by R. L. King
“Thank you, sir. I will.” He put the card away and offered his hand. “Good night.”
Stone waited until Selby had gone back into the house. He continued leaning against the house, staring out into the garden without seeing it for several more minutes until a man and a woman came out, moved a distance away, and lit cigarettes.
In the back of his mind, he’d thought perhaps Selby might have been someone who’d harbored simmering resentment against Desmond, and likewise someone intelligent and devious enough to come up with some long-range plan to do him harm. Now that he’d seen him, though, and talked with him, he no longer thought so. Something had broken inside Selby that night nearly twenty-five years ago, and Stone doubted he’d ever fully recovered from it. But in any case, it wasn’t the kind of break that would lead to something like what had happened to Desmond; he was sure of that. All he hoped now was that their conversation tonight had helped Selby to find some peace.
Stone returned to the great room and glanced around, trying to spot Verity. At the moment he didn’t see her; Ward was now chatting with Lavinia Bromley, and Eddie was at the center of a small group of people over by the bar, no doubt discussing one of his two favorite topics: magical research or the latest events in the world of football.
He picked up another drink and drifted around the room, pausing to greet those he knew. Nearly everyone seemed subdued around him, offering heartfelt condolences at the loss of Desmond. Nearly the entire British magical community at least knew of their association by reputation—aside from Stone’s status as a rare magical prodigy, his ongoing close relationship with Desmond and his family made him perhaps even more well-known than he’d have liked. Of course that had been a long time ago, and especially since he’d left the UK nearly ten years ago, whatever fame he might have enjoyed at the time had largely faded. Now he accepted their condolences graciously, and made a point never to remain with any given group longer than a handful of minutes before moving on. He didn’t feel like more than superficial contact with people he barely knew tonight.
When he finally spotted Verity, she was in one of the other small nooks scattered around the massive room. She had a glass of champagne in her hand and appeared deep in conversation with two other women. Not wanting to disturb her he almost moved on, but then she glanced up and caught his eye. She smiled and waved him over.
“Hi Doc,” she said. To her companions, she added, “Do you know Dr. Stone?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure,” the older of the two, who looked to be in her early forties, said, smiling. Tall and elegant, with upswept ash blonde hair, she wore a black dress of a more mature style that nonetheless didn’t hide her trim figure. She raised her glass to Stone. “But of course I’ve heard of you, Dr. Stone. I was so sorry to hear about Mr. Desmond. I’m Kathleen Burgess.” Indicating the other woman, she added, “This is Muriel Higgins. We were just chatting with your apprentice about magical society here in England.”
“Pleasure to meet you both,” Stone said, offering each his hand. “Don’t let me intrude.”
“You’re not intruding,” Verity said. “This is fascinating, though, what they’re telling me. They’re part a group of female mages who get together to advance magical study.”
“Indeed?” Stone asked.
“Oh, yes,” Kathleen Burgess said. “You might not have heard of us—we’re a small group and generally keep to ourselves. Our purpose is focused on expanding the boundaries of magical knowledge, but we also do what we can to aid the local communities. Discreetly, of course.”
“I’ve read some of your work on ley lines, Dr. Stone,” Muriel Higgins said. She was a bit younger than Kathleen, a bit shorter and less athletic, and wore a conservative blue dress. “I found it fascinating—although clearly your approach to magic differs somewhat to ours.”
“Oh? In what way?” Stone glanced at Verity as he sipped his drink.
“Oh, yes. It’s not surprising, given your long association with Mr. Desmond. Our approach tends to be a bit more…well, I suppose organic would be a good word. There is great power to be drawn from the energies of the Earth, and even more so when one lets go of the need for control and simply seeks out complementary forces.”
“I see,” Stone said.
“I was telling them about Edna,” Verity said. “From what they’re saying, their style and hers have a lot in common, though they don’t focus on healing as much.”
“No,” Kathleen said. “It’s an admirable vocation, of course, and by its very nature it does figure into our work, but our area of study concerns itself more with the nature of the Universe—of learning to work more efficiently with its forces and the energies of the Earth in order to bring about positive changes in our world.”
Stone was about to reply when another voice spoke from behind him. “Ah. Dr. Stone. I see you’ve met some of my associates.”
He turned, surprised, to see Anna Canby standing near him, drink in hand. Like Kathleen, she wore an elegant black dress; her understated but dramatic makeup brought out the color in her alert blue eyes.
“Ms. Canby. It’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise, Dr. Stone.” Canby’s expression didn’t change, but she nonetheless gave off a subtle aura of amusement.
Stone indicated Verity. “This is my apprentice, Verity Thayer. It appears she’s quite impressed with your associates. Verity, this is Anna Canby. I met her last night, when I went to pay my respects to Desmond at the chapel.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Canby.” Verity studied Canby, her expression showing confusion for a moment, almost as if she recognized the other woman. Then she smiled. “Are you part of Kathleen and Muriel’s group, too?”
“Indeed I am.” Canby stepped forward, joining the circle. Her gaze settled on Verity. “I’d heard that Dr. Stone had taken an apprentice—through the magical grapevine, at any rate. How far along are you in your studies?”
