Game of Stone: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  The question surprised him, as he’d nearly forgotten about that whole situation in light of what he’d discovered in England. “Why do you think I wouldn’t be?”

  “Well…I know you said you were okay with us keeping things casual, but sometimes things work different when it’s real than when it’s just hypothetical, you know?”

  “That’s quite true. But not in this case. I meant everything I said. I want you to do what makes you happy. My only advice—which I’m sure you’ll disregard—is to be careful. You don’t know her very well yet, and she and her friends are involved in some fairly dangerous stuff.”

  “I talked to her about that last night, actually. I really like what they’re doing. I think it needs to be done.”

  Stone hardened his gaze. “You’re not thinking of getting involved in that, are you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, meeting his eyes without any reluctance now. “She didn’t ask, if that’s what you’re worried about. But—you know as well as I do that the cops don’t have the time or resources to track down a lot of low-level crime. Plus, the Harpies don’t just hunt rapists and child molesters. They hunt some minor-league supernatural stuff too. I could help them with that.”

  “And get yourself arrested if they catch you. Or worse.”

  “Kyla told me they never kill anybody. They might rough ’em up a little—or a lot, depending on the crime and whether they catch ’em in the act—but that’s it.”

  Stone settled back in his seat. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “No. I barely know Kyla. I’d like to get to know her better, but I need to know a lot more about what they’re doing before I make any decisions.”

  That was something, at least. Stone nodded. “Well—I’ll tell you this: since that sort of thing is directly related to your magic, and therefore under my control until you complete your apprenticeship, you won’t be doing any vigilante crime-fighting while you’re still my apprentice.”

  Her expression sharpened. “You’d do that?”

  “Of course I would. I’m still your master. But remember what I told you—if you’re determined to do something like this, you can always tell me you want to start the process for ending your apprenticeship. I do think you’re ready.”

  “So…it’s up to me.”

  “It’s always been up to you, Verity. I’m not a tyrant. I’m telling you, as your teacher, what I think about the matter. But ultimately you have to make your own choices.”

  She stared down into her nearly-empty shake glass. “Yeah. I guess I need to think about it, then. You make a lot of sense. I shouldn’t make quick decisions on things this important.”

  “I’d advise against it,” he agreed. “But let’s get back to the reason you asked me here.”

  “Right.” Her hand tightened around her glass as she looked at him again. “Are you sure you don’t have a problem with this?”

  “With you seeing Kyla? Of course not.”

  “But your aura—”

  He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “My aura has nothing to do with you and who you decide to spend your time with.”

  “Promise?”

  “Of course.”

  She leaned in. “Then…that means something else is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Doc…come on. I haven’t seen you looking this upset in a while. If something’s wrong, let me help. You know I’m a good listener.” She frowned. “This isn’t something else about…what happened before, is it? You don’t need power again already, do you?”

  The last thing he wanted was to discuss all of this right now, in the middle of a diner full of the Sunday late-afternoon lunch crowd. He pulled the winged serpent figurine from his pocket and turned it over in his hands. “I don’t need power again, no.”

  “Is it about that thing?” She nodded toward the figurine.

  “No. Other than wishing the damned thing would hurry up and activate so I can hunt down its mate and be done with this whole bloody situation.”

  She watched him, waiting.

  “Verity…” He sighed. “Look—I don’t really want to discuss it in detail, all right? Suffice it to say that I was in England after we finished up in San Francisco, and I discovered some…rather unpleasant truths about my family. I’m still processing them.”

  “More?” She stared at him in shock, then glanced around and lowered her voice. “You mean, other than what happened when we were there?”

  “Yes. That was all on my mother’s side of the family. Apparently my mother’s side got the ‘barking mad’ bit.”

  “And…your father’s side?”

  He shook his head. “As I said, I don’t want to go into it. They were very unpleasant people, all but my father. Perhaps I’ll tell you some time…but not right now. Not here.”

  She reached across and put her hand over his. “I’m sorry. And I didn’t mean to pry.”

  He covered her hand with his other one. “It’s quite all right. You’re concerned, and I understand that. I’m just not ready to talk about it yet.” He forced a smile. “And as for Kyla—you two go right ahead and enjoy each other’s company without any guilt from me. I wasn’t just saying that in hope that you might find me so fascinating that you’d never want to be with anyone else.”

  She laughed. “You are fascinating, Doc. You’re probably the most fascinating person I know, to be honest. But…there are some things you just can’t do, y’know?”

  “I understand. It’s nice to know you’re not dumping me for Kyla, and I’m quite happy to share you, if that’s what you want. Though if you wouldn’t mind—The Cardinal Sin has a thing in a couple of weeks, in the afternoon. If you wanted to stop by and watch me bugger up notes and make a fool of myself…”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” She grinned. “And we’ll see—maybe the encore will be as good as last time.”

