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

by R. L. King

  “Ley lines, for one,” she said, nodding. “I’ve learned a lot over the past few years, though I’m by no means any kind of an expert. I can’t build a portal on my own, but I can follow the discussion well enough that I should be able to work with our expert, once we’ve found the right one.” She leaned forward, still standing up, and put her hands on the table. “And as for Stone catching on: he won’t. Because we’re going to kill him before we start.”

  The boy turned to face her, and his expression had an implacability that hardened his soft features into something much more adult—and much more authoritative. “No,” he said flatly. “I won’t go along with that. As I and others have said, it’s too dangerous. It’s much safer to simply let him think that we’ve gone dormant, accepted the inevitable, and don’t pose a large-scale threat anymore.”

  The blonde woman glared at him. “You might have forgotten,” she said in a cold tone that barely veiled a seething rage, “but you aren’t in charge here. You don’t make the decisions, and you don’t control what any of the rest of us do.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” agreed the military man. “But I for one think he’s right. I agree that we need to do something about reopening the way home, so we can start bringing over more of our children and re-establishing our original plan for this world. But I won’t sign on to a vendetta. Yes, I agree Stone has to die. He and his friends. But not until after we’ve succeeded.”

  Around the table, the others were nodding. The mob boss settled a probing stare on the blonde woman. “Listen,” he said, “I know you got issues with Stone that go beyond what he’s done to our plans. I get that he and your host go way back. But none of that matters to the rest of us. You deal with your own baggage on your own time.”

  “Agreed,” said the actress. “I don’t like this plan at all. I’d rather just make our own way here and reproduce when we can. It’s slower, but it’s safer, and we have time. But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it the intelligent way. The safe way. I’m sure you’ll find many of us willing to help you deal with Stone after the situation has been taken care of, but not before.”

  The boy nodded. He looked around the table. “This will take all of us to do. It will require large amounts of money, and once we’ve established a location for the portal, we’ll probably have to arrange to be there to assist with attuning it to the proper coordinates. That’s what I’ve been told, anyway. We won’t know the details until we’ve implemented the first part of the plan. So what we need to agree on is: are we all committed to doing this? Can we count on everyone’s contribution?”

  Several of the attendees, including the mob boss, the cop, the evangelist, the military officer, and the severely dressed woman, nodded. Others, including the actress, the dramatically dressed dark-skinned man, the chubby young man, and a couple of others, continued muttering among themselves for a brief time, but finally gave grudging assent. “We’ll have to keep in contact with each other more than we like,” said the chubby man. “I’m sure we’ll all want to be kept up to date on the latest status.”

  “Easily done,” the boy said. He turned to the blonde woman. “There. You have agreement to look for your expert. You don’t have agreement to go after Stone. If you do that, you’re on your own, and I’m sure the others agree that compromising our plans for your own personal agenda will be dealt with harshly.”

  Around the table, the others nodded. The blonde woman remained defiant for a few moments as her gaze traversed the room, but to a person their eyes had all gone as cold and merciless as a pack of sharks.

  Finally, she sighed and sank back down. “Fine,” she said, reluctance and frustration still clear in her tone. “I can wait for Stone. I’ll get started looking for the expert as soon as we leave here. I’ve got a couple of likely prospects.”

  The mob boss stood. “If we got nothin’ else to discuss, I’m outta here.” Several others rose as well. They all seemed relieved that the meeting had been completed so quickly and that they were now free to get out of each other’s presence. One by one they filed out of the room until only the boy and the blonde woman were left.

  “That went better than expected,” the boy said.

  The woman shrugged. “Not as well as I hoped. But I’ll take what I can get.”

  “You need to learn patience,” the boy said, moving toward the door.

  “And you need to learn when to mind your own fucking business,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t forget, I’m the only one of us who has any chance at understanding what Stone and his people might do to try to undermine us.”

  “If he doesn’t find out what we’re doing, he won’t have the chance to undermine us,” the boy said. “Can we count on you to stick to the plan?”

  She sighed. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” Sweeping past the boy, she headed back out into the hotel’s common area. Her long strides quickly put distance between them.

  He watched her go, his own eyes narrowing. He’d have to keep an eye on her. He’d long thought she was dangerously unstable, not a good trait in a host. If she jeopardized the plan, she’d have to be dealt with.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The blonde woman sat in a dark basement bar near her hotel, seething over her drink. Her plane didn’t leave until late tomorrow morning: she hadn’t known how long the meeting would last, and she hated having to get up early and scramble around getting ready. She liked to take her time about things. Now, though, she had the rest of the night to kill.

  So far, none of the bar’s other patrons had approached her. That might have seemed odd, given that she was a single woman and not unattractive, but her entire aura put out powerful waves of unapproachability that even the hopelessly mundane couldn’t help picking up on. She knew that as the night wore on, and the patrons—mostly male—grew drunker, that would change. That was all right. In fact, she was counting on it. She needed power. She didn’t need to feed yet: the two untraceable murders she’d committed yesterday would ensure that she was well sated for at least the next few days. But this wasn’t about hunger. It was about the other side of her.

