by R. L. King
Stone sighed. “All right. Thank you, Kerrick. We’ll head off now. I’d prefer if Verity and I weren’t seen by any of the rest of the staff, until we’ve properly flown here. Please don’t let anyone else know we’re here.”
“Of course, sir.”
Stone took Imogen’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Anything you need—anything I can do for you, either of you—please don’t hesitate to ask.”
As they passed through the wards into the restricted part of the house, Verity spoke for the first time since they’d arrived at Caventhorne. “What are we looking for, specifically?”
“I want to check the area where we found him, to see if any of that odd energy is lingering about. Then we’ll do a quick check of the rest of the hidden areas—they’re quite extensive, so we won’t have time to do a thorough check now. And I’ll want to at least take a look around the London place.”
“Okay. Just let me know what you want me to do.” She followed him in silence down the hall, but spoke again as they reached Desmond’s office. “So…you almost married her.”
Stone stopped in the doorway. “Imogen? Yes. A long time ago.”
“Don’t mind me. I figure you’ll let me know if I’m being too nosy.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s not a secret. Desmond was quite keen on getting us together, and fairly disappointed when it didn’t work out. But we’ve been dear friends ever since.”
“Yeah, I can see that. I’m glad you’re here for her. It’s horrible, losing your dad like that, so suddenly.”
Stone didn’t reply, remembering that Verity’s own father, a cop, had died several years ago during a stakeout while she’d still been under care for her mental illness. Instead, he continued into the room.
“So,” he said briskly, “take a look around and see if you can spot the energy you noticed on Desmond. If you do, let me know right away.”
“Got it.”
Stone knew they didn’t have time for as thorough an examination as he would have liked, but it made sense to focus the bulk of their efforts on the scene of Desmond’s death. While Verity poked around the office, deep into magical sight, Stone sat at the desk and looked over the books Desmond had been reading. Perhaps something in one of them would offer a clue.
There were five, three of them open and two closed. One of the open ones was in front of the chair, in a position to suggest it was the one Desmond had been reading. He’d probably been using the other four as references. Also present was the leatherbound notebook and fine fountain pen Stone had spotted when he’d initially discovered Desmond’s body. He shifted to magical sight and examined it, but aside from the expected magical traces around two of the books, he saw no other sign of magic.
The light on the desk was still on, since the room had no windows. Stone used a light spell to check the area beneath the desk to make sure Desmond hadn’t dropped anything, then sat down in the chair and took a closer look at the notebook.
He instantly recognized Desmond’s precise, firm hand. The difference between Desmond’s neat, legible handwriting and Stone’s own mad scrawls had been an ongoing—not joke exactly, because Desmond never indulged in anything as common as a joke—topic of discussion between them, where Desmond had suggested Stone’s messy writing was indicative of a disorganized mind, while Stone had countered by accusing Desmond of being fussy and hidebound. A twinge of grief-tinged regret washed over him as he realized they’d never have that particular conversation again.
“Did you find anything?” Verity asked.
He looked up from the notebook. “Not yet. Did you?”
“I’m not seeing any indication of that energy around here. Not even right where we found him. If it was here at all, it’s gone now.” She sounded troubled, as if she felt she’d failed somehow.
“It’s all right. Let me take a closer look at these books, and then we’ll look around the rest of the area.”
“Take your time. I’ll poke around a little more.”
The notebook was open to a page half filled with careful diagrams and notes, but to Stone’s disappointment, none of them seemed out of the ordinary. As he flipped through the previous few pages, it became clear that Desmond had been working on a perennial subject of interest: short-range teleportation. It was one of those things most scholarly mages worked on, and as far as Stone knew, none of them had made any progress on it. Even Desmond had admitted, in as close as he ever showed to frustration, that it might not even be possible. But in any case, it certainly wasn’t unusual for him to have been pursuing research on it in his spare time. On page Stone had found open, a word stopped half-written, followed by a jagged black line where the pen had been dragged across the page. It appeared that whatever had stricken Desmond had done so in mid-sentence, with little warning.
Stone took a cursory glance through the four books, focusing on the open pages and looking for any notes Desmond might have slipped inside, but at last he sighed and tossed the last one back on the desk.
“Nothing,” he said. “Every indication I can see suggests he was just doing some normal research when it hit him.”
“Yeah,” Verity agreed, putting a book back on the shelf. “I’m not seeing anything sinister here either, Doc. Maybe he just…died.”
“Perhaps he did,” Stone said. “It does happen. I guess I just never expected it to happen to Desmond. I sometimes used to refer to him as a force of nature. I thought he’d be around long past when the rest of us were dead and buried.”
“I’m really sorry, Doc. I know he meant a lot to you.”
Stone gave her a brisk nod. The one thing he didn’t have time to do right now was dwell on his own grief. “Come on, then. Let’s look around a bit more, and then I’ll let Imogen and Kerrick know we’re heading home. There’s not much else we can do around here if we can’t let ourselves be seen.”
