by R. L. King
“Of course I will.”
Stone couldn’t get away fast enough after that, and was already making phone calls as he drove off.
His first call was to Eddie Monkton at the library in London. He left a message and figured he wouldn’t hear back until tomorrow as it was past eleven p.m. there, but Eddie returned his call as he was pulling into his driveway twenty minutes later. “What’s up?” he asked. “I’m guessin’ it’s important if you’re callin’ this late.”
“It is. Can you do me a favor? I need to know what, if anything, you have in your records about a family called Goodwin. Robert Senior and Junior, and Thomas, around the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in California. Robert Senior, at least, was likely a mage. Possibly all three of them were. They were also members of the Rosicrucian Order, and they were connected with a legend about a demon who corrupted a local priest. Robert Senior and another priest supposedly dealt with the demon that was corrupting the local population. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure. I’ll put a rush on it for you. Where’d you ’ear this?”
“Chap named Simon Beal, who’s quite interested in the language we were looking at, and has been for quite some time. See if you’ve got anything on him, too.”
“You got it, mate. I’ll call you tomorrow morning, whether I find anything or not.”
“Thanks, Eddie.” Stone headed inside, wishing once again that Stefan Kolinsky hadn’t picked this time to go on one of his rare extended information-gathering missions. This was the kind of problem that was made for Kolinsky’s extensive research network, but there was no helping it. He couldn’t even call the shop and leave voicemail, because while Kolinsky did reluctantly deign to own a telephone (which he almost never used), he drew the line at modern amenities like answering machines and voicemail. If you wanted to reach him, you had to make an effort.
His next call was to St. Joseph’s Church, where he inquired about Grace Ruiz. He had to wait a few minutes, but eventually she came on the line. “Ms. Ruiz. Alastair Stone.”
“Dr. Stone! Are you all right? I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Making some progress. I just wanted to make sure you were still all right. No strange incidents or odd feelings?”
“No, nothing. Everything’s been fine here. Dr. Stone—I’ve been praying over what’s happened, asking God to give me some guidance about what I should do. And—well, I want to help you. I think you’re doing the right thing. I still don’t understand how you do what you do, but I know whatever you’re up against is definitely evil. So I want to help.”
“There isn’t anything you can do at this point, Ms. Ruiz. I’ll let you know if that changes.”
Her tone took on a firmer edge. “Don’t brush me aside, Dr. Stone. Please. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“I’m not brushing you aside, I promise. I’ll keep your offer in mind. I may take you up on it—but not just yet.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on? What progress have you made?”
“I think perhaps after these last murders, the demon has gathered all the bits it needs to construct a corporeal body. This thing was around before, and apparently a priest and someone else with mag—abilities like mine—dealt with it, and buried its heart in a box on holy ground to keep it from reconstructing itself. I’m trying to track down a document that explains how they did it.”
“Do you know the name of the priest? I could check the records here and see if there’s any mention of him.”
That wasn’t a bad idea at all. “Hang on,” he said, already digging through his briefcase for the papers Beal had given him. “Let me see if it’s listed here.” He scanned them quickly and found what he was looking for on the second page. “The corrupted priest’s name was Father George Maltby. The priest who helped deal with him was Father David Eustace. You might also look up a Robert Goodwin—he wasn’t clergy, but he might have had some connection.”
“I’ll do that, and call you back if I find anything. What are you going to do next?”
“I got some new information from an expert I found—someone who’d been studying the same language used for the sigils around the bodies. I’m hoping it will help me locate the document I was talking about.”
“Okay. Give me your word, Dr. Stone—you’ll call me if I can help.”
“I will. I promise. Must go now, though. Be careful.”
Stone got himself a Guinness and stretched out on the couch with Beal’s document, squinting to read the old man’s precise but cramped handwriting. Raider appeared from nowhere, hopped up onto the coffee table, and watched him, his tail wrapped around his flank.
Unfortunately, the document didn’t contain much that seemed useful, at least on the surface. It talked a bit about the family, describing their early history, their connection with the Rosicrucians and the Masons, and mentioned that rumors swirled that the all three of the Goodwins had been secretly involved in practicing hermetic magic. It included a crudely drawn depiction of the family crest (Beal might be a crack researcher, but he wasn’t an artist) with a motto below it: In hoc signo vincit. Under this sign thou shalt conquer, with “this sign” being the Cross. All very fitting for the time, but none of it helpful in getting him closer to finding Thomas’s hidden document.
Was the answer in here somewhere? Was there even an answer? If the elder Robert Goodwin’s account of how he and Father Eustace dealt with the demon was so important to him, Thomas had probably taken it with him when he’d returned to Europe. It had probably rotted away long ago at the bottom of the sea. But still—Thomas hadn’t expected to be gone that long. He’d been called away suddenly to deal with some legal issue related to an inheritance, but according to Beal’s notes, he’d planned to be gone only a few days. That meant it was equally likely—or perhaps just wishful thinking on Stone’s part—that he’d hidden it someplace. Especially if he himself was a mage. Beal’s document mentioned it being hidden away where only someone with magical abilities could find it, but if it had been concealed using warding or illusion magic, the spell’s potency would have waned years ago.
