by R. L. King
“Convenient they’re close to a portal, then,” Eddie said.
Stone didn’t bother disabusing him of that notion.
It was dark by the time he got back to the Surrey house. He appeared in his study, which he always kept closed and which his caretaker Aubrey didn’t enter. He could have popped into his downstairs library, but given how cluttered it was and that he was still getting used to the nuances of ley-line travel, he felt it would be safer not to. I could stand to walk somewhere, he thought wryly. Going to get lazy, bouncing around like a bloody pinball.
As he left the study and strode through the main hall, he heard something from up ahead.
He stopped, craning his ears. Was someone in the house? It was a bit late for Aubrey to be here—he usually finished his duties and returned to his large apartment over the garage by eight at the latest. Perhaps Selby was getting himself a mid-evening snack in the kitchen.
The sound came again: soft laughter. It did sound like Aubrey. But why was he—
Another laugh followed the first—and this time it was a woman.
Well. That was unexpected.
Stone smiled. Good for you, Aubrey. As far as he knew, the old caretaker hadn’t seen anyone in recent memory. If he had, he was very discreet about it.
Slowing his steps to make less noise, he crept across the main hall toward the opposite wing, where the entrance to his basement lab and library was hidden. No point in disturbing Aubrey’s evening, if—
“Dr. Stone?”
Uh-oh. Busted. Stone stopped and turned to find Aubrey standing in the dining-room door, giving him a quizzical look. “Oh. Er—hello, Aubrey. Sorry to disturb you. Just popped in to pick up a few notes from the library.”
“Oh, of course it’s no disturbance, sir.” Aubrey looked pleased to see him. “If you’d told me you were coming, I could have—”
“No, no—I didn’t even know I was coming until a bit ago. Please—don’t let me interrupt…whatever you’re doing.”
Aubrey didn’t even look sheepish. A moment later, another figure appeared behind him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
He covered her hand with his own. “Dr. Stone—I’d like you to meet Susan Fletcher. She lives down the village. She’s come ’round for a cup of tea, and I thought since my place needs a bit of tidying—”
“No, no, of course. I’m sorry to interrupt.” He focused on the woman, who was still standing mostly behind Aubrey. She looked to be a few years younger than him—late fifties, perhaps—and was a couple inches shorter than he was. Her neatly-styled gray-brown hair framed a pleasantly homely face with sparkling eyes and a kindly smile. She wore a striped blue top under a darker blue cardigan, and comfortable-looking tan slacks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Fletcher. I’m Alastair Stone.”
“Oh, I know,” she said with a chuckle. “Aubrey’s told me so much about you. It’s lovely to finally meet you. I hope you don’t mind us invading your kitchen.”
“Of course not. This place is as much Aubrey’s as it is mine—probably more so these days, since he spends so much more time in it. Do carry on, and don’t let me interrupt. I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes.”
She smiled fondly at Aubrey. “You’re very kind. I hope you have a lovely evening.”
“You too.” He shot Aubrey a subtle good for you, mate look as Susan turned away.
Aubrey’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Good night, sir.”
It didn’t take long for Stone to retrieve the remainder of the notes he’d taken on his last encounter with the ghouls, along with a couple of reference books that could prove helpful. His library might be impossible for anyone other than him to find anything in, but his filing system made complete sense to him.
He was still smiling when he left a few minutes later. It was about time Aubrey found someone to spend time with. He apparently got on well with Selby, but it wasn’t the same. He hoped he’d be seeing more of Susan Fletcher in the future.
8
The nice thing about using ley lines to zip all over the world was that sometimes Stone could use time zones in his favor. It was only one p.m. when he arrived back in Encantada, which would give him some time to study his notes and get a little rest before heading back to Grider’s place tomorrow. It would play a bit of havoc with his sleep schedule, but he’d dealt with that plenty of times before.
