by R. L. King
“Careful, mortal,” the man growled.
“Oh, I’m done being careful.” Stone took a step forward, counting on his willpower to hold him up, because he knew his body wouldn’t do it for much longer. “You gave up that right when you tried to take my son. I’d say you should be careful.” He shot another blast of energy at the man, and was rewarded by the sight of him diminishing a bit more. “See, I know what’s going on here—you needed Trin to be your anchor to this plane, and I just broke that anchor. So you’re on your own. I also know that every time I hit you, I’m weakening you on your own plane, and I’ll wager that’s not something you want to allow. I can’t kill you here—we both know that. But I can bloody well cause you a lot of trouble when you get home.”
Ian picked his way through the debris, coming to stand behind Stone. Jason got back to his feet and remained where he was, his watchful gaze fixed on the confrontation.
Stone snorted as the dark man glared harder at him. “Don’t even try it. I know you lot—demons, or whatever the hell you call yourself. I’m sure it’s all very hierarchical where you come from. I’ve met your type before. You wanted to use my son—and probably me too—to gain more power on your home plane. But now—” He raised glowing hands again, and a thrill rose inside him when he spotted the faintest, most subtle of flinches. “—now, not only are you not getting extra power, but if I keep this up and you don’t flee home soon, I imagine there are quite a few nasty little demons back there who might want to have a go at the new, weaker version of you.” He paused, leaning on the edge of a destroyed stainless-steel counter, feeling Ian’s presence behind him, supporting him.
“So what’s it going to be? Will you stay here and let me keep chipping away at you—and Ian as well—or…” He paused. “Or will you accept my deal?”
The hatred on the dark-skinned man’s face nearly burned now, radiating from him in waves, the glowing red almost engulfing the black of his eyes, but still he did not make a move toward Stone. “What…deal?” he growled, with obvious reluctance.
“Simple.” Stone stood straight again even though his bleeding legs shook beneath him. “You agree to leave me, my son, and my friends alone, for all eternity. You go back home and do whatever it is you do, but neither you nor any of your agents ever harms or threatens us again.”
The demon glared. “And—?”
“And? Oh. Right. You want something in return.” Stone took a step forward, fixing his gaze on him, his hands still glowing with energy. “You know I don’t need to offer you anything, except that you get to keep your miserable hide and you don’t pack off home with the strength of a newborn kitten. You do know that, right?”
Before the demon could answer, though, Stone flashed a wicked grin. “But I’m a fair man. You should get something for your trouble, after all.” He glanced sideways, hooking a thumb toward the kneeling, seething Trin. “You can have her.”
“No!” Trin scrambled backward, trying to struggle up.
The demon appeared to consider. “That is your deal. I agree to return home and to spare you, your son, and your friends for all time, and you agree not to interfere when I take this one’s power?” He still looked angry and frustrated, but his voice held interest.
“No,” Stone said, shaking his head. “You don’t just take her power. You take her.”
“No!” Trin yelled again, her face alight with rage. She raised her arms, her tattoos inert and black now instead of writhing red. “You can’t—we had a deal—”
The demon’s burning red gaze shifted between her and Stone. “It appears,” he said at last, “that our deal has been altered.”
To Stone, he said, “I accept.”
“Like hell!” Trin leaped to her feet, flinging her hands above her head, her voice nearly incoherent with her apoplectic fury. “I’ll fucking kill you all!”
Before anyone could stop her, she gestured. From above, a loud rumble sounded, louder by far than anything previously.
“Shit!” Jason yelled. “She’s bringing the whole place down!”
Several things happened then, nearly simultaneously:
The dark-skinned demon crossed the space between himself and Trin in a flowing, near-instant movement. His red-black energy poured around her, over her, through her, and her scream of rage became a shriek of agony as her body came apart, her skin melting from her bones, her hair erupting into flame, her blood boiling off and her muscles disintegrating. After only a couple seconds nothing remained of her but a teetering skeleton, and then even that was gone, fluttering to the ground. Her scream faded away along with the dark-skinned man’s form. His eyes faded last, shrinking to red pinpoints before disappearing entirely.
The entire section of ceiling above Stone, Ian, and Jason rumbled and dropped, cascading down on top of them.
“No!” cried another voice, female this time, and a bright shield erupted around them. It was joined a second later by another one.
Stone tried to add his shield as well, but his body, satisfied the immediate threat had been handled, refused to cooperate further no matter how much will he pumped into it. The black patches and disorienting stars grew and merged until they overwhelmed his vision. He felt himself falling backward, and the last thing he remembered as the freight-train rumble submerged his senses was Ian’s strong, steady grip catching him before he hit the ground.
78
Stone’s consciousness returned to darkness and the smell of pine needles.
He snapped his head up, his body already tightening as it responded to whatever threat might still be facing him.
“It’s okay,” said a voice. Ian.
A hand gripped his shoulder. “You’re all right, Doc.” Verity.
He sat up, putting a hand to his head. His body ached, and his clothes were damp and bloodstained. But the sharp pains were gone, and the massive rumbling had ceased. “What—” He swiped his fingers through his tangled hair, feeling gritty dust. “What happened? How long have I been out?”