Unless…
Stone leaped off the couch, startling Raider, and began pacing. Barely aware of what he was doing, he spoke aloud, addressing the puzzled cat. “Magic was stronger back in those days. I wonder…was there a family home? What if it was on a ley line? If they were accomplished mages, they might have been able to create something that could still be in effect.” He was personally acquainted with the precedent—his own home back in England was surrounded by powerful wards that no longer had to be refreshed, as the three ley lines on which the house sat powered them perpetually. Teleportation portals worked the same way. Most mages wouldn’t expend the energy necessary to make a smaller spell permanent—most of them didn’t even have the ability to do so—but for something so important, they might have made an exception. He picked Raider up and stared triumphantly into his green eyes. “And they were Rosicrucians, so I might even be able to find out where they lived. It’s worth checking out, anyway,” he said. “Keep your fingers—paws, whatever—crossed.”
He pulled out his phone and called Patricia at the Rosicrucian Library. When she answered, he said, “Patricia, I need a favor.”
“Alastair? Is that you?”
“Sorry. Yes, it’s me. I need you to look something up for me. You lot keep records on old members, right?”
“How old?” Patricia sounded confused, trying to keep up with Stone’s manic enthusiasm.
“Early part of the twentieth century?”
She blew air through her teeth. “Possibly. What kind of records are you looking for?”
“Anything you’ve got, but especially a home address.”
“Hmm…maybe. If you’re talking about someone local, anyway. I’m sure the Order has records on its members, but—”
“Loca
l, yes. Right around this area.”
“Give me the details, and I’ll see what I can come up with. It might take a bit of time, though. I’m sure it’s not in our computer system, so I’ll have to dig through the archives.”
“Please, Patricia. It’s very important.”
She took down the names as he gave them to her. “All right, I’ll call you back as soon as I have something. Say, did you ever connect with Mr. Beal?”
“I did.”
“Were you able to help each other?”
“More than I hoped,” he said. “Thank you so much for everything. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Restless and impatient for something to happen, he burned off some excess energy by attending to a few mundane tasks: cleaning and refilling Raider’s food and water dishes, clearing some of the clutter on the breakfast bar, and excavating the refrigerator for leftovers that threatened to morph into science projects.
When the phone rang again forty-five minutes later, he nearly pounced on it. “Yes?”
“Al? Jason.”
That wasn’t the voice he’d expected to hear. “Jason. How are you?”
“Good. I have some info for you about that box.”
He froze. “You do? That’s brilliant! Do you know where it is?”
“Yeah. Stan called in a few favors with the police up there to find out where it ended up. You owe him a beer.”
“I’ll buy him a bloody case of beer next time I see him. Where is it?”
“San Jose State. They handed it off to one of their anthropology professors for analysis, before they figure out what to do with it. Far as they know, she’s still got it. Name is…Dr. Nancy Ocampo.”
Stone pumped his fist and shot Raider a fierce grin. “Thank you, Jason. I’ll buy you a case of beer too.”
“Be careful, Al. And if you need help, call. I’ll figure out how to get away.”
“I appreciate it, and I’ll keep it in mind. Take care.”
He hung up and immediately punched in Maria Alvarez’s office number. He had no idea if she’d be on campus today since she didn’t have to teach, but knowing her, she was probably still working. To his relief, she answered. “Yes, hello?”
“Maria? It’s Alastair. Remember that box I was looking for? The one with the religious carvings on it?”
“Yes. Listen, I’m sorry, but I haven’t had any luck—”
“That’s all right. I have. I know where it is.”
“You do? How did you—”
“Friends in odd places. Listen…Maria, I need an enormous favor. It’s at San Jose State, with someone called Dr. Nancy Ocampo. I need to see that box, and the cross that was inside it. I don’t need it for long, but it’s very important. Do you think there’s any chance you could use your professional credentials to persuade her to let you borrow it for a day or so? As an academic favor?”
There was a pause. “Why is this so important? You sound like it’s a life-or-death thing. How could an old relic dug up from a construction site be that important?”
Stone took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. “Maria…I can’t exactly tell you. Will you trust me? You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have a good reason.”
“I know you wouldn’t ask if you weren’t chasing some weird occult puzzle.”
“It is sort of that, yes,” he admitted. “So, will you do it? Do you know this Dr. Ocampo?”
“I’ve met her a couple of times at academic functions.” She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said after a moment. “But if I can get it, I’m not going to let you run off with it. You’ll have to do whatever studying you need to do at my office. I’m not risking my reputation by letting it out of my sight.”
“That’s fine, that’s fine,” he said quickly. It might not end up being fine if there was something specific about the box that he’d need in order to deal with Archie, but that was a bridge he could cross if it became an issue. “Thanks, Maria, you’re the best. Call me if you manage to get anywhere—any time.”
