Necessary Sacrifices

by R. L. King

  “That’s not bad, is it? What’s wrong with self-reliance?”

  “Nothing. But nobody can be self-reliant all the time. You’d go crazy. A lot of people do, when they try it.”

  “So you think I’m crazy, then, do you?” He smiled a little, deliberately injecting a light tone into his words.

  She looked down into her tea.

  “Verity?”

  “No. I don’t think you’re crazy. I don’t joke about that. Not after—what happened to me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, it’s okay.” She looked up again. “Look—all I’m saying is that there’s no shame in letting somebody be there for you. I don’t know what you think will happen if you do, but I promise—it won’t happen with me. You’ve done so much for me, Doc—helped me so much over the years. Jason, too. Maybe it’s time to let me return the favor.”

  He didn’t answer for a while. He met her gaze for a moment, then let his own wander over the restaurant. “I’ll—keep that in mind. I promise. But for now, we should get going. Once we get to Tolliver’s, I doubt I’ll be able to drag you away.” He pulled out his mobile phone and checked it to make sure he hadn’t missed any calls.

  “We’ll see,” she said.

  He paid the check and they rose to leave. Stone watched her as she gracefully slipped between tables on her way out of the restaurant. “Verity?”

  She turned back. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  She smiled. “No problem, Doc.”

  “So how do you hide a huge magic store in the middle of London? Is it like those books where you have to tap the right brick and there’s a whole secret magical shopping street? Or…” she added with a sly look back over her shoulder at Stone, “is it in a basement?”

  “No,” he said in exasperation. “It’s not in a basement. And there’s no magical shopping district. In fact, the entrance is exactly where you’d expect it to be, if you think about it.”

  She grinned. “Platform nine and three quarters?”

  He only sighed. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

  “Nope.”

  They took the Tube, then walked two blocks to a narrow street lined with tiny, quaint shops and old apartment buildings. When Stone stopped in front of one of them, Verity laughed. “Oh. I get it now.”

  The sign above the shop read Haverford’s Magical Supply Co., est. 1897. The shop’s façade was unassuming: a single display window packed full of what looked like antique magical gear: top hats, balls, cups, feathers, cloths in colors faded from their former brightness. Behind these hung several yellowed posters advertising long-ago magic shows, including one by Harry Houdini at the Alhambra Theater. The door was covered with more posters and flyers for current magic performances, so it was impossible to see inside the shop from the street.

  Stone pushed it open and waved Verity in ahead of him, then closed it behind them.

  They stood now in a small antechamber, its walls lined with more posters and flyers and lit by old-fashioned fixtures designed to look like gaslamps. To the left, an open doorway revealed a flight of stairs leading upward. The sign above the doorway read Haverford’s – One Flight Up.

  Verity’s brow furrowed. “Up there?”

  “What do you think?” Stone asked, with a challenging smile.

  She frowned and started in that direction, then stopped and returned to the center of the small room, where Stone obligingly stepped out of her way. She paused a moment, scanning the entire room, then stopped as her gaze fell on the wall opposite the doorway. She grinned. “Nice. I like it.”

  Stone shifted to magical sight. On the wall she faced, the posters and flyers faded behind bright symbols and text visible only to those who knew how to look. This Way To Tolliver’s, the text read, above a poster featuring a bearded old man in wizard’s robes. The man’s hands were raised, bright green glows that only appeared to magical sight blooming around them. “Press them,” he told her.

  Looking intrigued, she put her palms against both of the glows, and pushed. Instantly, the wall shimmered and went semi-transparent, revealing a narrow hallway beyond.

  “This is pretty damn cool,” Verity said, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. “Do we just go through?”

  “Go on. The wall’s an illusion.”

  Moving with only a little hesitation, she walked through the wall, and Stone followed her. Together, they followed the narrow hall, also lined with magical sigils, through a couple of twists and turns until it opened into another doorway.