Verity looked like she might say something, but then looked away and remained silent.
Over the next few hours, they examined the warded areas of Caventhorne, then took the portal to the London house and looked around here. Verity remained mostly silent, following Stone and lending her magical sight to the effort, but when they finished, they hadn’t found anything he hadn’t expected to find.
He dropped into a chair and ran his hand through his hair with a loud sigh. “I suppose I could poke around here for the next several days, but there hardly seems a point, does there?”
Verity put a hand on his arm. “I get it,” she said gently. “You want to find something, so there’s something you can do. Something you can fight. But…” She hesitated, almost as if unsure she wanted to say her next words. “…maybe we should go home so you can come back and be there for your friends. If there’s nothing here to find…”
He brought his gaze up to meet hers. “You’re right, of course,” he said at last, though he didn’t want to admit it. “I suppose I’m just not ready to admit that someone like Desmond could be brought down by something as simple as his own body failing him. I mean, he was hardly the saving-the-world type, but I always expected I’d eventually hear some ritual got away from him and something nasty from another dimension carried him off.”
She squeezed his shoulder. “Yeah…from what you told me about him, I can see that. I know you want to do something. But sometimes being there for the people who need it is good too, you know?”
He gave a faint, bitter chuckle. “You mean like you’re doing for me, right now?”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” she said wryly. “Come on, Doc—let’s go. I know how much you love long plane rides, so let’s get it over with.”
He stood. “You don’t have to come, you know. I’ll be fine. You know that.”
“I do know that. But I’ll come anyway. Unless you don’t want me to, of course.”
“I do want you to. You should at least be there for
the service. If nothing else, I can introduce you to some of my old friends.”
They returned to California through the portal later that afternoon. Imogen had gone into town to attend to some business with the local authorities, so Stone told Kerrick he and Verity would return as soon as they could get a flight back over, allowing for the time change.
“You should probably plan to stay for at least a week,” Stone told Verity. “Popping back and forth is possible, but it’ll play hell with your system.”
“Yeah. I’ll give Jason a call and let him know what’s up.”
With the time difference, it was the middle of the night in California. A Passage to India was closed; they left through the back door and locked up using Stone’s key. At this hour, the parking lot was empty except for the BMW.
When they got back to Palo Alto, they caught up on sleep until early morning, when Stone arranged for a flight that evening. He called Brandon Greene, the Occult Studies grad student who looked after Raider when he was away, then packed enough so it wouldn’t look suspicious even though he kept a full wardrobe back at his house in England.
A restless Raider attempted to “help” with this activity, climbing into the suitcase at every opportunity. Stone scratched his ears. “Sorry, my friend. I know this is all a bit confusing for you, but there’s no helping it.”
He reconvened with Verity, who’d been off running errands, in the mid-afternoon. “Did you get hold of Jason?”
“Yeah.” She came down the stairs, levitating her own suitcase to the living room. “He says he’s really sorry to hear about Mr. Desmond, and wants to know if you want him to tell Fran he needs time off to come along.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said we probably had this handled. I know how busy he is.”
“That’s fine. He’s welcome to come, but honestly he’ll probably be a bit bored since I’m planning to spend most of our spare time showing you around my magical library and introducing you to friends.”
“He figured that. I think he was a little relieved not to go, but you know he’s there if you need him.”
“Of course.” He eyed her suitcase. “Have you got any formal clothes?”
“Formal?”
“Well, you’ll need something to wear to the funeral—I promise you, Desmond’s crowd is as conservative and old-fashioned as they come, so you won’t get away with…well, anything I’ve ever seen you in.”
“Hmm…no, I don’t really have much call for anything more formal than the stuff I go clubbing in.”
“All right—we’ll add that to the itinerary, then. I’ll take you to London and we’ll pick up some things there. We’ll make a day of it if we’re not needed to help with arrangements. I doubt we will be—Kerrick will have things well in hand, and he and Imogen are the ones who’ll have to make most of the decisions. I’ll even take you to Tolliver’s—it’s one of the biggest magic shops in the world.”
“Sounds good. But Doc—please don’t feel like you need to keep me entertained. I know this is tough for you, and the last thing you need is me hanging around getting in your way. You just tell me what you want me to do, and I’m there.”
He gave her a faint smile. “Thank you, Verity. I do appreciate it. And you won’t be in my way, I promise. I’m—well, I’m glad you’re coming, to be honest. Going to London and showing you around will help me take my mind off things, which will beat the hell out of moping around the house trying to work out what else might have gotten Desmond.”
They flew out of SFO late that night. Stone had arranged first-class seats, so the flight was as pleasant and uneventful as a multi-hour intercontinental journey could be.
Stone did his best to sleep for as much of it as he could, though he didn’t succeed very well. His brain refused to stop teasing him with the possibility that whatever had killed Desmond, it wasn’t natural causes.
