Alastair Stone Chronicles Box Set: Alastair Stone Chronicles, Books 1 through 4

by R. L. King

  “—by self-medicating,” Lamar finished. “A lot of them are alcoholics and drug addicts. That’s not to say that many of our kind aren’t as well.” He sounded sad. Next to him, Frank the Scribbler grew more agitated, digging the tip of his pencil into his pad with ferocious force.

  Jason sighed. “Great. So now not only do we have to deal with the Evil, but we also have to deal with these—Dark Forgotten.”

  “Not necessarily,” Marilee said. “Remember, they are Forgotten, which means the Evil hates them as much as it hates us. More, possibly, because it would love to have them but can’t, since it can’t possess them. They’re dangerous, for sure. Avoid them whenever you can, which shouldn’t be hard if you don’t go looking for them or don’t do foolish things like going to questionable places at night alone.” She looked at him, her expression kind but a little stern. “I don’t know why you would expect all Forgotten to be like us. We’re all people, just like anyone else. We have our good ones and our bad ones, and everything in between.”

  “You almost sound like you’re defending them,” Jason said, surprised. “A group of them tried to attack us back East. Surprised the hell out of us—we thought they were Evil at first. They were gonna jump us for our wallets.”

  “Yeah, and they had some great plans for me,” Verity added. “Real nice guys.”

  Lamar nodded. “Still, in a way I do feel sorry for them. ‘There but for the grace of God go I,’ and such. It’s not as hard as you might think for one of us to ‘go over to the other side,’ given the right circumstances.”

  Verity’s eyes widened. “Hector did that, didn’t he? That’s why he didn’t come back.”

  None of the Forgotten answered.

  “Ah, fuck...” Jason looked down at his hands in his lap. “That was because of me, wasn’t it? Because of us.”

  Lamar shook his head. “No, Jason.” He sighed. “I think Hector had been...teetering on the brink for a long time.”

  Jason caught an odd tone in Lamar’s voice. He glanced up quickly to see sadness cross the old man’s face. “There’s something you’re not saying, isn’t there?”

  Lamar didn’t answer.

  “Lamar…”

  “We…just heard a few days ago,” Marilee said gently.

  “Oh, no…” Verity breathed. “Hector…?”

  “He was found behind a bar over in East San Jose,” Lamar said. “No one knows for sure what happened, but we think it was the Evil.”

  Jason stomach clenched. “Oh, God…” he said. “If I hadn’t—”

  Verity squeezed his hand.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Lamar said firmly. “Look at me, Jason.”

  Jason looked up.

  “This wasn’t your doing. Hector had his issues, but he had to make his own decisions. He knew we were here for him.” He sighed. “It wasn’t you. I think we all knew it would happen sooner or later.”

  The revelation about Hector settled over the little gathering like a dark cloud. Everyone finished their food in silence, except for the harsh sound of Frank’s pencil on his pad and occasional mutterings from Benny, who thus far hadn’t said a word beyond his initial question. Neither had Susanna; in fact, it seemed like she was actively ignoring Jason and Verity, focusing instead on her bowl. The two of them, feeling suddenly out of place, said their goodbyes and took their leave as soon as they could.

  They drove for a while without saying anything. They had almost reached Palo Alto when Verity, her face propped against her hand as she stared out the window at the freeway, suddenly broke the silence. “I want to go see Madame Huan.”

  “Huh?” Jason glanced over at her, startled. Whatever he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t it.

  “You heard me. Dr. Stone’s been gone too long. If she knows where he is, I want to talk to her.”

  “He said we should only contact her if it was an emergency,” he said. “You haven’t even met her—I’m not even sure she’d talk to us.”

  “I want to know he’s okay,” she said, stubborn. “She doesn’t have to rat him out if he doesn’t want to be found, but I want to make sure she really does know where he is, and that he’s okay.” A pause, and then, “I want to know if he really is planning to come back.”

