by R. L. King
“Nothing about the Goodwins. I found references to Father Eustace, but nothing very interesting. He was a priest in the Milpitas area around the time you said.”
“What about Father Maltby, and what might have been going on with the locals or the demon?”
“That’s the odd thing,” she said. “I couldn’t find anything about him, either. If he was in charge of the work they were doing in that area, there should have been references to him, but it’s almost like they completely deleted him from the records.”
“That’s not so odd,” he said. “I’m guessing if they have accounts of it at all, they’re probably stored someplace that’s not easy to get to. I doubt they want stories of demonic influence getting around.”
“I might be able to find out more if I check with some of the other Fathers,” she said, “but it’s risky—I’ll have to tell them why I’m looking for it.”
Stone shook his head. “No, don’t do that. No point in dragging anyone else into this mess, especially if they can’t help.”
“You still didn’t answer my question, though,” she pointed out. “What are you planning to do?”
“I need to get inside the old house that used to belong to the Goodwin family. I’m convinced that if the documents about what they did to deal with Archie last time still exist, that’s where they’re hidden.”
“How are you going to do that? You aren’t planning to explain to the people who live there what you’re doing, are you? They’ll never believe you.”
“I’m not planning to explain anything to anyone,” he said carefully.
She stared at him, then glanced around the immediate vicinity and lowered her voice. “You’re going to break in?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yes…” she said, but held up her hand when he started to respond. “But this is more important than that, I think. If you need to get hold of that stuff to find him, then…” She trailed off, then met his gaze again. “How will you do it?”
“I’m going out there later tonight, after it’s dark. I’m hoping whoever lives there is out, but if they aren’t, I’ve got ways of making sure they don’t notice me.”
“I want to help,” she said, her voice and expression both full of resolve.
“Ms. Ruiz—”
“No, Dr. Stone.” She shook her head. “I can help you. You know I can. I’m not going to break into any houses, but I can help you watch for threats. You know I can feel these things when they’re around. And if they show up, I can help you fight them—or at least make them leave.” She took a deep breath. “Like I told you, I’ve been thinking and praying about this ever since I saw you yesterday. If God has given me these…abilities, I’m not going to question Him.”
Stone was about to answer when his phone buzzed. “Hold on a moment,” he told her, and pulled it out. “Yes?”
“Dr. Stone? Simon Beal here.”
Stone frowned. Why would Beal be calling him now? “Mr. Beal. What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I was going through my research and discovered a few more references that mention the demon legend. I thought you might like to see them, since you seem to be most interested in that facet.”
Could it be that things were finally starting to come together? “I’d very much like to see them, Mr. Beal. Can we meet tomorrow? I’ve got a lead on where I might possibly find Thomas Goodwin’s papers, and I plan to follow up on it tonight.”
“Indeed?” Beal’s voice was full of eagerness. “Oh, my, how exciting! Where?”
“I—can’t say right now. I promised my source I wouldn’t reveal it.”
“Of course, of course. I understand. Sources can be so skittish sometimes! But I do hope you’ll consider sharing the information if you find it. Even though my research is focused more on the language itself than fanciful legends, every bit can help.”
“It’s a bit of a long shot,” Stone said. “But if I get anything interesting, I’ll certainly share it. Shall I come by your hotel tomorrow? We could chat over lunch.”
“That would be perfect. Thank you, Dr. Stone.”
Stone put the phone back in his pocket and returned his attention to Grace. “You’re sure you want to go through with this? As you’ve seen, it could be dangerous. Even if Archie can’t keep tabs on us as well now—and we’ve no proof that’s true—if I get caught, I could end up getting arrested. And you could too, if they think you’re involved.”
“Yes. I want to help. I’m not worried about being arrested. I want to do what’s right.”
“All right, then. Can you get out of your house later without your grandmother knowing?”
“Probably not,” she said. “She’s pretty sharp. But like I said—I don’t care. I love her and I’m grateful for everything she’s done for me, but she has to let me grow up sometime.”
Stone chuckled. “I’ll pick you up at nine, then.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Grace was waiting on the street outside her apartment building when Stone arrived at nine o’clock. She wore jeans, a dark shirt, and a black leather jacket, and had her hair tied back in a ponytail under a black Raiders cap.
“Everything all right?” he asked as she climbed in the car.
“My grandmother gave me quite a lecture,” she said. “She’s probably watching out the window right now. She’s very concerned about you.”
“About me?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Well, about me being with you,” she amended, shaking her head. “She thinks you’ve only got one thing on your mind, and that you’re far too old for me.”
Stone chuckled. “Well, she’s got nothing to worry about. I am far too old for you, even if I did have that sort of thing in mind.”
“Yeah, I get it. Abuelita’s…old-fashioned, though.”
“What did you tell her we were doing?”
