The Other Side: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  It was a tight fit, and a couple times the ominous shifting of rock and creaking of timbers made him move a little faster than he’d originally planned, but in a few seconds he was through. The flashlight’s beam picked out the passage, open and clear as it had been before. At least Duncan’s crazed, headlong dash hadn’t disturbed anything that he could see. He hurried up the passage until he reached the entrance and squeezed out into the rainy night.

  For a moment he just stood there under the open sky, panting in relief, letting the rain wash over him and carry away some of the mud and grime encrusting him. He shivered, the cold slicing at his bare skin. He had to get going.

  He took a quick look around, as far as he could see in the darkness. Off to his left in the distance, the smoldering form of the Shangri-La Winery glowed faintly, thick smoke still hovering over it. As he’d predicted, the fire hadn’t spread beyond the winery building—everything outside was far too soaked from the heavy rains to do anything more than send up a lot of smoke.

  He couldn’t see the Brunder place through the trees, so he hitched the leather bag over his uninjured shoulder and set off in that direction. At least he couldn’t hear any screams or gunshots. That was a start.

  Unless they’ve already all killed each other.

  Cheery thought, Stone. Do keep that up, won’t you?

  He trudged on, moving as fast as he dared, trying to submerge the vision of Mortenson’s bleeding, broken body and pain-filled eyes as she looked to him for help he couldn’t give her. He could grieve later. He wondered if any of the liquor in the winery’s bar had survived the fire, and planned to investigate that later. But now, he still had things to do.

  He reached the fire road and turned right, moving at a slow, ground-eating jog toward the rising bulk of the Brunder mansion. Lights burned on the first floor near the back, but other than those, he saw no others. At least the place wasn’t on fire.

  Slowing down, not wanting to get taken out by a stray shot from an upper window if anyone else had a gun, he pulled up a disregarding spell and approached the house’s rear entrance.

  The first door he found was locked, but magic got him through and into a dark hallway. He closed the door behind him, dropping the disregarding spell and shining the light around in front of him. “Hello? Is anyone here?” he called. His voice still came out as a raspy croak from all the dust and smoke he’d been inhaling.

  He crept along like a cop clearing a crime scene, pushing open doors and shining the light inside to verify no one was there. The last thing he wanted was for someone to get the jump on him from behind. Perhaps he could find the entrance to the basement, find Sarah’s body, and take care of the curse before—

  He pushed open another door and was about to move past when he spotted two dark, prone forms. Neither of them had an aura.

  He entered the room and shined the beam at them. “Bloody hell…” he murmured.

  It was Randy and Mary Yates, and both were obviously dead: he lay on the floor with a knife buried in his gut, while she was draped over a floral sofa, her throat crudely slashed. From their positions and expressions, it appeared the two of them had killed each other—perhaps when the mild argument Stone had accidentally eavesdropped on earlier that day had escalated, with the help of the curse, into a murderous rage. He let his breath out slowly, wondering how many others he’d find.

  He was about to retrace his steps and leave the room when a figure leaped up from behind the kitchen counter, and a harsh ch-klunk! sound cut through the silence.

  “Come back to steal my limelight, huh?” Bryce Riley said with a sneer. He held a shotgun pointed directly at Stone.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Verity acted instantly as the room erupted into chaos, flinging a wide-beam concussion spell toward the two gunmen behind the children and throwing them into the back wall before they caught on to what she was doing.

  Mathias disappeared.

  “Down!” Jason yelled, diving at Verity and dragging her to the floor. Gunfire boomed all around them—for a second, she wasn’t sure what was going on, but then she heard Mickey Toro’s loud voice shouting, “Don’t hit the kids!”

  Jason rose to a crouch and threw himself at one of Mathias’s goons, bulling him into another wall as his gun went off into one of the chandeliers.

  Verity started heading for the girls, but apparently they were less out of it than she’d initially thought, because they’d dropped to the floor immediately after Mathias had disappeared. “Jason! We have to find Mathias before he gets away!”

  Mickey Toro sprayed two of the gunmen with the small submachine gun he carried. “He the one in charge?”

  “Yeah. Good to see you, Mr. Toro,” Verity said, panting. “Great timing.” She had her shield up now, but so far Toro’s men seemed to have the situation in hand.

  “Come on—let’s find the bastard.” Toro’s expression was cold and angry. “We picked up a few of those perverts tryin’ to make a run for it downstairs, by the way.”

  “How’d you get up here?”

  “Maintenance stairway. We got a floorplan. That’s why we took so long to get here.”

  Jason skidded up next to them. He had his gun back, and another one stuck in his belt. “Any idea where he went?”

  Verity shifted to magical sight. It was hard to get anything—the room was alight with agitated auras on both Mathias’s side and their own, but she focused on the spot on the couch where he’d been before he disappeared. A faint magical trace headed in the direction of the room’s rear door, but most of it had already faded out. As she watched, the rest of it disappeared as well. “That way,” she said, pointing. “But the traces are already gone. I can’t track him.”

  “Let’s go!” Toro was already heading that way. “Leo! With me! Rest o’ you guys, deal with this shit and start lookin’ for more guys and kids! Somebody make sure the kids are safe.”