  Jason thought about it, then sighed. “Okay. I guess I want to know that, too. Even if it’s only that I want do anything that’ll help get this whole situation over with as soon as possible.”

  Jason opened the shop door at the bottom of the unmarked staircase and waved Verity in ahead of him. She edged inside just far enough to allow him to come in behind her and shut the door, then stopped and stared. “You didn’t tell me it was a big ol’ junk shop,” she whispered. “I was expecting something a bit more—I dunno—magical?”

  Jason scanned the shop, taking in the familiar shelves full of haphazard, dusty items, noting that there were a few new ones since he’d been here last. It wasn’t that he’d paid that close attention to what had been here before, but he was fairly certain that he’d have noticed a full-sized Egyptian sarcophagus and a large apparatus that resembled a model of a solar system—but not their own. And those were just the things near the door. “I think the magic stuff is in the back,” he muttered, gently shoving Verity to get her moving again. “I never got to see that part.”

  They headed down the main aisle, which was only slightly wider than the other two, getting brushed from both sides by items both familiar and odd, all covered in a thick layer of dust. Once Verity nearly tripped over an ancient vacuum cleaner, and a little further on Jason had to stop to extricate his leather jacket from the grip of a collection of metal rods with hooks on the ends. He began to wonder if this had been a good idea.

  Something moved off to their right. Verity did a quick little jump back, but then grinned and squatted down to stroke a slender, ghostlike gray cat that wound itself around her legs as if it had known her all its life.

  Jason let his breath out. He wasn’t cut out for this creepy magical stuff. Verity seemed to eat it up, but now he wished they’d just called Madame Huan and asked her to meet them for lunch at the restaurant or something.

  “Uh...hello?” he called, surprised and annoyed that his voice came out sounding tentative. Louder, he added, “Is anybody here? Madame Huan? It’s Jason Thayer. Remember me? I’m a friend of Alastair Stone’s.”

  The voice, when it came, was directly behind them. “And what can I do for you two?”

  Both of them jumped and spun, sending the gray cat streaking off to peer at them in annoyance from behind a bizarre, two-headed teddy bear and a sinister looking baby doll. The tiny Asian woman stood there looking unruffled, a mischievous smile lighting up her features.

  “Don’t mind Phantom,” she said. “He’s afraid of his own shadow. I’m surprised he came out at all.” She looked them up and down. “Ah, yes. Jason Thayer. I remember you. And this must be your sister Verity. I’ve been hearing quite a lot about you, my dear.”

  “You—er—have?” she asked, coming out from behind Jason.

  Madame Huan nodded. “I never thought I’d see the day when Alastair took an apprentice again. He must see something truly unusual in you.” She chuckled. “No matter, though. You didn’t come here to look at my shop. I actually expected you to come a lot sooner, to be honest.” Waving them toward the back of the shop and a beaded curtain that separated it from the front, she said, “Come on. We’ll have some tea and a chat. Depending on what you want, I might not be able to give you what you seek, but we’ll see. And in any case, I’m glad to finally have the chance to meet Alastair’s apprentice.”

  They followed her back to the curtain, which tinkled softly as they passed through it. Jason’s eyes widened as he descended three steps and realized the view he’d seen from the junk-shop side of the curtain was not the same as what presented itself once he’d passed completely through the doorway.

  Instead of a dusty storeroom, he found himself in a pleasantly cluttered sitting room, its floo
r covered with a richly woven oriental rug in shades of red and gold. In the center of the room was a small table surrounded by four antique, upholstered chairs. The walls were hung with tasteful Chinese art tapestries interspersed with vases and small sculptures on shelves. The room had no windows, but did not feel stuffy or claustrophobic despite its small size. Another closed door led to a second exit on the far side.

  “Please, sit down,” Madame Huan said, indicating the table. “If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I’ll get us some tea and cookies and we can talk.”

  Jason and Verity took seats as instructed, looking around. “This is more like it,” Verity said, dropping her voice. “Still not exactly magical, but getting closer.”

