Homecoming: An Alastair Stone Urban Fantasy Novel (Alastair Stone Chronicles Book 23)

by R. L. King

  He’d determined earlier that Devin Lund’s address was an apartment near Western Colorado University, further supporting Gina’s idea that he might be a student there.

  He found a room at a Holiday Inn near the university, stowed his gear, and headed out again. If luck favored him, he might find Lund at home, which would make things a lot easier.

  He had no trouble locating the apartment building. It turned out to be walking distance from his motel, literally across the road and less than a block away. He hadn’t planned it that way, but took it as an omen that perhaps things would go smoothly for once.

  That thought lasted until he reached the apartments, a series of two-story lofts arranged around a large, grassy field. Devin Lund’s place was in the middle building, second from the end. Stone walked past a group playing a rowdy game of football in the field and knocked on the door.

  Nobody answered. The blinds on the front window were closed.

  Damn.

  He knocked again, waited several moments, then headed back up the walk toward the street. It was too much to ask to find the guy home, especially on a beautiful evening like this. He was probably off doing something outdoorsy.

  “Hey,” called a voice.

  Stone looked up to see one of the football players jogging toward him. A tanned young man in his early twenties, he wore a polo shirt, baggy shorts, and athletic shoes. A pair of Ray-Bans perched on his tousled, light-brown hair. “Yes?”

  “You lookin’ for me?”

  “Er—I’m not sure. Who are you?”

  “Well, you were knockin’ on my door.” Back on the field, his friends watched the exchange for a moment, then returned to their game.

  “That was your door?” Stone didn’t dare to hope. “Are you Devin Lund?”

  “Nah, he was my roommate. I’m Brent Forrester.”

  Was. “He’s not your roommate anymore?”

  “Nope. He moved out a couple days ago. Real sudden. Said something came up at home and he had to go deal with it.”

  “I see.”

  A blond woman in short shorts and a lightweight lavender hoodie drifted over from the field and stood next to Forrester.

  “What do you want with him, anyway? A couple other people came by lookin’ for him, but they wouldn’t say why.”

  That was interesting. More people knew about Lund’s strange find? Stone wondered if they were reporters, or something more sinister. “Er—I’ve got a couple of things I’d like to chat with him about. Do you happen to have his current contact information?”

  “Sorry, man. We weren’t exactly best buds. He only lived here since the beginning of summer. He was takin’ summer classes to get caught up.”

  Damn. Stone considered asking about Lund’s camping companions, but if this guy barely knew him, he probably wouldn’t know anything about them either. “Well…thank you for your help.”

  “Wait,” said the woman. “I know who you could talk to.”

  Stone had turned away, but he stopped and focused on her. “Yes?”

  “He’s not in trouble or anything, is he?” Her expression clouded, as if she realized she shouldn’t have spoken.

  “No, not at all.”

  She studied him, clearly trying to decide whether she should believe him. “Cecilia Hong. I think she and Devin had a little thing going. She might know where to find him.”

  “Brilliant.” Stone pulled out a notebook. “Do you have her number, by chance?”

  Her suspicion grew. “I can’t just give out her number, you know? Not to some guy we don’t even know. But I could give her yours, and she could call you if she wants.”

  “Er—of course. That’s fine.” He scrawled his cell number on a page and gave it to her. “I’m only in town for a day or two, so if you could ask her to contact me soon, I’d appreciate it.”

  “We’ll see. No promises.” She stashed the number in her shorts pocket.

  They were both watching him closely, so he decided not to push it. He’d find a place to get something to eat, and if Cecilia Hong didn’t contact him by tomorrow morning, he’d head up to Crested Butte and see if he could locate the rift—or whatever else was going on up there—on his own.

  He was halfway through a tri-tip sandwich at a nearby barbecue joint when his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number. “Yes, hello?”

  “Hi…” It was a woman, and she sounded young and uncertain. “Is this…uh…the guy who was looking for Devin?”

  Ah! Stone smiled. “Ms. Hong?”

  “Yeah. Hannah said you wanted to talk to him. Who are you?”

  Stone put the remains of the sandwich down on his plate. “My name is…Michael Townes.” The alias came easily—it was the same one he’d used recently while looking for Melvin Whitworth. “Would it be possible for me to speak to you in person?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t think so. I don’t know you, and anyway, I don’t know where Devin is.”

  “You don’t?” He wondered if she was lying. She didn’t sound like she was, but it was a lot easier to tell if he could see her aura, or at least her expression. “I thought Hannah mentioned you two were together.”

  “We were.” Now she sounded exasperated. “Not anymore, though. He left.”

  “That’s what his roommate said—something sudden came up at home he had to deal with.”

  She snorted.

  “You don’t believe that?”

  “I don’t know what to believe. Look, I need to—”

  “Listen, Ms. Hong,” Stone said quickly, before she could hang up. “I’ll be honest with you—I’m calling about what happened during Mr. Lund’s recent camping trip. I wanted to ask him about what he saw.”

  Another long pause. “I figured it might be about that. You won’t get anything, though. He says nothing happened.”

  “How can that be? I saw the article about him and his friends finding something odd in the mountains.”

