by R. L. King
She stared at him. “So you’re proposing—what—that you move Dad’s body somewhere else?”
“Yes. To another location in the house, somewhere it might have taken a while for him to be discovered, but that the authorities can enter safely.” He took her hand, and when he spoke again his voice did shake a little despite his best efforts to steady it. “Imogen…I know this is horrible. I can barely believe it’s happened myself, and I’m holding myself together more than you might realize, because I haven’t got a choice. This needs to be done. I know it’s not easy for you. But—before we can do it, we need your permission. With your father gone, it’s your call.”
“We?” she asked. “You and who else?”
“Kerrick will help me. It’s probably best if we keep this from the rest of the staff until it’s done.”
She looked down at her lap. “I can’t believe this is happening…”
“I know. I know. I wish more than anything it wasn’t. But I promise you, we’ll handle it in the most respectful way we can. You won’t have to—be involved at all.”
For a long time, she was silent, and then her gaze came up. Despite her pixieish appearance, there was nothing childlike in her expression. Like Stone, it was clear she knew what had to be done, and like Stone, she would do it.
“All right,” she said. “All right. How will you…?”
“I need to go back to Caventhorne,” he said. “Is anyone here who can drive you up there? I hate to leave you alone, but I can’t take you through the portal, and this needs to be done soon.”
She nodded. “I…I can have Dodson drive me.”
He pulled her back into his arms, and she came readily. He could feel her trembling. “Imogen…I’m so sorry…Do you want me to wait here with you until he arrives?”
“No…no, it’s fine.” Her voice sounded stronger now, though her aura belied it. “You do what you need to do, Alastair. What Dad needs.” Her arms tightened around him. “I’m so glad you’re here. If you hadn’t come…if you were away and we couldn’t find you…”
Stone felt a chill as he realized how easily that might have occurred—if this had happened when he’d been in Brunderville, Desmond could have lain undiscovered for several days. “I’ll take care of him, Imogen. I promise. I…I loved him too.”
It was probably the first time he’d ever admitted it, even to himself.
“I know you did. And he loved you.” She kissed his cheek. “We’ll talk later.”
He didn’t want to leave her, but he knew she wasn’t alone in the house—if she needed anything, the London house’s skeleton staff could help her. And the sooner he finished this, the better.
He’d made it back to the portal room before another thought occurred to him: No matter what he did, there was going to be evidence that Desmond’s body had been moved. Even if he used a levitation spell and didn’t touch it or change its orientation, he doubted he’d be able to carry it off flawlessly on his own. And if the police suspected the body was moved, that could cause as much trouble for the Caventhorne staff as if it wasn’t found at all.
He paused, thinking. He was familiar enough with Desmond’s wards and their structure that he was confident he could tweak them for a few seconds to allow someone through if necessary. But would there be any point in doing it? Kerrick would be no help in this case, and it would be better if he didn’t touch the body at all until it had been moved. Imogen was out of the question for too many reasons to count.
When the answer came to him, he initially rejected it, but as he hesitated in front of the portal, preparing to step through, he considered the potential inconvenience and discomfort of one person in light of what might happen if the authorities suspected some kind of cover-up.
He had to ask, at least. Though he had no idea if he’d get the response he wanted.
He hurried out to find Imogen so he could let her and Kerrick know he’d be late getting back to Caventhorne.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The lights were on at the townhouse when Stone pulled the BMW into the garage, and Verity’s little black SUV was parked in its usual place at the curb in front. Good—that meant she was home, and hadn’t decided to go out somewhere for the evening yet. It was a bit before six o’clock, California time.
She looked up from where she was stretched out on the couch in the living room, reading a book with Raider curled up on her stomach. “Hi, Doc. Did you find what you were looking for?”
She didn’t know. For a moment it seemed strange to him that anyone couldn’t know, as if the enormity of Desmond’s death should have echoed out and engulfed everyone around him. He rubbed his hand over his face. “Verity…I need to ask you something.”
“Go for it.” She swung around and sat up, shooing an indignant Raider off.
“I…want to ask for your help with something. But—I want you to know you can absolutely say no. I won’t hold it against you in the slightest if you do.”
She frowned, eyes narrowing. “Doc, what’s going on? Where did you go?”
“I told you—I went home.” He paused, trying to order his thoughts, to figure out a way to ask her such an unthinkable question. “But—what I’m going to ask you…I have no right to ask. I wouldn’t, if I had another option. But I don’t.”
“Are you okay?” She peered at him in the unfocused way that indicated she was examining his aura.
“No.” He threw himself into a chair opposite the couch. “I’m not okay. Things have gone terribly wrong, and if I don’t deal with them soon, they’ll go even more wrong in ways that will affect a lot more people.”
She leaned forward, her expression growing sharper. “Just tell me, Doc. Whatever it is, if I can help, I will. You know that.”
