Necessary Sacrifices

by R. L. King

  He almost said no, but he had no excuse for doing so. “Go ahead, then.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she had to say.

  “Well…I’ve been watching the two of you for the last few days. I see the way she looks at you…and the way you look at her. I’m not even sure either of you realizes it, to be honest. You just seem to…understand each other, if that makes any sense. On some deep level. I’m not talking about something physical. You just seem so comfortable around each other.” She paused, and her hand tightened on his arm. “It’s just—I think I see what you and I could have been, if I’d—well, if I’d had magic, or you hadn’t.” She let go of him and turned away, gathering up her books and papers from the desk.

  “Imogen—” he began.

  With her back still turned, she said quietly, “All I’m saying, Alastair, is that age is nothing but a number—especially for mages, who usually live so much longer. If I’m right—if there is anything there—don’t let it slip away because you’re afraid of what society might think. Think of what happened to Dad—I’m certain he didn’t expect it. Even for mages, anything can happen, without notice.” She turned back, tilted her head up, and kissed him; it was the gentle kiss of a dear friend, not the ardent one of a lover, but nonetheless she broke it quickly before it might have become more. “You deserve to be happy, love. Don’t let anyone—not even yourself—tell you otherwise.”

  Before he could answer, she smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Now—you have a safe trip, and try not to get too cross on the airplane. And do call me now and then, will you?”

  “I promise,” he said, relieved that she’d changed the subject. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Please give Clifford my best.”

  As he left and headed back to his own room on the fourth floor, his mind spun with thoughts—some unwelcome, some not altogether so. Regardless, he was fairly certain he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Stone and Verity arrived back in Palo Alto late the following day, and quickly re-established their normal routines.

  Stone returned to the University and resumed his teaching schedule, taking his classes back from the teaching assistants who’d been covering for him. It hadn’t been the best time for him to leave, with the department short-staffed following Mortenson’s death, but given everything that had occurred, he had a hard time forcing himself to pretend to care. That wasn’t altogether true, actually: he did care, because he liked his job and respected his students, even though he found the department bureaucracy tiresome and annoying. But it couldn’t be helped, so they’d just have to put up with his absence.

  One good thing about returning to his normal activities was that they helped keep his mind off his grief. Not entirely—it still ambushed him at odd times, sometimes when he was doing things that had no connection to either Desmond or Mortenson—but between teaching classes, catching up with a backlog of paperwork, and assisting with the search for another professor to fill Mortenson’s position, he managed to do a fairly good job staving it off. The exception was when he had to walk past the closed door to Mortenson’s office. They’d cleaned it out while he was away, but her nametag still hung on the door. He tried not to look at it; it made him feel guilty about the fact that the situation with Desmond had essentially driven her from his mind while he’d been away.

  Verity, meanwhile, kept up her job-hunting, but continued to be unsuccessful in finding anything. One evening, while she and Stone were discussing their days over a dinner she’d prepared, she exploded in frustration at her failure. “You’d think I could at least find a waitress job—cooking—something. It’s getting old. I feel like I’m sponging off you, and I hate that.” She stroked Raider’s head as he lay curled up in her lap; the cat, at least, seemed quite pleased to have them both back, and had been clingier than usual since they’d arrived home.

  “I keep telling you not to worry about it,” Stone said. “I understand how you feel, but technically, at least according to the traditional ways, being my apprentice is your job. As long as you keep up with your studies, there’s no need for you to look for outside employment. If you want to, that’s fine—but don’t take something just because you feel you need to.”

  She slumped in her seat. “I get it, and I know it’s true. But it still bugs me. Today I found myself wondering if I shouldn’t sign on at McDonald’s or something, just so I can stop feeling like a freeloader.”

  “You’re not a freeloader. Believe me, the simple fact that you cook dinner around here has been a godsend. You’re saving me from a lifetime of takeaway. Besides, you’d look ghastly in one of those polyester uniforms,” he added, amused. “And I’ll gladly pay you extra not to come home reeking of grease and desperation.”

  She laughed. “Raider would probably love it, though.” Quickly, she sobered again. “I guess you’re right. But I’ve still got to find something to do with my life. I don’t want to finish my apprenticeship and have no idea what I want to do.” She tossed her fork onto her plate. “You know, when I look back at myself as a kid, I remember having all these big dreams about how I’d end up. I didn’t realize at the time that life sits back there behind the curtain and laughs its ass off at those kinds of dreams.”

  Stone chuckled. “That’s a fairly apt description, I think.”

  “But look at you,” she said, still sounding dejected. “You always knew what you wanted to do, from the time you were a kid. You were done with your apprenticeship at eighteen, and halfway through college by the time you were my age.”

  “True, but our circumstances were quite different.” Stone raised a hand and began magically gathering the plates to take to the kitchen. “Seriously, Verity, I wouldn’t worry about it. In my experience, either you’ll work out what you want to do, or something will present itself when you least expect it.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “I know I’m right. Now, let’s get on with your training. I’ll take care of the dishes later.”