  Madame Huan returned in five minutes, carrying a tray containing a teapot, three delicate china cups and saucers, and a plate of sugar cookies. She poured them each a cup, put the plate and the teapot in the center of the table, and settled herself down across from them. “So,” she said, “Tell me what I can do for you, as if I didn’t know.”

  When Jason didn’t say anything, Verity spoke up. “You know where Dr. Stone is, right?”

  She nodded once, her dark eyes unreadable.

  “We—” She took a deep breath. “We just want to know he’s okay. We’re not asking you to tell us where he is or anything. But he kinda—disappeared abruptly.”

  “He left us a note,” Jason added, “but it didn’t really tell us anything. We’re kind of in a holding pattern until he comes back.”

  Madame Huan took a sip of her tea. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “You three—you are involved in something of some importance, yes?”

  The two of them exchanged glances, and then Verity nodded. “Yes. But—”

  “I know.” Her interruption was soft and kind. “You aren’t allowed to tell me anything about it. But I can make my guesses, based on the items Alastair requested I send to him in West Virginia. Your efforts have something to do with the teleportation portals.”

  Jason’s eyes widened. “Did he tell you—”

  “No, he’s told me nothing, and I respect his right to keep his secrets to himself. But I’m sure he wouldn’t be surprised to know that I’ve made my inferences, as I’m also sure he would not mind us talking now—otherwise, he has other sources from which he could easily have procured some of his supplies.”

  Verity nodded. “It did have to do with the portals, but that’s really all we can say about it.”

  Madame Huan took another sip of tea, moving with measured slowness. She appeared to be considering something. “He has discovered something about the portals,” she said at last. “Something new.”

  Neither Jason nor Verity answered; they weren’t sure how, without giving away more than they should. Instead, Verity asked, “Have you seen him? Or just talked to him?”

  “I have seen him.”

  “When?”

  “A couple of weeks ago. Just after the new year.”

  “How—did he seem?” Jason asked with care. “Was he—okay?”

  Madame Huan gave that some thought, staring down into her teacup. “Physically, he seemed well. Tired, yes, but not injured in any way beyond a few superficial cuts and bruises. But it was obvious that something had affected his mind deeply. I’ve never seen him so disturbed in all the years I’ve known him.”

  “But he didn’t tell you why?” Verity asked.

  “He told me simply that he had seen things he wished he hadn’t seen,” she said. “I am familiar with the Overworld, of course, and the way in which it is traversed. I assumed that whatever he saw, it was there.”

  Jason’s eyes widened. “He didn’t take the portal home, did he? Because he told me that if you tried to do that while you were agitated or emotional or—”

  Madame Huan held up her hands to stop him. “No, he didn’t take the portal. He told me that he came home on an airplane, which surprised me. He isn’t fond of air travel.”

  Verity sighed. “Well,” she said, dejected, “I guess if you know where he is and you know he’s okay, then there really isn’t much else we can say. I guess he’ll come back when he’s ready. I just hope that’ll be soon.”

  “I don’t know when he plans to return,” she said. “But I’m sure he will. He speaks highly of both of you, and I suspect there is more for all of you yet to do.”

  Jason leaned forward, meeting her dark eyes. “Do you think he’ll be able to do—what we need to do?” he asked, his voice soft. “Do you think that whatever this was that disturbed him so much—he’ll be able to work through it?”

  Again, she took a long time before answering. “I think,” she said at last, as if considering each word before allowing it out, “that he is aware of how important it is that you finish this work of yours. I’m not sure if he will be able to do it. But his mind is among the strongest I’ve ever encountered. If anyone can work through such a thing, I would put my money on Alastair Stone.”

  Jason sighed. “I hope so,” he said. “Because if he can’t, then I don’t think any of us can.”

  They thanked Madame Huan for the tea and for talking with them, and left the shop. Verity paused to pet Phantom, who once again came out to greet her, on the way out.