The notes, unfortunately, weren’t much help. The images came back to him, clear as ever, as he relived the period ten years ago beginning with the murder of Laura Grider’s first husband and ending with his ex-fiancée, Imogen Desmond (now Imogen Blakeley) getting kidnapped and nearly eaten by the semi-feral killer ghouls. He shuddered at the memory, recalling his terror as he, Grider, Belmont, and a group of other ghouls sped over highway 17 toward Santa Cruz. He’d been convinced he’d arrive there to find the semi-ferals feasting on her, and it had knocked him completely off his game. He’d been grateful for gruff Grider’s no-bullshit good sense keeping him on track, or things might have ended a lot worse.
He realized he hadn’t thought about Imogen in a while. As always, the thought came with the tiniest twinge of regret. He was happy for her, of course—the two of them had shared a deep love and still did, albeit in a different way now, but he also saw how happy she was with Clifford Blakely. He’d put her out of his mind for two reasons: mainly because she was married now and therefore rekindling anything between them was no longer possible, but also because of his relationship with Verity. She’d been fine with the idea of seeing multiple partners, but he never had been—and he was sure old-fashioned Imogen wouldn’t have been either.
But now that second reason wasn’t an issue anymore. He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disappointed that the first one very much still was.
Doesn’t matter either way, he told himself, tossing the notes aside. Imogen’s married now, she’s happy, and that’s all that matters.
Perhaps it was time for him to think about re-entering the dating arena.
If he could ever find the time, anyway.
Which he definitely couldn’t do now.
His phone—his proper one this time, since he was home—chirped next to him, indicating a text. He picked it up and saw a message from Verity (speak of the devil): Hey, Doc. You back yet?
Temporarily. I’m heading off again tomorrow. What’s up?
Not much. Wondered if you wanted to come up for dinner tonight.
Anything new going on? Stone hoped not. He didn’t want to deal with yet another issue.
Nope, we just don’t see much of each other these days. Just because we’re not sleeping together anymore doesn’t mean I don’t still like cooking for you.
He chuckled. Verity was nothing if not upfront about her feelings. Uh…sure. I haven’t got anything else to do tonight. Was doing a bit of research but it didn’t pan out.
Great. Come by at 7? I’m doing some alchemy stuff with Hezzie, but we should be done by then.
Brilliant. I’ll bring the wine.
I was hoping you’d say that. :)
Ley-line travel had made visiting Verity in San Francisco a lot easier, too. Her place wasn’t on a ley line, but it wasn’t far from one, which meant that instead of an hour-plus drive in hellish traffic, he had a two-block walk past a series of homeless people and beggars sitting against the sides of buildings. He kept his disregarding spell up so nobody spotted him, and arrived at Verity’s apartment at seven.
She smiled as she opened the door. “Right on time as usual. Are you sure you don’t have a portal up here that you’re not telling me about?”
“Sorry, no such luck.” He pondered as he stepped inside; chances were good he’d need to tell Verity about his new travel method at some point. She was smart, and if he kept zipping around without having to drive to the portal in Sunnyvale, she was going to get suspicious eventually. He made a mental note to stop by Kolinsky’s shop and ask him if he’d be breaking any draconic laws by sharing some of the info
rmation with her, as long as he didn’t mention anything about the dragons themselves. He was growing tired of keeping secrets from his friends. He trusted Verity, Jason, Eddie, Ward, and even Aubrey with his life, and it didn’t seem right for him to keep so much of it under wraps. He couldn’t even tell Ian, his own son, since the boy didn’t know his own magical master was a dragon, too. Another thing to talk about with Kolinsky—or perhaps with Gabriel.
No time to think about that now, though. Something inside the apartment smelled wonderful. He sniffed appreciatively. “I take it that’s not your latest alchemy project?”
She laughed. “I wish they smelled that good. I hope you don’t mind I just made some nice simple chile rellenos tonight. The alchemy stuff ended up going longer than I expected.”