  The mobsters had already gotten the upper hand and were starting to mop up the scene; several of Mathias’s men lay bleeding on the floor, along with one of Toro’s. One brush-cut guy in a brown suit broke free of the fight and hurried over to join them.

  “Careful,” Verity said as they approached the door. “He was invisible before—he might be again.”

  Toro and Leo flanked the door on both sides, guns raised. Verity used magic to throw it open and they rushed through, sweeping the area. Jason and Verity quickly followed. On the other side was a hallway lined with closed doors, running off to the left and the right.

  “There’s got to be an elevator around here somewhere,” Jason said. “We gotta find it.”

  Toro stood for a moment as if trying to orient himself, then pointed to the left. “There. That’s the direction the elevators from downstairs would be.”

  They hurried down the hallway and soon found the single elevator, its doors closed. “If he got out this way, we’ll never catch him,” Jason said.

  “Yeah we will,” Toro said. “I got guys on the elevators downstairs and the stairway. Anybody comes out that way, we’ll get ’em.”

  Verity was impressed in spite of herself. Toro might be a murderer—if you could call killing a scummy pervert like Gary Woods murder—but he was damned efficient. “Can you leave somebody here to make sure he doesn’t get out if he’s still up here?”

  Toro grinned. “Better than that.” He pushed the button to open the door. “Stand back.” When they did, he fired a burst from his SMG into the control panel. “Ain’t nobody usin’ that thing tonight.”

  “Come on,” Jason urged. “If he’s here, he won’t be for long. Rats like that always have multiple exit strategies.” He hurried down the hall and shoved open the first door, leading with his gun—then stopped and lowered it.

  Verity hurried up next to him and looked into the room.

 
Three girls, none older than ten, sat huddled together on a big bed, staring at them with wide, fearful eyes.

  Verity swallowed hard, stomach clenching and tears prickling at her eyes. “It’s okay,” she said softly to them, trying to sound comforting even though she knew it was futile. How could you possibly say anything to comfort someone who’d been through what these kids had? “It’s okay. You’re safe now. You stay here and we’ll be back for you, okay?”

  Behind her, Mickey Toro looked over her shoulder. “Fuck…” he breathed, only loud enough for Verity to hear.

  Jason was already pushing open the next door, and once again he stopped and lowered the gun.

  “More kids?”

  “Yeah.” His voice sounded strange—demoralized and disgusted.

  They were boys this time—two of them about ten years old, dressed in T-shirts and shorts. They looked as scared as the girls had, and their eyes got even bigger when they spotted Toro’s SMG.

  “Put ’em all together,” Toro said. “In with the girls. Leo, you stay with ’em, outside the door. Make sure nobody gets in. Sal!” he barked toward another of his men in the outer chamber. “Bring those two little girls, too! Put ’em all in here till we can get ’em all out!”

  Verity and Jason didn’t wait. In less than two minutes they’d finished checking the other two rooms along the hallway. They found five more kids—three more girls and two more boys—but no sign of Mathias. They gathered the rest of the kids and put them in the first room, then paused for a conference with Toro outside.

  “My guys have checked the rest of the floor,” Toro said, looking angry. “No sign of the fucking bastard. I think he slipped us somehow.”

  “Maybe he got out the way we got in,” Jason said.

  “If he did, no way we’re gonna catch him,” Verity said, despondent. “Damn.” They’d been so close, too. She wondered if they’d made a mistake by not calling Roper—maybe they were overestimating the number of Evil left in the LVPD. A full-scale police raid might have rounded Mathias up before he could sneak out.

  But would they? How would a bunch of mundane policemen stop a guy with his obvious power? Even if she could have clued them in about the magic, most of them wouldn’t have believed her. “What do we do now?” she asked with a sigh.

  “We get the kids out,” Jason said. “Get ’em somewhere safe, then call Roper.”

  “We’ll call the cops,” Toro said. “Anonymous tip. I’m guessin’ you two don’t want to be involved in this any more than we do, yeah?”

  “Yeah…” Verity looked down, still frustrated, picturing Mathias relocating to some other town—maybe somewhere outside the U.S.—and setting up his sick little operation all over again. “Come on—let’s round up the kids and get ’em out. Mr. Toro, can you keep some guys here to make sure nobody’s hiding while we get out?”

  “Yeah.” He got on his radio and started giving orders. “I’m goin’ with you, though. Just in case.”

  Jason looked dubious, but Verity was fine with having another guy with a gun on their side. “We gonna take ’em down the maintenance stairs? That’s a long walk for a bunch of freaked-out little kids.”

  “Nah. We’ll go down to the next floor and take one of the regular elevators from there.”

  “Okay. Let’s get going.”

  Leo stepped aside to let Verity open the door. The kids were mostly huddled together on the big bed, a couple of them seated on the floor. All of them looked dazed and disoriented. “Okay,” Verity said gently. “We’re going to get you all out of here now, and take you someplace safe where nobody’s gonna hurt you. Okay?”

