Balance of Power: An Alastair Stone Urban Fantasy Novel (Alastair Stone Chronicles Book 25)

by R. L. King

  Eddie had been right: the symbols on the pyramid hadn’t been identical to the ones in the sealed room. But they’d clearly been the same “language,” and the two locations did share a few of them in common.

  “I don’t know what it means yet,” Eddie had told him as they both studied the photos. “But it does seem a bit coincidental that your item and the room were both designed to nullify or block magical energy, dunnit?”

  “Very much so…” Stone murmured, more focused on the symbols than on his friend’s voice.

  None of them had ever managed to work out what language the symbols in the sealed room had been written in. Eddie and Ward had searched the library for other examples, but found nothing. Eventually, his friends had moved the research to the back burner, trusting in Eddie’s memory to resurface it if they ever encountered any new information. But what, if anything, did the two items have in common? Had there been more to the room than they’d thought? Perhaps another of these devices embedded in the walls or in a hidden alcove they’d missed?

  That was all moot, though, since the whole catacomb complex had collapsed, burying any evidence.

  Raider greeted him with a loud, insistent meow when he popped into the living room. Cats, apparently, didn’t have a problem with their human servants appearing out of nowhere.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he murmured, bending to idly pet the cat. His heart was only half in it, though, his mind still firmly fixed on the odd characters and the odder correlation between them and the ones in the sealed room.

  He got a Guinness and sat on his sofa, spreading the photos across his coffee table, where Raider promptly jumped up and sat on them. Eventually, after being gently nudged off several times, the cat settled next to him, his head resting on his leg, and fell asleep as Stone continued examining the photos.

  Nothing came to him, though—at least nothing useful. The only potentially helpful thing he remembered was that the people behind the sealed room that had imprisoned Aldwyn had been led by his own ancestor and Aldwyn’s son, Cyrus…and James Brathwaite, whom Cyrus’s people had betrayed and murdered after refusing to go along with his suggestion that they use necromancy against Aldwyn.

  And Brathwaite was quite probably still alive.

  He sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration, and tossed the photo he was holding down. What did it matter if Brathwaite was still alive? It wasn’t as if he could find the man and compel him to talk. Brathwaite had disappeared ever since the battle at the mall in Tennessee, probably regrouping after the failure of the ritual and the loss of Richter. Maybe he was consolidating his power, trying to take over Richter’s old job as head of the European branch of Ordo Purpuratus. Or perhaps he was on the run, hiding from the rest of the Ordo who were after him because his failed ritual had killed their leader. But either way, Stone had about as much chance of finding him and getting anything useful out of him as he had of figuring out the secrets of time travel.

  But…

  He sat up straighter as another thought struck him.

  Yes, talking to Brathwaite was out of the question, even if he wanted to. But there was at least one other person involved in that incident.

  One other person who was still alive after all this time.

  He let his breath out. Last time they’d talked, Aldwyn had told him if he wanted to speak again, he had only to make it known he was interested. He had no idea how that worked, but he didn’t doubt his dragon ancestor had ways of keeping tabs on him.

  But did he want that? Was he ready to open that can of worms over this? Was a chance of discovering the pyramid’s secret worth renewing a relationship with someone who had likely been responsible for murdering the forty-plus innocent people who’d been interred beneath the Surrey house?

  Damn it, I don’t know. He stroked Raider’s head, and the cat stretched out along his leg and purred louder. “I don’t know, Raider…” he murmured. “I’m tired. Suppose we head upstairs and try to get some sleep? Well…I suppose you’re already getting some sleep. Nothing keeps you from your nap schedule, does it?” He rose heavily from the couch, picked Raider up, and settled him in the crook of his arm.

  As interesting as this problem was, it could wait until morning.

  He woke earlier than usual after an uneasy sleep marred by strange dreams of bizarre symbols, zombie dragons, and Raider perched on top of a giant version of the black pyramid.

