The Seventh Stone: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  Stone, stunned and panting, lay where he’d fallen with the shallow creek’s water rushing around him. His shield had held against the impact, but he’d still hit hard. Downstream about twenty feet, Trin was doing the same.

  He struggled up, keeping magical sight active and watching her. Whatever else she had been doing in the years since he’d seen her last, she’d upped her game. Were those writhing tattoos connected with her power increase somehow? Could they be related to the Evil? It didn’t make sense, though—the Evil didn’t do magic unless they were possessing a mage, and if she had been possessed back at Burning Man, that didn’t explain the power-level increase now. He’d seen her up close and personal before, and didn’t remember any moving tattoos.

  Were they new?

  Trin staggered to her feet. Her aura, dark red now instead of the lighter color Stone remembered, flashed and arced with bright, angry patches. He’d hurt her. She wasn’t invulnerable.

  “Give it up, Trin,” he called, puffing. “You aren’t going to stop me. This ends tonight.”

  She laughed, but it had a shaky quality. “You don’t even know what’s going on,” she called back. “You don’t have any idea.”

  “Suppose you tell me.” Stone gathered power again, but didn’t go after her yet. If he could get her talking, maybe she’d let something slip—or at least give him time to recover. “Who’ve you taken up with? Who’s driving your sick little bus this time? You always were rubbish at doing anything on your own.”

  “Fuck off, Stone. Your little boy was so easy for me to corrupt. Except he was weak—just like that pathetic mama’s boy Ethan. If he hadn’t fucked up the plan you’d be dead already.”

  Stone took a step toward her, his feet splashing in the creek. “He’s not weak, and you know it. He’s strong. He resisted your oath. He’s stronger than you are, Trin, and that just eats at you, doesn’t it? I’m stronger than you, and so is my son. You’ll never succeed against us. Give it up while you still have your miserable skin.”

  She snorted. “Stronger than me? Not a chance. Not now. And soon it won’t matter—there’s nothing any of you can do about it.”

  “Do about what?” Stone tensed as he once again noticed a change in her aura: confidence. Certainty.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know? That boy’s doomed, Stone. Signed, sealed, and delivered. It’s out of my hands now.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” The chill running down Stone’s back had nothing to do with the cold water seeping up the legs of his jeans. “Delivered to who?”

  She flung her knives at him again, and he barely got his shield up in time to deflect most of them. A few got through, slicing at him.

  He staggered backward, wincing at the bloody cuts they opened on his chest and arms. “Who, Trin?” he demanded. He risked fire this time, since they were both standing in water, and watched in satisfaction as the flames bloomed around her and she was forced to fling herself away to avoid them.

  She laughed, raising her arms. The tattoos, which had been black before, were red now. They writhed and crawled around her arms like energetic snakes, their glow blazing bright to magical sight. “You just wait—you’ll find out. You can’t save him now. Maybe you can save yourself—for now, anyway—but little Ian is already lost. He’s been promised to another…just like little Ethan was. And there’s not a fucking thing you can do about it.”

  Stone didn’t think about what he did next. He didn’t allow himself to think, or he might not have done it. Perhaps Trin was lying to him. She did that, after all—lying came as naturally to her as breathing. It always had. But at that moment, watching those squirming tattoos on her arms, he wondered: could there be another oath? One they hadn’t seen? Was something else going on here, something that had nothing to do with the Evil, as he’d thought?

  Whatever it was, he had to stop it. He flung up a bright flash of light, designed not to injure but to disorient her. When she flinched back, bringing her arm up to cover her eyes, he threw himself forward, using a telekinesis-fueled leap to propel himself toward her faster than he could run.

  She didn’t react quickly enough this time. He wrapped his arms around her shield, gripping hard, pumping all the power he could muster into it. He poured raw energy through the Calanar conduit, feeling it rushing from him, pressing in on her, eating away at the barrier surrounding her. His hands surged with the energy, and his mind with rage. He didn’t care anymore—all he wanted was to kill Trin, to remove her and her foul influence from his life forever. Once she was dead, he could set his mind on trying to figure out what she’d been talking about—what, if anything, had Ian “signed, sealed, and delivered.”