  They didn’t talk as they drove back to their apartment, not wanting to put their fears into words. Jason pulled the car into the apartment complex’s parking lot and into their space by rote, without paying attention to the surroundings beyond what was necessary. He almost didn’t hear Verity at first. “Jason—” she said in an odd tone barely above a whisper. She touched his arm.

  “What?”

  She pointed.

  Jason’s gaze followed her finger.

  Parked in the lot across from the Ford was a black BMW with tinted windows. Leaning against it, as if waiting for something, was a familiar tall, thin figure dressed all in black.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  They got out of the car and approached him slowly, as if fearing he was a mirage, or that he’d dart off like Madame Huan’s skittish gray cat if they made any sudden movements.

  “Al,” Jason said. “How are you?”

  Stone pushed himself off the car. “Hello, Jason. Verity.”

  There was something subtly different about him, but Jason couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. Physically he didn’t look any thinner, but yet he seemed thinner somehow, like he wasn’t quite entirely there. He looked like a man who was spending all his effort to keep a very tight lid on something. His voice was low, quiet, and held none of its usual amused animation.

  “Hi, Dr. Stone,” Verity said. She too sounded uncertain, afraid to say the wrong thing. “It’s—uh—good to see you.”

  He nodded. Dark glasses hid his eyes; even his hands were obscured by black leather gloves. “May I come in?”

  “Uh—sure. Of course.”

  They trooped upstairs to the apartment; Jason shoved a pile of library books and newspapers off the couch and motioned toward it. “Sit down. Can I get you something? I think we’ve got a Guinness or two in the fridge from last time you were here—”

  “Thank you.” Stone took the indicated space. He removed the dark glasses and the gloves and stowed them carefully in an inner pocket of his overcoat, which he didn’t take off. He didn’t look at Verity, who’d sat down on the other end of the couch and was watching him with concern.

  Jason returned with three bottles of various drinks; he handed them around and then settled into a chair, finding himself at a loss for what to say. Stone’s silent presence unnerved him.

  Verity, as was often the case, jumped into the breach. “So...um...we went to see Madame Huan. I hope you don’t mind. We were getting worried about you.”

  Stone shrugged minimally, nodded. “She called me.”

  “She did?” Jason asked. “Just today, you mean?”

  Again he nodded. “She told me you’d come to see her.”

  “And you showed up after that? You mean if we’d contacted her
sooner, you might have come back earlier?” Verity asked, indignant.

  “No, likely not.” Stone sighed, staring down into his glass. “I was already thinking about coming back soon. This was just the catalyst.”

  “Now that you’re back,” Jason said, “can you tell us where you were? Did you go home to England?”

  “For a while, yes.”

  “And the rest of the time?”

  “Around. Various places. I didn’t feel like settling anywhere for long.”

  “And then you ended up back here, obviously, if you got here this fast after Madame Huan called you.”

  “She—” Verity spoke slowly, as if not sure she should bring it up, “—she said you weren’t using the portals.”

  A slight shiver, almost too subtle to see, ran through Stone’s body. “No,” he said, too quickly. “I haven’t used the portals. Not since—” He trailed off, still inspecting the contents of his glass as if they held some great secret. Thus far he had not met either Jason’s or Verity’s eyes. Noticing one of Verity’s magical textbooks on the table next to the couch, he picked it up and leafed idly through it. “Keeping up with your studies, then, are you?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’ve got the stuff you taught me already down pretty good now, but I’m not very good at learning new spells from the books yet. I’m glad you’re back, so you can show me some more.” She paused. “You—you are still planning on teaching me, right?”

  At that point he did finally look up. Verity stifled a gasp when she got a good look at his eyes. They were strange, distant and haunted, clearly disturbed by something. Deep, dark circles beneath them gave him the look of regarding the world from the bottom of a deep pit. But when he spoke, his voice was a little stronger, with more conviction behind it. “Of course I am. Why would you think otherwise? I’ve made a commitment to you—I don’t take such things lightly.”