Necessary Sacrifices

by R. L. King

  “Well, he has his moments,” Verity said dryly.

  “He teachin’ you anythin’ worthwhile?”

  “Oh, a little here, a little there,” she said, shrugging. She kept her face deadpan, but the gleam in her eyes gave her away.

  “Three years now, is it?” Ward asked, with a questioning look at Stone.

  “Three, yes, though her apprenticeship has been a bit—unconventional. She spent a year studying with another teacher, who has a different philosophy to mine.”

  “Oh?”

  “Dr. Stone and I don’t always see eye to eye on our approaches to magic,” Verity said.

  Eddie chuckled. “You are different, Stone. I can only imagine what old Desmond would’ve done if you’d decided you ’ad a ‘different approach.’”

  “Probably shown you a different approach out the third-story window,” Ward said, but with clear fondness in his tone. He turned to Verity. “Has Stone told you about his time with Desmond?”

  “He did. Just a couple of weeks ago, actually. Told me how he almost got kicked out of his apprenticeship for disobeying orders. I wish I could have met Mr. Desmond.”

  Eddie eyed her leather jacket and spiky hair. “Not sure ’e would’ve approved of you—and I mean that in the most complimentary possible way. Damn good mage—best of the lot, to be sure—but I’m sure Stone told you ’e was a bit…uh…traditional. I’m still amazed ’e and Stone got on as well as they did. You might ’ave noticed Stone’s not exactly traditional.”

  “There’s been a clue or two,” Verity admitted.

  “So, is this your first time in London?” Ward asked.

  “First time out of the US, actually.”

  “Had to take a plane this time,” Stone said, as if that were a distasteful thing. “I don’t know how mundanes do it, honestly, having to fly everywhere in those things.”

  “Oh, right, I’m sure that first-class service was just terrible,” Eddie said with a grin.

  “Sod off.”

  For the next hour or so, Stone finally succeeded in dislodging his mind from focusing on the situation with Desmond. It was exactly what he’d hoped—that a few pints and some easy conversation with old friends would take him away for just a short while from what was coming in the next few days.

  For their parts, Ward and especially Eddie seemed to take to Verity like they’d known each other for years. Ward, as always, was the more reserved of the two, but cheeky Eddie regaled her with stories about the library in London, some of the more colorful characters—mage and mundane—he’d encountered in his travels, and stories of his own apprenticeship. He also flirted with her unmercifully, but in a benign, friendly sort of way that didn’t trigger any of Stone’s instincts to step in and protect his apprentice.

  Not that she needed protecting, of course. She gave as good as she got, her naturally dry, sarcastic nature playing perfectly off Eddie’s rough-edged charm. By the time they’d all finished their third pint, she and Eddie were laughing uproariously over a story he’d told her about how he, Stone, and Ward had used magic to arrange the skeletons from the anatomy lab in lewd poses in one of the professors’ offices. They’d narrowly escaped getting caught and kicked out of their respective universities.

  Verity grinned at Stone. “So you haven’t always been a grumpy old mage. Good to see you used to know how to have fun.”

  “Oh, you don’t know the ’alf of it,” Eddie told her. He tilted his head at Stone in an exaggerated way, as if weighing whether to say something. “How about it, Stone? Shall I tell ’er about that night in the West End, with that American exchange student…what was ’er name again? The one you were with right before you and Imogen got together?”

  Stone, feeling pleasantly tipsy by now, spread his hands. “Does it matter what I say? You’re going to tell her anyway, aren’t you?”

  “Bloody right I am!” Eddie punched Ward’s arm. “Remember, Ward? Oh, I wish we ’adn’t been pissed off our arses at the time and got pictures!”

  “If we hadn’t been pissed off our arses it never would have happened,” Ward reminded him. He wasn’t looking so serious and distinguished now; his wicked grin nearly matched Eddie’s.

  “What?” Verity demanded. “Come on—don’t tease me, guys. What did he do?”

  Eddie gave Stone a sidelong glance. “What was ’er name again, anyway?”

