by R. L. King
“Hmm...” Trin thought about that. “This Saturday?”
“Yeah.”
“Interesting. Let me work on that. It might be just the break we need.”
Stone called Adelaide, and asked if he could come to the house that night.
“Of course,” she said. “You don’t have to ask. Just come down whenever you have time.”
He also left a message for Megan that he would be going down there, and probably would be there for most of the evening. He didn’t really want to go spend all that time puttering around the house and grounds, and possibly the attic, but he was running out of days. It was already Monday evening and he only had four more days to do something he had no idea if he could do. That, and deal with those three mages if they turned up again, and figure out what the hell was up with Ethan.
Nothing like a having full plate. At least he wouldn’t be bored.
He grabbed a quick dinner on the way down, and arrived at the house a little before seven. It was already dark, and a light rain was falling. Great. On top of everything else, he’d track mud all over everything.
This time, he took the time to set up a simple circle in front of the house before he even went in, searching for any sign of The Three. He found none, which he supposed was one good thing.
Iona came out while he was finishing up. “Dr. Stone? Is that you? What are you doing?”
“Just checking something,” he assured her, picking up the circle components. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Well, come in out of the rain.” She took his arm and hustled him inside.
Adelaide was waiting in the sitting room. “What are you going to do tonight?”
“Spend some more time looking for where this thing is, mostly,” he told her as Iona deftly slid him out of his overcoat and hung it by the fire to dry, then steered him toward a chair. “If you’re feeling it in the library, then odds are it’s somewhere on that side of the house. Does your attic extend across the entire place?”
“Yes,” she said, “but it’s divided into smaller sections if I remember correctly. I haven’t been up there in probably twenty years. It’s all full of old trunks and clothes and furniture and dust and spiders. I’m not even sure it’s safe up there, to be honest. Promise me you’ll be careful if you go.”
“What about a basement? Have you got one of those?”
“Same thing,” she said. “Very big, divided up into sections, and full of old furniture and other things like that.”
“Part of it’s more accessible than the rest,” Iona added. “There’s a big larder down there where we keep large nonperishable food and serving items we use for the various functions we hold here, and a large wine cellar. Those are the only parts I’ve ever seen. The rest of it is locked off. Do you even have the key, Adelaide?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, looking fretful. “I don’t think anyone’s even looked for it there since those young men were here inspecting for earthquake damage a few months ago. They never did end up going down there. Are you going to need to go down, Dr. Stone?”
“Probably,” he said. “I can—er—deal with the lock if you can’t find the key, but my way will be rather permanent.”
“Permanent?”
“You’ll need a new lock, is what I mean.”
Iona stared at him, eyes wide, but didn’t comment.
“Well,” Adelaide said, “If that’s what you need to do. I haven’t the faintest idea where the key is.”
Stone nodded. “No more incidents since Saturday night?”
“Nothing,” Iona said. She hesitated, then asked, “Do you think—well, is there any chance that whatever it is, it’s—gone?”
“Unfortunately not,” Stone said. “I can still feel it. It’s still here. But don’t you worry. I’ll deal with it.” He spoke with more confidence than he felt. Then, to Adelaide: “Did you happen to remember any of the historical information I asked you to think about?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t. It’s all been so long ago—” She spread her hands. “Like I said before, if there’s anything to find, it’s probably in the attic. I’m sure there are trunks and boxes full of old papers up there. But finding them is going to be hard, especially on such short notice. There’s so much junk up there...”
“Don’t worry,” Stone said, getting up and hefting his bag full of paraphernalia. “I’ll get to the attic soon, but I want to start with the basement. If you’ll just show me the way to get down there, I’ll get started so I can be out of here before it gets too late.”
Iona took him out of the sitting room, through the big main room, and down a couple of hallways to a part of the house he hadn’t seen yet. “This is the kitchen,” she said, leading him through a pair of double doors into a large, gleaming area full of long counters and expensive appliances. She pointed to another set of doors. “Through there is the main dining room, and beyond that is the grand ballroom where the charity event will be. But we’re going this way.”
Continuing through the kitchen, she went through a single door on the far side and out into a hallway that was much more utilitarian than anything Stone had seen so far. “This part of the house is where a lot of the service work is done: laundry, dishwashing, and so on—most of it when we have functions. There are other ways to get to the basement, but this one is the most convenient, and the only one that leads to the parts that are easily accessible.”
Stone nodded, just following along. A year or so ago, he’d visited the Winchester Mystery House in San Jose with a former girlfriend who’d wanted to see the Halloween flashlight tour (a visit he preferred to think about as rarely as possible, as it had led directly to another ex-relationship), and been impressed and a little amazed by the size and haphazard construction of the vast house. Adelaide’s place, while laid out with more logic and far less insanity, certainly rivaled it for sheer size.
Iona opened one more door and led him down a stairway to a hall with several other doors. She pointed to the one at the end. “That’s the one you want. Like I said before, it’s locked. I’m sure if we looked around long enough we could find the key, but unless you’ve got some sort of skeleton key...”