  “Yeah. He says it was all bullshit. That they made it up for lulz.”

  She didn’t sound like she believed it, and he didn’t either. “Even so, I’d like to talk to him. Do you know how to get hold of him?”

  “Nope. I don’t know his parents’ number, and he lost his phone.”

  Hmm. “What about his email address?”

  “It’s dead. I tried to email him something yesterday and it came back not found.” She snorted again. “Look—I get it. He’s ghosting me. He doesn’t want to see me anymore. That’s cool—I was getting bored with him anyway. I don’t know how to contact him, and I don’t really want to. I’m going now, okay?”

  “Wait—do you know any of the other people who were on the trip with him?”

  The line crackled for long enough that Stone feared she’d hung up. “Do you promise you won’t call me anymore if I tell you?”

  “You have my word.”

  “Okay. Fine. His friend Jack was there too. He’s still in town as far as I know. I don’t have his number, but he works at Mountain Charlie’s Pizza. Maybe he can tell you something. Now please leave me alone.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you, Ms. Hong.”

  The phone beeped as she hung up.

  Stone quickly finished his sandwich and left the restaurant. He hadn’t been sure before, but now it was definitely starting to look like someone was trying to cover up what the campers had found.

  Mountain Charlie’s Pizza was on the other side of campus, and quite busy at this time of the evening. Stone watched from his car as several groups entered and exited; most of them looked like students. The place had a large outdoor dining area, where more rowdy students lounged at rough wooden tables, eating pizza and drinking beer. Loud music played through speakers above the door.

  He didn’t bother using an illusion to disguise himself. Nobody would recognize him here, and even if they did, it might help him get some answers. He didn’t mind putting himself out there as bait if someone was trying to cover up this situation. If they were, they’d soon find
they’d taken on more than they could deal with if they tried to intimidate him into silence.

  Inside, the music was even louder. The air was full of the tantalizing aroma of pizza, mixed with beer and a faint whiff of pot funk. The walls, paneled in wood designed to make the place look like a log cabin, were covered with framed sports photos, pennants, and other memorabilia from the university, and more groups of students filled more rough log tables.

  Rather than wait in the long pizza-order line, Stone approached the bar, where a young woman was pouring a pitcher for two muscular guys in Mountaineers T-shirts.

  “What can I getcha?” she asked, smiling at him after they left.

  “Give me a pint of your specialty, please. And can you tell me where I might find Jack?”

  She tilted her head. “Jack Vargas?”

  “Er—yes. Is he working tonight?”

  “Uh—yeah.” She looked around, then pointed. “There he is, bussing the table over by the claw machine.” She poured a frosty glass of beer and pushed it toward him. “That’ll be five.”

  Stone paid her with a ten and hurried off before Jack Vargas could slip away. By the time he’d wormed his way through the crowd, the tall young man was already heading for the kitchen with his tub of dirty dishes.

  “Mr. Vargas?”

  His head snapped up. No doubt he wasn’t used to being hailed by a guy with a British accent in the middle of his shift. “Uh, yeah?”

  “Do you have a moment?”

  He looked confused. “Do I know you?”

  “No, but I’d like to chat with you. Have you got a break coming up?” He raised his glass. “I could buy you a pint for your trouble.”

  His confusion grew, but no college student would ever turn down a free beer. “Yeah, okay. Give me a sec to ditch the tub and tell the boss.”

  Stone was half-afraid the guy would disappear on him, but he returned a few moments later.

  “Good luck findin’ a table. Maybe outside?”

  “Lead the way.”

  They stopped by the bar to get Jack’s beer—the bartender flashed Stone an oh, good, you found him look as she poured—and headed to the front. A group was vacating a table as they exited, so Stone hurried over to claim it.

  “What can I do for you?” Jack dropped onto a bench across from him. He was gangly, with dark brown hair, a patchy goatee, and an easygoing manner. He wore a brown Mountain Charlie’s T-shirt with a leather cord with several beads strung on it around his neck.

  Stone checked his aura. It was a mellow, untroubled yellow-green. “I’d like to chat with you about your recent camping trip.”

  Immediately, Jack tensed, and his aura lit up with wary red flashes. “What about it?”

  “I understand you and your friends saw something unusual up near Crested Butte.”

  He barked a bright, too-loud laugh. “Oh! Right, yeah. How’d you hear about that?”

  Stone shrugged. “I’ve got my sources. Can you tell me about it?” He hadn’t taken his magical “eye” off Jack’s aura, and it hadn’t calmed down in the slightest. The guy was definitely nervous about something.

  He didn’t want to show it, though. He laughed again and waved it off. “I have no idea where you heard that, dude, but it was all a big goof. We were messin’ with some buds and it got a little out of hand, you know?”

  “So…you didn’t find an odd, humanoid creature in the mountains?”

  He grinned. “What are you, one of those ‘Aliens’ guys?” He hooked finger quotes around the word, then looked around. “Somebody filmin’ us right now?”

  “No one is filming us, and no, I’m not looking for aliens. I’m just curious.”

  “Well, I hope you didn’t come too far, because I’m serious—it was all a big joke.”