  “Damned if I remember. We weren’t together long. Jessica…Jessamy…something like that, I think.”

  “I don’t know, mate—the way you two were all over each other, I’m surprised—”

  “Put a sock in it, Eddie,” Stone growled.

  Verity laughed. “It’s okay, Doc. You were in college. Everybody’s a horndog in college. But what did he do?” she asked Eddie again.

  “Well…” he said slyly, still looking at Stone. “You know The Rocky ’Orror Picture Show, right?”

  “Sure. That’s the one where everybody dresses up and yells stuff at the screen.”

  “Right. Well—seems that Jessica or Jessamy or whatever ’er name was, she was really into it. There was a tatty little cinema in the West End where they’d show it every Saturday at midnight for months, and she liked to get all done up in fancy dress for it. Who’d she dress up as again, Stone? The bird with the Bride of Frankenstein ’air?”

  “Magenta,” Stone said in a monotone. “You know—I think this might be a good time to hit the loo—”

  As he started to rise, Eddie grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, laughing. “Not a chance, mate. Not gonna let you chicken out of this in front of your apprentice.” Once again he turned back to Verity, waving his pint glass until it sloshed. “So, right, Magenta. Anyway, one night we’d all ’ad a few too many and Jessica or ’ooever decided she wanted Stone to come along with ’er to one of these. And of course there was no way ’e could show up in ’is jeans and T-shirt.”

  Verity’s grin widened in surprise. “Wait a second—” She twisted to look at Stone next to her. “You mean you—”

  “You can’t prove it,” Stone said. “Nobody can prove it. There weren’t any pictures.”

  “Oh, there’s no need for pictures,” Eddie said. His own grin was so wide now that it threatened to split his face. “Not if you were there. It was a sight I’m gonna carry to my grave, it was.”

  Verity was now looking at Stone like a cat who’d just consumed a whole box full of canaries. “Okay, Doc. Out with it. Who’d you dress up as?”

  Stone downed a healthy swallow of his pint. “I’m not telling this story. Get it out of these two if you must know.”

  “All I’ve got to say is that Jessica or Jessamy or whatever ’er name is must have been truly spectacular in the sack,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “Either that or there are things about Stone none of us ever knew.”

  “Come on,” Verity urged, eyes shining. “Who?”

  “Go on, then, guess.” Eddie nodded toward Stone.

  She eyed him. “Well, I don’t think even drunk out of his mind anybody’d ever convince him to do Rocky. Sorry, Doc, but I’m guessing a gold lamé Speedo and wrestling boots aren’t your jam.”

  “Thank you,” he muttered. “Nice to know I haven’t completely lost your respect.”

  She gave him a quick one-armed hug. “Not gonna happen, Doc, don’t worry. But—hmm. I’m gonna go with Riff-Raff, I think, if she was Magenta.”

  Eddie erupted in laughter. “If only!”

  Even Ward was trying hard to hide a grin.

  Stone stared into his pint glass.

  “Oh, no, not even close!” Eddie spluttered out between laughs. “Didn’t I say Jessica must’ve been great in bed? No, m’dear, she managed to convince this bloke right ’ere—the bloke you’re trusting to teach you magic—to go full Frank. And I mean full Frank.”

  Ward’s shoulders were shaking. “She d
id him up right and proper.”

  Verity’s mouth dropped open and her eyes got huge. She gaped at Stone. “You’re kidding.”

  “Not a bit,” Eddie said. “I promise. Strike me dead if I’m lyin’.” He crossed his heart with an exaggerated gesture.

  “The makeup? Fishnets? Platform heels? The bustier?”

  “There was quite a lot of alcohol involved,” Stone said darkly.

  Eddie and Ward were nearly falling over each other laughing. “Oh, you should’ve seen ’im!” Eddie clapped Stone on the shoulder. “She did the makeup and everything. ’E was a sight to behold, ’e was. ’E was so drunk ’e could barely manage the ’eels—but once ’e got there, ’e really got into the spirit of the thing. I would pay a lot of money for a photo—or even better, a video!—of old Stone belting out ‘Sweet Transvestite’ up in front of the cinema with Jessamy and the rest of that lot.”