“I’ll take care of it,” he assured her. “Go on back to Adelaide. You needn’t accompany me—I’ll be fine on my own.”
She looked dubious, but finally nodded. “Good luck, Dr. Stone. And be careful. If nothing else, there are rats and spiders down here. Maybe even bats!”
He smiled. “I’ve dealt with far worse than rats and spiders, Iona. Don’t worry.”
She gave him one last odd, frightened look, then turned and headed back toward the main part of the house.
When she was gone, he turned his attention to the door. As he suspected there wasn’t much to it; it only took a small spell to break its flimsy lock. He pushed it open and walked inside.
It was very dark in here. He looked around for a light switch and found one, but when he flipped it, nothing happened. This time, though, he’d come prepared: from his bag he pulled a large flashlight and snapped it on. He could have used his light spell, but he didn’t want to waste energy to power it. If he found what he was looking for, he might need all the energy he could summon to deal with it.
He moved down the hallway, the flashlight casting eerie shadows on the stained, unpainted walls. There was nothing elegant or opulent about this part of the house: it looked weathered and sinister. Stone suspected it had not been updated since the days when it had first been built.
It was cold down here, too. He shivered; he was wearing a sweater over his T-shirt, but he wished he’d remembered to reclaim his overcoat. The cold was making his ribs ache more than usual. Too late to worry about it now, though.
He moved further in. The hallway ended in a t-intersection; he shined the flashlight down both directions, then reached out with his magical senses to try to get a feel for which way he should go. The feeling was vague and diffuse; still, though, he sensed something e
lse—brief flutters of activity. Was it asleep? Was it watching him from somewhere while trying to keep hidden? He put a bit more focus into his search, and was rewarded with what he thought was the correct direction: to the right. He was getting closer. The feelings were definitely stronger down here. He rounded the corner and continued on, moving slowly.
No doubt about it, this place was creepy. It was mostly silent, but every couple of minutes something would creak ominously off in the distance. Stone was sure the creaks were simply the house settling, but as he moved further away from the door leading upward, they became correspondingly more eerie. Couple that with the faint distant skitterings of rats, and most sane people would have given up the mission and headed back for the light already.
Stone wasn’t most sane people.
Still, he found himself wishing that he could have brought Ethan along. If nothing else, it would have given him the chance to talk to the boy, to find out what he was up to. Or even to talk to him about anything. After all Stone had seen in his magical career, it wasn’t easy to frighten him, but even then he wasn’t fond of the overly dark and creepy.
There were occasional doors along the hallway he was following now. He ignored most of them because his magical senses were telling him what he sought was still ahead, but a couple times he tested them and, when he found them unlocked, shoved them open for a quick look inside. In both cases they led to small rooms packed full of the large bulky shapes of covered furniture. The moldy, musty odor that rolled out of each was nearly visible in the chilly air, and in the second one, a large, furry form darted out through the doorway, scampered over Stone’s right foot, and disappeared into the darkness ahead. He didn’t open any more doors after that. He did notice that the hallway was sloping subtly downward as he continued forward.
After what seemed like a very long time, but in actuality was probably only about five minutes, the hallway opened up. Stone paused at the entrance, panning the flashlight back and forth to get a better look before he stepped out into the space.
The area was huge, a wide open expanse of concrete floor surrounded by more towering, shadowy forms of shrouded furniture, building materials, and rusty old gardening items. The ceiling here was higher too, rising about fifteen feet up. From where he was standing, Stone couldn’t see any other doors leading out, but it would be easy to hide them in the midst of all this clutter.
He took a couple more steps in, then stopped. “Anyone there?” he called. His voice sounded dead, muffled against the decaying cloth covering the furniture. It didn’t echo at all. High above him, he thought he heard the flutter of wings beating—the bats Iona had spoken of. Looking around, he tried to spot them; if they were here, they had to have some way to get out, but given that the floor was covered in dust but no bat droppings, he suspected he—and Iona—were just imagining them.
“All right,” he muttered to himself, just to hear some sound. “Let’s get on with this.” Moving to the center of the open area, he closed his eyes and reached out again with his magical senses. The feeling of the thing was very strong here—he was close, and it couldn’t fully hide itself from him anymore. “Where are you...?” he whispered. “You know I’m going to find you, so why don’t we just get it over with?”
The room creaked ominously, and a couple of the cloth-shrouded towers of piled furniture swayed back and forth.
“Oh, that’s the way you want to play it, then, is it?” Stone hurried back over to the safety of the entrance and watched the room to see if the swaying got any worse. If that thing dropped an armoire on him, by the time anyone was brave enough to come down here and find him, there’d be nothing left but bones and a few shreds of clothing. Just to be safe, he put up a physical shield and powered it with one of his remaining crystals. It wouldn’t be strong enough to stop anything seriously heavy, but if they were stacking things that heavy that high up, then more was wrong here than just demons in the basement.