  All of that was for later.

  Now, Trin Blackburn would be ash.

  The power grew, and Trin’s faltering shield glowed brighter—sickly yellow first, then pink, then red. She pushed at him, but she had to use her own power to keep the shield up so she didn’t have much left to spare for offense. Her jaw tightened, her teeth clamped shut, her eyes bulging as she fought against his onslaught. She struggled to break free of his hold, fat sweat beads flowering on her face.

  “Die, you sadistic bitch…” Stone muttered. He could nearly taste the power he would pull from her. He’d sworn to himself he’d never ash anyone again. He didn’t need the power anymore. But at this point, he didn’t even remember his promise. The power wasn’t important. Nothing was important, except to remove this woman from his life.

  But then she smiled through her gritted teeth. Behind her eyes, something glowed an unnatural red.

  “Not tonight, Stone,” she hissed.

  Her shield exploded outward, the physical blast and psychic backlash throwing Stone up into the air. His head lit up in agony, as if someone had driven a metal spike into it. He felt himself flying like a rag doll, limbs flailing, and then the dark ground was rushing at him.

  60

  “Doc?”

  Stone struggled awake. The first thing he noticed was the cold water swirling around him, chilling him to the bone. What the hell—?

  Then he remembered: he was in the creek, where he’d landed after—

  Trin!

  His body hurt, but he barely noticed the pain as he scrambled to his feet and stood, dripping, his gaze darting around. How long had he been out? Where was she? Why hadn’t she killed him?

  “Doc!”

  It was Verity’s voice. She and Jason were picking and sliding their way down the hillside toward him. He waited for them to reach him, still scanning the area for threats. Was Trin still here, hiding, waiting, or had she gone off to lick her wounds elsewhere?

  “Al, what the hell?” Jason yelled as they approached. “What happened?”

  “Why did you take off?” Verity demanded. Her eyes flashed anger. “What kind of stupid stunt was that?”

  Stone rubbed his head with both hands. The rage was still there—if Trin had turned up at that moment, he still would have done his best to kill her—but in her absence it had settled to a manageable level.

  “How—did you find me?” He looked down at himself. His sodden black wool overcoat had blunted most of the damage from Trin’s knives and the water had washed away the blood, but his T-shirt and jeans still bore numerous slash marks.

  “I risked talking to Ian again after we realized you were gone. Jason figured you must have gotten Trin’s location when you sent him out to get water.” She took his arm. “Speaking of water, come on—get out of that creek before you freeze.”

  The chill that ran up Stone’s spine had nothing to do with the cold or the chilly water as he numbly allowed her to lead him back up the hillside toward the house. “Ian! Where is he?”

  “In the back of my SUV. I didn’t want to leave him alone back at the cabin, so we brought him with us. Don’t worry—he’ll be out for a while. Come on, we need to get out of here. Give Jason your keys so he can follow in your car. You’re in no shape to drive, and I’m not letting you out of my sight ag
ain.”

  They reached the house, and Jason stared in amazement at the blown-out window and the broken sofa on the back deck. “Somebody isn’t getting their deposit back. What the hell happened here?”

  “Did you find Trin?” Verity added. “Was she here?”

  Stone, shivering, struggled to organize his thoughts. “She was here, yes.”

  “What happened? Did you beat her?”

  “No. She’s gone. It’s good you didn’t leave Ian at the cabin—she might have gone back there looking for him. But…I hurt her. I know I did.”

  “And she hurt you, from the look of it,” Verity said. She glared at him again. “I want to slap you, Doc. I still might do it when you’re feeling better and we’re out of here. What were you thinking?”