  He refused to acknowledge it to himself, but aside from their dinners together and Verity’s magical training, he’d been avoiding her since their return. That was probably at least part of the reason he’d thrown himself into his work at the University, taking on projects and attending meetings he normally would have evaded in addition to his usual duties. He justified it by claiming that, with Mortenson gone and the department-head position now vacant, it was expected that both he and Hubbard would step up to be good team players, at least until they’d hired someone to take over for her. But the fact that his extra activity meant he rarely arrived home before seven on weeknights, coupled with his continued magical research and her weekend clubbing with some local friends, meant they only saw each other when they had reason to. Stone felt a bit guilty about it, but made no effort to change it.

  By the time three weeks passed, the sharp edges of Stone’s grief had begun to dull just a bit, and he spent less time thinking about Desmond, Imogen, and the situation back home. He’d even mostly forgotten about Anna Canby’s promise to invite him and Verity back to visit their estate. Verity hadn’t mentioned it—perhaps she’d decided Canby was merely being polite, and didn’t want to bring it up.

  He’d called Eddie Monkton shortly after they’d returned and asked him for anything he might have heard about Canby and her organization.

  “I’ve ’eard a bit about them,” Eddie had responded when he got back to Stone the next day. “Been around quite a long time, from what I understand. All women. They keep to themselves mostly, but they do a lot of good work, and quite a few of them are fairly ’ighly placed in mundane society in addition to their magical stuff. I’ve got a few papers from their lot ’ere at the library. Nature-based magic, very old-school druidic for the most part, but they’re no slouches at the ’ermetic arts, either. They know their stuff.”

  “Well, that’s encouraging,” Ston
e said. “Anything about this Anna Canby, or her grandmother?” He’d realized after he left the gathering that he’d once again forgotten to inquire about the old woman’s name. She definitely hadn’t been in attendance, or he’d have noticed her. “Canby says the grandmother’s an old friend of Desmond’s, but I don’t recall ever meeting her.”

  “Sorry, mate, couldn’t find out anything. The leader of their group’s an old lady named Nessa Lennox, but I’m not sure if she’s the one you’re talking about. She’s old even for one of us, and rarely seen in public anymore—it’s surprising she turned up at Desmond’s funeral, so it might be right that they were old friends. Considerin’ how old she’s supposed to be, they could’ve known each other before you were born. But again, I’ve got no idea if it’s the same person.”

  Stone pondered that, idly doodling magical sigils on his desk calendar. “Thanks, Eddie.”

  “No problem. They sound a bit odd—powerful and influential, but fairly benign. Verity might learn some useful magic from them, though she might find they’re too stuffy and traditional for ’er liking.”

  Stone could see either of them being true—Verity hadn’t had much exposure to British magical society, and he wondered how she’d react to being immersed in it in depth.

  In any case, he was surprised when his office phone rang late on a Wednesday afternoon two weeks later, when he’d finally had a chance to sit down for a few minutes between classes, student office hours, and department meetings. “Yes, hello?”

  “Dr. Stone?”

  The British-accented voice sounded familiar, but he didn’t quite place it. “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Anna Canby. We spoke a few weeks ago, at the gathering.”

  He sat up straight, tilting his chair forward. “Oh, yes, of course. Ms. Canby. How are you?”

  “Very well, thank you. I apologize for taking so long to get back to you, but we’ve been quite busy and I wanted to make sure we were prepared if you and Ms. Thayer were still interested in visiting. Kathleen and Muriel were quite impressed by her, and we’re all looking forward to chatting further with both of you to see if she might benefit from spending some time with us.”

  “Er—I’d have to speak with her, but I suspect she’d be delighted to visit, and so would I.”

  “Excellent. If you can find out soon, this weekend would be an ideal time. We’ve got full accommodations, of course, and our own portal on-site, so the two of you needn’t leave the compound if you don’t wish to. I promise, we’ve a full and hopefully enlightening weekend planned for both of you.”

  “Brilliant,” Stone said, surprised at her words. The women had their own portal? That was indeed unusual, and helped corroborate Eddie’s comments about their power, influence, and longevity. “I’ll talk to Verity tonight and get back to you tomorrow. Will that work? I’m sure it will be a yes—she was quite excited to speak further with you.”

  “We’ll look forward to hearing from you, Dr. Stone.”

  Just as he’d suspected, Verity was enthusiastic about visiting the group. “Can you get away again so soon?” she asked, after he told her over dinner that night. “If you’d rather wait until sometime later—”

  “No, no, it’s just for the weekend so it will be fine. We’ll take the portal over Friday evening and come back late Sunday. I’ll probably be a bit of a zombie on Monday morning, but that’s fine. That should give you enough time to decide whether what they’ve got to offer is something you might be interested in pursuing.”

  “Did you check into them?”

  “A bit, yes. They’re a very old group, somewhat secretive, and quite powerful in their spheres of influence. Apparently they’ve got their fingers in quite a few mundane pies as well—charity work, scholarships, that sort of thing. Similar to what Desmond was up to. It’s not uncommon for the old-line traditional British mages.”

