by R. L. King
Her aura showed agitation, but not nearly as much as he might have suspected. Her expression of wide-eyed shock changed, growing hard and resolute. “How did you find out?”
“We tracked down Mr. Frye, who has already confessed to Felicity’s murder. My apprentice is quite talented in getting around magical oaths. She says yours wasn’t all that good to start with, so there’s that as well.” He took a step forward. “Why, Ms. Price?”
She smiled. “Why? Because you’re right: I am an abomination. We all are. We shouldn’t exist. We’re an insult to God. Of course you’re a better mage than I am, Dr. Stone—I never wanted to be one in the first place. It’s too bad I didn’t have my eyes opened until after it was too late to do anything about it. I’d already learned the vile practices in my youth, and there was no going back—but when Portas Justitiæ came to me with a chance to atone for my sins, I jumped at it.”
“Atone for your sins?” Stone couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re doing this—putting mundanes under magical oaths—”
“Vows,” she insisted.
“—magical oaths, convincing them to kill innocent apprentices and terrorize elderly mages…all because you’re ashamed of the fact that you’re a mage yourself?”
“No. Not ashamed. I know I’m an abomination, but I also know now that there’s a place for me among God’s people. I’m like the drug addicts, the gang leaders, the prostitutes who go out among their own kind to spread the word of God. My skills are useful—even though they’re sinful, I can use them in service of rooting out even greater sin. One we might not otherwise be able to eliminate.”
“Eliminate?” Stone glared at her. “Killing innocent young women isn’t a sin?”
“Killing abominations isn’t a sin. Preventing vile practitioners from passing the ways of iniquity on to a new generation isn’t a sin.” She snorted. “I don’t expect you to see it, Dr. Stone. You’re one of the worst abominations of all. Don’t think I haven’t heard rumors of your sinful activities—communing with demons, summoning spirits…”
“So why not have a go at me, then?” He paced on front of her, never taking his eyes from her. “Why not come after me, instead of killing young women like a coward? Your higher-ups must consider me quite a prize.”
“Oh, we will.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down her nose at him, seemingly unaffected by his anger. “We will, Dr. Stone. Someday, when we’ve grown stronger, we will. Portas Justitiæ is rising again, but we must gain more power before we can go after people like you. Until then, we must start small. We remain patient. This is a long game. Every time we can frighten an abomination away from training the next generation, every time we can make one think twice about taking on another apprentice to their vile arts, we score a victory.” She smiled again. “We’re everywhere, Dr. Stone. Everywhere this kind of sin exists, you’ll find us. Waiting, preparing. It doesn’t matter what you do to me—if you destroy me, more will take my place, and the world will be rid of yet another insult to God.” She spread her arms. “Go ahead, if you will—murder me. Add another sin to your balance sheet, but know this: you should be looking over your shoulder, because one day we will come for you.”
He stared hard at her, still almost unwilling to accept what he was hearing.
This woman is barking mad.
But no—that was a dangerous approach. As accurate as it might be, the barking mad, when sufficiently motivated and organized, could represent a significant danger. History had borne that out all too many times.
She waited, arms still spread, her ridiculous blue, star-spangled robe stretched out before him. Her hard, challenging gaze met his head-on.
He sighed and took a deep breath, letting his rage and disbelief ebb away to more manageable anger. He shook his head. “I’m not going to kill you, Ms. Price. You’re right about that, at least: there’s been too much killing recently, and I won’t sully myself by adding to it. Don’t think I won’t share this information with other practitioners in the area, though. Your secret will be out, and there’ll be no more hiding.” He pointed at her. “And you’d best know that if I hear of any other apprentice deaths—hell, any suspicious deaths of practitioners of any kind—in this area, I will come for you, and I won’t be so lenient next time. I will raze your shop to the ground, and no one will ever find any trace of you. So keep that in mind, and tell any little friends you might have in the area that they’d best back off as well, if they value your life. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly clear, Dr. Stone.”
“Good. Then I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Ms. Price.”
He turned his back on her and exited the shop the way he’d come in. Even now, he wanted nothing more than to torch the horrible, self-righteous woman where she stood—but in its own way, that would make him as bad as she was.
As he walked down the dark street back toward his car, he pulled out his phone and called Verity.
“Did you find her?” she asked.
“I did.”
“And…?” Her voice was careful, tentative.
“We talked. I left her alone, with a warning. So you needn’t worry.”
He could hear her sigh of relief. “Good. For you, not for her. She wasn’t worth it.”
“No. She wasn’t.” He glanced back over his shoulder at The Inner Eye. The cheerful light was off now.
“You coming back now? Want to get some dinner? I can meet you at your place.”
“I’d like that very much, Verity. I’ll see you soon.”