“Of course not. Do you think I’m going to complain when you make me a home-cooked meal?”
“It’ll just take me a few more minutes to finish up. Come on out and let’s talk.”
Verity had transformed her apartment’s rather uninspiring kitchen with her expensive and specialized selection of gear. Stone perched on a stool at the breakfast bar and watched her move among the pans and skillets with the skill of a master; it seemed wrong to him that she, a talented chef, had to make do with a fifteen-year-old electric range and barely functional oven when he had a state-of-the-art modern kitchen he barely used. “Ever thought about buying your own place?”
She snorted. “In San Francisco? You do know what real-estate prices are like around here, right?”
He shrugged. “You don’t have to stay in San Francisco.”
“True…but even down in the South Bay, about all I might be able to afford is a mobile home, or maybe a one-bedroom condo in a bad part of town. And then I’d still have to commute up here to work for Scuro and study with Hezzie.” She shrugged. “It’s just not worth it, even if I had the money.” Her sharp gaze flicked up to him. “And before you say it, no, you can’t help.”
He chuckled. “Wasn’t going to propose it. Although…”
“No, Doc,” she said firmly. “I know you’re Scrooge McDuck these days, but that doesn’t mean I’m taking handouts.”
“No, no. That’s not what I meant. Not about housing, anyway. But perhaps you could discuss a few upgrades with your landlord.”
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “There’s our Doc—if you can’t throw magic at a problem, throw money at it. It’s fine. I know this setup is a little primitive compared to your godlike kitchen, but it works fine.” She indicated one of the pans. “Smells good, right?”
“Smells brilliant,” he admitted. “But if you can make this kind of magic with stone knives and bearskins…”
A timer went off, and she held up a hand as she hurried to stir something in another pan. “Everything’s fine. Trust me. Now come on—let me dish this up, you open the wine, and I want to hear about your research.”
Stone accepted the refusal with good grace. She was right about his propensity to solve problems with either magic or money, and wished she wasn’t too proud to let him help her. He understood, though—if the circumstances were reversed, he wouldn’t have been any more willing to accept such an offer.
“So,” she said as they sat down. “What are you up to? Where did you end up going, and did you find what you were looking for?”
“Sort of.”
“What’s that mean? Did you find your missing friends? Is that what the research is connected with?”
“I…” He hesitated, wondering how much he should tell her. But once again, as with Eddie and Ward, he supposed he could give her some of the information without revealing specifics. “No. I didn’t find them—though I did get a line on where they might be.”
“But you didn’t go there to find them?” She picked up her wineglass after he poured, and took a sip.
“Not yet. I’m going back there tomorrow. I just wanted to pop home to retrieve some notes I’d taken last time we saw each other.”
She frowned, her eyes narrowing. “I’m getting a feeling there’s something you’re not telling me here. Am I right?”
“You…are.” In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose. “Have you ever heard of ghouls?”
“Ghouls?” She tilted her head. “Uh…sure, in horror stories.” Her eyes went wide. “Are you telling me there really are ghouls? That eat people?”
“Yes.”
“And you think they grabbed your friends?”
Once again, he hesitated. “No. They…are my friends.”
Her hand tightened on the stem of her glass, and her fork faltered in her other one. “You…know ghouls.”
“Yes.”
“That eat people.”
“They…require small amounts of human flesh to keep them alive, yes. But they don’t kill anyone to obtain it. I promise you that, Verity.” He wondered if he’d made a mistake by telling her. Even by mage standards, he was involved with some fairly unusual situations. And after what happened with Sharra, perhaps Verity wasn’t ready to deal with anything that had the whiff of the undead around it, even though the two had nothing in common.
She remained silent, still staring at him.
“Verity…”
“No…it’s okay. I’m just getting my mind around this.” Her expression was odd—pensive, a little disgusted, but struggling for acceptance.
“That’s quite all right. It took me some time to get my mind around it at the time.”