“Not long. Few minutes,” Ian said. Beyond him, Jason prowled back and forth, watchful and spring-coil tense. “You’re okay.”
Stone sat up more, trying to remember what had happened. “The demon—Trin—wait! The house was coming down!”
“Yeah. It’s pretty well down now,” Jason said. “The whole thing’s flat as a pancake.”
“Trin—How did we—” More memories flooded back: he’d been too weakened to put up a shield.
“V showed up, and she and Ian shielded us till we could get out,” Jason said. “V healed you—you were banged up pretty good.”
Stone flicked his gaze back and forth. Both Ian and Verity looked disheveled and wet from the rain; the leg of Verity’s jeans was shredded, and Ian still wore no shirt. “Verity?” He tried to remember seeing her during the final confrontation, but couldn’t. “Where were you?”
“Yeah, well.” She looked embarrassed. “I kinda fell in a hole and trashed my ankle. Took me a little while to heal it, so I sent Jason ahead to check up on you.”
“Bloody good thing you did.” He looked around again, craning his ears for the sound of emergency vehicles. Surely if the whole house had collapsed, somebody must have heard something. “We should get out of here before the authorities show up and we have to answer uncomfortable questions.”
“We will,” Ian said. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay first.”
“I think it’ll take some time before anybody gets here,” Jason said. “Place is pretty remote, and there wasn’t any fire, thank God.”
Stone nodded, finally letting himself settle back. Once again, his gaze traveled over the three of them: his son and his two best friends. “So,” he said, keeping his voice carefully casual. “That’s done, then.”
“Yeah…” Verity said, sinking down next to him and putting her head on his shoulder. “Let’s not do that again anytime soon, okay?”
“Not a problem.” He glared at Ian in mock anger. “And you, young man—
if you ever sneak out like that again to face an extradimensional demon on your own…”
“What?” Ian drawled. “You’ll ground me?”
“Don’t think I can’t.”
“He can,” Verity confirmed. “I wouldn’t push him if I were you.”
Stone dragged himself to his feet, leaning on Verity for support, and looked down the hillside at the ruin of the Bonham mansion. He’d thought it had been destroyed many years ago, along with Ethan and Tommy Langley, but now it truly was: none of the jagged beams or towering sections of wall remained; in their place was nothing more than a pile of crumbled, sodden rubble.
“Well,” he said, “at least that should make things easier for Adelaide’s heirs to finish the demolition.” He took a step forward, testing his balance, and when he found it sound, kept moving. “Come on. Let’s go home. I want nothing more right now than a hot shower and a stiff drink. Care to join me, you lot? For the drink, I mean—not the shower. Not all of you, anyway,” he added, with a quick sly glance at Verity.
“That was the most awkward invitation I’ve ever heard,” Ian said, grinning. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
79
Two days later
“I hope I can help you,” Verity said.
She sat in the passenger seat of the BMW as Stone drove through northern San Jose. It was late afternoon on the Monday after they’d all returned from Los Gatos. “You’re sure this is the right guy?”
“Quite sure. I was very careful with the ritual, and this time he couldn’t hide.”
He’d spent the early afternoon at the scene of Felicity Karana’s murder, after taking the previous day to recover from his ordeal. With Verity’s healing help, he was nearly back to his full capacity now, except for a few leftover bumps and bruises and a sore left arm. He hadn’t been entirely enthusiastic about visiting the crime scene so soon, but he knew if he didn’t, any traces left behind would fade to the point where he couldn’t get anything useful. Despite his own issues, he owed it to Felicity and Bella Price to make his best effort to find the killer.
He had, in fact, found quite a bit of useful information. The police had been over the scene in detail so he hadn’t hoped to find anything he could use for a ritual, but for once the universe seemed to be on his side: using magical sight, he’d located a torn bit of cloth they’d overlooked, stained with a tiny bit of blood. Suspecting it was probably the victim’s, Stone had nonetheless done the ritual and been pleased to discover that the thread led not to the crime scene, the victim’s home, or the shop where she worked, but rather to an unknown house in north San Jose. When he’d asked Jason to check the address, they’d found it was a rental for a man named Nathan Frye—who also happened to be a member of another small, highly conservative church similar to New Life.
Verity hadn’t asked why he hadn’t given the information to the authorities when he called to enlist her help, but he’d told her anyway: he needed to question the man to find out who had put him up to the murder. That was where she came in, with her lighter touch for mental magic. If Frye had a magical oath, he hoped she could get around it as she’d done with Ian’s.
“Besides,” he told her, “when we’re finished, he’ll be only too happy to confess to the murder. We’ll make sure he knows that’s his most expedient option.”
She’d cast him a nervous sideways glance, but didn’t question him.
The house was in a middle-class, suburban neighborhood not far from highway 880. They’d already determined that Frye worked nights and his wife days, so he should be home alone. Stone parked the car two doors down and put his disregarding spell on both it and himself, and Verity did the same.