  46

  Two weeks passed without any sign of the winged-serpent figurine activating. Stone kept it with him at all times now, even putting it on his nightstand when he slept (though he had to move it to the drawer after a brief panic one morning when he awoke and found it missing, only to discover Raider had knocked it off and batted it under the bed).

  Blum called twice the week following the business in San Francisco to check if anything was happening. Stone began to suspect the detective didn’t think he was forthcoming enough with what he knew, which was probably true. He’d called Blum back the Monday after, as promised, and given him enough details to explain what had happened, but he hadn’t included any specifics such as the location and identity of the shooter, or his exact involvement in the situation.

  “I can count on you, right?” the detective demanded. “I already told you not to go off and play Sherlock Holmes, and what did you do the first chance you got?”

  “You can count on me to keep you as up to date as I can,” Stone said. “That’s all I can promise, though. I told you—these things seem to be activating with a decreasing amount of time before the crime actually occurs. By the time I track it down, there might not be time to alert you. Would you rather have bloodshed prevented, or would you rather I call you and take a chance we fail?”

  Blum’s loud sigh was half a frustrated growl. “Do what you can. But I know you were protecting whoever the shooter was, and I don’t like that.”

  “Can’t help you there. This person wouldn’t have even attempted to hurt anyone if they hadn’t been under the figurine’s control. I’m not going to let the mundane police machinery grind them between its wheels just because it refuses to acknowledge anything that isn’t right in front of its nose. I hope you can understand that.”

  “Yeah, yeah…” He still sounded reluctant and disgruntled. “I guess this is what I get for getting involved with mages. And I am glad the mayor didn’t get hit. So I guess I have you to thank for that. But please let me know what’s going on next time.”

  �
��I will, Detective. I promise. This is the last one, and I’m keeping a close watch on it.”

  He didn’t pursue a further search for information about his family history. He thought about it, but decided the documents had existed this long; as long ago as the events had occurred, it was unlikely anything would change if he let it go for a while until he was in a better mental state to deal with it.

  Besides, he didn’t feel like asking Eddie to look anything up for him. Even though his friend was a consummate professional and wouldn’t pry into anything he was asked to research if asked not to, the man was still his long-time friend and cared enough about him that he might not let things go.

  The only exceptions to his lack of continued research were to take a cursory look through some of William Desmond’s collection to see if he could find anything else about Ordo Purpuratus, and to ask Eddie to make him a copy of James Brathwaite’s journal. The former he could do on his own, and the latter wouldn’t arouse suspicion since Eddie had already offered to make the copy.

  But after several hours’ worth of study during quick trips over to England, he found nothing—not even the order’s symbol included on any pages, book covers, or historical documents. Somebody—or quite a few somebodies—had apparently taken great pains to excise any record of Ordo Purpuratus’s activities from history. He returned home to Palo Alto on Friday evening, having already made the decision that he’d let it go for now. The summer quarter had started the previous Monday; he’d take the weekend and do his best to relax.

  If nothing else, he rationalized, he should be rested when the figurine finally got around to making its move.

  Stone’s third show with The Cardinal Sin was also the first one they performed during an afternoon instead of an evening. The band had been hired by a friend of Jake Cohen’s to play for his wife’s fortieth birthday, which also happened to be on Independence Day, at a local restaurant; their pay would consist of meals and all the drinks they could consume, along with a small amount of cash that would go toward instrument upkeep and future rounds at their next pub gig.

  By now, after two shows and a few practices, Stone had grown thoroughly comfortable playing with the others. He and Radha continued to mesh well, and word began to get around campus that the band, long a topic of good-natured ribbing, had actually come together into a pretty decent bar act.

  When they’d all arrived to set up, Gerry Hook had taken them aside to let them know he’d lined up four more gigs for them throughout the summer—including one put on by Kurt Hedding, whose lead-guitar spot Stone had taken. “He says no hard feelings,” Hook had told him, clapping him on the back. “He also thinks you’re doing a great job.”

  Stone didn’t know whether Verity would show up—he hadn’t brought it up again after their conversation at the diner. As they swung into their first set he found himself scanning the crowd searching for her, and was disappointed when he didn’t see her. Ah, well—perhaps she’d ended up having to work, or had something else to do. These things happened. He played on, and the crowd’s energy soon washed away any thoughts not focused on the music.

  She showed up near the start of the second set. He happened to be glancing at the door as she hurried in, looking a little breathless. She caught his gaze and flashed him a grin and a wave, then found a seat near the back of the room. As the show went on, he caught the gleam in her eye that told him that even if the crowd didn’t want an encore, she certainly did.

  She waited by the bar after the show, sipping a beer and pretending not to be paying attention to him as he put his guitar away and helped take down Hook’s drums. It wasn’t until he drifted over to her, keeping it casual, that she eyed him with undisguised interest. “Hi.”

  “Hi yourself. I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

  “Sorry—I had to work this morning and the afternoon girl was late. I had to stick around till she showed up.” She gave him a sly smile. “Still up for that encore?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Good. Because if we don’t leave soon, I might do something that will get us both in trouble.”

