by R. L. King
Curious now, he tossed the rest of the stack onto the breakfast bar and opened it.
It contained a single sheet of letterhead, also embossed with the name and address of the law firm. Stone skimmed the brief message, then read it again, his eyes widening in surprise.
The letter was from an attorney acting on behalf of his firm in the matter of the estate of Mrs. Adelaide Bonham. “Bloody hell…” he whispered. “Again?”
According to the text, Stone had been named in Adelaide’s will as a beneficiary of a property. No details were provided; the lawyer included a phone number and asked Stone to call him at his earliest convenience to discuss the details.
Feeling suddenly numb, Stone let the letter fall back to the counter and dropped onto one of the tall stools next to it.
He’d already been through this whole process a few weeks ago, when he’d been informed that William Desmond had not only bequeathed him his vast collection of magical items and tomes, but also his home in London and a significant fortune. And now Adelaide Bonham, a sweet old lady he’d barely had a chance to know through her nephew Tommy Langley, had left him a property?
He hadn’t even thought she’d remembered him until the other day when he’d found out about her endowment gifts to the University. But that, at least, had sort of made sense—after all, they were gifts to the school, not to Stone himself and certainly not to the long-dead Tommy. But this—she’d actually left him something personal? He didn’t know how to react to that.
He picked up the phone, feeling a little guilty about his initial reaction to the bequest. Most people would have been over the moon at what had happened to him recently—after they got over their grief, of course, but still. Becoming the beneficiary of a fortune’s worth of magical items, a spacious home in one of the most exclusive and expensive areas of London, and another fortune in cash was enough to completely change almost anyone’s life. But even though he hadn’t really expected William Desmond to remember him so handsomely, it hadn’t surprised him. He had, after all, been like a son to the man.
This one did surprise him, given how long it had been since he’d spoken with Adelaide Bonham, and how briefly. Sure, he’d helped her with a nasty magical problem—but he’d also been at least partially responsible for her massive mansion in Los Gatos burning down. She’d never had it rebuilt, and shortly after had entered a lavish care home. Stone thought he’d forgotten about him long ago.
Apparently not. The phone rang a couple times and then an efficient voice answered with the law firm’s name. A moment later, he was speaking with Lawrence Hathaway, the attorney who’d sent the letter.
“Ah, Dr. Stone. Thank you for calling.”
“I have to admit to being surprised by your letter,” Stone said. He almost raised his hand to idly scratch the tattoo, which had begun to itch. He caught himself in time and firmly put his hand on the counter. “I didn’t even think Mrs. Bonham remembered me after all these years.”
“Well, it’s possible she didn’t,” Hathaway said, a little ruefully. “The last few years, I’m sad to say, her mind declined fairly significantly. She included you in her will several years ago.”
That made more sense. “Well, I’m sorry she’s gone. She was quite a lovely lady.”
“She was indeed, she was indeed. Now—let’s see here.” There was a pause while he looked through papers. “You’ll have to come in at some point to sign a few things, but that doesn’t have to be right now. Fortunately this is fairly simple—it’s a single bequest, with a small trust fund attached to it.”
“The letter mentioned something about a property—?”
“Yes. It’s a house, located at…777 Wilding Road in Encantada.”
Stone frowned. He’d heard of Encantada, but never been there—it was a tiny, wealthy village tucked away in the hills near Woodside. “A house.”
“Yes. She mentioned in the will that she thought it would be appropriate for you, given the name of the town. I’m not sure what she means, honestly.”
“I…think I might be,” Stone said. Encantada meant “haunted” in Spanish, among other things. He could almost picture Adelaide’s twinkling eyes as she dictated the bequest to her attorney.
“It’s quite a nice property—about four thousand square feet, three stories, with a finished attic and basement, detached three-car garage, and an acre of land around it. I’ll warn you, though—I got a report on it the other day, before I sent you the letter. It’s been unoccupied for quite some time. The structure is rock-solid and it’s definitely livable, but it will need a lot of interior work before it’s back to its former glory.”
“I…see.”
“The attached trust fund should cover some of the repairs and the property taxes—which are, as you might expect, fairly significant—for the next few years. Or, of course, you can sell it once all the paperwork and legalities are finalized and you take ownership. Property values in that area are—also as I’m sure you know—quite healthy.”
That, Stone knew, was an understatement. “Thank you, Mr. Hathaway. I’ll go take a look at it, if that’s all right, and let you know what I decide.”
“Of course. There’s a lockbox on the door with the key inside—the code is 5487. That will get you in the front gate as well. Feel free to call me here if you have any questions.”
Stone hung up and spent several moments staring down at the folded letter without seeing it. This lasted until his mobile buzzed.
Absurdly convinced that someone else was contacting him about yet another bequest, he picked it up. “Yes?”
“Hey, Doc. I was just calling to check on you after last night. You okay?”
He smiled. Of course Verity was checking on him. “Yes, I’m fine. Did you expect to find me passed out on the floor or something?”
“With you, you never know,” she said dryly. “Anyway, I’ve got the day off today, so I was wondering if you might have time for a lesson. Or do you already have plans?”