Verity, for her part, mostly left him alone, aside from casting concerned glances his way every now and then. She didn’t sleep much either, and spent most of her time listening to music or reading a thick paperback thriller she’d picked up at the airport.
They landed at Heathrow at around six p.m. local time, collected their luggage, and took a cab to Desmond’s London house. Stone had already called ahead to let them know of his and Verity’s arrival, so they were expected.
“Are Kerrick or Imogen here?” Stone asked the uniformed man who opened the door.
“No, sir. They’re both up at Caventhorne. We’re expecting them tomorrow. Will you be staying?” Despite the man’s air of unruffled calm, it wasn’t hard to spot his sadness. A quick glance at his aura revealed it without question.
“No, just passing through for now. We’ll be back tomorrow. Let them know, would you?”
“Of course, sir.”
As they headed further into the house with their bags, Verity asked, “Do all the people who work for Mr. Desmond know about magic? About the portal? Does he still hire people from magical families?”
“Yes. I’d be surprised if anybody working here or at Caventhorne didn’t know these days. Makes things easier than trying to explain all the odd happenings.”
Stone once again made the adjustments to the wards to allow Verity through (“I’ll have to spend some time soon doing some serious work on these…” he muttered as he did so) and they stepped through the portal to the one at Stone’s place.
Verity paused to look around the darkened graveyard before they set off toward the house. “This is your own private cemetery?” she asked. “It’s not for the town or anything?”
“No, just us. Goes back two or three hundred years—something like that.”
“Looks like it might be peaceful out here during the day. Being surrounded by your family…”
He shrugged. “I suppose so. I used to come out here sometimes when I was younger. But I never knew any of them—except my father, of course. Come on—let’s go. Aubrey’s expecting us.”
She caught up with him. “You never knew any of your family? Your grandparents?”
“No. My father’s parents were dead before I was born. I suppose my mum’s were as well.”
“You suppose?”
“My father never talked about them. I learned early not to ask—it seemed a bit of a sore spot all around. Remember, my father and I weren’t what you’d call close, emotionally speaking.”
“You never even asked Aubrey? He was around then, right?” When Stone didn’t answer, she said quickly, “I’m sorry—being nosy again. None of my business.”
“No, it’s all right—I just don’t have much to tell you. You have to understand—I didn’t exactly have a normal upbringing. My father shipped me off to boarding school as soon as he could manage it, when I was seven years old. Before that, I had nannies and tutors and such. He wasn’t exactly the hands-on parenting sort, except when it came to magic. He was away most of the time, and when we were home at the same time, during school holidays and such, our longest conversations were almost always about some aspect of magic. And even that didn’t happen until I was in my early teens.”
Verity didn’t reply, and when Stone didn’t elaborate she caught up with him and remained silent for the rest of the trip up to the house.
Aubrey was indeed waiting for them. As they approached, the exterior lights came on and he appeared in the doorway. “Good flight, sir?” he asked, stepping aside to let them in.
“Would have preferred the portal, but it couldn’t be helped. Any news?”
“Kerrick rang earlier today—the service is on Friday, at St. Paul’s in London. They’re expecting quite a large turnout.” As they entered the sitting room, he handed Stone a folded newspaper. “The press have already got the story, of course, so there’ve been several articles in the various papers.”
“Anything unusual? Speculations of foul play?�
��
“No, sir. Everything’s just as one might have expected.”
“Well, that’s something, I suppose.” Stone threw himself into a chair and scanned the paper. “Nothing else I should know?”
“No, sir, I don’t think so. Everything’s been—well, about as smooth as one might expect. People are shocked, of course—I doubt anyone expected Mr. Desmond to pass away so suddenly with no sign of ill health, so no one was prepared for what needed to be done. But you know Kerrick, sir: he’s already mobilized the staff, as well as Mr. Desmond’s business associates, and all the machinery is humming along with expected efficiency.”
Efficiency. Such a cold word for it—but so accurate, too. That was one thing about upper-class British society, especially from the old-fashioned, conservative circles Desmond occupied: they didn’t waste time on sentimentality. They got on with it, and did what needed to be done. Which, much as he would have preferred otherwise, Stone needed to do as well.
“All right, then. We’ll be heading back up tomorrow to see what we can do to help, and Verity and I will need to go into London so she can get some proper clothes for the service.”
“Yes, sir. If there’s anything I can do—”
“Thank you, Aubrey. Just keep things going here, and keep up with whatever calls come in. I’m sure there will be some sort of gathering, probably after the service, so someone will probably call here about it at some point.”
“Gathering, sir?”
“William Desmond was one of the most powerful and well known mages in Europe, which means I expect a lot of the magical community will turn up to pay their respects. And if that happens, I can guarantee they won’t miss the chance to get together and compare notes.” He shook his head. “We’re like a big extended family that way—everybody’s usually got some excuse or another, so we only get together for funerals.”
“Of course. I’ll keep on top of it, sir.”
