The Madness Below: An Alastair Stone Urban Fantasy Novel (Alastair Stone Chronicles Book 20)
Page 29
“But those other kids are screwed, aren’t they?” Ian sighed, taking another sip of wine. “Even getting them out of there and relocating them won’t help?”
Stone shook his head. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear so. The people of Treadley want justice, and frankly there’s no point in not giving it to them, given the students’ condition. They’ll probably live out their lives in that catatonic state—that ritual must have broken their minds, beyond even what magical help can correct.”
Verity shook her head. “The whole thing sucks. It’s not fair that magic can fuck up mundanes’ lives, and they don’t even know what hit them. At least we have some idea. They have nothing. It’s like winning the lottery, in reverse.”
“True,” Stone said, “but I suppose it’s no worse than being hit by a train, or being on a plane that crashes. It’s terribly unfortunate, but the potential for disaster is always a part of life. Nothing we can do about that.”
“Well, at least we know it won’t happen again.” She snagged a roll from a dish across the table and began buttering it. “Not there, anyway.”
“No—not there. Though I do wonder how many other places like that exist in the world.”
As soon as the rain had stopped and they could get away from Treadley, Stone and Verity had driven back to the campsite. The police had cordoned off the entire area as a crime scene and driven off the fresh wave of reporters and curious tourists, but the two mages had no trouble avoiding them. They’d trudged up to the top of the hiking trail and spent the better part of the day hunting around for the place that had started the whole business. Stone had half-expected not to find it, but late that afternoon they’d stumbled upon the odd, sunken building buried in sodden leaves.
Or at least the remains of it. Some time in the recent past, the whole thing had caved in on itself, making it even harder to spot than it had probably been before. They had spent an hour poking through the wreckage, trying to find any writings, carvings, statues, or any other evidence of the place’s malignant purpose, but all they had found were the same faint, fading vestiges of magical energy that had remained following the ritual’s destruction.
“Bet you were sorry to see it destroyed,” Ian said. “I know you—you were hoping to study it, weren’t you?”
“Well, yes, of course I was. But I wasn’t sorry to see it go. It caused a lot of grief for a lot of people, and if having it destroyed means that won’t happen again, I’ll live without having it to examine.”
“Do you think the Ordo is back, sir?” Aubrey asked, looking troubled. “Do you think they’ll cause you any difficulty going forward?”
Stone shrugged. “I’ve no idea how widespread they are. I am disappointed that I didn’t get the chance to question Kroyer and Lang in more detail—I want to know if they didn’t just stumble upon some old Ordo documents and run with them, or if the organization’s resurfaced, complete with wealthy, powerful Illuminati types running the show from behind the scenes. Who knows, though? Organizations change, and I suppose it’s possible they’ve given up the more problematic of their practices in modern days. Can’t very well go around sacrificing mundanes without someone noticing, can you? I half-suspect they’ll try to recruit me at some point if they’re back, to be honest.”
Verity stared at him. “You think so? You wouldn’t think of joining, would you?”
He threw her a withering glare. “Not bloody likely. It would be nice to know what they’re up to, though. I should probably ask Eddie and Ward to see if they can turn anything up—discreetly, of course. That’s for later, though. For now, I—”
His phone warbled in his pocket.
He pulled it out, ready to send the call to voicemail, but then he saw the number and smiled. “Excuse me a moment—I want to get this.” He tapped the button. “Good evening, Dez. It’s good to hear from you. Mind if I put you on speaker? I’ve got Verity here with a couple other trusted people.” He paused a moment, then tapped another button and set the phone on the table. “There we go. How are you?”
“I’m doing…okay. As well as can be expected, I guess.”
“Has everything calmed down?”
“Mostly. There are still some folks hanging around the town, but it’s settling down. How are you? Where are you? Back in California?”
“Nope—back home in England for a couple of days. How’s Noah doing?”
“Still having nightmares, but they’re not bad. I’m not sure what Verity did, but tell her thank you. He’s halfway convinced that whole business on the island was nothing but a really vivid dream.”
“Glad to hear it,” Verity called, smiling.
“Brilliant,” Stone agreed. “Did he enjoy his outing?”
“Oh, my God, Dr. Stone! I still can’t believe you did that. He and Kevin are both over the moon. I don’t know how you managed to arrange center-ice seats at a Bruins game—and an autographed stick and jersey for Noah—but thank you so much. You’ve made that kid’s day—heck, probably his year.”
“Well, I’m glad he enjoyed it—and he did deserve it. It’s not exaggerating to say that trying to protect you with that flare gun might have saved thousands of lives, at minimum. He deserves something for that, wouldn’t you say?”
“I…think he does, yes.”
“Everyone else all right?”
“Walt’s still a little pissed at me for taking off like that, and obviously at Noah for stowing away in the boat—he was worried sick when he discovered him missing. But don’t worry. I can talk him down. He’s almost over it now.” She gave a chuckle. “I’m good at talking Walt out of things. Anyway—I should let you get back to what you’re doing. I just wanted to call and say thank you. For…well, everything. The stuff you did for Noah, and for…just being there. I’m glad Reverend Blodgett thought to call you.”
“So am I, Dez. You take care, and give everyone my best.”
