The Infernal Heart

by R. L. King

  She paused. “I’m supposed to work at the church tomorrow from noon to five. Could you come there?”

  It made sense that she’d want to meet him in a place she considered safe for more than one reason. “Of course,” he said. “I need to come back down to San Jose for some other business tomorrow, so I’ll stop by.” He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “It will be all right, Ms. Ruiz.”

  She nodded. “It will. I know it. Like I said, God will protect us. That’s what He does.”

  Stone didn’t reply to that. He was still trying to figure out a way he could ward the apartment against any further Archie attacks, but its location on the second floor made it difficult—at least without having to do a few things that would probably result in Abuelita’s slipper-clad foot making violent contact with his arse. The old lady’s small, glittering black eyes were already fixed on him as if gauging when he’d be finished with his obligatory cup of tea so she could hustle him out. He wondered if she ever left the apartment.

  She and Grace were talking in rapid-fire Spanish again, so he took that opportunity to switch to magical sight and look the place over, trying to scope out where he might set the anchors to provide maximum coverage with minimal effort.

  He froze, staring.

  The entire apartment lit up, suffused with a warm, gentle golden glow that flowed around the walls, the doors, the windows—even the angel figurines and the crucifixes hanging on the walls.

  Stone blinked. He’d never seen anything quite like this before. It appeared to be some kind of ward, but unlike anything he’d ever created or viewed before.

  …or was it?

  No, he had seen it before. Once.

  He knew a man named Edwin Blodgett, back east—a fellow mage who also happened to be a minister. The last time they’d spoken was when Stone, Verity, and Jason had used the portal at Blodgett’s church as a destination when attending a friend’s funeral some time ago.

  His church’s wards had the same comforting, flowing look to them.

  Could it be that Grace was—?

  “Dr. Stone?”

  He jerked, pulled back to the real world to find both Grace and her grandmother staring at him—the former with confusion, the latter with suspicion. “Yes, what is it?”

  She looked apologetic. “Abuelita says she’s tired. I’m sorry, but—”

  “Of course. I’ll go now.” He set down the delicate teacup and thanked the old lady. To Grace, he said, “Please tell her the tea was lovely, and she doesn’t have to worry—I won’t be disturbing her any further.”

  Grace relayed the message—or some variation of it, anyway, and saw him to the door. “You will come tomorrow, right?” she asked. “I really need some answers.”

  Stone looked around at the apartment’s golden wards again. “As do I, Ms. Ruiz. Don’t you worry—you couldn’t keep me away.”

  “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Whatever that demon is, it obviously means to harm you.”

  “I can look after myself,” he assured her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As the door closed behind him, he stood on the walkway for a few seconds before starting back toward the car.

  “Well, Archie,” he murmured. “That was a good try, but I think I might be on my way to getting your number now.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The next day, he called the department office and told Laura he was taking a personal day. He only had one class, so he didn’t feel too guilty about it, but Archie couldn’t wait any longer.

  He’d slept late after checking his own wards when he got home, and found Raider once again curled up on his pillow when he awoke. The scar from the slash on his arm was already beginning to fade; maybe he’d picked up more about healing from his association with Verity than he’d thought. That didn’t do anything about the aches from his bout with Mr. Juarez’s furniture, though. For those, the mundane spell “summon ibuprofen” would have to do.

  He was getting ready to head down to San Jose when his home phone rang. He let it go to the machine, but snatched it up when he heard Patricia, the Rosicrucian librarian.

  “Alastair, hi,” she said. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I just wanted to let you know I remembered the name of the man who was looking for the information about your ancient language. It’s Simon Beal. I was right, he’s down in Los Angeles now, but I found some of my notes when I was helping him with the research. He is a member of the Order. I can’t give you his phone number, but if you’ll allow it, I’ll give him yours and ask him to call you.”

  At last, perhaps a break! “Yes, yes. Thank you, Patricia. Please, pass along any contact information he needs, and ask him to give me a call.”

  “Happy to be of help. I remember he was pretty passionate about his research, so don’t be surprised if you hear back soon.”

  Stone got down to St. Joseph’s about twelve-thirty. He asked the first person he saw about Grace, then entertained himself pacing the church examining the sculptures and stained-glass windows while waiting for her to arrive.

  After several minutes passed, he wondered if perhaps something had gone wrong. Had Archie sent his dust devils after her, despite her apartment’s strange wards?

  “Dr. Stone?”

  He turned. She stood a short distance away, regarding him with an odd, pensive expression. Today she wore a calf-length denim skirt and a blue blouse over a lighter blue T-shirt. “Ms. Ruiz. It’s good to see you here. How…are you doing?”

  “Mr. Juarez died last night.”

  He bowed his head. Damn. “What happened? He wasn’t injured, was he?”

  “No. His heart gave out in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. They tried, but…” She crossed herself and then spread her hands.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “How is Father Reed?”

  “He’ll be okay. He’s home now—he called in this morning. The injuries weren’t as bad as they looked. He’s pretty shook up, though, naturally.”

