by R. L. King
She looked down. “I wouldn’t want you to—”
“Don’t you worry, Verity,” he cut her off. “I’ll be all right. This is just a bit of a—rough patch for me. Occupational hazard, really. These things take time to sort out.”
“How do you know that?” Jason kept his voice even, not wanting to upset Stone further. “Al—has anybody else in the world done what you did? Whatever you saw in there—do you think anybody else has ever seen it? Ever?”
Verity glared at him. “Jason, that’s not—”
“No, it’s all right,” Stone said. He set the half-full glass down on the table next to Verity’s book. “He’s right. And the real answer is—I don’t know. I doubt anybody else has ever seen what I saw, so I hardly think I’m in any position to offer opinions about how long it will take for me to sort myself out.” His gaze met first Jason’s, then Verity’s. “I think that’s why I’ve come back, and why I knew I had to.”
“Why?” Jason asked, unsure of his meaning.
He took a deep breath, weighing his words. “Because you two are the only ones who understand. You’re the only ones I can discuss this with. Madame Huan—she’s a dear friend and she knows about the Overworld, of course, but she has no idea about the Evil. The Forgotten—Lamar, perhaps, or Marilee—they’re quite familiar with the Evil, but know nothing of the Overworld. Aside from myself, as far as I’m aware you two are the only people on earth other than the Evil themselves who know of the existence of both.”
He sighed. “After all, it’s not exactly as if I can go to a counselor about it, can I? That would go over well. They’d have me done up in a padded room and fitted with a tasteful straitjacket and an entertaining assortment of pharmaceuticals before I could get through half my story.”
“What did you see, Dr. Stone?” Verity asked, her tone gentle. Jason looked like he was going to say something, but changed his mind and remained silent, watching Stone and wondering if he would answer.
For a long time, it seemed that he wouldn’t. He picked up his glass again and took a drink, staring out over Jason’s shoulder at some point far away. Jason and Verity continued to wait.
When he did finally speak, it was in a near-monotone. “I saw where they came from.”
Jason frowned. “Where they came from? You mean the Overworld?”
Stone shook his head. “No.”
“They don’t come from there?” Jason was confused, and a quick glance at Verity told him that she was, too.
“No. They don’t. That’s what I thought as well—of course I did. What other data did I have? But it seems that the Overworld is simply—” he paused, struggling for a way to express it “—simply a place for them to hang about and wait for people to come through. I suppose it explains why you don’t see that many of them there, and why we haven’t had more incidents of traveler attacks over the years than we have.”
“So you’re saying,” Verity said, eyes wide, “that the portal we shut down—opened up directly to their...what? Home dimension?”
Stone nodded. He was still staring at a point off in space somewhere.
“And you went there?”
He inclined his head.
Jason and Verity exchanged horrified glances. “How did—how did you get away?” Jason asked. “You took longer than we expected—you said it would only be a few seconds, but you were in there for at least a full minute. How come they didn’t—”
“—tear me apart, like they did with Lissy?” Stone’s gaze switched on again, and he shook his head. “I don’t know. The shield held, mostly, even after your extra power cut off. But I got the impression that they weren’t interested in killing me—not right away, anyway.” He looked down at his lap. “I could feel them—trying to get into my head. But not to possess me. Not exactly. It was—” His breath came faster, and his hands shook a little. “It was—I can’t even describe it. It was like some sort of—ghastly vision of hell, only far more surreal than anything a bunch of literal-minded religious sorts would ever come up with. More like—something out of a demented artist’s worst drug nightmares.” He shuddered. “I don’t think I’ve slept more than a couple of hours a night since it happened—aside from the four days I was out, of course. Except that I wasn’t really out. Not completely. The visions—” Again he shuddered.
He looked first at Jason, then at Verity. His next words were spoken with a bleakness that scared both of them. “I’ll be honest with you—if we can’t find another way to shut down that portal in Las Vegas, we may have a problem. Because now I know what needs to be done, and how to accomplish it—but I’m not certain I’ll be able to do it again.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
More time passed, taking the three of them into mid-February. Stone showed no signs of making any plans to go to Las Vegas, and Jason and Verity, feeling guilty but relieved about the prospect of slowing down for a while, didn’t press him about it. They went back to what they’d been doing before the mage had returned: Jason worked as many hours as he could get at A Passage to India and continued his workouts, car-tinkering, and Las Vegas research in his spare time, while Verity split her hours between working at the restaurant and studying magic. There were no other reports of dead mages or suspicious activity. Even the DMW seemed to have settled down.
Stone returned to teaching his Occult Studies classes at Stanford, taking over from the teaching assistant who’d filled in for him while he’d been on leave. He was gone most days and many evenings, but managed to coordinate large blocks of time to spend with Verity, giving her a couple of extra tomes to study and starting her off on a few new spells.
He himself concentrated on improving his healing abilities, so he incorporated that into Verity’s curriculum as well. As it happened, she turned out to be better at it than he was. “Given the number of times we’ve been knocked about in the course of our adventures, I can’t think of a more useful skill for both of us to cultivate,” he told her.
