The Other Side: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  “I do. And if there’s anything else you need of a material nature, please let me know.”

  “How about an attack helicopter with twin mounted machine guns?” Jason asked.

  “That, unfortunately, would take me a few days.”

  Verity couldn’t tell if he was lying or not, even when looking at his aura. She wasn’t sure whether that made her feel safer or more nervous.

  “You gonna be able to do this?” Verity asked. “I know it’s pretty disgusting, but if they hear it in your voice they’ll know something’s up.”

  They’d picked out the Desert Breeze, a generic-looking hotel of a similar type to the Oasis not too far from the Hard Eights’ territory, and Jason had used cash and a fake name to rent a cheap room. The desk clerk hadn’t appeared to notice or even care. Verity waited in the car with his cell phone until he had the room number, then used her disregarding spell to get there without anyone noticing her. It was about one a.m.

  “Yeah. I’ll do it. I might have to punch something or throw up afterward, but I’ll do it.”

  “You have any idea what the ‘delightful’ part is about?”

  “I’m guessing it’s a codeword. You know—so they’ll know whoever’s calling is legit. If it is, I hope they don’t change the word for each individual customer. Otherwise we’re screwed.”

  She gripped his shoulder. “We’ll do what we can. You got this. Remember the kids.”

  “Yeah.” He sat down on the bed, pulled out Xavier’s number, and tapped it in.

  Verity watched impatiently as it seemed to ring several times, but then Jason tensed.

  “Yeah, hi,” he said in a voice a little deeper than his own. “I’m lookin’ for a guy named Xavier. I’m in town for a layover, and I was told he knew where to find a really delightful time.” He left the number at the hotel room and hung up.

  A minute later, the phone rang. He snatched it up. “Yeah?” He paused a moment, listening. Verity wished he could have put it on speaker, but that would have sounded suspicious. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s right. My flight leaves first thing in the morning, so—” He forced a sleazy, salacious grin that looked so genuine it made Verity shudder. “Hey, listen—I don’t wanna say much on the phone, you know, but I like my chicks really short, y’know what I mean? I heard you guys could help me out with that.” Another pause. “Oh, yeah. I got money. Yeah, of course, I get it. No problem. I’ll be there.” He hung up, looking disgusted.

  “What’d they say?” Verity demanded.

  “I don’t think that was Xavier on the phone. I’m supposed to show up at this place downtown. It’s an all-night mall. I’m supposed to sit in the food court and order a large drink from the Mexican place. I guess they gotta give me the once-over and make sure nobody’s followin’ me or anything.”

  “A mall? That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe not. If they lasted this long, they’ve got to be careful. Maybe you meet ’em there, and once they’ve approved you, you get further instructions or somethin’.”

  “We’d better get going, then,” Verity said. “That’s still in the right area, which makes me think we’re right about the general location.”

  “You want to get there early? I don’t think I can show up at that meet, V. They’re gonna recognize me. Even if we had time for a disguise, they haven’t lasted this long under the radar by bein’ stupid. And I’m guessing you can’t keep an illusion up that long, right?”

  “Unfortunately not. And I don’t know how to make those illusion generators Dr. Stone uses. But no, I don’t want you to go to the meet anyway.”

  “What, then? You want to stake it out and follow ’em? You think they’d just head straight back to their base if you don’t show? If it were me and the customer didn’t show, I’d get suspicious. And I sure as hell wouldn’t lead anybody straight back to my den.”

  “Yeah…true. But we have to get a look at them somehow.”

  Jason sighed and nodded soberly. “I might have to just do the best I can at disguise and hope they don’t send any of their magic people to the meet, or the Hard Eights haven’t described me to their bosses…” He stared off into the middle distance for a moment. “I do think I want to call Roper about something, though.”

  “What?”

  “I’m just thinking about this operation.” He got up and began pacing around the room. “If they’re using kids, they’ve got to get ’em somewhere, right? They might snatch ’em in other places and transport ’em here, but that’s dangerous. Especially since the way things work in Vegas means it’s unlikely they’re gonna get much investigation if some street kids turn up missing here. They’re also gonna need a steady supply comin’ in.” His expression twisted, and for a moment he looked like he might be sick. “Kids grow out of the desired demographic fairly fast.”

  Verity tried not to think too hard about that, or about what happened to the ones who “aged out.” She frowned. “So you want to find out if any kids have disappeared in Vegas? What good’s that gonna do us? It’s not like I can trace them or anything. Even if we could get something that belonged to one of ’em, you can bet if a mage is running the show, he’ll have some kind of protections up.”

  “Maybe nothing. But we’ve got a little time, so it’s worth a shot.”

  Roper wasn’t on shift at one in the morning, which could have been a problem except that apparently there were still a few more non-Evil cops left at the LVPD. One of them promised to ring him at home and give him their urgent message.

  Fifteen minutes later, he called back. Jason swiftly explained what he needed, and Roper promised to get back to them as soon as he could.

  Roper called back a half-hour later, which was starting to cut close to their meet time. “You get anything?” Jason asked, punching the speaker button so Verity could hear too.