  He let his breath out. “I’m not sure I was thinking,” he admitted. “All I wanted was to get to Trin—to kill her, if I’m being honest. I knew I could do it—I knew I’ve got a lot more power than when we last fought—and I didn’t want you two getting caught in the crossfire. Besides, someone had to stay with Ian.”

  Her anger didn’t abate in the slightest. “So you just took off without telling anybody where you were going? I thought we were past that, Doc.”

  He bowed his head. She was right, of course—but how could he explain the rage that had gripped him? How could he make her understand how deep his hatred for Trin ran? She’d murdered his first apprentice, a boy he’d already failed in so many ways. She’d been responsible for the death of Tommy Langley, his good friend and Adelaide Bonham’s nephew. She’d tried to murder him on more than one occasion. She’d been instrumental in a plan that had resulted in hundreds of innocent people’s deaths and injuries, and could have overrun the earth with malevolent spirits. And now she’d poisoned his own son’s mind against him in ways that might not even be repairable and used him as part of her twisted plan for revenge. There was no more room for subtlety or mercy now—either Trin Blackburn would die before this was over, or he would.

  “Let’s go,” he growled. “No point in hanging about here. We need to get Ian home. Will he stay unconscious for the trip?”

  Verity held his gaze for several seconds. “I’ll ride with you and make sure he does.” Her tone was tight, and he was sure she hadn’t given up on letting him have it with both barrels yet—but apparently she was willing to wait. “But we need to get you out of those wet clothes before you freeze. Are you hurt?”

  He took stock, unbuttoning his coat and pulling up his T-shirt. A few of Trin’s magical knives had penetrated his shield, but it had slowed their momentum enough that between it and the coat, they were barely more than scratches. Although his head hurt, his body ached all over from being flung around, and he’d probably have bruises by tomorrow, nothing was broken. “I’ll live. Nothing permanent or serious.” He hoped he’d managed to do worse to Trin before she’d taken off.

  He pulled off his coat and wrung it out. “We’ve got to get out of here before anyone shows up. I think we’re far enough out of town that no one is likely to have noticed our little fight, but let’s not take chances. I’ll use magic to dry off while we’re driving. Good thing you don’t have leather seats in this thing.”

  She looked dubious, but opened the door and waited while he climbed in. He glanced in the back, where Ian lay under a blanket, deeply asleep.

  Verity turned the SUV around and crept back up the sloping driveway, with Jason following in the BMW. Their tires crunched over the gravel, which was a good thing: they wouldn’t leave any tire prints for the police to find when the owner of the house finally discovered its state. Stone didn’t relax until they’d driven a couple of miles away. “We need to stop at the cabin. Our things are there.”

  “We grabbed everything,” Verity said. “It’s in the back. We even locked up.” She glanced around as if expecting something to jump out at them. “I think we should get home. I can’t keep Ian out forever, and we need to talk to him. Just do whatever you’re gonna do to dry off before you catch something.”

  Stone looked in the back again, shifting to magical sight to make sure Ian wasn’t faking unconsciousness, then slumped in his seat and summoned a warming, localized wind around himself. It took a while and wasn’t perfect—he still felt damp when he finished—but at least he wasn’t in danger of hypothermia anymore.

  “I’m sorry, Verity,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have run off like that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” She didn’t look at him. But after a few moments, her tense posture relaxed a bit. “But I guess I understand why you did it. I’m just glad she didn’t kill you.”

  “So am I. It was a bit close there at the end.”

  “How did she get so strong? I mean—since you got back from Harrison’s dimension, you’ve got all kinds of extra power, right? You should have mopped up the floor with her.”

  “I should have. Surprised the hell out of me too.” He replayed the battle, recalling what Trin had taunted him with—and her eyes’ red glow right before she’d shattered the shield and flung him away. “I think there’s more going on here than any of us suspected.”

  “How so?”

  He pondered, staring out the window at the dark trees flashing by. “I was fairly certain she was possessed by one of the Evil—probably one of the upper-tier ones.”

  “Was? They were all destroyed at Burning Man, weren’t they?”