  Verity threw her arms around Stone and buried her face in his shoulder, laughing so hard so couldn’t get a breath. Then she pulled back, wiping her eyes with her hands. “Oh, Doc, that is—”

  “Go on—have a go at me,” he muttered, pretending to be offended.

  “That is the coolest thing I’ve ever heard!” she finished. “I wish I could have seen it!” Her expression grew sly. “No chance we could get you to—”

  “No,” he said with emphasis.

  “That’s okay. I can picture it.” She leaned back, taking him in. “I bet you rocked it, Doc!”

  “Oh, ’e did!” Eddie assured her. “’E most certainly did. It’s too bad ’e and what’s-’er-name broke up a couple weeks later when she went back to the States, or ’oo knows what she might’ve been able to talk ’im into?”

  “Her friends were quite impressed,” Ward put in. “They wanted him to come back.”

  “Are you quite finished?” Stone asked. He downed the rest of his pint and looked around for the waitress.

  Eddie considered. “What about it, Ward? I don’t think we can top that story, do you?”

  “Not a chance.”

  Verity was still grinning. “Wait till I tell Jason about this…”

  “Must you?” Stone asked.

  “We’ll talk when we get back home. There must be some way I can use this to blackmail you…”

  “Uh-oh,” Ward said. “She’s got you there, Stone.”

  “Oh, we’ll see.” She punched Stone gently in the arm again, then got up. “I’ll be back. Don’t tell any more good stories without me, okay?”

  Stone watched her as she headed off toward the restrooms, and the waitress brought a new round.

  “That’s quite an apprentice you’ve got there, mate,” Eddie said. “I like ’er. She’s fun.”

  “Bit too much fun sometimes,” Stone muttered. “But yes—she’s a damn good apprentice. Bright as hell. Picks up magic like she was born to it.”

  Eddie glanced in the direction she’d headed. “So—er—are you and she—?”

  Stone’s gaze flicked back to him. “What?”

  “You know. Seeing each other?”

  “What? No. No, of course not. She’s twenty-one. She’s my apprentice.”

  “That hardly matters, does it?” Eddie said with a shrug. Surprisingly, his former amused and somewhat salacious expression had departed. “Masters and apprentices end up together a lot. You know that. And you two make a good couple.”

  “We’re not together,” Stone said.

  “She fancies you, I think.”

  “She does not. She’s—she prefers women, usually.”

  “Usually?”

  Stone glanced at Ward, who appeared to be deliberately remaining out of the conversation. “I don’t know—I don’t ask. It’s not my business who she fancies.”

  “Might be,” Eddie said. He directed a sage nod toward the doorway to the restrooms. “So what about it, Stone? Do you fancy her?”

  “Eddie, give it a bloody rest,” Stone said, suddenly annoyed. “I told you—she’s nearly young enough to be my daughter.”

  “Like that’s gonna matter for long. She’s a grown woman. Besides, when did you ever give a damn what the mundanes think?”

  Stone glared at Eddie, but was spared responding as Verity appeared and headed back toward the table. “Enough now,” he warned.

  Eddie held up his hands in concession. “Right, right. None o’ my business, mate.”

  Verity resumed her seat and took a long drink from her pint. “So, did I miss any more juicy stories about the Doc?”

  “Sorry, luv,” Eddie said. “Like I said before, we can’t top that last one.”

  “We should be getting going anyway,” Stone said. “Want to get a good night’s sleep tonight so we don’t show up at Caventhorne tomorrow with hangovers.”

  “Yeah,” Eddie said, sobering. “Back to it tomorrow for you two. If I don’t see you before the service, you be sure to give a ring if you need anything.”

  “Likewise,” Ward said. “Take care of yourself, Stone. And it was lovely meeting you, Verity.”

  “Indeed it was,” Eddie said, shooting a sidelong glance at Stone.