They didn’t knock on the door. Instead, they went around the back and Stone popped the lock on the sliding glass patio door. They slipped inside, into a dining area immediately hearing the sound of a TV running in the living room beyond. After pausing to listen a bit longer to make sure no one else was in the house, Stone held up a hand for Verity to wait and then strode into the room.
Nathan Frye was a medium-sized man in his early forties, with thinning, light-brown hair, a pudgy face, and wire-rimmed glasses. He lounged in an easy chair watching SportsCenter, a bottle of Budweiser open on a tray next to him.
“Hello, Mr. Frye,” Stone said. He wore his disguise amulet and used his American accent.
Frye leaped from his chair as if someone had poked him with a pin. “What the hell—?” he demanded. He backed off, his eyes locked on Stone, his expression warring between anger and fear. “Holy shit, how did you get in here?”
“Calm down, Mr. Frye. I just want to talk to you.”
“Get the hell out of my house before I call the cops!” His gaze cut sideways toward a cell phone on the tray next to the beer.
“Oh, you’ll be doing that. But not quite yet. Sit down.”
When Frye didn’t obey, Stone used magic to shove him back into his easy chair.
He gripped the chair arms, struggling to rise, but Stone’s magic held him still. His eyes bugged out in terror. “What do you want?” he panted. “How are you doing that?”
“Never mind. Just sit still like a good boy and answer my questions. I want to know about Felicity Karana.”
“Who?” Frye’s voice shook, but his aura betrayed him even more.
“Felicity Karana, Mr. Frye. Surely you remember her: the woman you murdered.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t murder anyone!” He tried to lunge for the phone again, but Stone still held him fast.
“I’ve heard that one before.” With a flick of magic, Stone sent Frye’s phone across the room. “You might even believe it, depending on the oath you had to swear. But don’t worry—I’ve brought some assistance.”
He gestured at Verity, who waited in the kitchen doorway. She too wore a disguise amulet, that made her look like a taller, chubby young woman with a deep tan and curly hair.
Frye’s eyes bugged even more when he saw her. “You’re bringin’ more people in here? You are so fucked when the cops get here…”
“We’ll see. Tell us about Felicity, Mr. Frye.”
It didn’t take long for Verity to get through to him. She perched on the arm of the easy chair and put her hand on Frye’s forehead, closing her eyes and concentrating. Stone stood back, watching with magical sight as both the man’s aura and his body writhed and twisted, but at no point did he appear in life-threatening distress like Joseph Rivera had. When she finally sat back, letting her breath out, Frye likewise slumped in his chair, looking defeated.
“Did you break the oath?” Stone demanded.
She nodded. “Mostly, yeah. I kind of got around it like I did—you know. I think he’ll talk now.”
Stone faced Frye. “How about it, Mr. Frye? Are you ready to confess your sins?”
His expression grew harder. “It wasn’t a sin. She was an abomination. You’re an abomination.”
“Yes, yes, I get it. But you’re going to tell us who put you up to this, and then you’re going to call the police and turn yourself in for the murder.”
“Or what?”
Stone raised his hand, flickering blue flame dancing around it. “I’ll let you use your imagination about what might happen if you don’t give us what we want, Mr. Frye. Now, what’s it going to be?”
Frye shifted in his chair, obviously still fighting the spell holding him down. He swallowed, glared, but then his gaze fixed on the blue flame and all the air seemed to go out of him. “I don’t know her,” he said. “I don’t know her name. She didn’t tell us.”
Stone exchanged glances with Verity. “Her?”
“Yeah…it was a woman. She told me to do it. She took our vows.”
“Vows?”
He looked frustrated. “Yeah. We took vows to support the mission, to never reveal what we know. She’s gonna kill me…I just know it…”
“She won’t get the chance if I can help it. Now, what did she look like?”
&nbs
p; Slowly, haltingly, still trying to shake himself free of the magical bond, Frye gave a description of the woman who’d ordered the death of Felicity Karana.
Stone listened in growing horror. “Bloody hell…” he whispered, forgetting to use the American accent.
80
It was after five o’clock the same night when Stone reached his destination. It was already dark, but a warm, cheerful light still showed from inside the little shop. When he pushed open the door, a small bell tinkled.
Bella Price, the proprietor of The Inner Eye, bustled out from the back room. When she spotted Stone, she smiled wearily. “Dr. Stone, hello. I didn’t expect to see you this late. I was just getting ready to close. Is there something I can do for you?” She wore her dark blue “working” robes, and her hair was in frazzled disarray.
Stone turned, flipped the CLOSED sign, locked the door, and pulled down the blind, then faced her again. “There is something you can do for me, yes.”
“And what’s that? Is it something about Felicity? Did you find out something?”
“It is about Felicity.” He paused, studying her. “Why did you have her killed, Ms. Price?”
Bella’s eyes widened. “What? Dr. Stone, what are you—”
“Please don’t try it. It won’t work. I’m a far better mage than you are, and I can already see it in your aura. Just tell me—why did you do it? Why did you join Portas Justitiæ? You’re a mage—an abomination to them. What would possibly have convinced you to join them and arrange to murder your own people?” He remained in front of the door, keeping a close watch on her with magical sight, ready to act if she should try to escape or retaliate.