  “My, you are insatiable, aren’t you?” He slid off the barstool and nodded toward the exit.

  “What can I say? I’m young and horny. Are you arguing?”

  “Do I look like a fool?”

  At Verity’s apartment, they managed to make it to the bedroom, though their trail of shed clothes began as soon as she closed the door behind them. Afterward, she lay back and looked at him, stretching like a satisfied cat. “See?” she murmured, tracing patterns on his chest with her finger. “You don’t need to worry—I’m not dumping you for Kyla.”

  “No…no, you’re not,” he agreed. This was the first time they’d been together during the day, so he could see her clearly—and not just her aura. Her eyes gleamed with a tantalizing combination of desire and amusement as she watched him. He leaned in and kissed her. As was always the case, being with her had drained away his stress as nothing else seemed able to do. Right now, his mind didn’t churn with the implications of everything he’d found out about his family; he didn’t keep coming back to wondering when the figurine in his jeans pocket on the floor would activate and set off some new round of horror; he didn’t even care that he had to go back to work tomorrow. Right now, here with his arms around Verity and her warm body against his, all was right with the world. He wished he could make this feeling last forever.

  From out front, a knock sounded on the door.

  Verity tensed, then relaxed again. “Ignore it. It’s probably just somebody handing out pizza coupons or something.” She kissed him again, pulling him close. “We have better things to do…”

  The knock sounded again, louder this time. “V? C’mon, open up,” a familiar voice filtered in through the door. “I know you’re home—your car’s in your spot.”

  Verity eyes got big and she tensed again. “It’s Jason!” she whispered, as if fearing her brother could somehow hear her.

  “What’s he doing here? Were you expecting him?”

  “No!” She glanced toward the door again, then back at Stone. “What should I do?”

  “Just—go answer it. Close the bedroom door.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” She scrambled out of bed and began pulling on clothes, yelling “There in a minute!” as she did. “I’ll—tell him we’ll have to get together later,” she said over her shoulder, closing the door behind her.

  Left behind in the bedroom, Stone got up and pulled on his jeans, just in case—having Jason catch him naked in his sister’s bed would likely not contribute to their continuing friendship. Taking care to be quiet, he padded to the door and used a simple spell to amplify the sound coming from the living room.

  “Jason!” Verity said. “Uh—hi. I didn’t expect you.”

  “Yeah. Hey, V. I’m not…interrupting anything, am I?”

  “No…no, not interrupting anything, but I was getting ready to go out so I can’t talk long right now. What’s up?”

  “Can I come in for a minute?”

  Long pause. “Uh—sure. Yeah. Come on in.”

  The door closed, and then Jason spoke again: “You sound weird. Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “You said you were getting ready to go out. Like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Your makeup’s all messed up.”

  “Jason, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you call first?”

  “Oh, man, V, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. Is somebody else here?”

  On the other side of the door, Stone leaned in closer.

  “Uh—yeah. It’s not really a good time. Can we talk later? I’ll call you, okay?”

  “Yeah. I really am sorry. I should have called first.”

  His footsteps began to recede as he headed back toward the door. Stone let his breath out. That had been close. They’d have to be more careful next time, but—

  The footsteps s
topped. “Wait a sec. V…is this Al’s shirt on the floor?”

  Dread crawled up Stone’s spine as he suddenly remembered her pulling it off as they got inside, and dropping it on their way toward the bedroom. Even worse, it was the one from the Dancing Dragon in London—not something anybody else Jason knew might own.

  “What?”

  “Is this Al’s shirt?” Jason spoke slower.

  “Uh—”

  There was a long silence. “Verity…is there something I should know?”

  “Jason—”

  “Is there?”

  “No.” Her voice sounded more forceful now, and even from where he was Stone caught the edges of growing anger. “No, Jason. There isn’t anything you should know. Because it’s none of your damn business.”

  “Oh, holy shit…” Jason’s tones were hard to decipher: anger, disbelief, and shock mingled as his volume rose. “V, are you sleeping with Al? Is he here?” Heavy footsteps approached the bedroom door.

  Stone’s mind spun as he tried to figure out what Verity wanted. Should he use magic to make himself scarce? He could duck out the bedroom window—levitation and a disregarding spell would get him out, as long as Jason hadn’t noticed his car—

  More footsteps, lighter this time. “What the hell, Jason? You’re acting like an ass!”

  “Is he here, V?”

  “Yeah! He’s here, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Now her voice rang with defiance, and the anger wasn’t growing anymore: it was in full flower. “Alastair, come on out,” she called. “We don’t have anything to hide.”

  With the door still closed, Stone hesitated. He didn’t want to go out there—not because he was ashamed of what he and Verity had done, or because he regretted it, but because he knew as soon as he stepped through that door, something would change. How much it would change, and whether it would be salvageable, were things he had no way to know.

  It couldn’t be helped, though. Forcing himself to remain calm, he opened the door. “Hello, Jason,” he said softly.