“I will. Happy holidays, Dr. Stone. I hope your Christmas is a lot calmer than your Thanksgiving.”
“As do I.”
Stone hung up and tossed the phone on the table next to his plate. “Well,” he said. “From her mouth to the gods’ ears, I hope. I could certainly do with a quiet holiday.” He glanced up. “You think you might come home for it, Ian? I’d definitely like to have a chance to see you for longer than a day or so.”
“I think so.” Ian smiled. “Actually, I’ve got some things I want to talk to you about. Not right now, but soon. I’ve got somebody I want you to meet.”
Epilogue
Allie Gaines shifted on her bed in the darkness, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. She glanced over at the sleeping form of her roommate on the other bed, listening to her soft, even breathing.
Allie didn’t know the girl’s name. They hadn’t told her. They didn’t talk to her much, except to tell her to swallow a pill, to take a shower, or to eat her meals. Mostly, they treated her like furniture, or perhaps a life-sized doll: something to move around from place to place, bathe, change clothes, tuck into bed at night. Maybe a pet: something to give orders to. The orders were brisk and without much emotion, either anger or kindness. They told her when to get up, when to shower, when to eat, when to sleep.
She didn’t mind. They made things easier, all the orders. They meant she didn’t have to make decisions for herself. She wasn’t very good at making decisions these days. Every time she tried, something closed around her brain like cotton packing, driving the thoughts off until they floated away like steam. She responded best to direct commands: “Walk this way.” “Sit here.” “Eat this.”
She wasn’t very good at tracking time, either. It progressed predictably from light to dark, light to dark, with periods of fake light from her bedside lamp in between. During the day, they walked her out to a large room with comfortable chairs, droning TV shows she couldn’t follow, and other people. Sometimes she thought she recognized some of them: three other boys she thought she might have known in a former life. Occasionall
y, the four of them glanced up and their gazes locked for just a moment before skating away, each one adrift in his or her own private sea of muddled memories.
It wasn’t a bad life, all in all. She was never hungry, they didn’t hurt her, and they never expected her to do anything beyond follow the basic commands. Very rarely, when the tiniest shred of the person Allie used to be resurfaced for a few seconds before retreating in terror, she found herself grateful that she didn’t have to know things.
Because she was certain there was something out there, lurking at the edges of her consciousness, that she did not want to know.
What she had now was infinitely better than what she’d have if she ever let that something past her carefully constructed defenses.
It was a trade-off, but one she’d come to accept, and even embrace.
But now, something had changed.
As she lay there in the dark, staring up at the shadowy ceiling with its dots that carried her mind off to distant lands, something inside her moved.
She furrowed her brow and put her hands to her belly. Her mind wasn’t present enough to speculate about whether something she’d eaten for dinner tonight had upset her stomach, and it certainly wasn’t present enough to remember the tiny life growing within her, but somewhere in the back corners of her mind, something stirred.
Something that made her profoundly uncomfortable.
She shifted on the bed again, unable to find a suitable position. For the first time since she’d arrived back here—wherever here was, since she could no longer remember things like names, even her own—she felt a compulsion to reach out, to contact another person, to make her discomfort known.
Something was wrong in there—she knew it on some fundamental level, even though she couldn’t express it in words.
Something was wrong, and she needed to let someone know.
To warn them.
Deep inside her belly, the thing fluttered again. Allie shuddered, the shreds of her consciousness making one last, desperate attempt to swim to the surface, to cast aside the layers of cotton keeping her from accessing what she knew she’d lost.
But then the tide rose again, submerging her once more beneath its dark depths.
She quieted, her hands dropping back to her sides.
Inside her, something stirred.
And Allie Gaines—or more precisely, what had been Allie Gaines—smiled.
Alastair Stone will return in
Book 21 of the Alastair Stone Chronicles
Look for it in Spring 2020!
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Books by R. L. King
ALASTAIR STONE CHRONICLES SERIES
Stone and a Hard Place (Book 1)
The Forgotten (Book 2)
The Threshold (Book 3)
The Source (Book 4)
Alastair Stone Chronicles Box Set (includes books 1-4)
Core of Stone (Book 5)
Blood and Stone (Book 6)
Heart of Stone (Book 7)
Alastair Stone Chronicles Box Set 2 (includes book 5-7)
Flesh and Stone (Book 8)
The Infernal Heart (Book 9)
The Other Side (Book 10)
Path of Stone (Book 11)
Necessary Sacrifices (Book 12)
Game of Stone (Book 13)
Steel and Stone (Book 14)
Stone and Claw (Book 15)
The Seventh Stone (Book 16)
Gathering Storm (Book 17)
House of Stone (Book 18)
Circle of Stone (book 19)
ALASTAIR STONE CHRONICLES STANDALONE WORKS
Shadows and Stone
Turn to Stone
Stone for the Holidays
Devil’s Bargain
SHADOWRUN (Published by Catalyst Game Labs)
Borrowed Time
Wolf and Buffalo
Big Dreams
Veiled Extraction (coming soon)
About the Author
R. L. King enjoys hanging out with her very understanding spouse and small herd of cats, watching way too much Doctor Who, and attending conventions when she can. She is an Active member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, the Horror Writers' Association, and the International Association of Media Tie-in Writers.
www.alastairstonechronicles.com
rat@magespacepress.com