  The original side.

  She sipped of her drink and looked up, studying her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Even after all this time, she still surprised herself occasionally when she caught an unexpected glimpse. Her eyes were still the same: hard and green, glittering with intelligence and ambition. But as for the rest of her face: the surgeons had been good. She’d been lucky, because at the time she’d needed the surgery, she hadn’t had the money to afford the best. The fact that she’d stumbled on to a man who was both compassionate and very good at his job had been something she couldn’t have counted on.

  Even so, though, these kinds of things are never perfect. Some change was inevitable. When she’d emerged from the bandages she still recognized herself, but the contours of her face were different enough that anyone who didn’t know her well would have to look at her for more than a brief glance in order to have a chance of recognizing her. It had taken time for the scars to fade, but they had finally done so, at least on her face. Those on her arms were more problematic: she’d taken to wearing long sleeves whenever possible. She didn’t like it, because she’d put a lot of effort into her intricate sleeve tattoos, but some things couldn’t be helped. When you survived something that should have killed you, you had to accept that everything wouldn’t continue exactly as before.

  She clutched her drink again, looking down. A man approached her, got a look at her ferocious expression, and abruptly changed direction. She barely noticed. Her body was present in the bar, but her mind was far away. Halfway across the country, in fact.

  A face swam in her vision: a hated face. The face of the man who had upended her life, and led her inexorably to where she was now. She studied him in her mind’s eye: his dark hair, sharp features, bright blue eyes, tall thin frame in that long black coat he favored—and then with a twist of her thoughts, she pictured him writhing in flam
es, screaming, begging her for mercy. There wouldn’t be any, of course. She didn’t even understand the concept. Mercy was weakness in any case, and in this case it was out of the question. She’d been stoking this hatred, quietly and patiently, for the last four years, and now it was time for her plans to finally come to fruition.

  Oh, she wouldn’t do it yet. Her hatred burned deep, but she still had it under control. She knew what the others were capable of doing to her if she broke ranks and pursued her own agenda before the early stages of the group’s plans were put into place. They would kill her, pure and simple, and feed on her agony. It would be easy enough to have another vessel prepared to receive the Other inside her. Like all the hosts, no matter how important they might be considered in this world, she was only useful as long as the relationship was mutually beneficial. Now that she’d made the decision, there was no turning back. Her decisions now were not fully her own. But in exchange for that, she’d gained resources she’d never had access to before. They had helped her change her identity, on the off chance that her enemies might suspect she hadn’t died when she was supposed to and attempt to track her down. As far as she knew, they hadn’t (another sign of their weakness—she would have, with relentless obsession, if the situation had been reversed) but it wasn’t wise to take chances.

  The merge was not unpleasant, not usually. Most of the time she was free to pursue her own activities, continuing to study and grow in her magic from the new location she’d chosen after being driven out of her original home. Another thing he would have to answer for. She could still go about her business, draining power from unsuspecting victims, and even committing murder periodically when she needed a particular punch.

  The Other liked the murders: all it insisted on was that she draw them out so it could drink in the victims’ exquisite fear. She found she enjoyed that. She liked watching them squirm and beg, and she liked the looks in their eyes when they realized that they could do nothing to stop the inevitable. The Other took it in like nectar, the sensations suffusing her body with more physical ecstasy than the best orgasm a normal human could ever experience. She used to love sex, but now she just used it to achieve her ends. The killing—the fear, and the sharing of it with the Other—was infinitely more pleasurable.

  She smiled her sharkish little smile, sipped her drink again, and thought about what that sensation would be like when she finally had her way with Alastair Stone. It wouldn’t be long now. She had a few more things to do, a few more contacts to make, a few more plans to set into motion. And then she’d be free to do it—she’d have their sanction, in fact. Maybe she’d even see if any of the others wanted to be present for the kill. That was the thing about the way they fed: having multiples of them on hand for the show didn’t dilute the sweet, sweet bliss. She’d never experimented with this herself, but she’d heard it from a couple of her counterparts, on the rare occasions when they spoke with each other. Now she wanted to try it. She wondered if the orgasmic sensation would be even better if it were shared. Maybe she could figure out a way to combine it with sex…

  Another man, perhaps encouraged by the way her face had changed when she thought about this happy time to come, approached her with a confident smile. “Mind if I sit here?” he asked, indicating the barstool next to hers.

  She turned to him and smiled. If he’d been a little less drunk or a little less horny, he’d have fled for his life at the sight of that smile.

  “Have a seat,” she said, her grin widening. “My name’s Trina. My friends call me Trin.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I feel underdressed,” Verity complained.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Stone assured her. “Trust me, you’ll see all manner of interesting clothing choices tonight.”

  She looked him up and down. “I’ve hardly ever seen you in a suit unless you were—you know—going to a funeral or something,” she said. “You should wear one more often. It makes you look hot.”

  “Like you’d care,” Jason grumbled.

  “That’s why I can say things like that,” she said, grinning. “Because he knows he can’t take it the wrong way.”