“I do have plans, but not all day. I just found out an old friend has left me a house.”
There was a long pause. “Did I hear that right? Did you say somebody left you a house?”
“Yes. In Encantada, of all places. I was about to get some lunch and go look at it. Do you want to come along? We can have a lesson after we get back.”
“Sure, sounds like a plan.”
The first thing she did when she came in (after petting Raider, who would not be denied the affection due from his loyal subjects) was insist Stone let her take a look at the tattoo to make sure it was healing properly.
“Honestly,” he said in exasperation as he nonetheless pulled up his T-shirt so she could see. “Sometimes I’m convinced you don’t think I could function without you to look after me.”
“I know you, Doc,” she said, leaning in for a closer look. “You’re great at magic and teaching, but maybe not so great at taking care of yourself. I’m just making sure.”
He stood patiently while she finished her examination. “So what’s the verdict, then?”
“Looks okay,” she said at last. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s itchy.”
“That’s expected. Don’t scratch it.”
“Thank you, Dr. Thayer,” he said, glaring at her. “Any other bleeding obvious advice?”
“I’ll let you know.”
They had lunch on the way to the house, at a little diner Verity spotted. As they resumed their journey, she asked, “So you said this place is in Encantada?”
“That’s what the solicitor said.”
“It sounds a little familiar. It’s not very big, is it?”
“No. One or two thousand people, I think. I looked at a map before you arrived—it’s south of Woodside and north of Portola Valley, sort of tucked away. Only one road leading in and out. Not too far from the University, though, fortunately. If I keep it.”
“If you keep it? Why wouldn’t you? If somebody left me a house, I’d sure keep it.”
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br /> “It’s not that simple. The solicitor said it was structurally solid but would need a lot of interior work. I’m not sure it’s worth the inconvenience of having to sort all of that out. Might be better to just sell it—I’m sure it will go fast, in that area.”
They drove out Sand Hill until it changed to Portola Road, with the scenery quickly growing less urban and more woodsy as they went. Verity consulted the map in her lap, directing Stone to turn onto a smaller road with a barely-visible sign next to it reading Encantada, 2.
“They really don’t want people to find this place, do they?” she asked.
“I think that’s part of its allure.” He guided the BMW along the gently twisting road, noting the occasional mailbox off to one side or the other. Most of them flanked driveways that snaked off into the trees, the houses they served obscured by the thick growth. Occasionally they would pass a fenced horse pasture or a house closer to the road, but no businesses.
In about the indicated two miles, the trees opened up a bit onto a small main street, barely two blocks long, lined with picturesque shops. “It’s pretty rural out here,” Verity said.
“It is,” Stone agreed. He noted a small market, a gas station, a post office, a few restaurants and bars, and several other shops that looked like they catered to the locals more than to tourists. He couldn’t look closely since he had to watch the road, but during his quick glances he saw only a couple of boutique shops that might attract visitors from out of the area. Anchoring the far end of the main street was a large church with a steeply pitched roof, in good repair but clearly older than most of the rest of the town. “Reminds me a bit of Holmbury, actually. Smaller, though.”
“Well, you always did like your privacy. Wait—turn left here.”
Stone made a sharp left up another road about halfway up the main street. “It shouldn’t be far now.”
It wasn’t. After less than half a mile and one more right turn, Verity pointed out a mailbox on the right side of the road with the address the attorney had given Stone. A closed wrought-iron gate set into a rough stone wall stood back about ten feet from the road. Stone gave Verity the code and she hopped out to punch it in. The gates swung silently open.
Unlike some of the other properties they’d passed, this one didn’t have a driveway so long the house wasn’t visible from the street, so they got a good view as they passed through the gate.
“Wow,” Verity said. “That’s a pretty impressive place.”
Three stories tall, the house stood in the center of an overgrown yard surrounded by several mature trees. Solidly constructed of heavy gray-brown stone, it featured a stone archway leading to the front door, a large rounded turret on the opposite side, and numerous windows including one arch-shaped, multi-paned one featuring a small stained-glass inset at the front. Several chimneys poked up from its gray-slate roof.
A separate structure containing a three-car garage stood off to the side and behind the main house. Most of the area around both buildings was choked with weeds, but not as much as one might expect given how long the place had been vacant. Apparently somebody was coming by periodically to clear out the worst of it, which was encouraging.
Stone pulled the BMW up the driveway in front of the house and got out, standing for a moment to take the place in. He’d known Adelaide Bonham was quite wealthy—her home in Los Gatos that had burned down had been nearly as big as Caventhorne—but if she’d chosen to casually leave a place like this to a man she barely knew, he suspected the extent of her fortune must have been larger than he’d ever suspected.
“Looks fairly solid from out here.” Verity was pacing back and forth next to Stone, taking in the front part of the house. “No graffiti, no broken windows…”
“I don’t think they allow graffiti in Encantada,” Stone said with a chuckle. “Come on—let’s look inside.”