  When he checked his phone, he found a text from Jason: Call me when you get up.

  He called on his way downstairs. “What’s up?”

  “Talked to Gina. She’s fixed the photos and put them on an anonymous server for you. Got a pen? I could text you the address, but I don’t want you to click on it.”

  “Er…hang on.” He reached the kitchen and grabbed a pad. “Okay, go.”

  Jason carefully dictated a link, then made him repeat it to make sure he’d got it right. “Just give that to Blum when you talk to him.”

  “Thank you, Jason.” Stone opened a can of food for Raider and put it on a plate. “I never asked you—what does Gina think of all this bizarre stuff we ask her to do? Does she ever get suspicious?”

  “She’s curious. What hacker isn’t? But I think she enjoys the challenge. Beats the hell out of poking through a bunch of dusty old government and work records, looking for proof somebody’s up to something.”

  “I suppose so. As long as you trust her…”

  “I do. She’s worked out better than I had a right to hope. She’s a good kid.”

  “All right, then. Thank you for the information. I’ll talk to Blum today.”

  “Keep me up to date with what’s going on. Gina’s still looking for that McGrath stuff. She has to fit it in around regular work, of course, but I’ll text you if she gets anywhere with it.”

  He had another of Greene’s classes later today, so he called Blum right away. “Detective. How have you been?”

  “Hey, Stone. Long time. Crazy busy as usual. Don’t tell me—you’ve got some weird magical problem you want to dump on me.”

  “Well…I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. But there is something I thought you might be able to help me with.”

  “Wait. Hold on.” He heard a door closing, and then: “Does this have anything to do with what happened at Stanford?”

  Stone smiled. Good old Blum, always on top of things. “How did you guess?”

  “Hmm. Let’s think. Room full of oddball stuff gets broken into and a part-time Occult Studies professor gets whacked over the head. Can’t imagine why I’d think you’d be involved. Only reason I haven’t called you yet is because I’ve been up to my ass in the cases they actually pay me to work on.”

  “Yes. Well. As it happens, I am involved. The man who was injured is a friend of mine. He used to be my student.”

  “He doing okay?”

  “He has a serious concussion, but I think he’ll be all right.”

  “So…” Blum dropped his voice. “Is this one of those kinds of crimes?”

  Stone hesitated, suddenly uncomfortable with revealing the details over the phone, and realizing he didn’t have to. “Detective…could we meet somewhere? I’d rather do this in person.”

  Now it was Blum’s turn to hesitate. “I’m pretty busy. Can you come up here? Only time I’ve got free today is in an hour. That’s cutting it close.”

  “No, no, I can make it. Name the place and I’ll be there.”

  “You sure?” He gave Stone an address. “I can’t wait if you’re late. I can only spare like twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll be there, Detective. See you then. Cheers.”

  He hung up before Blum could ask any more questions.

  The location the detective had chosen for the meet was a coffee shop a few blocks from the precinct. It was also, to Stone’s relief, only two miles from a ley line. He took a cab to the shop and was waiting there when Blum arrived.

  “Holy shit, that was fast.” Blum dropped into the seat across from St
one in the back of the shop.

  The place was packed. Stone normally didn’t like crowds, but in this case the loud hubbub and clanking dishes covered their conversation. Even so, he quickly put up his “cone of silence” spell to make sure no one overheard them. “Good to see you, Detective,” he said, ignoring the other man’s statement. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

  “Well, like I said, you better make it quick.” He glanced at his watch. “I gotta be in court in less than an hour, and unlike you, apparently, I can’t fly across town on my broom or whatever you did to avoid traffic.”

  “That’s fine. Let’s get to it, then. In answer to your question on the phone, yes, I do believe the break-in at the University was magic-related. And I think I know what they were looking for.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Blum’s interest perked up. “What’s that?”

  Stone took out his phone, cued up the best photo of the pyramid, and pushed it across the table. “That.”