His mobile phone buzzed in his pocket. Damn—when it rains, it pours. “Must go now. Talk to you soon.”
He hung up before she could say anything else and pulled out the cell, checking the number on the display. It was Patricia.
“Patricia! Did you get it?” He realized he sounded more than a bit crazed, but things were finally starting to come together after a long period of frustration.
She seemed taken aback by his fervor. “Er…yes. I did. I couldn’t find any Robert Goodwin in the rolls from that time period, but Thomas was there.” She gave him the address. “That’s not too far from here. Does that help?”
“We’ll see if it does.” Stone jotted it down. “Thanks, Patricia.”
“Are you ever going to tell me what this is all about? It sounds intriguing.”
“Maybe—after I’ve sorted it out. Talk to you later.”
He hurried upstairs to his study and dug out a map of San Jose. The address Patricia had given him, he discovered after shoving Raider off the map three times, was in the Rose Garden area, one of the oldest neighborhoods in the city. It was also, as it happened, the same area where the Rosicrucian Museum was located. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Waving a hand, he brought over another large book from a shelf on the other side of the room. He flipped through it until he found the page he wanted, and compared it against the location he’d found on the map. Yes! A ley line ran directly through the area occupied by Goodwin’s former home. Sure, it was a minor one, but that was all it took. The same ley line ran through the spot where the Rosicrucian Museum was located, less than a mile away. This supported his original theory—that Thomas had somehow hidden the documents at the Museum itself—but given the timeframes, it wouldn’t work. The bulk of the Museum hadn’t even been finished until a couple years after the shipwreck that had killed Thomas. Plus, he’d been over most of it with magical sight while looking for anything interesting among the library’s collection and the artifacts, and aside from the few books he’d spotted, nothing had shown up.
So, the house was the best bet.
He tapped on the map with his pen, staring off into space as he formulated a plan. He’d need to get inside that house, but he doubted the current residents would take too kindly to some random stranger showing up. “Yes, I need to inspect your home for secret areas concealed with magic that contain the instructions for getting rid of a demon. Shouldn’t take long!”
Probably not.
Maybe he’d be lucky and the place would be for sale, but given how things had been going for him so far with this investigation, he doubted it. He tapped Raider, who’d sprawled out across half the map, gently on the nose with the end of the pen.
“Well, Raider,” he said. “Sounds like it’s time for a bit of breaking and entering.”
Chapter Forty-Four
On a hunch, Stone called Grace Ruiz. He resisted the impulse at first—the last thing he wanted to do was get her involved in this, and of course he didn’t plan to take her along when he broke into the old Goodwin house—but finally did it because she was the only person in the area aside from himself who actually knew what was going on.
Plus, he’d given his word he wouldn’t shut her out.
Too many times before, he’d tried to do things alone, either to protect his friends or because he didn’t want to take the time to explain things to them, and too many times they’d gone wrong in ways that probably wouldn’t have been as bad if he’d swallowed his pride and let someone help him.
Maybe it was possible for a stubborn old dog to learn a new trick or two.
Besides, while Raider was a great listener, he was a lousy conversationalist.
He found her when he called the church, and she agreed to meet him for dinner at a diner not far from there. “It’s easier if we talk before I go
home,” she said. “That way I don’t have to explain it to Abuelita.”
When he arrived, pausing in the doorway to look around, he spotted her in a back booth. “I’ve been worried about you,” she said when he slid in across from her. “You’ve been on my mind today. I keep getting the feeling you’re about to do something dangerous.”
“That’s probably because I am,” he said. “It’s got to be done, though. There’s too much at stake, and I’ve got to stop Archie. He’s taunting me now. Those last two murders at Stanford were a warning.”
“A warning? To you?”
“Yes. He left a message there aimed directly at me. And I’m also convinced that he’s ready to move into the second phase of whatever his plan is. These murders gave him the last two bits he needed to finish creating his corporeal body.”
Grace pondered. “Doesn’t that make him less dangerous, though, and more vulnerable?”
Stone hadn’t considered that. “I doubt it makes him less dangerous, but you might have a point. At least until he completes whatever he was ultimately trying to do, we might have a window of opportunity when he can’t spy on us. I’m sure he’s still got considerable power even in a physical body, though. We can’t underestimate him.”
She nodded. “So what’s this dangerous thing you’re going to do? And can I help with it?”
“Bit of a long story,” he said. “Have you got time?”
“Yes. I hate lying to Abuelita, but I already called her to let her know I’d be home late. She’s got to accept at some point that I’m an adult,” she added, smiling ruefully. “She’s not really good at that.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed.” The waitress came by, and he waited until after they’d ordered and she’d headed off again before beginning his story. He told her about the murders, about his meeting with Simon Beal, and about what he’d discovered regarding the Goodwins and their local home. “Did you find out anything about the Goodwins or either of the two priests?” he asked.