To her delight, the other spell he showed her was a concussive blast that worked on both living and nonliving targets. “Useful for getting people and things out of your way, but without the messy side effects of something like a lightning bolt,” he said. “We’ll get to that down the way, but not for quite some time.”
The last thing he instructed her to focus on was circle-casting, but left the details largely up to her. He gave her a beginner-level book on the topic, a box of materials, and the instruction to design a circle that would locate a known individual, saying he would test her on it when she was ready.
Both Jason and Verity watched Stone closely when they didn’t think he was paying attention. He seemed to have mostly recovered from his unsettling experience in the Evil’s home dimension, but he still had the dark circles under his eyes and had not completely regained his sarcastic and irreverent demeanor. Whenever either of them encountered him alone, he always seemed to be deep in thought about something, often accompanying his musings by noodling aimless melodies on an old black Stratocaster he’d acquired since leaving them in West Virginia.
Still, though, the combination of teaching his classes and instructing Verity in the finer points of magical theory and application seemed to be bringing him out of his depression. It was a slow and not altogether steady progress—there were still days when he was moody and uncommunicative, usually coinciding with his looking like he’d gotten even less sleep than usual—but it soon became obvious to both Jason and Verity that Stone’s first love in life, aside from magic itself, was teaching the subject to enthusiastic students. Even if the subject was the watered-down version that he taught at the University, it didn’t matter—as long as he was imparting knowledge to eager minds, he was happy.
On a whim, the two of them sneaked into one of his Occult Studies classes one day when they had time off, and both were amazed at the level of animation he displayed. He prowled the classroom, moving up and down the aisles, engaging the students in discussions, and punctuating his points with brief but
intense demonstrations. When he paused to write something on the whiteboard at the front of the room, he didn’t so much write as attack, dashing off information with a fervor that would have done Frank the Scribbler proud. When he finally looked up and spotted them in the back row, he favored them with the first genuine smile they’d seen from him in a long time—a brilliant grin that told them what they needed to know. This was therapy for him, and it was working.
Even so, though, after another couple of weeks passed without any mention of Las Vegas and the portal, Jason grew more nervous. Things had been quiet—as the old cliché went, too quiet. Going about the everyday business of living, he could almost make himself believe that there was no such thing as malevolent extradimensional Evil trying to breach their world by means of a sole remaining magical portal.
Almost.
The fact was, though, that he was convinced something would happen soon. He discussed it with Verity in the break room of A Passage to India one night, and found she’d been thinking along similar lines for a while, but didn’t want to say anything.
“I can’t believe they’re just giving up,” he said, picking at his plate of tandoori chicken. “I mean, they’ve got to know that we’re responsible for shutting the portal down, right?”
“Do they?” she asked. “If Dr. Stone is right, they can’t communicate with each other telepathically or anything once they’re stuck in bodies, and as far as we know, all the Evil involved with that situation in West Virginia died in the explosion. So unless they contacted other Evil during the time when we were there—”
“Who says they didn’t? And remember, the ones on the other side still have to be able to interact with our world somehow, or they wouldn’t be able to tell the ones coming through where they need to go. If they did see what was going on, you can bet your ass they’ve passed the word to any little foot-soldiers they were planning to send through the Vegas portal.”
“That’s assuming it’s even opened between now and then,” she pointed out. “We don’t know what kinds of schedules they open up on. Remember what Joshua said? One time it was a month, one time two, and one time six. So, the fact that the Evil hasn’t sent hit squads after us and Dr. Stone yet might mean that they don’t know what’s going on.”
Jason hadn’t thought of that. “You have a point,” he admitted. “And I hope you’re right. But we still can’t wait forever to take care of that other one. If you’re right and they don’t know yet, then we have the advantage. Once it opens and they get the word out, though, I wouldn’t be surprised if they throw everything they have at trying to get rid of us—or at least of Al, since now that those other two mages are dead, they’re back to square one on mages who know their way around portals. Even if there are others, they’ll have to track them down and convince them to be possessed, which I doubt will be easy—and it means they might start killing mages again. Anyway, the last thing they’re gonna want is a guy running around who can take out their one last portal before they can find somebody who can fix it for ’em.”
“So what do we do?” she asked. “I know you’ve been reading up on Vegas, and I think Dr. Stone knows it, too. But he hasn’t said anything about going. One time I brought it up in kind of a roundabout way, and he changed the subject fast. I don’t think he even wants to discuss it.”
Jason took a deep breath. He’d never seen this side of Stone before: the mage had never been the type to wade into a battle with both fists—literal or metaphorical—swinging, but he also wasn’t the type to avoid a fight when it was inevitable. “Whatever he saw in there must have spooked the fuck out of him. I can’t really blame him for not wanting to go back in there. Hell, it took everything he had to convince me to go back into the regular portal after that first trip we took to England. I get being scared. But—” He spread his hands. “—I don’t know what else we can do. There isn’t anybody else out there who can do it. If there was somebody else who could—if we could find them, and tell them—”
“I think we should talk to him,” Verity said. “Believe me, I know how easy it is to just sweep things under the rug and pretend everything’s fine when you don’t want to think about them. I spent the last five years doing that, and it gets easier every time you do it. If we let him do it too long, he might never want to go.”