  “Well, yeah. Lots of missing kids. No surprise there. Street kids turn up missing all the time in this town, and sometimes even local kids. How far back you want me to go?”

  “How about within the past year?” Jason had a map spread out on the bed. “Any clusters? Anything that jumps out at you? Let’s focus on girls under thirteen.”

  “Girls. Okay, that narrows it down.” He started rattling off dates, ages, and locations, and Jason and Verity tried to keep up with him by marking them on the map. The cop was right: there were a lot of kids going missing in the Vegas area. Oddly, none of them were in the Hard Eights’ territory.

  “Wait,” Roper said. “Here are a couple of—not clusters, but places where two kids disappeared near the same place, a few months apart. One’s on the east side near a school, and the other one’s at a mall on Carson.”

  Verity and Jason stared at each other. “Did you say…a mall?” Jason asked.

  “Yeah, it’s downtown, just off Fremont. Sketchy place, open all night. Why?”

  “Nah, never mind,” Jason said, stabbing his finger down on the spot while still staring at Verity. “Anything else?”

  They let him give them a few more dates and locations, but none of them pinged their radar. “That should do it for now, Sergeant,” Jason said at last. “Thanks for the help, and sorry for getting you out of bed.”

  “Are you two gonna tell me what you’re up to?” Roper asked with suspicion. “What do missing kids have to do with Gary Woods?”

  “Probably nothing. Just checking out all the angles. We’ll tell you if we come up with anything. Thanks, Sergeant. G’night.” He hung up before Roper could say anything else.

  “That’s the mall where you’re supposed to meet the guy,” Verity said, though she didn’t need to.

  “Yeah. I guess it could be a coincidence, but how likely?”

  “C’mon, let’s go,” Verity said, jumping up. “I want to get a look at that place.”
/>   “The mall?”

  “The whole building.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Off in the distance, Stone and Mortenson could see the flames and towering column of smoke coming off the Shangri-La. One entire wing was engulfed now, though it appeared the rain was doing a good job keeping the fire contained. Stone doubted they’d have to worry about any of the nearby forest catching, which was one good bit of an otherwise very bad situation.

  Mortenson eyed it dubiously. “We’re not going up there, are we?”

  “Not yet. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the map Duncan had given him. “We need to find this mine entrance. It’s up on the hillside past the winery. But first we have to stop at my car.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to pick something up. Then we’ll find the mine.”

  “How are we going to do that? It’s dark, smoky—”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble finding it, once we get closer.” He examined the map for a moment, then stuffed it back in his pocket and started walking a little faster. “Tell me about the curse. What did you find out?”

  She was already puffing a little with exertion, but perked up at the opportunity to share her knowledge. “The diary I told you about—from the girl—wasn’t much help. It talked about people dying, but it didn’t say anything about how, because her family recognized something was wrong and got out before it got bad. I was starting to think I wouldn’t find anything at all, but then in the bottom of the box, stuck under one of the flaps, was that little book.” She indicated her purse. “It’s very old—from what it sounds like, someone in the girl’s family lived in the area during the Gold Rush days, and then her family moved back there during the Depression because their relatives here told them they could find work.”

  “Edwina—this is all fascinating and I’ll be happy to listen to the whole story later, but what about the curse?”

  She looked momentarily miffed, but then glanced sideways at the smoldering Shangri-La and sobered. “Yes. I don’t think it was the miners who cast it, though they might have helped. It was Sarah.”

  They reached the BMW in the parking lot, which fortunately hadn’t flooded yet. Stone stopped, staring at her. “Sarah? The daughter?” He opened the trunk and pulled out his black leather bag of ritual materials, slung it over his shoulder, slammed the trunk shut, and set off again.

  Mortenson hurried to catch up. “Some of this is fuzzy, you understand, but I think I’ve got the story right. Brunder was a very strict and unkind man. Sarah didn’t want to come here—she was happy in New Orleans, with her mother’s family, but her father insisted she return. She did so, reluctantly. But then she fell in love with one of the miners—a man named Zeke Newhall. She hid the relationship for a while, but eventually her father found out about it and the two of them ran off to get away from him, hiding with some of the local Native Americans Zeke had befriended.”

  “Don’t tell me—Brunder tracked them down.” They were off the road now, slogging through a carpet of wet leaves and needles, and Mortenson slowed her pace. Stone didn’t like cutting his speed so close to their goal, but it couldn’t be helped. He shined the flashlight around, but it was mostly for show: it wasn’t normal light that would show him the entrance to the mine.

  “Yes.” Mortenson’s tone was sober. “The diary’s writer was one of the town’s miners, an acquaintance of Zeke’s. He talks about how he joined the posse Brunder put together—he didn’t want to, but it wasn’t healthy to cross Jacob Brunder, apparently. It took them a while to find Sarah and Zeke, but eventually they did. They dragged them back to town, while killing off most of their Native friends.”

  “Brilliant,” Stone said in disgust. He began scanning the hillside for signs of magical energy, trying to pick out a brighter concentration among the red fog that covered the entire valley now. “And I suppose Zeke didn’t come to a good end?”