Damn, but I could use a drink right about now. “Remember we had that chat a while ago, when I told you about my apprenticeship?”
“Sure.”
“Well…the phone call was from William Desmond’s daughter, Imogen.”
“The one you almost married?” She leaned forward a little more.
He didn’t answer that. “She was calling to tell me her father had gone missing. She asked me to look for him, since there are warded sections in both his London house and Caventhorne that no one else can access.”
She nodded slowly. “And…did you find him?”
“I did.”
“And…?”
“He’s—he’s dead, Verity.”
She stared hard at him. “Oh…my God. What happened?”
“Not sure yet. That’s part of why I want your help. But not the main reason.”
“What is the main reason, then?”
He still didn’t want to say it. It all sounded so absurd—it certainly wasn’t the way most of the sane world dealt with finding a loved one’s body. Guilt sliced him like a knife as a wild random thought poked up, a reminder of some inane saying he’d heard from one of his students: Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies. Desmond’s memory deserved better than disrespectful thoughts like that.
“I need to move him out of the warded area,” he said after a long pause to once again get his thoughts in order. “And ideally, I need to do it in such a way that there’s no suspicion when he’s found.”
“Doc…” She spoke slowly, her gaze never leaving his face. “Are you saying…you want me to help you move your old master’s body?”
Her tone held no sharpness, no judgment, but even so her words pierced him. He bowed his head, gripping the arms of the chair. “I’m sorry, Verity. Forget I said anything. I should never have even—”
And then she was next to him, perching on the arm of his chair, pulling him into a hug. “Doc…” she murmured. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this…and so soon after Dr. Mortenson, too. This has got to be hell for you. Of course I’ll help you. I don’t know what I can do,
but—”
He didn’t raise his head, allowing himself to take comfort from her for just a moment. “I wish there were another way,” he said.
“It’s okay. Let me help you get through this, okay? Just tell me what I need to do.”
He pulled back, and she let him go. He hated having to do this, but if he must, perhaps her distance from it, her matter-of-fact, straightforward approach, might be just what he needed right now. He’d never been any good at leaning on anyone—he was usually the one other people leaned on, the one who, in the words of Kipling, “kept his head while those around him were losing theirs.” It wouldn’t be easy for him to deal with a situation in which the roles were reversed, but right now he had no choice.
Stone kept his thoughts fixed on Imogen, on Kerrick, on the rest of the staff at Caventhorne, many of whom had been there for longer than Stone had known Desmond…and on Desmond himself, whose memory he was determined to honor in the best way he could.
“Okay,” he said, standing. When she stood too, he gripped her shoulders and met her gaze head on. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yeah. I’m sure. What should I do?”
“Pack an overnight bag. I don’t know how long we’ll need to stay, but assume at least a day or so. I’ll do the same, and call the University to let them know I’ll be away. I’ll call Greene and ask him to stop by tomorrow to look after Raider. Can you be ready in half an hour?”
“I can be ready in ten minutes.” She squeezed his hand. “We’ll take care of this, Doc.”
“I know we will.”
They were back on the road in less than half an hour. Verity, subdued, sat in the passenger seat and didn’t talk much as they sped down 101 back toward Sunnyvale. Stone, his mind on what they’d have to do and still regretting the necessity of getting her involved, didn’t mind the silence.
“It’s too bad there isn’t a portal closer to your place,” she said as they pulled into the parking lot behind A Passage to India.
“Given that it’s the only one in California, it could be a lot worse.” He retrieved his overnight bag from the trunk and waited while she collected hers. It was a good thing Caventhorne would certainly be well stocked if he needed any ritual materials in England, since he hadn’t had a chance to replenish his supply—or replace his usual black leather duffel bag—since they’d been destroyed at Brunderville.
“Ever thought about building one?”
“Wouldn’t be practical. For one thing, I haven’t got that kind of money. And since I rent my place, I think the landlord might object to my building a teleportation portal in the attic.”
“Good point,” she admitted, and subsided into silence again.
The restaurant was in the middle of its dinner rush, so once again they didn’t interrupt Marta as they headed to the back room.
“I just realized,” Verity said as Stone calibrated the portal. “I’ve never even seen your place.”
“I forgot about that. Not sure you’ll see it this time, actually—we’re going straight to Caventhorne.”
“I’d like to, sometime. Jason says it’s huge and spooky.”
“It is that—but Caventhorne is larger. Perhaps not quite as spooky. It’s in better repair, anyway.” He finished the calibration and turned back to her. “I have to warn you about something, though—as I mentioned, the wards are set to immobilize anyone who tries to cross them without authorization. So that will probably happen when you go through. Don’t be alarmed.”
Her eyes widened. “How will you deal with that? Do you even know you can?”
“I’m sure I can. I know how Desmond’s wards work—I’ve made minor adjustments to them in the past. I’m just letting you know you might feel odd for a few minutes until I get them sorted.”
“Well—uh—thanks for the warning, I guess.”