  They looked at her, but their eyes were haunted. Clearly, they didn’t believe her. Her stomach clenched again, and she wished she had Mathias there so she could kill him herself. She’d have done it without a second thought. “You gotta help us, though, okay? I want you to stay together and come with us. We’re going to the elevator. Can you do that for me?”

  Slowly, the little group got up and, still huddled together, shuffled toward Verity. She gestured at Toro. “Put the guns away!” she whispered.

  Toro, Leo, and Jason all stowed their weapons as the group of kids came tentatively out through the door, looking back and forth as if expecting to be jumped. Several of them looked more scared when they spotted the men, and two of them, a boy and a girl, began to cry.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” Toro said, his voice surprisingly soothing. “It’s okay. Nobody’s gonna hurt you guys. I promise. I got me a little girl too, about your age, and I love her more than anything in the world. We’re gonna take you someplace safe, and get you back to your moms and dads. I promise.”

  The kids still didn’t look convinced, but they allowed themselves to be herded down the hallway, through the big open room, and past the tapestry into the service area. Toro and Leo went first, keeping watch with their hands on their guns in case anybody else came after them. The kids were next, staying close to each other and moving like small robots. Verity and Jason brought up the rear, both of them silent and lost in their own thoughts.

  As they drew near the small chamber containing the service elevator, Jason squeezed Verity’s hand. “At least we got the kids out alive…” he murmured. “That’s the most important thing.”

  Verity wasn’t so sure he was right. Mathias would just do this again somewhere else, with a new group of kids. And she’d seen other children—older ones, to be sure, but still children—with the same haunted looks in their eyes that these kids had. Hell, she’d been one not so many years ago, albeit for a different and less horrific reason. They wouldn’t just go home to their parents and recover from this, not even if Mathias had put some kind of mind magic on them so they wouldn’t remember the details. Their conscious minds might not remember, but some part of them would. She hoped they could all get the help they needed and eventually be able to put this behind them, but at best it would be a long road.

  She studied them as they waited for the elevator to arrive, noting how, even though they stayed close to each other, most of them didn’t interact. A couple of the girls clutched each other’s hands, but for the most part all thirteen of them were little islands, each submerged deeply into a personal world they wouldn’t, or couldn’t, share with anyone else.

  They—

  Wait a minute.

  Hadn’t there been twelve kids? Eight girls and four boys?

  Now there were five boys.

  “Jason! Toro! We got an extra kid here!” She frowned at the boys, her gaze settling on one she didn’t remember seeing back in the rooms.

  She felt the swell of magical power and managed to get her shield up just as a wave of force flew out and slammed her, Jason, Leo, and Toro back into the walls, but she still staggered back and lost her balance enough that she wasn’t fast enough to stop what happened next.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Stone sighed. At this point, Riley’s appearance was more frustrating and exasperating than terrifying. “Mr. Riley. Put the damned gun down before you hurt someone.”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna hurt someone. You!” He glanced sideways toward the door, as if he thought someone might bust in on them.

  Stone didn’t miss the look of fear in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Expecting someone?”

  Riley was panting almost to the point of hyperventilation. He still wore his leather jacket, but his shirt was untucked and dirty and his expression was scattered, shifting between fear and rage. He glared at Stone. “You shut the fuck up! I gotta find Larry. We gotta finish the shoot. You’re off the project! Larry said so!”

  “Larry’s dead,” Stone said. He pulled up an invisible shield around himself, just in case Riley got trigger-happy.

  “What? You’re shittin’ me. Wait…” The gun wavered, then settled again on Stone. “Wait…you killed him, didn
’t you? You killed him so you could take over!”

  “Take over what, you prat?” Stone didn’t have time for this. “Put the bloody gun down now. I’ve got no more patience for idiot prima donnas.”

  “Shut up! Shut up! I’m the star, not you! I make the rules! You got that? You might have Larry fooled, but not me!” His eyes narrowed in his reddened face. Suddenly, he wheeled on the door. “Everybody leave me alone!” he screamed, and fired.

  The shotgun went off almost as loudly as Duncan’s gun had in the cavern, blowing a foot-diameter hole in the door.

  Stone acted instantly, using magic to wrench the gun from Riley’s hands and fling it across the room. Riley shrieked in rage and dived after it, but Stone grabbed him in a telekinetic hold and slammed him down on a chair next to the floral sofa where Mary Yates lay. He was about to direct a concussion beam at him when another thought broke in and stopped him.

  He could use an ally. He didn’t know if the curse would try to prevent him from reaching Sarah’s body, or how many other crazed townspeople and TV crew still remained alive and at large. He’d be vulnerable during the ritual. Bryce Riley wouldn’t be his first pick—or even his fifth—but right now, he had little choice in the matter.

  He maintained his hold on Riley, pressing him against the chair to prevent him from getting up, and quickly crossed the room to him.

  Riley’s eyes widened, his face still blooming with rage. “What the fuck? Get away from me! I’ll kill you!”

  “Shut up,” Stone ordered. He clamped his hand over the struggling star’s forehead and quickly wove a mental shield. It wasn’t as good as the one he’d put up on Mortenson, but if it had to last longer than an hour, something had gone terribly wrong. When he finished, he stepped back and released the hold.