  “Did he say anything about…what happened?”

  “I think he’s still processing it,” she said. “I’m not even sure he knows I was there, and I didn’t tell him yet. I think he was still woozy from the pain meds. He doesn’t know about Mr. Juarez yet, either—at least not from me.” She took a deep breath. “We need to talk. I have a lot of questions for you. But not here.”

  Stone nodded. “Have you had lunch yet?”

  “No…I wasn’t really very hungry. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

  “Let me take you to lunch, then. You pick the place, and we’ll talk there.”

  She thought about that. “I think I’d like to get outside for a while. There’s a food truck that has really good tacos just down the street. We can sit in the park, if that’s okay. Let me just tell the sister I’ll be gone for a while.”

  “The park” turned out to be a small oasis of grass and scattered trees across the street from St. Joseph’s. It was a popular place at midday, and they had to wait in a long line at the food truck Grace pointed out a block away. Stone was once again struck by how odd it was to be surrounded by cheerful mundanes out for a pleasant summer afternoon in the park, blissfully unaware of the powerful and often malevolent forces constantly swirling around them. He wondered what they’d do if they were aware, but he thought he already knew: they’d figure out a way to rationalize them away. Mundanes were masters at rationalization. It made a lot of things easier, but a few of them a lot harder.

  Grace didn’t say much as they got tacos and drinks and carried them back toward the park. She walked along next to him watching the scenery, though he had a feeling she probably wasn’t seeing much of it. He didn’t intrude on her thoughts. This was her show, so he was willing to follow her timetable.

  She didn’t speak until they were seated across from e
ach other at a picnic table under a tree near a lumpy, coiled sculpture. She looked down at her taco, then up at a couple of kids playing Frisbee-catch with a bounding golden retriever.

  “What are you?” she asked finally. “How did you do that last night? You made your hand light up. You…pointed at those things and turned them into dust.”

  “Not exactly,” he said. “They were already made of dust. I just…helped them back to their natural state.”

  Her gaze came up. “That’s not an answer.”

  “No…it’s not. But I’m not so sure you truly want to hear the real one.” He bit into the taco; she was right, they were excellent. Good Mexican food, the spicier the better, was a taste he’d picked up since he’d moved to California—he hadn’t thought he liked it until he found out the stuff that passed for it in back home in England didn’t even belong in the same category.

  “Why wouldn’t I want to hear it?”

  “Do you want my honest answer?”

  “I don’t want you to lie to me, Dr. Stone. I think we’re past that. Why would you think I wouldn’t want to hear the truth?”

  He sighed and took another bite to give himself time to give his answer careful consideration. “Because,” he said at last, “I know how your church feels about what I do.”

  “What do you mean? What do you do?”

  He looked her in the eye. “Magic.”

  He wasn’t sure how he expected her to respond; the few times he’d revealed his magical abilities to mundanes, they’d usually reacted with wide-eyed shock and disbelief, followed by a request for proof. With someone like Grace, so young and so connected with her Catholic faith, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised if she’d gotten up, declared him an abomination, and refused to associate with him anymore. Especially given that she’d already had the demonstration. After what she’d seen last night, it would take some truly world-class rationalization skills to explain it away with some mundane cause.

  What he didn’t expect was for her to sit calmly and take another bite of her taco, followed by a long drink of soda. Her gaze never left his while she did it.

  “No comment?” he asked.

  She set down the taco. “What can I say?” she asked. “I saw what you did. You could be the Devil trying to deceive me, but I don’t think you are.”

  He blinked. “So you believe me? Just like that?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Frankly, yes,” he admitted. “Not many know. Of those who do, most didn’t take it nearly as calmly as you did.”

  “I trust in the Lord,” she said. “I believe He’d let me know if you were someone I shouldn’t associate with.”

  “But I thought your church condemned magic. I might not be a believer, but I’m passingly familiar with the Bible, purely on a scholarly basis.”

  “It does,” she said. “I don’t believe what you’re doing is magic, though.”

  “Oh?” He frowned—they’d been getting along so well up to this point. “What do you think it is, then?”

  “I don’t know. And I don’t need to know. I saw what you did, and I saw what you were fighting against. That demon is evil. I’m certain of it. I’m certain the one I saw on my way home was. And you were fighting them.”

  “With magic.”

  “With something,” she said. “The important thing is, you were fighting evil. Since magic is evil—the Bible’s pretty clear on that—what you were doing must have been something else.” She met his gaze. “It doesn’t matter what it was, Dr. Stone. I know that sounds odd, but it’s true. I trust God to warn me if anything changes.”

  He sat in silence as he finished one taco and started on a second. Grace Ruiz was indeed a surprising young woman. “What is that supposed to be, anyway?” he asked, nodding toward the lumpy statue. “It looks like a dinosaur with a digestive disorder didn’t make it to the loo in time.”

  She giggled. “It’s supposed to be Quetzalcoatl. But a lot of people agree with you.” Then her expression sobered. “So what do we do now?”

  “Now,” Stone said, “I’ve got some questions for you.”