  Tolliver’s took up far more space than one might have expected when looking at the Haverford’s storefront. In fact, Stone knew, the people who owned the magic shop also owned several of the adjacent buildings, giving them a lot of room to spread out unobtrusively.

  He glanced at Verity, watching her face light up in amazement as she took in the rows of shelves, collections of odd items hanging from the walls and suspended from the ceilings, and the light classical music that played unobtrusively through unseen speakers. The air smelled of wood, incense, a little dust, with a faint, far-off whiff something vaguely biological.

  The shop was an intriguing combination of the old and the new—for the most part, with its wooden floors, old-style shelving, and crowded aisles, it looked like a cross between hundred-year-old apothecary’s shop and a teeming bazaar. Still, modern touches like a pair of televisions (one tuned to a football match) and a modern cash register behind the cluttered counter reminded visitors that they had not left the twenty-first century completely behind when they entered.

  “This place is amazing,” Verity said.

  Stone chuckled. “I thought you might think so. Go on—take a look around. I’ve been here many times, so none of it’s new to me. Stay as long as you like. I’m sure I can keep myself amused.”

  There weren’t many customers browsing the shop; due to the place’s extended hours, it was rare to find more than three or four at any given time. Occasionally a larger group would come through, but those were almost always passing through from somewhere else. Right now, Stone counted three others that he could see, along with the two clerks—a tall, thin man in a formal black suit, and a young woman with pink hair, a Misfits T-shirt, and multiple facial piercings.

  The latter approached them with a welcoming grin. “Wotcha, Dr. Stone. Haven’t seen you for a while.”

  “Hello, Margery. How are you?”

  “Doin’ okay, doin’ okay.” She eyed Verity. “Who’s this, then?”

  “Verity’s my apprentice. We’re doing the sightseeing thing today. I’ve been telling her she had to see Tolliver’s, so—”

  “Oh, right! Yeah, can’t miss us!”

  “Why don’t you show her around a bit?” Stone asked. “And have you got any new books in?”

  “Just today,” Margery said. “New stuff’s on the back wall—you know where.” She grinned at Verity. “C’mon, then. I’ll show you the cool bits.”

  Verity, with a final glance over her shoulder at Stone, allowed herself to be led off.

  “Take your time,” he called after her. He watched fondly as the two of them headed off down a narrow aisle, already chatting away like old friends. He suspected his apprentice would get more out of the trip with Margery as a tour guide—Tolliver’s included just about every kind of magical paraphernalia one might want to buy, including ritual components, everything you’d need for circle-casting, a full line of books in multiple languages, and specialized items for all the usual magical traditions and most of the unusual ones. No doubt Margery would be more clued in to what Verity might find interesting than he would.

  On his way to the back wall to look at the new books, he passed a large section devoted to druidic magic, smaller ones for Vodoun and Native American practices, and a series of shelves stacked with carefully sorted bones lab
eled by species and type. He knew from previous experience that other areas of the shop hidden by more illusions catered to even more esoteric—and dangerous—practices, and wondered if Margery would show Verity those. Tolliver’s didn’t judge—if it was magic, they carried what you needed to perform it, regardless of moral compass.

  It was nearly an hour before Verity returned, coming back down the aisleway alone this time. Amused, Stone noted her expression hovered somewhere between amazed and thunderstruck. Clearly the trip had been a success. “Enjoy your tour?”

  She nodded, looking breathless. “You weren’t kidding about this place. I could spend a couple days in here, easy.”

  He glanced down—she wasn’t carrying any bags. “Didn’t buy anything?”

  “I couldn’t figure out what to buy. I was like a kid in the world’s biggest candy shop. Everything looked interesting.”

  “That happens. And don’t worry—we can always come back. First time I came in here, to pick up something during my apprenticeship, old Desmond practically had to drag me out.” He nodded toward the bookshelf. “Anyway—I’ll be ready to go shortly. Just want to check out a couple more of these new books.”