  Blum looked at Stone, then at the photo, then back up at Stone again. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why do you have a photo of it?”

  “Because I’ve got it in my possession.”

  “What the fuck?” He glanced around to make sure nobody had noticed his outburst, then aimed a glare at Stone. “Are you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’? That you’re the one who took somethin’ out of that room?”

  “Yes. And before you’re tempted to arrest me, hear me out.” He quickly told Blum the rest of the story. The only part he left out was the exact nature of the pyramid, describing it only as a “powerful and potentially dangerous magical item, best not allowed to fall into the wrong hands.”

  Blum let his breath out in a loud, frustrated sigh. “You’re a piece of work, Stone, you know that? So you took it away so you could study it, and later on somebody broke in looking for it, didn’t find it, and bashed your friend over the head.”

  “Well, I suspect he probably hit Greene before he knew it wasn’t there. I think Greene surprised him, and he panicked.”

  “Okay…” Their coffee arrived, and Blum paused to sip from his mug. “So what do you want me to do about it? You still have the thing, right?”

  “For now, yes.”

  “What’s that mean? You’re expecting somebody to steal it from you?”

  “No. I plan to study it, until I’ve figured out what it is and what its purpose is. I believe there might be at least one other related item, which probably isn’t in the same collection. I’ve looked over the auction catalog, and didn’t notice anything that looked suspicious.”

  “So you’re gonna give it back?”

  “We’ll see. I’m still working that out. I honestly don’t think it’s inherently valuable to mundanes. It’s old, yes, but it’s not made of gold or precious stones or anything.”

  “You know that doesn’t matter, right? Theft is theft, even if it’s a piece of gum.”

  “True. But that isn’t the point. That’s not why I asked you here, and our time grows short.”

  “Okay, then why did you ask me here?”

  “Because I found the thief last night.”

  Again, Blum looked at him sharply. “You did?”

  “I did.”

  “Where is he? You…uh…haven’t got him chained up in your basement or something, do you?”

  “No. I tracked him to a bar in Mountain View, and unfortunately he got away from me. He’s definitely magically talented.”

  “He got away from you? How’d that happen?”

  “Crowded bar—and I think he spotted me. But…” He retrieved his phone, scrolled forward to the first of the photos he’d taken last night, and pushed it back. “I got some photos. I thought perhaps you might run them through whatever databases you police types use for that sort of thing, and figure out who he might be.”

  Blum gaped at him. “Stone…”

  “Yes. I know.” He tapped his watch. “Tick-tock, Detective. Can you do it?”

  “Uh—yeah. I guess. I haven’t got a fucking clue how I’m going to explain my interest, but I’ll do it. Can you send me the pics?”

  “No, but I’ll give you this.” He took out the slip of paper with the address Jason had given him.

  “What’s this?”

  “Secure, anonymous server. You’ll find copies of all the photos, with the…er… identifying information removed.”

  Blum grinned. “Jason’s finally gettin’ through to you, I see.”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

  The detective tucked the paper into his wallet. “Yeah. Okay. The pics aren’t great, but we might be able to get something. What do you want me to do if I find him? This isn’t exactly my jurisdiction.”

  “Honestly, my preference is for you to give me the information. I told you—this man is a mage, and he’s obviously dangerous since he nearly killed Mr. Greene. I wouldn’t want any of your colleagues’ blood on my conscience.”

  “You make it really hard to do my job. You know that?”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault you decided to reveal to me that you’re aware of the magical world. Find me someone else in law enforcement who is and who’s willing to work with me, and I’ll back off. But this is important, Detective.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll look into it, like I said. If I find anything, though, what I do with it depends on what it is.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Blum leaned in closer. “But I will tell you one thing, though, and you didn’t hear this from me.”

  “What’s that? And you needn’t worry about anyone overhearing us.”