  “No—especially since the rumor was that Sarah was already at least three months pregnant when they found her. They hanged Zeke in the town square for kidnapping and rape, with little or no trial beforehand. According to the diary writer, it was quite an event. There wasn’t much to do in town when you weren’t hunting for gold, so the entire town turned out for the spectacle. And Jacob made Sarah watch. The writer describes how devastated and angry she looked, standing up there on a raised platform with her father so she could have the best view.”

  Stone shook his head. It never failed to dismay him how much people refused to mind their own damned business and let others live their lives. “But that doesn’t explain—” He stopped. “Wait a moment—you said Sarah’s mother’s family was from New Orleans?”

  “You came to the same conclusion I did.” Mortenson carefully picked her way over a twisted fallen branch.

  “Voudoun.”

  “Yes. There’s no evidence of it in the diary, obviously—the miner wouldn’t know about it—but the tradition’s always been powerful in the New Orleans area. I’m not sure where a wealthy, sheltered young girl would have learned it, though…”

  “Possibly from her mother, or someone on that side of the family. Or perhaps if the family had slaves, she might have befriended them and they taught her. I suppose we’ll never know for sure.” Unless her echo is still hanging about here and we can talk to her…

  “There’s one more thing, too.”

  “Yes?” They were getting close now. Stone shifted to magical sight, slowing down as he tightened his scan, focusing on the area indicated on the map.

  “The miner can’t be sure he heard it correctly, but he claims he heard Sarah yell something into the crowd as Zeke died. Something like, ‘If I can’t have my desire, then you can all feast on yours until you choke on them!’”

  Stone stopped scanning and turned toward her. There it was. The final piece fell into place. “That’s it…” he murmured.

  “What?”

  “That’s what the curse is. It doesn’t just amplify strong emotion. It amplifies desire.”

  “Desire?”

  “Yes, that’s got to be it! Look at what’s happened! Denise’s mild attraction to me turned to lust. Mott’s unrequited attraction to Denise turned to jealousy and rage. Your resentment of me was amplified. My disgust of Riley’s prima-donna tendencies…Riley’s need for adulation…Randy and Mary Yates’s mutual disagreements…Edwina, it all fits!”

  Mortenson stared at him, her eyes glittering in the flashlight’s beam. “So…our mere presence here was enough to activate it?”

  “Possibly…” He was thinking fast, going over the events of the last day. “Or…I have a theory.”

  “Yes?”

  “I talked to Duncan—he was poking around up here last night, looking for the same place we are. But not because of the curse—because he believed there was a large cache of hidden gold in that mine. He owes a great deal of money to some very nasty people.” He started walking again. “He claims he found the mine. There wasn’t any gold, but he did find bones—possibly human bones.” He was mostly thinking aloud now, and unconsciously picked up his pace. “What if the presence of Duncan and his particularly strong desire—find the gold so he could pay off the Mob before they caught up with him and killed him—acted as a sort of…catalyst for the whole thing? Got it started faster than it normally would?”

  Mortenson took a deep breath. “Alastair…” she said slowly. “Are you sure this is what’s going on? You’ve always been such a skeptic about the world of the supernatural. Wouldn’t you think there might be a scientific explanation for this? Some kind of gas, or something in the water, or—”

  He didn’t answer her right away, because at that moment he spotted what he’d been looking for: a brighter, heavier concentration of the red mist, right where the map said the mine entrance should be. “There it is�
��” he murmured.

  “Alastair, answer me, please.” Her tone was sharper.

  “What?” He paused a moment to rewind what she’d said. “Oh—right. Yes. Well…er…there are some things you don’t know about me, Edwina, and unfortunately this might finally be the time when you learn the truth. Suffice it to say for the moment that yes, I do believe it’s a curse, and I can deal with it. But we need to find the source. Come on—I see the entrance up ahead.” He started forward, but stopped when he didn’t hear her behind him.

  “Learn…the truth?” She hadn’t moved. “What truth?”

  Stone sighed. He didn’t have time for this. “Come on. Let’s deal with this before someone—someone else—is killed, and then I’ll tell you everything. You wanted to come with me, so let’s go. I won’t stop now.” Suiting actions to words, he turned and headed up the hill toward the bright glow.

  After a moment, he heard her stomping and puffing along behind him. “What are you even looking for? I don’t see any mine entrance.” She shined her flashlight beam around, passing directly over the spot Stone had identified without stopping.

  “It’s got to be well hidden, or it would have been found years ago.” He wondered if some sort of magic effect didn’t protect it, at least partially—and if so, how the thoroughly mundane Duncan had managed to find it. Perhaps the curse was sensitive to strong desire, and encouraged anything that might help it flower back to life. Again, he’d probably never know the answer.

  He didn’t notice it until he was almost on top of it, fueling his theory about magical protections. Set into the hillside, it opened up beneath the heavy shadow of a rock outcropping, obscured by decades’ worth of roots, underbrush, and rocks. As he approached, actually making use of his flashlight now that he could see the area more clearly, he spotted telltale signs that someone else had been here recently: broken branches, pressed-down weeds, and rain-soaked impressions it looked like rocks had recently filled. He was far from an outdoorsman, but the signs were clear enough even he could see them. Duncan hadn’t been careful.