  “Take your time.” She scanned the shelves, selected a book of her own, and began flipping through the pages.

  Stone, as often happened, quickly immersed himself in a fascinating tome describing some new, more efficient methods for constructing wards. At first, he didn’t hear Verity calling his name until she tapped him on the arm. “What?” he asked without looking up.

  “I think that guy over there is trying to get your attention.”

  Stone glanced up from the book he was paging through. At the other end of the aisle, a small, wiry man with brush-cut brown hair had put something back on a shelf and was waving at them.

  “Alastair!” he said, in a thick Cockney accent, hurrying over. “Didn’t expect to see you ’ere. Though I s’pose it shouldn’t be a surprise. I was so sorry to ’ear about Desmond.”

  “Eddie.” Stone clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you.” He indicated Verity. “This is Verity Thayer, my apprentice. Verity, this is Eddie Monkton. He’s an old friend, and he looks after the magical library here in London.”

  “Charmed, I’m sure,” Eddie said, turning his attention to Verity. “’eard a lot about you, I ’ave. ’igh praise, all, of course.”

  “Yes, well,” Stone put in. “I’m just showing Verity around a bit—she’s never been to London.”

  “You two’ll be ’ere for the service, yes?’

  “Yes, eventually. And also to do whatever we can to help out, though so far it doesn’t seem they need much help.”

  “No,” Eddie agreed. “I’m sure Kerrick and that lot have things well in ’and.” He tilted his head and his expression grew serious. “You all right, Stone?”

  Stone nodded. “I will be. It was quite a shock, to be sure, but…sadly, these things do happen.”

  “They do,” Eddie said, shaking his head ruefully. “Just never expected it of old Desmond, you know? I thought he’d outlive us all. Too bloody stubborn to die, I figured.”

  “I think that’s what we all thought.” Stone closed the book he’d been looking through and reshelved it.

  “’Ey,” Eddie said, “if you’re not too busy with the family, then why don’t you come to the pub tonight? Both of you. I’m sure Arthur would love to meet Verity, and it might do you good to get away from things for a bit and ’ave a pint or two.”

  Stone frowned. “I don’t know—”

  “Ah, c’mon, mate.” Eddie patted his arm. “We ’aven’t seen you for months.” He gave Verity a sly, sidelong glance. “We can tell your apprentice all the sordid stories of what you got up to during your University days.”

  Verity grinned. “That could be fun…”

  “Oh, you don’t know the ’alf of it,” Eddie said, matching her grin. “What do you say, Stone?”

  Stone sighed. He wasn’t going to win this one, and he knew it. But truth be told, a night away, relaxing with old friends, might be just what he needed before he had to prepare himself for what was to come. “All right, then. Assuming Imogen doesn’t need us for anything, of course.”

  “Of course,” Eddie assured him. “Say, ’alf nine?”

  “We’ll be there. I’ll ring you if that changes.”

  Imogen didn’t need them for anything. In fact, she told Stone when they arrived back at the house later that afternoon, she’d be away that evening with Blakeley. “I’m so sorry,” she told him. “It completely slipped my mind until I checked my schedule, but it’s a charity affair I committed to months ago. I could cancel, but they’re honoring Dad, and—”

  “No, no. You go on. Some old friends have invited us out this evening, so we’re set.”

  Verity had gone upstairs to sort out her new clothes, so they were alone in one of the house’s small sitting rooms. Imogen took both of Stone’s hands in hers and looked up at him, her expression troubled. “Alastair, about Clifford—”

  “What about him?”

  “Well—as I said, that wasn’t how I wanted you to find out. I was going to tell you next time you came over, but we’ve both been so busy—”

  He smiled and squeezed her hands. “Imogen. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m always happy to see you happy. You know that.”