“I’ve got a year left. I’ve just recently returned to Dr. Stone after taking a year off to study with another teacher.” She nodded toward the others. “From what Kathleen and Muriel have been telling me, your group’s approach is somewhere between Dr. Stone’s and my other teacher’s.”
“Fascinating,” Canby said. “I’d like very much to have the chance to discuss it in more depth with you, but perhaps this isn’t the most appropriate place.” She pondered a moment, then looked at Stone. “I wonder—our group maintains an estate up north, near Windermere. Naturally I don’t want to suggest anything that you might not approve of, Dr. Stone, as Ms. Thayer’s master, but perhaps you both might be interested in visiting us at some point, for a couple of days. I’ve heard you have an open mind about allowing your students to explore different approaches.”
Stone glanced at Verity again. “It would be up to Ms. Thayer, of course—I have no objection to it, if she thinks what you’re studying might be valuable to her.”
“I’d like that,” Verity said. “If you’re okay with it, anyway.”
“Oh, I insist you both come, if there’s to be a visit,” Canby said, smiling. “We believe in full transparency—I wouldn’t want you to make any decisions, Dr. Stone, until you’ve heard our presentation and observed our processes. But perhaps if you agree, we might be able to arrange to take Ms. Thayer in for a brief time and show her some of our methods.”
“With her unusual background,” Kathleen added, “I think she might find them quite a useful addition to her magical curriculum.”
“It certainly sounds like something that could be beneficial. I’m sure Verity would welcome the chance to broaden her horizons a bit more,” Stone said.
“Excellent,” Canby said, looking pleased. “If you’ll leave me your contact information, Dr. Stone, we’ll be in touch in the next few weeks. That will give us time to prepare a few demonstrations so you can both get a clearer idea of what our group is about.”<
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“Brilliant,” Stone said, and handed over another of his business cards. “For now, though, if you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone I need to talk to. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Burgess, Ms. Higgins. And seeing you again, of course, Ms. Canby.” He glanced at Verity and a silent communication passed between them—he didn’t want to intrude on her discussions with her new acquaintances. She gave him a grateful smile as he departed.
When he looked back one final time before disappearing into the crowd, he caught Anna Canby watching him.
They left a couple hours later; the gathering was on the leading edge of breaking up by then, so they said their goodbyes and departed, settling into the back seat of the limo the driver had brought around.
“That was interesting,” Verity said, slumping back into the butter-soft leather and dropping her little bag next to her. “Even more than I expected it to be.”
“You seemed to get on quite nicely with Ms. Canby and her lot,” Stone said. “I noticed you talking to them for quite some time.”
“I did.” She gave him an impish grin. “Kathleen and Muriel kind of rescued me at first—Paul, that apprentice of Mr. Yarborough’s, spotted me not long after you left and followed me around like a puppy trying to come on to me. I had him handled, of course, but they intercepted us and took me away before I said something I’d regret later.”
Stone chuckled, imagining the scene. Poor Walter’s hapless apprentice and his clumsy pickup lines wouldn’t have stood a chance with Verity. “Well, good for them, then.”
“Yeah. But then we got to talking, and—Doc, they really do sound amazing. Are you sure you’re okay with visiting them? I’d like to see what kinds of things they’re doing, but I wasn’t sure if you were just being polite.”
“When have I ever agreed to anything just to be polite?” he asked dryly. “No, if you want to investigate what they’re up to and hear what they have to say, I won’t stop you. I appreciate that they asked me to come along—I’d like to get a look myself. Of course you have a right to pursue any course of study you like, but it’s nice to see they follow the old traditions.”
“Even if I did want to go for a while, though, I don’t think I’d want it to be for long. I really do want to get back to studying with you. But from what they said, it does sound like they sort of bridge the gap between your style and Edna’s. More organic, like they said, but not so—I don’t know…passive? Does that make sense?”
“It does.” After Verity had shown an affinity for a more nature-based magical style, Stone had spent some time while she was away with Edna studying up on it. “Nature-based magic can be very powerful—and not just in the healing arts. If that’s the way you want to go, I’ll do what I can to support you. You don’t mind if I do a bit of checking up on their organization, though, do you?”
“How would you do that?” she asked. “And do you think you need to?”
“Probably not. Let’s just say I’m a suspicious man by nature, so I want to make sure they really are what they claim to be. Eddie will probably have information, or know someone who does. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“Yeah…it makes sense.” She leaned her head back with a tired sigh. “I guess we’ll be going home soon, won’t we?”
“I was planning to leave the day after tomorrow. Imogen and Kerrick have things well in hand at the houses, and there’s really not much more need for us to stay here. Unless you’ve anything else you’d like to do?”
“Not really,” she said slowly. “I guess we can come back whenever we like, right?”
“No reason we can’t. You even can come on your own if you like. You can use the portals most of the time—this was an exception due to the large number of people involved, but as long as you’re careful not to draw attention to yourself, you should be fine. And of course you’re welcome to use the portal at my place.” He chuckled. “Must make a note to tell Aubrey not to shoot you if you do.”
