decide to ask him to teach you?”

  “It just…made sense. We’d already been through so much together, the three of us, and I saw what he could do. He offered to introduce me to other potential teachers, but at that point in my life I wanted to stay with what I already knew. Things were chaotic enough without introducing more.”

  “That makes sense, I guess. Do you ever regret it?”

  The waiter came by, and they placed their orders. Verity appeared to consider the question. “Regret studying with Doc? No. He’s a fantastic teacher—seriously, he was born to teach, and he loves it. That’s why he teaches Occult Studies to the mundanes at the University. I envy you a little, honestly.”

  “You do? Why?” He shifted to magical sight for just a moment; her aura remained strong and steady. Either she was a good liar, or she was telling the truth.

  “Getting to start out fresh. I mean, don’t get me wrong: in a way I’m glad my apprenticeship is over because now I’m a fully-trained mage and I can pursue my own interests, but studying with Doc was…amazing.”

  I’ll just bet it was, Ian thought. He wondered how long the two of them had been together. Did his father have a thing for teenage girls? “What are your interests?” he asked to cover any reaction he might show. “Are there different kinds of magic? Dad hasn’t really told me much about it yet, except that it’s unusual for parents to train their children.”

  “Yeah, from what I’ve heard it is, but your situation is a little different since he didn’t raise you. I’m sure if he thinks it’ll be better for you, he’ll find you a different teacher.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me? A teacher?” She shook her head, waving off the thought. “No way. I’m less than a year out of my apprenticeship myself. I’m not ready to take on a student yet. I’m always around if you have questions, though. Call me whenever you want—I’m happy to help out.”

  “I appreciate that—and I might take you up on it at some point.” He leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “I don’t think Dad is very happy with my progress. I’ve only been at this for a few days, but I already kind of feel like I’m failing him.”

  “Don’t feel like that.” She leaned forward, her gaze sharpening. “He hasn’t said anything to make you think so, has he?”

  “No, no. He’s been really patient with me. But I can see he’s confused about why I’m not picking things up faster. I guess he doesn’t realize how much of an adjustment this has been for me. I’m still getting my mind around the fact that magic exists at all, let alone that I can do it myself.”

  She gave him a sympathetic nod. “I get it—it’s okay. Don’t let him push you. Believe me—he’s proud of you. I know him—if he’s frustrated, it’s because he thinks it’s his fault you’re not moving as fast as he thinks you can.”

  “I’m not sure I believe that,” Ian said.

  “Trust me. I know him a lot better than you do. He loves magic, and loves teaching it to other people. He wants you to succeed.” She leaned forward again, once more growing serious. “But that brings up another question, Ian.”

  “What’s that?”

  Their orders arrived. She was silent for several seconds, examining her overstuffed burrito as if trying to decide on an entry point into both the burrito and the conversation. “Promise you’ll give me an honest answer?” she asked at last.

  “Yeah, of course.” Ian had a burrito bowl; he paused to try an experimental bite, wondering where she was going. Careful…

  “Is this what you want to do?”

  He blinked. “Is…what what I want to do?”

  “Magic.” When he started to say something, she held up her hand. “Just hear me out, okay? This is important. Just because you have the potential to learn magic—even if you have huge potential, like Doc seems to think you do—that doesn’t mean you’re under any obligation to do anything with it. I mean, when you think about it, it’s no different than being a musical prodigy, or really good at sports. It’s something you have, but it doesn’t need to define your life unless you want it to. Does that make sense?”

  Ian narrowed his eyes. That hadn’t been what he’d expected from her. “You’re saying…maybe I shouldn’t study magic?”

  “No. I’m saying it’s got to be up to you. I won’t lie to you, and I’m sure Doc told you this too: magic study is hard. If you want to be good at it, you have to put in a lot of work, especially if he’s your teacher. You have to understand—he was trained by one of the best mages in the world, but the guy worked him really hard. That’s what he knows, and that’s how he teaches. The upside is when you’re done, you’ve got some phenomenal skills. The downside is that you pretty much have to eat, sleep, and breathe magic during your apprenticeship. That’s not hard if you love it, if the desire comes from inside you. But if you’re doing it because you think somebody else wants you to—” She spread her hands. “—it’s tougher, then.”

  He stared down into his bowl, poking at the succulent, spicy carnitas with his fork. “That’s…not what I thought you’d come here to say.”

  “What did you think I’d say?”

  He set the fork down. “I’m not sure. I guess I thought you’d be all full of encouragement and rah-rah, trying to convince me that all I have to do is keep at it and I’d get it eventually. Not that you’d try to talk me out of it.”

  “I’m not trying to talk you out of it. I’m sure Doc would have gotten around to telling you this eventually, especially if you keep struggling, but I think you need to hear it sooner rather than later. There are different styles of magic out there. Your dad’s isn’t the only one around. I think it’s too early to tell yet, since you’ve only been studying for a short time, but if his style isn’t
clicking with you, you might need to explore some other ones. It might be that you just haven’t found the right one for you yet.”

  Ian glanced up. Blake had never told him anything about other styles of magic. “You mean like black and white magic?”

  “No. Not exactly. More like—different approaches. Your dad’s style is very old-school, classical, with lots of math formulas and study and ritual. But there are also others, like a more nature-based approach. I spent some time studying with another teacher a couple years ago, and she taught me that style. My own has kind of evolved into a hybrid of the two, and right now I’m learning another one.”

  “So there’s a lot out there I’ve never heard anything about.” Ian wondered what Blake would say if he came back to her with questions about those other styles.

  “It’s understandable—there’s only so much time, and I’m sure Doc wants to get you started so you can see some progress before he starts loading you down with reading. But the bottom line is, you’ve got to want it, or it won’t work. There’s no shame in not wanting it.”

  Ian snorted. “Seriously? You honestly think he’ll take it well if I went to him and said, ‘Sorry, Dad, I know you think I’ve got this fantastic power, but I’ve decided I’d really rather be an accountant’? He’d just accept it?”

  She laughed. “Well, maybe not an accountant. But yeah, he would. I’m not saying he’d be happy about it—he’d probably be disappointed because he wants to share this opportunity with his son. But it’s not like he’ll force you to do it, or disown you, or anything, if you decide it’s not for you. Believe me—I saw him when he was talking about you. He’s happy you’re here.”

  “Yeah.” He glanced down, then back up again. “I do want to learn it. I mean, who wouldn’t? I still feel like I’m in a fantasy book or something. How many people get to find out they can do magic? I just…I want to make him proud of me, you know? Growing up, I had all these ideas about what my dad was like—wondering if he ran off on my mom, or if she left him because he was a bad person…it bugged me. I wanted to know the truth, but Mom wouldn’t tell me. And then when I finally met him, and found out what really happened…” He sighed. “He’s nothing like any of those things I was afraid of. And I don’t want him to think I’m a failure.”