  “Sounds good,” she said, and grinned. “Thanks, Doc. I’m really glad you’re giving me these opportunities to explore different types of magic. Makes it easier to figure out what I want to focus on when I finish my apprenticeship. Hard to believe I’ve only got another year.”

  “Might not even be a year,” he said. “You’re doing very well with your studies overall, and I like the fact that you’re taking initiative to use your magic in ways I’m not specifically teaching you. Four years is just a guideline, not a hard and fast rule. As long as I’m your teacher, you’re done when I say you’re done.”

  She thought about that, looking down at her plate. “Doc—”

  “Yes?”

  “Well,” she said, looking up, “I know I’ve been pretty anxious to finish up my apprenticeship and become a fully qualified mage, and I still am, of course. But once I’m done—we can still work together, right? Like you and Mr. Desmond did?”

  “Of course, if that’s what you want.” Stone glanced at her, surprised. “I didn’t think your real love was research, though. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your eyes glazing over during our theory sessions.”

  “Not research,” she agreed. “I don’t think that’s really my thing. But—well, we’ve gotten involved in some pretty amazing things over the years. And you do seem to attract stuff like that, whether you like it or not. I’d just hate to lose the chance to be involved.”

  He chuckled. “You know, I think you’re the first person who’s ever said that to me. Usually, people—including your own brother—would rather just pretend none of it exists.”

  “Are you kidding? You might be a weirdness magnet, Doc, but that’s fine with me. Hell, I think some of it is starting to rub off on me. How else do you explain what happened in Vegas?” She gathered up her plates and stood. “It might not all be fun—some of it definitely sucks—but I can’t imagine why anybody would want to go back to a boring mundane life after seeing what’s out there.”

  “I don’t think there’s any danger of that,” Stone said.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  They arrived at A Passage to India on Friday evening. When they entered the restaurant, Marta Bellwood met them, looking confused. “Mind if I ask where you two are going?”

  “Er—to visit some friends in the UK. Why?” Stone told her. It was an odd question—Marta almost never paid any attention to portal travelers’ destinations.

  “There’s a woman waiting downstairs,” she said. “She’s apparently come through from wherever you’re going, and says she’ll take care of the calibration.”

  “They’re—a bit secretive about their location,” Stone told her. Anna Canby had told her this would happen when they’d made the arrangements, so it didn’t surprise him, but he didn’t entirely like it, either. He supposed they didn’t have any more reason to trust him and Verity than the two of them had to trust the women, and it was reasonable not to want to reveal the location of their secluded compound on the first visit.

  “Sounds dodgy to me,” she muttered. “But none of my business.”

  As they headed downstairs, Verity asked, “Is it dodgy? Should we be concerned?”

  “I don’t think so. I’d do the same thing if I were taking anyone but you to my place. People with private portals like to keep them private. That’s why there are probably a lot more of them around than anyone knows. Unless you have reason to know, generally you don’t even find out that they exist, let alone how to reach them.”

  They didn’t recognize the woman waiting for them in the portal room. She was in her late twenties, with intense, dark eyes and a cheerful smile, and pushed herself off the wall when they entered. “Ah! You’re here. My name is Lila. Sorry about the subterfuge, Dr. Stone,” she added. “The higher-ups in our group don’t like having the coordinates to our portal getting around. I hope you’ll forgive us.” She nodded toward the gateway. “We’re all ready to go here, if you are.”

  “Let’s do it,” Verity said.

  The tri
p through was no different from any other portal jaunt Stone had ever taken—he and Verity followed Lila through the fog-shrouded, sound-deadened tunnel without incident, and five minutes later they stepped out into a small, dark room with wood-beamed walls, cheerful sconces, and a series of framed paintings showing scenes of the wild British and Scottish countryside.

  “It’s quite late here, as you know,” Lila said. “Anna’s awaiting your arrival, so if you don’t mind I’ll take you to her and then show you to your rooms. We’ll begin the tour first thing in the morning, if that’s all right.”

  Verity glanced at Stone with an impish smile, and he knew why: he was notorious for hating to get up early. But in this case, with the time difference, it wouldn’t matter as much.

  “That’s fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  The building had the feel of a wealthy country lodge: all wood beams, skylights, and simple but exquisitely made wooden furniture. Although it seemed that such décor should indicate a strongly masculine aspect, somehow it did not—feminine touches such as floral displays, hanging plants, sensual fabrics, and elaborate carving took the edge off the “upscale hunting shack” vibe and turned it into more of an earthy, natural space that looked as if it should be occupied by group of modern-day elves.

  Stone and Verity followed Lila down a hallway carpeted in rich green and into a small sitting room featuring impressive windows. Although it was dark outside, a series of fairylike lights illuminated a wild garden crisscrossed by narrow paths.

  Anna Canby rose from where she’d been seated on the end of an overstuffed sofa, and smiled. “Dr. Stone. Ms. Thayer. I’m so happy you’ve arrived. I trust the trip was uneventful?”

  “Completely. Though it’s been quite some time since I’ve had to be escorted through a portal.”