They mounted the steps to the wide stone porch. He punched in the code to open the lockbox hanging on the doorknob, releasing the key, and pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Inside it was comfortably dim. The door opened onto a wide hallway with a dusty hardwood floor. To the left was a wooden staircase and a double doorway opening onto a large room; straight ahead at the other end of the hall were double glass doors revealing a small solarium and a view into the backyard; more doorways opened to the right and left. The air smelled heavily of dust and disuse, but Stone couldn’t detect any hint of rot or mold. “I’m going to take a look upstairs,” he told Verity.
“I’ll be up in a minute. I want to see the kitchen.”
Stone took the staircase to the second floor in quick steps and paused in the hallway a moment, getting his bearings, then picked a direction and opened a door.
The place, he discovered, had four bedrooms, including a master with a spacious walk-in closet and separate dressing room. None of them were huge, but given that if he did decide he was keeping the place he’d be living here alone, he hardly needed enormous bedrooms. There were three baths upstairs, one in the master and one each on the second and third floors, to go with the fourth he’d already seen downstairs. He opened the last door along the hall to reveal another bedroom-sized room, this one without a closet. Handsome, substantial wooden built-in bookcases lined two of its walls. A few dusty books that looked like part of an encyclopedia were stacked on one of the shelves. This would make a good study, Stone thought as he walked over to examine them.
Don’t be absurd. This place needs far too much work. I should sell it and be done with it.
Why? The other half of his mental voice, the one that usually had more common sense than he did, spoke up. You’ve already got more money than you know what to do with, even before what Desmond left you. Besides, it added, you could do some of the work yourself.
Are you serious? I’m rubbish at that sort of thing.
You could learn. And besides… The voice took on a tempting, insinuating tone. If you had your own place, you could build your own portal and stop using the one at the restaurant.
Now you are being absurd.
But was he? He’d often lamented the fact that he had to drive to Sunnyvale every time he wanted to use the portal, and then felt guilty about it when he considered how far most mages had to travel to reach one—so far it often made more sense to take a plane to their destination.
There’s probably not even a place big enough to do it, he rationalized.
Still, he hadn’t taken a look at the attic or the basement yet…
He turned away from the bookshelves and prepared to leave the room.
Something thumped behind him.
He spun. Had someone gotten in here? But no, the room looked the same as before—empty and silent. No one was there.
Except one of the encyclopedia volumes now lay on the dusty floor.
“Is someone here?” Stone called softly.
No one answered—not that he expected anyone to.
He narrowed his eyes and switched to magical sight.
At first, nothing showed up, but then he looked down at the book on the floor.
A trace of energy—not magic, exactly, but more like the faintest of auras—hung around the book. As he watched, it faded and disappeared.
“Who’s here?” he demanded, a little louder.
Once again no one answered. But this time a feeling settled over him, subtle but unmistakable.
Amusement. Well-being. Gentle good nature.
Stone focused his senses, trying to trace the source of the sensations. But even as he did it, he was fairly sure he already knew what they were.
“Doc?”
Verity appeared in the doorway. She tilted her head, looking at him in confusion. “You okay? I thought I heard you call.”
He shook off the feeling and shifted back to normal perception. “I’m fine.”
“You looked strange.”
“I thought I always looked strange.” He headed for the door. “Did the kitchen meet with your approval?”
“Oh, yeah.” Her face took on an expression of longing. “It’s gorgeous. Huge. Needs a lot of work—all new appliances and the cabinets are kind of a mess—but the countertops are beautiful and so is the floor. It’s even got a separate pantry. You should see it.”
“I’ll take your word for it. I was about to go take a look at the attic.”
“Ah, right. Magical space. The important stuff.”
The hallway had one more narrow door. Stone opened to reveal, as expected, another stairway leading upward. The two of them trooped up and stopped just inside the doorway.
The attic was quite large, extending over the entire top floor of the house, and empty except for a few dusty boxes piled off to one side. The walls followed the roof line, with the sides barely five feet high and the middle rising to perhaps ten or twelve. The floor was the same fine hardwood as Stone had seen in the rest of the house, and the far end included a tall, arched window that looked out over the back yard and the trees beyond.
“This would be a great ritual space,” Verity said, walking around to peer into corners.
Stone had to agree with her. The space included plenty of room for a substantial circle in the middle of the floor, and the lower-ceilinged sides would work nicely for bookshelves and storage. “Let’s look at the basement,” he said. “And then we should get back if we’re going to get to your lesson today.”
“Take your time.”
The door to the basement was in an alcove reachable through the kitchen. Stone barely glanced at the kitchen as the two of them went through, noting only that Verity was correct: all the appliances would need replacing, if only because they were all shades of gold that hadn’t been sold since before Stone was born.
The stairway down was dark. Stone flipped the light switch, and the overhead bulb flared, popped, and went out. Almost in unison, he and Verity summoned light spells and headed down.
The basement was finished as well, but not as elegantly as the attic. The floor was concrete covered in industrial carpet, and faint mechanical odors mingled with the place’s ambient dusty smells. The heating and air-conditioning machinery—assuming the place had air conditioning—were probably down here, along with the water heater.