  Stone fixed a steady gaze on him. “I don’t believe you, Mr. Vargas. Did someone tell you not to discuss it? Perhaps the same people who took your phone?”

  Jack’s aura flared again, but he snorted. “Nobody took my phone.” He pulled it from his pocket and tossed it on the table. “See, it’s right here.” He stood and drained his beer in one long chug. “Thanks for the beer, man, but I gotta get back inside. The boss gets pissed if I take long breaks.”

  “Did they threaten you? Perhaps offer you some incentive to keep quiet? Why didn’t you leave town like Mr. Lund did?”

  “I have got no idea what you’re talkin’ about, man. Shit, it was just a stupid joke, tryin’ to punk some buddies. We never woulda done it if we thought it’d cause this much trouble. Buzz off, okay?”

  Before Stone could respond, he got up, grabbed his phone, and slipped back through the crowd. His aura erupted with agitation, trailing little red tendrils as he left.

  That went well.

  But really, it had. He’d hardly expected anyone to come right out and tell him, but now he knew for sure something had happened up there in the mountains, despite someone’s strong attempt to hide it.

  Who was doing the hiding, though?

  He rose, ignoring the curious looks from other groups of students who’d observed Jack’s sudden exit. Clearly, his next step was to go up to Crested Butte and try to locate the source of the dot he’d found on Desmond’s globe.

  If there was still a rift up there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do about it. He shouldn’t close it—but what if the creature the campers had found had been a Traveler?

  Did that mean the rift opened to Calanar?

  And where was the Traveler now?

  So many questions. Stone got in his car and drove back to his hotel. There wasn’t much else he could do tonight—he didn’t want try finding the rift in unfamiliar, remote territory in the middle of the night—so probably his best call was to get a good night’s sleep and an early start.

  His room was on the second floor. He trudged up the stairs, thinking he might send Verity a text to see if she wanted to talk for a while. Other than himself and Kolinsky, she was the only other person he was aware of who knew about the rifts. The oath he’d sworn to Kolinsky meant he couldn’t discuss them openly with her, but she’d seen enough prior to the oath that he was confident he could get his meaning across to her. Maybe she’d have some insights.

  He slotted his keycard, pushed open the door, and flipped on the light, already pulling his phone from his pocket.

  A man was seated in his desk chair.

  6

  Stone almost jerked back and slammed the door, but didn’t. Instead, he summoned an invisible shield around himself and glared at the man. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me what you’re doing in my room.”

  “Calm down, Dr. Stone. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

  He knows who I am. That can’t be good.

  Stone looked him over, taking his time about it. He was in his late thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, denim jacket, faded jeans, and hiking boots. The casual clothes didn’t do a good job of hiding his calm, no-nonsense demeanor, though. His aura was a steady, solid orange.

  “You’ve already caused trouble,” Stone said. “How did you get in here?”

  “I just want to talk to you.”

  Stone snorted. “I’ve got a phone, you know. If you know who I am, you probably know how to contact me.”

  The man indicated the other chair. “Please—sit down.”

  “I think not.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know how much you know about me beyond my name, but you might be aware that threatening me isn’t a wise thing to do.”

  “Who’s threatening? I told you, I just want to talk.”

  The man remained unruffled, which told Stone one of two things had to be true: either he didn’t know about Stone’s magic, or he did know and didn’t care—perhaps because he had magic of his own. “Talk about what? I’m a bit disturbed you even know I’m here. As far as I’m aware, only one person knows where I am, and I’m sure he didn’t tell you.”

  “You’ve been asking questions around town today.”

  Stone glared at h
im. “Who the hell are you? I’m not telling you a bloody thing until I know that.”

  The man held his gaze long enough to establish he was in control of the conversation—or at least he thought he was. “You can call me Todd.”

  “Which almost certainly isn’t your real name.”

  “It’ll do for now.”

  “I’m only going to ask one more time—what do you want?” Stone dropped the shield, but kept a close eye on the man.

  “I know who you are, Dr. Stone—I know you teach Occult Studies at Stanford, and you’re very interested in…shall we say…odd occurrences.”

  Hmm. Interesting. No mention of magic—not directly, at least. “Gold star for you. Not that I hide any of that.”

  “I’m assuming you’re poking around here because you saw something about the campers up near Crested Butte.”

  “I had some free time.” So far, Todd’s aura hadn’t budged. Stone suspected he wasn’t a threat—at least not a physical one. He crossed the room and perched on the edge the bed, his gaze never leaving the other man.

  “Yes. So, on a whim you decided to come to Colorado to check out a vague article you found on an obscure website.”

  “Yes, so? I wasn’t aware that was against the law.”

  “True…it’s not. I do wonder how you got here, though. There’s no record of you taking a flight from California.”

  Stone tensed. “I drove. My rental car is out front.”

  Todd gave a thin-lipped smile. “You drove from Santa Fe, New Mexico, which is where you rented the car. That doesn’t explain how you got there.” Before Stone could say anything, he raised a hand. “That’s beside the point, though. I don’t care how you got here. All I care about is what you’re hoping to find out from those campers, and why you’re interested at all.”