The next morning, he saw it in the paper. It was on the front page of the Mercury News, a tiny article below the fold, buried in a corner:
Shop where murdered girl worked destroyed in freak fire
He scanned the article, wishing he could be surprised. The Inner Eye in Campbell had burned to the ground shortly after midnight the previous night. Firefighters had responded fast, but by the time they arrived the place was already engulfed in what they described as an “abnormally hot and fast-moving blaze.” The body of one victim was recovered from the ruin, charred beyond recognition. Authorities believed it to be the owner, Bella Price, but identification was pending until dental-record tests came back.
Stone tossed the paper aside, finishing the last of his coffee before leaving for work. He couldn’t say he was glad to see it, but neither could he shed many tears for Bella Price. Playing a game like she was always carried the risk of paying a terrible price. He wondered how many other Portas Justitiæ zealots existed in the area, or if her death would end the killings.
He spotted the paper taped to the door of his garage as he left the house, buttoning his coat against a crisp, moderate wind. As he drew closer still, he tensed as he saw the familiar symbol drawn on the outside.
Holding his breath, he used magic to pull the paper down and open it. Inside were only a few words, printed with a laser printer as all the others had been, beneath the same symbol:
Portas Justitiæ has risen.
Abominations beware.
Our cause is just, and we will never falter
until your kind has been eradicated from God’s earth.
This is only the beginning.
~ Maleficos non patieris vivere ~
Stone stared down at the note for several seconds. He scanned it with magical sight, and as he suspected found no telltale traces of magic. Then he snatched it from the air, crumpled it, and shoved it into his coat pocket.
He could deal with it later. Right now, he had to get to work.
81
Saturday
“Why did you bring me here?”
Ian zipped up his leather jacket against the chill of the afternoon. The overcast sky was gray and cloud-choked at mid-afternoon, but there hadn’t been any sign of rain all day.
Stone walked next to him, his steps unhurried, his mind far away. On either side of the narrow path rose rolling grass hills dotted at intervals with rows of gravestones. This was a newer ceme
tery—relatively speaking, at least—laid out with more precision than its older, more organically-evolved counterparts. He’d already checked with the people who ran the place to find out where to locate his destination. “I wanted to show you something—to see it myself as well, if I’m being honest.”
Ian said nothing, walking with his hands in his pockets, his expression sober. Around them, occasional mourners moved between the headstones, searching or crouching to pay respects to some departed loved one. A few graves sported flowers, some fresh, some long-dead and windblown.
“Did you get everything sorted out down in Los Angeles?” Stone asked.
“Yeah. I didn’t have much there. I gave most of it to friends, and just brought the stuff I knew I’d need.” He shook his head. “I didn’t really get a lot of chance to get sentimental about anything.”
Stone bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Ian.”
“Sorry about what?”
He spread his hands. “Everything. For not being there for you. For missing out on so much of your life.”
“That wasn’t your fault. How could you be there for me if you didn’t know I existed?” He smiled. “Anyway, I guess you made up for it. Saving me from having my soul eaten by a demon erases a lot of guilt, even though you shouldn’t have any at all.”
Stone chuckled. “I suppose you have a point there. Are you all settled in? I’d like to see what you’ve done with the place.”
“Yeah. Are you sure it’s okay? That place must be costing you a fortune, right there in downtown Palo Alto. I don’t want to be some greedy sponge who sits around letting my dad spoil me. That’s not who I am.”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t intend to spoil you, but as I said, I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for. And at any rate, I’ve got the lease on the place for a few more months, so I might as well get some use out of it. If you like it once the lease is up, we can work something out to keep it going, or you can find a place you prefer. Just don’t throw any wild parties and trash the place, and I’ll be happy.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll save the wild parties for somewhere else.”
Stone picked up his pace a little. “You’ve got a lot to decide, you know,” he said softly.
Ian didn’t reply.
“The world is open to you. You can go to University if you like—here or somewhere else. You can travel. And you’ve got to decide whether you want to continue your magical studies.”
“Yeah.”
“What?” Stone glanced sideways at him and was surprised to see him looking uncomfortable. “Don’t you want to continue with magic?”
“Yeah. I do. But—things are a little different than you expected. I’ve already been studying with Blake—with Trin—for two years, so I’m farther along than you thought. But—I can’t help feeling like now that you know I’m a black mage, you’re ashamed of me, somewhere in the back of your mind.”
Stone stopped and turned to face him. “Ian—of course I’m not ashamed of you. It wasn’t your fault, what happened. It’s Trin’s. And besides—there are ways back, if you feel strongly about it. They’re not easy, but they exist.”
“Not for me.” Ian didn’t meet his gaze.
“Why not?”
He didn’t answer.
“Ian—”
“I killed someone, Dad.” He said it so softly Stone could barely hear him, then spun away and resumed walking.