  “What questions?”

  Again he paused. This wasn’t going to be easy, and he’d have to choose his words carefully or risk losing all the progress he’d made with her so far. “Ms. Ruiz…”

  She tilted her head, waiting.

  He let his breath out, and his mind seized onto an entry into the conversation that he’d forgotten about until now. “Yesterday, when we met, you got angry with me when I asked you if you spoke from experience about demons. You said that your brother had been possessed by one, and that you didn’t expect me to believe it.”

  She nodded slowly, her expression growing guarded.

  “I think you know now that I won’t have trouble believing you, don’t you?”

  “Yes…I suppose I do.”

  “Can you tell me about it?” he asked softly. “What happened, and how do you know it was a demon?”

  She looked down, picking at the remains of her taco. “It’s not something I like to talk about,” she said.

  “I understand that.” He kept his voice gentle, nonthreatening. “But much as I hate that it’s so, you’re involved in this now. I need to know a few things about you so I can…keep being your helicopter. What happened with the demon, Ms. Ruiz?”

  For a long time, she said nothing. She continued plucking at bits of her taco and nibbling on them until none were left. Then she looked up and met his gaze solidly. “I grew up in a bad part of east San Jose, Dr. Stone,” she said. “My life was—well, I guess you’d call it pretty terrible. I’m guessing you never worried about where your next meal came from, did you? Or had to worry about getting shot in drive-bys on your way home from school?”

  “No,” he said. “No, you’re right. I never had to worry about those things.”

  She nodded as if she already knew that. “My mother was a drug addict—she never really wanted us, at least not as much as she wanted her next fix. Neither of us knew our dads. Abuelita looked after us, made sure we got to school and had enough to eat, even if she had to go without herself. And she always made sure we went to church. That was really important to her.” She got up, gathering her cup and taco wrapper. “Can we walk? It might be easier to talk about it if I’m moving.”

  “Of course.” He fell into pace beside her as she tossed her trash and chose a path that would take them around the park.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “my brother didn’t like church. He’d fallen in with a gang by then, mostly for protection. Kids—especially guys—pretty much had to around our neighborhood. I don’t know if Abuelita knew, but I think she suspected. He was a couple years older than me, and she couldn’t really handle him anymore.” Her steps picked up a bit, and she didn’t look at Stone.

  “But I loved church. I went every chance I got, and even spent a lot of my free time there helping out when there weren’t any services. To me, it was a little bit of peace in the middle of what was mostly a pretty chaotic life. I got to know all the fathers, and the sisters, and every time I was afraid life was getting to be too much for me, my prayers would comfort me. I always felt like God was there, keeping an eye on me.”

  Stone nodded. “But your brother pulled away?”

  “He didn’t so much pull away as never really belonged in the first place. As soon as he was too big for Abuelita to order around, he stopped going. He always took care of me, looked out for me, but he couldn’t understand what I saw in ‘all that religious stuff,’ as he called it. But by that time—I was about seventeen—I knew what I wanted to do. I was going to give my life to the Church.”

  “What do you mean? You were going to become a nun?”

  “Yes. I felt like God was calling me. I know that probably seems crazy to you, but it was so strong I started thinking about it all the t
ime. I went to one of the Fathers at my church and told him about it. My grandmother was so proud of me, but that wasn’t the most important part. All I wanted to do was serve God. She helped me work it all out, and as soon as I graduated high school, I started the process.”

  “A novice,” Stone said. “That’s sort of an entry-level nun, right? You didn’t take your vows yet?”

  She shook her head, and didn’t look at him. “No. Actually, there’s a lot more to it than that. I wasn’t even a novice yet. I wasn’t really anything yet. You go through a period where you experience the life and decide if your calling is strong enough that you want to take it to the next step, and I’d just made the decision to start with that.”

  Stone frowned. “So what happened?” he asked, then stopped. “Wait…this has something to do with your brother, right? Is he the reason you didn’t continue?”

  “Please…” she said, and her voice shook a little. “Let me tell it my own way.”

  “I’m sorry. Please go on.”

  She started walking again, and so did he. “Emilio…my brother…I’d been worried about him for a while. He wasn’t acting like himself. Even though he was running with a gang, he’d always been a good guy. Kind, gentle, funny—at least with me, and with Abuelita. But he’d started hanging out with these new guys from a different gang, and…” she shuddered. “It’s hard to explain, but I kept getting stronger and stronger feelings that something wasn’t right. I should have listened. I’m sure God was trying to tell me something, but I missed it.”

  This time she stopped, leaning against a tree and watching the traffic go by. Her shoulders shook.

  “It’s all right,” Stone said gently. “If you’d rather not tell me…”

  “I need to tell you,” she said. She took a deep, shuddering breath, crossed herself, and murmured a prayer Stone couldn’t hear. “It’s just not easy. Anyway, one night Abuelita was away. Back then, she used to play Bingo with her friends at the church hall on Friday nights. I didn’t go with her because I was getting a cold, and I wanted to catch up with some reading before I started with the order on Monday.”