“I told her I was helping you with some research. I didn’t tell her what you do, though. She’d probably have a heart attack or something.”
He glanced over at her. “You know, Ms. Ruiz, you’re not at all what I think of when I think of nuns.”
“I’m not a nun,” she reminded him. “I’m not even a wannabe nun anymore.”
“True, but it’s a mindset thing.”
Grace shrugged. “Even nuns are all different. Some of them are meek and quiet, and some of them get out there and kick some…booty. I’ve known some pretty tough nuns. And besides, you can’t grow up where I did without being tough. You’d never survive.” She settled back in her seat. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I drove by the house earlier tonight, just to get an idea of what we’re up against. It’s a big two-story Victorian. Don’t know if it has a basement or an attic. It didn’t appear anyone was home when I drove by, but that was over an hour ago.”
“Are you sure it wouldn’t make more sense to do this during the day, when they’re probably at work or school?”
“I thought about that,” he said. “It probably would be a better idea. But I don’t think we can afford to wait. Even though Archie’s got his body now, we don’t know if he still plans to kill anyone else. And the longer we wait, the more time we give him to implement whatever plan he’s got. Not knowing what that is bothers me.”
“How are you going to keep them from noticing you?”
“I’ve got a few tricks,” he said. He reached into his coat pocket and handed her something. “This is one of those family-band radios. You’ll stay in the car, which I’ll be disguising, and acting as the lookout. If you see anything suspicious approaching the house, just press the button to signal me. No need to say anything.”
“I don’t want to stay in the car,” she said. “I can’t be any help there. Don’t worry—I know how to stay out of trouble.” She took off her hat and tossed it in the back
seat, smiling. “I’m good at looking innocent.”
Stone sighed. He wished Grace was a little less headstrong, but he couldn’t very well blame her without looking like a hypocrite. “All right, but be careful. You won’t be disguised—I can’t keep a spell up on you from that distance, and I don’t have another disguise amulet. So try not to be noticed.” He chuckled. “You know, you remind me a lot of my apprentice.”
“You have an apprentice?”
“I do. She’s about your age, and every bit as stubborn.”
“Why isn’t she helping you with this?”
“She’s not here at present. She’s off studying with another teacher for a while, and at the moment, she’s gone off to visit some friends.” He paused. “You know…I know it’s not the time to bring this up, but if you should ever want to learn how to use your abilities, I could probably find you someone to—”
“We went through this already, Dr. Stone,” she said firmly. “I trust God to show me what He wants me to do. He’s the only teacher I need.”
“Fair enough. I’ll stop going on about it. But if you should ever change your mind, you know how to reach me.”
San Jose’s Rose Garden neighborhood wasn’t large. Surrounding a large, parklike area that formed its namesake, it consisted of a mix of older, historical homes and more modern ones.
“I’ll park further away if you won’t be waiting in the car,” Stone said. “That way if anything goes wrong, it’s less likely someone will associate it with us.”
He swept the area with magical sight, but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He didn’t expect to—he suspected his working theory that Archie in a physical body was more limited in his spying capabilities—but that didn’t mean he’d leave it to chance. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I think we need to do this,” she said.
He nodded. “This way, then.” He grabbed a leather messenger bag from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder.
The house he’d driven by earlier that night was two blocks away, on the other side of the rose garden. They cut through the park, both keeping an eye out for potential threats, but aside from a late-evening dog walker and a few cars driving by, nothing moved.
While they were still in the park, Stone pointed. “There it is.”
The Goodwins’ former home was a large, green Victorian with a tiny front yard. A long driveway ran along its left side, with several cars lined up in it. They hadn’t been there when Stone had scoped it out earlier. “Hmm,” he said. “Lot more cars now than before.”
“You didn’t tell me it was an apartment building,” Grace said. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Apartment building?”
“I’m betting, yeah, with that many cars. A lot of the big old Victorians got carved up into apartments back in the day, because the people who owned them couldn’t afford to keep them otherwise. If this place was around in the Twenties, it could have happened after the Depression.”
“Damn. If I have to get into multiple apartments, that’s going to make things more difficult.”
Grace pointed. “It looks like there’s a basement. See those narrow windows at ground level?”
“Ah. Yes, well spotted. If they did break the place into apartments and the documents were stored in the house proper, they were probably found years ago, which means they’re lost to us. I’ll check the basement, and also the attic if there is one.”
She nodded. “Hurry up. I’ll sit on that bench across the street and pretend I’m waiting for a bus.”
Stone dashed across the street, checked once again to make sure nobody else was visible on the street, and then slipped behind one of the cars in the driveway and cast his disregarding spell, which he powered using one of the crystals he’d made a point to charge up over the last couple of days. He activated his disguise amulet, settling the chubby-nerd illusion over himself. At least if he got caught, he wouldn’t be recognized. He wished Jason was here, and hoped the place didn’t have burglar alarms.