“So…these ghouls. Where are they?”
“I can’t tell you that. As you might have guessed, their colonies exist with a high degree of secrecy. I’ve given my word I won’t reveal their location. I didn’t even know where it was until my friend called me.”
“So they’re not around here.”
“Not anymore. They used to be. But something happened ten years ago that made them decide to leave the area.”
“What happened?”
He studied her for a moment before answering. Some of the disgust had departed, replaced by her usual curiosity. “I’ll give you the short version. Haven’t got time for the whole story, or we’ll be here all night.”
When she didn’t reply but seemed receptive, he told her the story of his experience with Laura Phelps and her husband, and his discovery of the remainder of the ghoul colony. As before, he left out the specifics.
She listened silently, forgetting about her food and her wine. When he finished, she said only, “Holy shit.”
“Yes, that’s a reasonable response.”
“So…that happened around here? Those…what did you call them again?”
“Semi-ferals.”
“…semi-ferals killed people and ate them?”
“Yes.”
“But they’re dead now.”
“Yes. And before you ask, to the best of my—or any of the colony’s—knowledge, there aren’t any others. The only ghouls left now are a scattering of ferals, who stay out of sight and get their sustenance by robbing remote graves, and the non-ferals, who maintain well-organized colonies.”
She looked down at her plate, as if trying to decide if she wanted anything else to eat. “But…they do have to eat parts of people. So they…what…get them from hospitals? Morgues?”
Stone nodded soberly. “I’ll be honest—I’m not terribly comfortable with it myself. But part of being a mage is accepting that there are things in the world that we’re not comfortable with. That doesn’t mean they don’t have a right to exist.”
“Yeah…” She swallowed hard, then met his gaze again. “I have to tell you, Doc—you’re right. I’m not very comfortable with the idea of ghouls out there who eat people. Maybe I just need a little time to get used to the idea. Are you—”
There was a knock at the door.
Verity jumped in her seat, then looked sheepish. “Sorry.”
“No ghouls here,” Stone said cheerfully. He waved toward the door. “Go on.”
She bounced up, almost seeming relieved to be away from the
conversation, and hurried to the door.
Two familiar figures appeared in the doorway. Stone didn’t get up when he spotted Hezzie, Verity’s neighbor, fellow Harpy, and alchemy teacher. The young woman had issues with men due to past trauma in her life, so Stone did his best to stay out of her way. Now, she flicked a cold glance toward him and immediately turned her attention back to Verity.
Behind her, hunched and looking as usual like she wanted to dart away into the shadows, was another Harpy. Stone had never met her formally, but he recognized her from previous meetings with the group. He thought her name was Tani, or Tari, or something like that. She, too, glanced toward Stone, but her gaze held narrow-eyed suspicion before she looked away.
“Sorry, Doc,” Verity called. “I was supposed to give Hezzie a couple things she needed for a mixture she’s working on. Just give me a sec, okay?”
“Of course.” Stone remained where he was as Verity hurried back to her bedroom. Hezzie nodded gruffly to Stone, but the other woman shuffled foot to foot and continued looking like she wanted to bolt away. Neither of them made any move to come in.
Verity returned a moment later with a small satchel that clinked with glass bottles. “Sorry,” she said again, and Stone couldn’t tell whether it was for inflicting her friends on him, or him on them. Maybe both. She shoved the satchel into Hezzie’s hands. “There you go. Sorry I forgot. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure.” Hezzie slung the bag over her shoulder. “See you later.”
Without a word to Stone, she and the other woman disappeared into the shadows.
“Well. The temperature in here just dropped at least ten degrees,” Stone said dryly when Verity closed the door.
“Yeah…” Verity returned to the table, looking sheepish. “I’m really sorry, Doc. I keep trying to tell Hez you’re not like that, but…” She shrugged. “I guess sometimes things go deeper than it’s easy to fix.”