“Ian, wait.”
He stopped, but didn’t turn back.
“It’s all right. You—”
“It’s not all right. I ashed Bobby. My own stepfather.”
Stone took a slow, deep breath. “I…see.”
Ian’s gaze came up. “You ‘see’? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“I ashed my twin sister.” It came out before he could stop it, but once it was out there, he didn’t regret saying it.
Ian’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “You did?”
“I did.”
“Wait—then that means you’re a—” He looked as if he refused to believe it.
“Yes. I’m a black mage. Have been for a year or so now. It’s a long story—I’ll tell you the whole thing later. It’s not something many people know.”
“But you’re telling me.”
“Yes, of course. You’re my son.”
Ian pondered for several seconds. “Wow,” he finally said.
Stone chuckled. “I suppose that’s a reasonable response. Things are—a bit different for me now as well, but believe me, I’m aware of the…challenges. We’ll get you sorted, don’t you worry. I assume you don’t want to kill anyone else.”
“God, no.” Ian’s response was immediate and heartfelt.
“Then I think I can help you. Verity introduced you to Scuro, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, few days ago.”
Stone didn’t miss Ian’s smile. “So then you know what he does?”
“Yeah.”
“If you’re willing, I’ll arrange for him to do some work for you. That should make things easier.”
“He said his special work costs a fortune. Even with a discount,” he added, his smile turning sly.
“Don’t worry about that. I’m sure we can negotiate something. And there are…other options we can discuss, too.” Stone scanned the rows of headstones; they were getting close now. “But I do think we should find you a new master, if you want to continue your studies.”
“Why?” Ian glanced at him, surprised. “Don’t you want to teach me anymore?”
“Believe me, I’d love nothing more. But I don’t think it’s wise. Not now, after we’ve gotten to know each other better. I know now why parents don’t teach their children. Give me some time to look around, here and in England. I still need to take you back home, show you the place there, and introduce you to Aubrey. You’ll like him, I think. And I’ll wager Trin never bothered to tell you about the portals.”
“Portals?”
Stone gripped his arm. “Oh, Ian, you’ve still got so much to learn. I envy you, honestly. The world’s about to open up to you even more.” He nodded toward a row, and stepped off the main path to a narrower one between the headstones. “Here we are—just down here, it looks like.”
Ian followed him until he stopped in front of a pair of simple, granite stones next to each other. When he saw the name on the left one, he swallowed. “Ethan Penrose. This is your old apprentice, isn’t it?”
“Yes. And the one next to him is his mother, who died very shortly before he did.” Stone gazed down at his apprentice’s carved name, and the dates below it. Only eighteen years old. Ethan would be twenty-seven now if he were still alive. Probably married, with a job, perhaps even with a family of his own. Stone bowed his head, thinking of all those years the boy had lost. “I can’t believe I’ve never been to visit him until now. It’s almost as if I—blocked the whole thing from my mind.”
“I get it,” Ian said gently. “That’s easier, sometimes.”
“Easier—but I haven’t got a right to take the easy way out. Not for something like this. I didn’t deserve to do it.”
Ian put his hands back in his pockets and gazed down at the grave. When he spoke again, his tone was soft. “Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been thinking about something.”
“What’s that?”
He glanced sideways, then back at Ethan’s grave. “All my life, I’ve thought you didn’t care. That you left my mom, or she kicked you out, or you didn’t want me. I see now I was wrong about all that. Even though I’m sorry Mom’s gone, I’m still angry at her for keeping you from me. I’m not naïve—I know things aren’t going to be all hearts and flowers like some kind of cheesy TV movie. If you’re as stubborn as I am, we’ll probably clash about a lot of things.”
“No doubt,” Stone agreed, amused but wondering where Ian was going with this.
“But that’s okay. At least we’ll get a chance to do it, and that’s all I really care a
bout right now. So…if it’s okay with you, I want to take the family name.”
Stone went still. “You do?”
“Yeah. Mom kept it from me, but she didn’t have a right to do that. I want it back. Ian Woodward Stone. What do you think? Would you be okay with it?”
Stone looked into his son’s clear, gray eyes, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. “Ian…I can’t begin to tell you how honored I’d be for you to do that.”
Ian smiled, and for once it didn’t have a sly edge. “Yeah. Me too. Time to move forward, however that ends up.”
Stone took one final look at Ethan Penrose’s grave, picturing his old apprentice floating above them, grinning at this uncharacteristic emotional display from his hard-edged old master. “Come on,” he said, turning back toward the main path. “Enough wallowing in the past. You’re right—it’s time to look to the future.”
Alastair Stone returns in
Book 17 of the Alastair Stone Chronicles
Look for it in Spring 2019!
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