  They took the Tube to the train station. On the way, Stone walked in silence, hands in the pockets of his overcoat.

  “I like your friends, Doc,” Verity said after they’d made it a couple of blocks. “Hope you didn’t mind me going on about your Frank thing.”

  “No, no, of course not.” He kept walking without looking at her. “That’s basically the way we Brits interact with each other. If you’re not taking the piss out of somebody, you probably don’t think much of him.”

  “Yeah, okay…” She was quiet for a while longer, then looked at him again. “I can’t help feeling like something’s wrong, though.”

  “No,” he said, too quickly. “Nothing’s wrong. Just…thinking about some things, that’s all.”

  “About Mr. Desmond?”

  “Er…yes. Can’t really get my mind off all of this, much as I’d like to.”

  She gripped his arm. “Not surprised. Well, anyway, I’m glad you got the chance to hang out with your friends—and I’m glad I finally got to meet them.”

  “So am I.” But he was careful not to do more than glance at her the rest of the way back, his churning thoughts having nothing whatsoever to do with William Desmond.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  When Stone arrived at the London house through the portal a bit before noon the next day, one of the servants showed him to a sitting room. “Miss Desmond will be with you shortly, Dr. Stone,” the man told him.

  Stone leaned back on the antique sofa, taking in the familiar sights around him, really looking at them for the first time in a long while. Enough years had passed that he didn’t quite look at Desmond’s places with the same familiarity as he did his own home anymore, but every time he returned to them it seemed as if years had dropped away and he was back to being the teenage apprentice or the young magical prodigy, eager to dive into a new project with his mentor. He still half expected the doors to open and Desmond to sweep through, wondering why he was sitting idle when there was work to be done.

  The doors did open at that moment, but it wasn’t Desmond who entered, but Imogen. She smiled when she saw him—a small, faraway thing, but her eyes lit up nonetheless. “Hello. I’m so glad you could make it.”

  “I’m glad you could get away.” He rose, studying her for a moment. She wore a neat cream-colored skirt suit, fashionable but just a little bit formal, and carried a small leather bag on one arm with an overcoat draped over the other. “You look lovely, as always.”

  Her smile widened just a bit. “So do you. You actually wore a suit for me. I’m honored.”

  “Well, I do always feel a bit underdressed around here,” he said, chuckling. “I still remember those looks your father used to give me when I’d tur
n up in jeans and a pub T-shirt.”

  “So do I,” she said, motioning for him to precede her out of the room. “He was so keen on getting us together, but I think he might have reconsidered a time or two when you’d do that.”

  A car was waiting, another uniformed servant holding the door open for them and closing it behind them.

  “Sorry for all the formality,” Imogen said as she settled into her seat. “I asked Kerrick to tone it down a bit, but he’d have none of it. He says it’s disrespectful.” She smiled, looking down at her hands on her bag. “Thank you so much for coming.”

  “I’d never turn down a chance to see you, Imogen. You know that.”

  “I hope Verity doesn’t mind you running off on her for a while.”

  “No, she’s fine. I asked Aubrey to give her a tour of the house and grounds. She’s probably having a great time grilling him for juicy details about my childhood.”

  She chuckled, still looking at her hands. “I thought we’d go to Luigi’s—is that all right?”

  “That little place up at Hackney?”

  “You remembered.”

  “Of course I do.” It was an unexpected choice—an unpretentious Italian place they used to frequent shortly after they started dating. Nowadays, Stone had expected something more posh, and was relieved she hadn’t picked some expensive restaurant with too many forks. Perhaps the years hadn’t changed Imogen as much as he thought they had.

  “Remember that night they had to turf us out because we stayed past closing time drinking too much wine and talking about—” He trailed off. They’d talked a lot that night, mostly about their future together.

  “I hear the wine’s even better now,” she said, glancing up at him and then back at her hands. “We’ll find out, won’t we?”

  The car pulled up in front of the restaurant a few minutes later, and the driver leaped out to open the door for them before Stone could get to it.

  “I’ll call when I need you,” Imogen told him, and he bowed and rolled off.