“I’d appreciate that,” she said with an arch smile. She was quiet for a while, watching the lights out the car’s window, and then she spoke again in the darkness. “Doc?”
“Yes?”
“Did Ms. Canby look…I dunno…familiar to you? I felt like I’d met her somewhere before, but I can’t have—I’d have remembered her.”
“I had a similar thought when I met her at the chapel last night,” he admitted. “She did tell me her grandmother was an old friend of Desmond’s, so perhaps I might have encountered her at some point and not remembered it. But that doesn’t explain where you might have seen her.”
“Eh…it’s probably nothing. She probably just reminds me of somebody else I know. No big deal.” She glanced at him, her eyes glittering with amusement. “She’s not bad looking—if we go up there, who knows? Maybe you might get to know her a little better.”
Stone didn’t answer, and he had no idea why that thought unsettled him so.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The night before he and Verity left for California, Stone found Imogen alone in one of the sitting rooms at the London house. She looked up from some paperwork and smiled when she saw him. “I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk before you left.”
He came in, but didn’t sit. Earlier that day, they had all been up at Caventhorne for a small, intimate graveside service, where Desmond’s body was interred in a handsome mausoleum in the small cemetery on the grounds. The only mourners in attendance had been Imogen, Stone, Kerrick and a few other longtime members of the staff, Clifford Blakeley, and Verity.
The service had been short and simple, held under a cloudy, uneasy sky, and afterward they had all trooped back to the house, barely ahead of the rain, for hot cups of tea before returning to London. Stone had only half-listened to the priest’s words; standing there next to Verity under his umbrella in the cold, wind-tossed graveyard, the enormity of what had occurred had weighed heavily upon him as it hadn’t even at the impressively-attended funeral. Somehow she’d picked up on his feelings, reaching over to grip his hand. He hadn’t pulled away.
“Have you got your plane tickets all sorted?” Imogen asked, setting her pen down and closing the notebook she’d been working in.
“Yes—leaving midday tomorrow, which should put us home around three, local time.”
She gave him a small smile. “It must be so tiresome to have to travel by plane, when you could simply step through your portal and be home nearly instantly. I’m envious of that sometimes, I’ll admit.”
“It does make things easier,” he said. “At least until someone works out that you were seen in London at eleven a.m. and then you turn up in San Francisco at eleven-thirty.”
“Yes, I suppose that could cause trouble.” She glanced down at her desk and picked up her pen again. “It was good to have you back, Alastair. I only wish it hadn’t been under such terrible circumstances. I hope you’ll come back again and see us, and not a year from now.”
“I’ll absolutely do that. And I know I keep saying this, but if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call me.” He smiled gently. “You know I’ll always come running when you call. That will never change.”
She got up and came to him, taking his hands. “I know. And you don’t know how much that means to me. You know you can always count on me, too, though I can’t imagine what I could ever do to help you.”
“Just…be happy, Moggy,” he said a little roughly, deliberately using the fond diminutive he used to call her back before that day when everything had changed. “That’s all I ever wanted for you.”
“I know that too.” Her voice shook, and her hands tightened on his. She tensed, as if pulling herself together. “At some point, I’ll probably ask you to come back and deal with the wards here and at Caventhorne, once everything’s settled.”
“Of course.” He forced his tone to briskness. “Just let me know.”
She pulled him into a hug, squeezing tight. “Thank you, Alastair. For everything.”
“I’m glad I could be of help. I only wish I could have done more.” She felt so small and fragile in his arms, but even now he could feel that core of steel that would get her through any adversity. She would be fine—he was sure of it.
Playfully, he inclined his head and rested his chin on the top of her head as he used to do. “And you must invite me to the wedding when you and Clifford make things official.”
She chuckled. “Nothing’s official yet—and as I said, with everything that’s happened it likely won’t be for a while—if it ever is at all, of course. So many things can change so quickly, as we’ve seen. But if we do, you’ll be the first on my invitation list, I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He kissed the top of her head and broke the hug, stepping back so he could take in the sight of her.
She looked away for a moment, then back. “Do you mind…if I ask you something? It’s none of my business and terribly nosy, but—”
“You can ask me anything, Imogen. Anything at all. I have no secrets from you.”
Still she hesitated. “Are you and Verity—is there anything between you?”
He stared at her, tensing. Et tu, Imogen? First Eddie and Arthur, and now her? What was next—would Aubrey take him aside before they left and ask him the same question? “No,” he said quickly. “There’s—nothing. She’s my apprentice, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking suddenly awkward. “That was rude of me.”
“It wasn’t,” he assured her, though he couldn’t deny her question had rattled him. “You’re not the first to ask—not even the first this week. But no—Verity mostly fancies women. And in any case, she’s only just turned twenty-one.”
Her smile was gentle as she came over and took his arm. “Mostly…” she murmured, almost to herself. Then she looked up and met his gaze. “Would you mind a bit of advice, Alastair? From an old friend who wants nothing but for you to be happy?”