They stepped through together, and a few seconds later emerged into the familiar portal room at Caventhorne. As soon as Verity stepped through, exactly what Stone had expected happened: she stopped moving in mid-step, eyes wide, one foot hovering a few inches above the floor. A faint glow flickered around her.
Stone shifted to magical sight and the ward sprang into visibility, its ordered, mathematically-perfect lines disrupted by the addition of Verity’s unexpected energy. He carefully took hold of the threads and shifted them away from her, and a moment later she tumbled forward. Her breath came out in a rush as he caught her before she fell.
“Whoa,” she panted. “That was weird.”
Stone paused to repair the small breach in the ward before speaking. “Sorry about that. No helping it.”
“You said you were the only one who could get through them. Couldn’t you do that—” she waved her hand, indicating the area around her “—so other people can get through too?”
“Eventually, yes. At some point I’ll have to make some alterations to allow others access. But right now we’ve got more pressing concerns. Stay here a moment—I need to go find Kerrick. Don’t go wandering about—you could get lost.”
“Don’t worry—I’m not going anywhere.”
By now it was nearly four a.m., but Kerrick was still downstairs. Though he looked wide awake, a quick glance at his aura revealed fatigue overlaid with a deep grief he clearly wasn’t allowing himself to experience yet. There seemed to be a lot of that going around Caventhorne at present.
“Kerrick…”
Kerrick spun, and relief wreathed his face. “You’re back, sir. I’d begun to worry—”
“I had to go home and get my apprentice. She’s going to help me with…what needs to be done. Have you got a location?”
He nodded soberly. “The staff has searched the entire house. They’ll have to be told, of course.”
“You haven’t told anyone yet?”
“No. You and I are the only ones who know. And Miss Desmond, of course.”
“Is she here?”
“No, sir. She rang and said she’d be arriving soon.”
“How…is she doing?”
“I think she’s still in shock, sir. As am I, to be honest.”
Stone nodded. “I think we all are, Kerrick. Where do you—”
“I think…the attic would be best, sir. I don’t think anyone’s searched there, because the part that isn’t warded is just used for storage. Old furniture and such. He’d have no need to be there.” He bowed his head. “I hate to lie to the authorities, sir, but—I could ‘remember’ that he’d mentioned something about wanting to locate something up there.”
“Yes…all right. It will have to do. Do we need to be concerned about the rest of the staff?”
“Not if we move quickly, sir. They’ve all gone to bed in the other wing.”
“All right, then. I’ll move as quickly as I can. Verity and I will take care of it—you make sure no one disturbs us.”
Kerrick assured him he would, and Stone hurried back to meet Verity at the portal. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Not far. Follow me.”
It took only a couple of minutes to reach the office. Verity didn’t ask any questions, though she was clearly curious about what she was seeing. Stone pushed open the door.
Desmond’s body was exactly as Stone had left it. He stepped into the room and moved aside.
Verity gasped and gripped Stone’s arm.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah…” she whispered. “I’m okay. What—are we doing, exactly?”
“We need to move him up to the attic—and preferably in such a way that it’s not obvious he’s been moved. I don’t know how difficult that will be.”
She crouched down and examined the body. “I’m not an expert or anything, but I’ve done some reading, and a little study with Edna about it. It won’t be easy to fool the cops. Give me a second…” Her gaze fuzzed out as she switch
ed to magical sight.
Stone alternated between watching her and looking down at Desmond’s body, his nerves jangling and his body thrumming with energy. He wanted to get on with this, get it over with so he didn’t have to look at his old master anymore. That was the thing about being the sort of person who dominated any scene by sheer force of personality: when that personality, and the life force that drove it, departed, what remained seemed even more like an empty shell than even a normal dead body would. It might have been that, or it might have been the fact that Stone had respected very few people in his life as authority figures, and Desmond was probably the most prominent of those, even over his own father. Either way, his discomfort with being in Desmond’s presence now was profound. It almost seemed like a shameful intrusion on the man’s privacy.
“Doc…?” Verity asked softly. She’d risen back to a standing position and was regarding the body thoughtfully.
“Yes?”
“I think there’s something I can do. I’m not sure it’ll work, but it’s worth a try if you agree.”
“What have you got in mind?”
“Well…the problem with moving bodies is that—well—I don’t want to go into gory details, but I’m sure you know what I’m getting at.”
“Yes. The blood pools a certain way, and if that’s disturbed—”
“Yeah. Then they’ll know he’s been moved. But I think maybe I might be able to use magic to put his body into a kind of suspended state for a few seconds. If we can levitate him onto some kind of flat surface and move that, it might not show much.”
He stared at her. She had come a long way since she’d gone off to study with Edna. “You can do that?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never tried it before, to be honest. But I know the principles. The worst that will happen if it doesn’t work is that it’ll look like he’s been moved—but that will happen anyway, right?”