“You know how he’s gonna react to us showing up and telling him he needs to get back on the horse, right?” Jason said. “I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t pitch us out a second-story window. If he’s in a forgiving mood, he might open it first.”
They arranged to meet with Stone at his townhouse one evening a few days later, after Verity’s magic lesson. She promised to cook dinner, something he usually took her up on, since his own cooking abilities were generally lacking and he had little interest in improving them. Since the three of them had often gotten together for dinner in the past, he didn’t seem to suspect any ulterior motives. Indeed, he appeared to be in a better mood than usual when Jason arrived around six o’clock.
“Evening,” he said. “Have a seat and amuse yourself for a few minutes and we’ll be done here.”
Jason did as requested, taking a seat on the couch where he could watch what Stone and Verity were doing. They were at the kitchen table, deep in concentration over a complicated miniature arrangement of crystals, wires, and small candles. Jason couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Verity’s attention was riveted to it. Occasionally she would make a comment or consult an open book next to her, and Stone would nod and reply. Jason couldn’t help but feel a small stab of jealousy watching them—he was glad that Verity had her magical abilities, if for no other reason than that every spell she learned made her more capable of keeping herself safe from threats than the average person, but he often wished the hereditary line that had bestowed the abilities on her might have thrown a bone or two his way as well. According to Stone, that didn’t happen—magical powers were always, or almost always, passed along gender lines, and since their mother was the mage in the family, that meant Verity won the prize.
He sighed. Technically, he had gotten something: the strange ability to be a magical “battery” and allow a white mage to use him to power spells without causing injury or distress to either party was amazing, and it had saved their necks many times. But it was still a little—well, passive—for Jason’s liking. He was used to being the one who got out there and did things, not the one who provided the means for other people to do them. That was why he’d been spending so much time working out; ensuring that his knee was completely healed was just the ulterior motive. He wanted to make sure that he was in the best shape he could be in, since for the most part that was what he brought to the party. He planned to take his pistol to a local gun range and get in some practice when time permitted as well.
“Jason?” Verity’s voice cut through his thoughts, and he realized he hadn’t been paying attention to the two of them for the last several minutes. He looked up, startled.
They were clearing the apparatus off the table, gathering up the books and putting everything away on a shelf nearby. “If you could set the table,” she continued, “I’ll check on dinner, and we should be ready to eat soon.” She gave him an odd sidelong look, but didn’t say anything else.
None of them said much until they were all seated around the table and helping themselves to Verity’s latest dish. Because of her work at the restaurant, she’d grown tired of fixing Indian food in her spare time, so she’d gone for a nice easy vegetarian lasagna dish that she hadn’t had to keep too close an eye on while she worked with Stone.
They kept the conversation light while they ate; Jason told funny stories about some of the restaurant’s customers, Verity talked about her magical studies, and Stone for the most part just kept quiet and listened, aside from complimenting Verity on another excellent meal.
After they’d finished, Jason took a deep breath. He didn’t want to do this, but he knew there was no avoiding it. When the plates had been gathered in
the sink and they lingered over dessert and coffee, he spoke up. “So, Al—”
Stone’s gaze flicked up. “Yes?”
“Tomorrow’s the first of March.”
“Yes, Jason, I’m well aware of the passing of time.” Stone’s tone was laced with both sarcasm and amusement.
“Yeah. But—” Why is this so hard? “—it’s been two months since we got back.”
“I’m aware of that as well.” Stone’s expression was unreadable.
Verity, clearly growing tired of Jason’s dancing around the issue, spoke up. “Dr. Stone, we need to go to Las Vegas. We can’t wait any more.”
He shrugged. “I can’t go yet. I’m finishing up a unit in my Occult Symbology course. We’ll go when—”
“Al,” Jason said, “Have you even done anything to prepare? You know we have to do it, right?”
“Of course I know that,” he snapped without looking at Jason.
“So why are we waiting? Every day we wait means more of a chance the Vegas portal will open up again, if it hasn’t already. And if it does—”
“We were talking about that,” Verity cut in. “Jason and me. We think the reason everything’s been so quiet is because all the Evil who knew you destroyed their portal in West Virginia are dead, and the ones watching from the—other place—can’t communicate anything to the ones on our side until the Vegas portal opens again.” She paused. “We think that hasn’t happened yet, because if it had, they’d be sending Evil hit squads after you to take you out before you can destroy their one last portal.”
She looked at him in challenge, as if daring him to refute her words. When he said nothing, she continued, “We have to go soon, because if that happens, I don’t think you’ll be able to fight them all off, even with Jason and me helping. I don’t think they’ll quit until you’re dead.” She took a deep breath. “And you know they won’t just stop at trying to kill you. They’ll take out entire crowds of people if they think it’ll help them get to you. You know I’m right, don’t you? I mean, can you come up with any other reason why everything’s been so quiet?”