Staying close to one side, and glancing up every few seconds to make sure nothing was about to fall on him, Stone crept forward and explored the room, magical senses at the ready. He’d been right: there were small walkways between the piles, radiating out toward the edges of the room. Some were blocked by items that had already fallen, probably many years ago or during the recent earthquake. The creaking wasn’t repeated.
He wondered how long it had been since anyone had been down here. Had it been back in the days of Edgar Sr.? Had the disastrous ritual that had taken the lives of Selena Darklight and her students, along with Amelia Bonham’s sanity, been the last time anyone had ventured down? It seemed unlikely, but the items here easily looked like they could have lain undisturbed for all those years. The musty smell of a long-unaired space was getting stronger; Stone wondered briefly if the air was even safe, but decided it must be if the rats were getting in and out. Even so, he wished he’d brought a scarf or a mask or something to avoid having to breathe the dust he was sending up with every footstep. Bad idea of breathing all that dust notwithstanding, his ribs weren’t going to stand for too many coughing fits.
“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” he muttered aloud. He could have been back home, sharing a good dinner and a lovely evening with Megan. “Because I’m an idiot, that’s why,” he answered himself, and moved forward again.
The feeling was growing stronger as he approached the back of the room, farthest away from where he’d entered it. He stood for a moment staring down one of the narrow walkways through the junk, focusing his senses.
Whatever it was, it was in this direction.
Making sure his shield was at full strength, he crept down the walkway. He had to pick his way over a smashed dresser and the remains of a player piano that disgorged a family of mice as he stepped past it. He shone the flashlight up ahead, wondering what he’d find when he reached the other side.
It was a dead end.
The way was blocked by a large bookcase, full of moldy old tomes and stacked with yellowing newspapers. He stopped, frustration growing. The feeling was so strong here—perhaps the next walkway over might be the one, but—
Wait…
He glanced behind him to make sure no one—or nothing—was approaching, then brought the flashlight in closer and examined the bookcase in more detail. He stepped back and looked at the floor: it was covered in the same layer of dust that the rest of the basement was, but he could just see faint, semicircular tracks that indicated that something had been moved here, though not recently. Setting down the flashlight, he moved his hands around the edges of the bookshelf, then skimmed his gaze over the titles of the books. Most of them were boring: old encyclopedia volumes, classics from the early part of the century and similarly unexciting books. But on a lower shelf a leatherbound tome caught his eye. Its title was in a language he didn’t recognize, a series of squiggly lines that made him uncomfortable to look directly at it for long.
He paused a moment, then hooked his finger on top of the book and tugged.
The bookshelf swung out, rusted hinges protesting with every inch. Stone grabbed hold and pulled harder. It wanted to swing shut again, so he forced it open, grabbed his flashlight, and slid through. As soon as he let go of it, it immediately slammed shut behind him.
He spun and pushed at it, and was relieved to discover that he could still shove it open. It hadn’t locked behind him. Stone let his breath out slowly and just stood there for a moment, getting his bearings.
“Well,” he murmured. “This looks promising.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
He stood in a large room, though not nearly as large as the one he’d just left. This one, however, was not piled high with the cast-offs and detritus of the house’s former residents.
Instead, the floor was empty, except for a large, permanent ritual circle that had been built directly into it, laid out using different colored stone and tracings of gold and silver metal. Stone examined it carefully, shining his light around its entire border. It was one of the
most complex circles of its type he’d seen in many years, certainly more complex than anything he’d used in his work recently. This was the kind of circle you used to do big things: summon or control powerful entities, send spells at large numbers of people at once, or perform the kinds of transformations that nobody did anymore because they were so difficult and costly. It was also the kind that you didn’t use alone. He estimated that the ritual that would need a circle this complicated would require a minimum of four people to power and direct it.
He was pretty sure he’d found the site of Selena Darklight’s disastrous summoning attempt.
Dragging his attention away from the circle itself, he looked around the room. There were no bones or bodies, but he could see dark patches on the floor and the walls that, even covered in a layer of dust, looked very much like old, long-dried blood. Great chunks had been ripped out of the wood paneling that covered a couple walls. On the far side of the room was an oversized, wooden armoire. Its doors were closed, but didn’t quite meet in the middle. Tables and bookshelves lined one side of the room, all stacked haphazardly with dusty tomes and piles of yellowed papers covered in diagrams and cramped writing. On the other side were a series of rotting, empty wine racks, attesting to what this room’s original purpose must have been before Amelia and Selena Darklight appropriated it for their own use.
Stone’s curiosity was on fire: if the books and other materials were what he thought they were, he’d just found a treasure trove of magical information. He could easily spend many days or weeks down here, studying them one by one. There was no time for that now, though. He could practically feel the energy of the creature straining against its bonds; it knew he was here, and he knew that it could well be in the same room with him, half-shifted between dimensions, invisible even to his magical senses. In order to see it, he’d have to set up a ritual of his own. And if he could see it, he hoped he could set up wards or other protective enchantments that would keep it contained temporarily—at least until after Adelaide’s party—to give him more time to see what he could do about it more permanently.