  They were in Los Angeles, the site of the symposium Stone had been attending. It was the end of the first day, the first of his two seminars had gone over well, and the three of them had gotten together to head to a nearby restaurant where the mages were meeting to eat, drink, and talk shop. They wended their way in Stone’s black BMW through the early evening traffic.

  When they arrived at the venue, Verity had been surprised to find out the event wasn’t actually a “mage conference” per se, as she had assumed from Stone’s description. Instead, the banner on the mid-sized hotel advertised it as an “International Occult Symposium,” welcoming everyone with an interest in the esoteric arts, which ran the gamut from tarot reading to ghost hunting. “Sounds like a lot of fakes to me,” she’d said, disappointed.

  “Of course it is,” was Stone’s dry reply. “Did you think the true practitioners are going to advertise? Besides, there are so few of us, we’d never be able to afford a hotel like this on our own. We just arrange to slip our own programming in around all the dowsing demonstrations and lectures on people’s past lives as Cleopatra.”

  Jason flipped through the event listing. “‘Your Pet’s Past Life,’” he read. “Hmm. Do you think Fluffy and Fido were Cleopatra, too?”

  Stone chuckled. “Actually, most of it isn’t as bad as all that. Of course there are the nutters, and they’re popular with the organizers because for whatever reason, they tend to be the ones with the deep pockets. You should see what they spend in the sellers’ area, buying embroidered silk robes and specially blessed crystals and all sorts of dodgy ‘mystical’ objects. Surprisingly, most of our lot tend to live fairly frugally. Plus they wouldn’t buy any of that useless rubbish.” He shrugged. “But by far the largest group of attendees are people whose faith centers around the occult, like the Wiccans and Vodou practitioners.”

  “Really?” Verity asked.

  “They know their stuff,” Stone said. “Some of their seminars are fascinating. Sometimes I’m amazed at the depth of what they know, or suspect, given that the majority of them don’t have any actual magical talent.”

  “I kind of wish I’d gone now,” Verity said. “You make it sound interesting.”

  “You still can if you like,” Stone said with another shrug. “I can get you in for tomorrow. But do you want to leave poor Jason wandering about on his own?”

  Jason grunted. “Hey, don’t worry about me. You want to go, go. If you can get me a ticket too, Al, I’ll just follow V around and carry packages for her.” He grinned. “Or maybe I can hook up with a hot witch, and we can make a little magic of our own, you know?”

  His decision to come along had been a last-minute one, when Verity had pointed out that if he didn’t go and she wasn’t planning to attend the symposium, she’d be on her own in Los Angeles all day while Stone was occupied. Aside from his protective brotherly instincts rearing their inevitable heads, he didn’t want his sister to be bored by herself. He and Verity had spent the day playing tourist at Universal Studios.

  Stone pulled the car into the parking lot of a large bar and grill. It took him a while to find a space in the full lot.

  “Lot of mages?” Verity asked. “I thought you said we were pretty rare.”

  “We’ve got the back room,” Stone said, getting out. “You know, keep us away from the normal people. Which is probably good, given the—er—eccentricity of some of us.”

  “Are there black mages here, too?” she asked. “I meant to ask you about that. Do they come here and talk about…whatever black mages talk about?”

  “Of course some of them are attending,” Stone said, nodding. “Though they tend to have their seminars off-site, since it would be a bit more awkward if a mundane wandered in to one of their how-to sessions.” He made a vague wave to indicate the restaurant. “And I doubt any of them are here. They find
our lot rather dull, for the most part. I’m sure their parties are a bit livelier. Though that might not be difficult,” he added with a wry smile.

  The hostess gave them an odd, sideways glance when Stone gave the name of their party, but didn’t comment. She motioned for them to follow, and led them through crowds of what looked mostly like college students and young professionals trying to impress each other. All three of them got various appreciative glances from one or more members of the crowd, including a grinning young man who tried to lure Verity away until Jason glared daggers at him over her shoulder.

  “Who picked this place?” he asked. “Looks like a meat market. Doesn’t seem like the kind of place where a bunch of weirdos would get together. No offense, Al.”

  Stone shrugged. “Wasn’t me. Last time I attended one of these, we were in the banquet room of some family-style Italian place. Portions big enough to feed a battalion. Not really my thing, but they do try to keep it affordable.”

  The hostess took them down a hall and opened half of a pair of double doors. “Here we are,” she said. “Quite a few of your party are already here. Enjoy your evening,” she added, and made herself scarce.

  The large room included a dozen tables scattered around without any apparent design. Each one was big enough to seat eight to ten people, but most had only four or five. Jason paused to look over the crowd, getting a feel for it. He guessed the room contained thirty to fifty people, ranging from late teens to a couple of large, bearded men who couldn’t have been younger than seventy. None of the group had anything in common: young, old, fat, thin, male, female, and various races and colors. Clothing styles veered all over the map as well: Jason spotted a couple people decked out in suits as nice as Stone’s, as well as others in jeans and T-shirts, a big woman in a long, flowered gown, and an old guy in a rust-colored leisure suit that had gone out of style before Jason was born.