  “I do, but—” She paused and pulled back, glancing out the window toward the street, then turned decisively back to him. “Have lunch with me tomorrow, will you? Just the two of us, if Verity won’t mind. I really do want to have a chance to talk with you, like old times. Things have been so crazy this week, and there are so many people around—”

  “Of course. I’d love to have lunch with you, if you can get away. Shall I see to reservations?”

  “No, no. I’m inviting you, so I’ll take care of it. Come by the London place at noon tomorrow, will you?” She paused again, looking more uncomfortable than he remembered her looking in years. “Everything’s going to change now, isn’t it, Alastair?”

  “Probably,” he conceded. “But you’ve got a lot of people who care about you. You’ll get through this.”

  “Oh, I will. Of course I will. These things always seem worse when you’re in the middle of them.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Tomorrow, then.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Stone and Verity’s cab pulled up in front of the Dancing Dragon Pub a few minutes after nine-thirty that night.

  “I’m getting quite an education,” she said, taking in the unassuming entrance and colorful sign hanging over the door. “First Tolliver’s, and now this. I’ve never been to a real British pub. Jason and I tried one of those chain places once, but I’m guessing it isn’t quite the same.”

  “No,” Stone agreed. “Not the same at all. There are quite a lot of pubs in London that cater to the tourist trade, trying to ‘out-British’ each other and such, but this is the real deal. Warts and all.”

  “And you’ve been coming here since you were in college? It is a mage pub? Are there mage pubs?”

  He pushed open the door and motioned her in ahead of him. “If there are, nobody’s told me about them. But I suppose this is as close as you’ll find in the city. I know quite a few of our lot come here, but usually not more than a few at a time.” He pointed. “Arthur and Eddie will be in the back room there.”

  She took her time going through, pausing to take in the dark wooden tables and bar, the low, heavy-beamed ceiling, and the eclectic collection of beer signs, football pennants, framed photos, and other decorations covering every square inch of the walls. A rock song Stone didn’t recognize but Verity probably would competed with two TVs over the bar playing two different football matches.

  Around them, most of the tables were occupied: the clientele was mostly men, but there were enough women—including
a couple groups of them at their own tables—that Stone didn’t feel like he was leading Verity into a den of lions.

  “This is pretty damn cool,” she pronounced as they reached the doorway to the back room. “I can definitely picture you sitting back here with your college buddies, getting drunk and checking out girls.”

  “There weren’t many girls here back then,” he said. “The owners are getting better about encouraging more women, though. And besides, we were all too busy getting drunk and discussing all sorts of mad magical theories to pay attention to anyone else.”

  “There they are!” a voice called. Eddie Monkton rose from a table near the far wall of the back room, raising his pint glass. “Thought you two got lost. But then, you were never on time to anything, were you, Stone?”

  The other man at the table also rose and lifted his glass. “Alastair. Good to see you.” A tall, handsome black man who looked to be around Stone’s age but with a calm, distinguished air that made him seem older, he wore a dark gray sweater under a sport jacket. “And this must be the apprentice we’ve been hearing so much about.”

  “We were beginnin’ to think you were makin’ ’er up,” Eddie said with a grin.

  Stone ignored Eddie. “Arthur, this is Verity Thayer. Verity, Arthur Ward.”

  Verity shook hands with Ward, and they all sat down. After the waitress took their orders, Ward grew serious. “I was so sorry to hear about Desmond, Stone. How are you holding up?”

  Stone wished everyone would stop asking him that, but he could hardly complain about it—everyone knew how close he and Desmond had been, and they were doing nothing more than being good friends.

  “I’m all right,” he said. “Mostly trying to help out Imogen and everyone, but it seems they don’t need much help. Shouldn’t have been surprised, really.”

  “No,” Ward agreed. “Still, it’s a shock and quite a shame.”

  Eddie seemed to pick up on the fact that Stone didn’t want to dwell on the Desmond situation tonight. “So,” he said to Verity with a cheeky grin. “Stone’s apprentice, are you? ’ow’s that workin’ out? I’m surprised you managed to put up with ’im this long.”