  “I thought so. At first, I thought perhaps since I flung her so far away back then, she might have been far enough outside the blast radius that if she had one of them inside her, it survived the portal’s destruction.”

  “But something changed your mind?”

  “Possibly. She mentioned something about Ian being ‘signed, sealed, and delivered’ to something. And that doesn’t fit the Evil’s modus operandi. They don’t deal in magic, unless they’re possessing a mage.”

  “That’s…weird,” she said, casting a quick look his way. “It doesn’t sound like she was talking about the oath she’d tricked him into agreeing to, does it?”

  “No. I’m starting to wonder if there isn’t another oath—or something even more insidious—in place. I’d hurt her, Verity. I had her—I was about to punch through her shield—but then she smiled and her eyes glowed red. She shattered the shield and tossed me away.”

  “Glowed red?”

  “I’m sure I saw it. And that’s not the only anomaly, either.”

  “What else?” Her gaze flicked up to the rearview mirror as she checked on Ian.

  “Her tattoos—they were just as Ian described to Scuro. They covered her arms all the way up to her sleeves, and they moved. Crawled around like snakes, and shifted from black to red.”

  “Yikes. That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No, it does not. And possibly even worse than that: her aura had changed.”

  That time she did glance at him, eyes wide. “That’s not possible, is it?”

  He thought about the extra silver band in his own aura—the one most people couldn’t even see. “I didn’t think so. But I remember Trin’s aura from before. It was red before, but now it’s much darker.”

  She turned onto Highway 1. “How can that be?” Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Doc…”

  “What?”

  “Are you sure it was Trin? You said she looked different, her aura was different—”

  “I have never been more certain of anything, Verity. That was Trin. And I’m going to find her and kill her.” He glared challenge at her. “Any issues with that?”

  “Why are you asking me that?” She sounded startled.

  “I’m remembering that little conversation we had a few days back, about magical oversight.”

  “Yeah…” She let her breath out. “I guess this is the sort of thing it should be made to handle, right? A mage goes rogue like she did, starts killing people—they hunt her down and deal with her. But there isn’t that kind of organization.”

  “No, there isn
’t.”

  When she spoke again, her tone was reluctant. “Somebody has to deal with her. After all that stuff she did—and she isn’t going to stop, is she?”

  “No. She isn’t. And it seems her fondest wish is to see me dead—and not in a fast and pleasant way, either. I don’t plan to let her get that wish.”

  She was silent for a long time, watching the road. “I’m with you, Doc,” she said at last, firm but still reluctant. “I don’t see another way around it this time. I’ve seen what she’s done—and I saw what she did to Ian, maybe better than you did, since I was in his mind. I’ll help you bring her down.”

  That wasn’t necessarily what he wanted—dragging her and Jason into this directly wasn’t his plan—but it would have to do for now. And he couldn’t deny their assistance would be useful, especially if Trin had something else up her sleeve, or had allied with some other, more powerful extradimensional entity that wanted Ian. “Let’s get home for now,” he said. “We’ve got to talk to Ian before we plan our next steps.”

  61

  With Verity’s help, Ian remained unconscious until they returned to Stone’s place in Encantada two hours later. Jason carried him inside and they installed him in one of the spare bedrooms, then sat around the bed to discuss their options.

  “We’ve got to find Trin,” Stone said. “There’s no more time to waste. The longer we let her go free out there, the more chances she’ll have to come up with another plan.” He’d already taken a few minutes after they arrived to put a temporary augmentation on the house’s already-formidable wards. He looked at his son’s still form under the blanket; the boy looked peaceful and untroubled now, but would that last when he woke up?

  “We do have to find her,” Jason agreed. “But let’s be smart about this. We’ve got Ian, he’s not going anywhere, and Trin won’t attack you on your home turf, will she?”

  “Doubtful,” Stone admitted. “I wouldn’t put much past her, but she’d be even more of a fool than I think she is if she dared to come here.”