  He looked around like he expected to see a magical cloud swirling around them, but he resumed his former position. “Remember I told you I thought maybe you might be involved in this mess?”

  “Yes…”

  “Well, I’ve been watchin’ it, just in case. Did you know another professor’s place got broken into yesterday afternoon?”

  “It doesn’t surprise me.”

  “That right?” Blum looked disappointed. “I thought that’d be new information.”

  “I was actually expecting it. Janice Inouye, right? Anthropology department?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. How’d you know?”

  “Remember when I said I was tracking the thief? You didn’t ask me how. You’re slipping, Detective.” Stone gave him an amused smile to take the edge off his words.

  Blum waved him off. “I don’t even wanna know how you people do what you do. But you were tracking him? You mean you expected him to break into somebody’s house?”

  “Either Inouye’s or mine, yes. Possibly both, but any mage worth his salt wouldn’t dare try breaking into my place.”

  “Why her?”

  “She was the only other person who signed the log sheet outside the room after I did. The one, I might add, that the thief took with him after he left the storeroom.”

  “Shit.” Blum stared into his coffee. “Nobody else on that sheet?”

  “Just one, a couple days before me. Dr. Inouye was in after me, and Greene later that same evening. The thief broke into her place yesterday afternoon, according to my tracker. Probably trying to make sure nobody was home. I’m not sure whether that means he’d rather not cause any more injuries, or if it was simply more convenient not to have to deal with anyone.” He looked up at Blum. “Did you see the police report? I hope he didn’t cause any damage.”

  “No. Looks like a pro. Her husband got home and found the drawers tossed, that kind of thing, but no major damage. Likely the guy got in and out pretty fast.”

  “That tracks with what I know. My tracker went off when he entered the house, and it was only an hour or so later that I found him at that bar.”

  “Okay.” Blum stood. “I’m not sure whether to thank you or not. This sure as hell sounds like another one of those cases the mundane cops aren’t gonna have much chance at. Are you sure this doodad is dangerous? If it isn’t and it’s not valuable, maybe it would be better just
to let them have the damn thing. Better that than risking anybody else gettin’ hurt.”

  “That’s the thing, though: I’m not sure whether it’s dangerous. I doubt it would be dangerous to mundanes, but if I’m right and it’s part of a larger artifact, and I’m right about what that artifact might be capable of, there are definitely people out there I don’t want getting hold of it.”

  “So what do you suspect it’s part of? What do you think it does?”

  Stone paused, trying to decide if he wanted to give Blum that much information. He supposed it couldn’t hurt. After all, the people who were looking for it almost certainly already knew or suspected what it was. That was why they were looking for it. “This is just speculation. But based on my and some friends’ limited research, I suspect it might be an item that can nullify or attenuate magical energy.”

  Blum’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. That’s huge.”

  “Hence my concern, and my unwillingness to let this thing out of my hands until I’ve got more information.”

  “No, no, you’re not gettin’ it, Stone. That’s not just huge for magical people. Depending on how it works, it might be huge for us mundanes too. Remember all that stuff Verity was going on about a while back, about doing something about magical criminals?”

  Stone stared at him. He’d been so focused on the magical applications of the item, he hadn’t even considered the broader ones. “You’re right. If we manage to locate the components of this thing—assuming they still exist, of course—or work out how to build new ones, it could potentially lead to a way to incarcerate mages.” Inwardly, he shivered a bit. The idea of being held in a cell at the mercy of mundane law enforcement didn’t appeal to him in the slightest, but he couldn’t deny the potential usefulness of such a capability.

  “Yeah. If that kind of magical tech exists somewhere, maybe someday that might be a reality.”

  “Well. You might be right, but I wouldn’t hold my breath about it. As I said, I’m not even one hundred percent certain I’m right about there being another component. If this little thing is all there is, the best we might hope for is using to wipe a few magically-written papers, or possibly conceal small, weak magic items. It’s possible it’s only useful for study purposes.”