All right, here goes. He stepped out from behind the car and walked up to the front door like he belonged there. It wasn’t locked. He slipped inside and closed it behind him.
Grace was right: the place had been turned into apartments, or some kind of rooming house. He stood in a central hallway, lit by a single overhead chandelier. To his right was a bank of four mailboxes, a small notice board, and a closed door. To his left, another closed door in the middle and a stairway at the end closest to the front door. Two flats upstairs and two down, it looked like. At the end of the hallway was another door—a stout wooden one with rusting hinges. Was it the way to the basement? Stone couldn’t see any other way down, unless it was inside one of the apartments. He’d have to take a chance.
He stiffened as he heard footsteps coming down the stairway. Quickly, he turned away and feigned interest in the notice board, counting on the disregarding spell to make him look like he belonged here.
A young woman came in, collected her mail from the rightmost mailbox, then turned and headed back out again without even a glance toward Stone. After a moment, he heard her footsteps receding back up the stairs. Stone had to smile a little: magic did make certain things a lot easier. Perhaps he had a future as a cat burglar if the whole university-professor thing didn’t work out for him.
He looked around to make sure nobody else was approaching, then headed for the door he thought led to the basement. Whether it did or it didn’t, it certainly appeared that nobody had opened it in a long time. He tried it: locked. Of course.
This one didn’t open as easily as the front door had. The mechanism was rusty and reluctant to move, and made screeching noises that sounded alarming, despite the fact that they probably didn’t carry more than a few feet away from him. He checked again for anyone entering the lobby, then focused his concentration harder until he heard something snap.
Hmm. That’s not good.
No time to worry about it now, though. Most likely no one ever even tried to open that door anyway, so the fact that he’d broken the lock probably wouldn’t be discovered any time soon. He pulled it open (it made another disconcerting screech as the rusty hinges protested this new treatment) and then closed it behind him.
As he expected, it was pitch black. He hunted around for a light switch and flipped it. An overhead bulb briefly flared, but then went out with a tiny pop.
He reached in his pocket for his flashlight, but then stopped. Instead, he focused his concentration and shifted to magical sight. If any magic existed down here, it would glow in the darkness.
Nothing.
Damn.
You didn’t think this would be that easy, did you?
When he pulled out the flashlight and shone it around, it quickly became obvious why he hadn’t spotted anything with magical sight. He was standing at the top of a rickety, dusty wooden staircase descending to his left, flanked on both sides by rough, stained walls. It ended in an open doorway at the foot, but from where he stood he wouldn’t have been able to see anything that wasn’t directly in front of him. Since he was currently at the back wall of the house, the bulk of the basement would have to extend off to his left.
Cautiously, he crept down the stairs; they creaked ominously beneath his feet. When he reached the bottom, he paused and pulled out his counterpart to the small radio he’d given Grace, and keyed it. “Are you there?”
Her voice came back with reassuring speed, sounding relieved and a little breathless. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine here. I’m in the basement looking around. Anything going on out there?”
“It’s quiet. I’ve had to wave off two buses so far, but nothing weird’s happening.”
“Good. I’m going to have a look around down here—hopefully I’ll find something other than mice and loads of dust, or I’ll have to look for the
attic or start breaking into individual flats.”
“Be careful,” she said.
“Always. If you can spare any of those prayers, this might be a good time.”
“I’m always praying for you, Dr. Stone.”
“Well…that’s encouraging, I suppose. Or possibly insulting,” he added with a chuckle. “Talk to you soon.”
He put the radio away and shone the flashlight around. The basement was quite rough, with a dirt floor, unfinished walls, and a lot of old wiring, brick pillars, plywood partitions, and piles of what looked like ancient construction materials piled beneath ragged tarps. Stone wondered if anyone was even allowed to enter the space anymore—basements were rare in California homes due to earthquake codes, and he knew some of the older houses, like old Adelaide Bonham’s place in Los Gatos, either had to be retrofitted to make them safe or were simply filled in, either fully or partially. From the look of the concrete columns that didn’t appear to be original equipment, he suspected this one fit in the latter category. Probably why the door had been not only locked, but likely rusted shut. The whole place smelled dry and musty with long disuse.
He paused, trying to get his bearings and identify where he stood relative to the house above him, then shifted to magical sight again and began moving cautiously into the main open area.
He didn’t see anything, but that might not be because there wasn’t anything to see. Balancing the light from the flashlight with magical sight made this difficult, as bright illumination could obscure faint auras, but if he tried to walk around down here without some kind of light source he’d probably trip over something and impale himself or crack his head open. He stepped around a partition toward an outer wall, then stopped, switched off the light, and turned slowly in place.
He almost missed it, because he was looking at the walls. Those remained dark and unremarkable, but as he completed another turn around he happened to glance up.
