Rite of Passage: An Alastair Stone Urban Fantasy Novel (Alastair Stone Chronicles Book 26)

by R. L. King

  In magical circles, new things could be very dangerous.

  “This is new,” Kolinsky confirmed. He returned to his seat at the desk. “I have seen many dimensional rifts, as you might suspect—but the thing that troubles me about this one, assuming you are representing it accurately—”

  “Oh, that’s accurate, all right. Believe me, I spent long enough staring at it whilst I was trying to close it that I’ve got it memorized by now.”

  “Then the thing that troubles me is how rough it is. Naturally occurring rifts, and any conjured by magical ritual, would have smoother edges. They often appear amorphous, without a clearly defined shape, but the edges are not nearly as jagged as this.” He raised a hand, producing a tight beam of red light which he used like a laser pointer, and aimed it at one of the rift’s uneven edges for emphasis.

  Stone nodded, rubbing his chin. “Yes, I see what you mean. It looks like what you might get if you tore a piece of paper in half. Ragged edges, a rough outline…but what does it mean? What could do something like this?”

  “That is the question. It is possible it could result from an imperfect ritual—if an inexperienced mage, or a group of them, tried to open a portal but lost control of their working.”

  Stone thought about Daphne and her colleagues, wondering if they’d seen something similar when they performed their portal experiment eleven years ago. “That would leave traces, though, wouldn’t it? Leftover remnants of a circle, magical residue, bodies—?”

  “Yes, almost certainly. I doubt this is the result of a botched ritual. I also do not believe it was intended to be a temporary portal.”

  “So, what was it intended to be? I can’t imagine someone would want to open a way to wherever those things came from.”

  “No, nor can I.” He pondered, and the magical “laser pointer” disappeared. “I hesitate to speculate, but this has the characteristics of something spontaneous.”

  “Spontaneous? You mean that thing just…popped in for no good reason?”

  “Not exactly. I suspect there was a reason, but we have not yet discovered what it is.”

  “How can it be spontaneous, but have a reason? That doesn’t make sense, Stefan.”

  “It does if something caused it to appear, but perhaps was not aware of it.”

  Stone tilted his head. “I still don’t follow. Sorry—maybe I’m still a bit thick after last night. Brain’s still settling back into place.”

  Kolinsky nodded. “I understand. Think of it this way: consider a flow of traffic on a busy freeway. If one vehicle were to change lanes abruptly, it might cause the vehicle behind it to brake quickly, setting up a chain reaction and potentially causing an accident about which the original vehicle’s driver would have no awareness.”

  “Ah, I see. The original driver goes blithely on his way, oblivious that he’s caused a ten-car pileup a few cars back. Or the whole ‘a butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil and causes a hurricane in China’ rubbish?”

  “I would not put it so fancifully, but yes.”

  Stone frowned. “But that brings up a whole new set of problems. If that’s true, you’re saying there’s something—or someone—out there who’s capable of ripping holes in reality, and they’re doing it without even being aware they’re doing it.”

  “It is merely a speculation. It may be necessary for me to travel to the location and examine the area myself.” He didn’t sound pleased about it.

  Stone waved him off. “You go right ahead if you want to. You’ll forgive me if I decline to come along, though, I hope. I’ve seen quite enough of that place.” He pushed off the work table. “In any case, I hope you don’t discover any more of those things anytime soon.”

  “I hope I do not discover any of them at any point.”

  “But you’ll keep looking.”

  “Yes.” Kolinsky looked sober. “If any more of them appear, it might be necessary to bring others in. I would prefer not to do that, but such things are dangerous and must be dealt with quickly.”

  That disturbed Stone too. If this was a situation that required getting the other dragons involved, it was big indeed. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. But if it does, I’m glad you lot will be handling it. I don’t fancy going through another night like that any time soon.”

  Kolinsky’s eyes narrowed. “Then you do not wish me to contact you should I discover another one?”

  Damn you, Stefan. He sighed loudly. “No, I didn’t say that, and you know it. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so bloody curious. But if you turn up anything else you want me to investigate, I won’t be going alone. So if that won’t play well with our little oath, you might want to consider what you’re willing to do about that.”

  “It should not apply. These anomalies are not dimensional intersection rifts. I am certain of that, even without visiting the site of this one. And in any case, if I discover another one, it is likely I will either investigate it myself, or invite you to accompany me.”

  “Bringing out the big guns. Bloody hell, Stefan, I suspect there’s more to this than you’re telling me.”

  “No, not at this point. But it may become so.”

  Stone barely noticed the drive home. His mind spun with both what had occurred last night and what Kolinsky had told him. The thought chilled him: somebody or something out there was creating rips in reality. Those could be even more dangerous than the rifts, especially if more things like those spiders and tentacles—or worse—got out and into the world. He knew enough about dimensional travel to know it was possible that one had opened randomly on a dangerous dimension—and it was equally possible the next one might point at a peaceful place where its answer to a cow or a chicken might wander through. Weird, but not dangerous. If anyone found it, it was likelier it would end up in the National Enquirer than cause any kind of panic. Or it would just die on its own because it couldn’t cope with living on this dimension.

  He was still thinking about this as he got home and hurried upstairs to retrieve his phone. He hadn’t taken it with him when he’d gone to Louisiana, and he’d been so keen to talk to Kolinsky about the situation that he’d forgotten to put it in his pocket this morning.

  There were three voicemail messages. He sat on the edge of the bed, switched on the speaker, and hit play.

  The first was from Brandon Greene, with a question about next week’s Occult in America class. The second was the BMW’s dealership, reminding him it was due for its annual service.

  The third, he recognized instantly. “Alastair? It’s Daphne. I guess you’re not answering your phone now.” Her voice shook with agitation. “I need to talk to you, and I’m going to have to trust you. I don’t know what else to do. Jeremy’s sick, and he’s not getting better. I need to find a doctor for him—someone who won’t ask questions. Can you come? I have to trust somebody, and you’re the only one I’ve got. Please, Alastair. You can’t call me back—I’m on a pay phone now, and I need to get back to Jeremy.” She paused, and her several deep breaths were audible in the recording. “If you’ll come, please don’t bring anybody with you. I’m trusting you. We’re outside a little town in Texas called Corrin. We’ve broken into somebody’s vacation cabin, and it doesn’t have a phone.” She gave him an address. “We’ll stay as long as we can—I hope the people who own it don’t come back and find us. Please, if you’re coming, come soon. I’m really worried about Jeremy. I don’t know what else to do.”

  The line went dead.

  Stone let his breath out, only now realizing his heart was pounding. Raider jumped up next to him, and he stroked the cat’s back. “Well. This complicates matters, doesn’t it, mate?”

  Raider head-butted his side and purred.

  “I wish I could be as confident as you are.”

  17

  Stone knew he didn’t have any choice about what to do. He couldn’t ignore Daphne’s call—if she was trusting him with her location, that meant things had gone seriously wrong.

  He wishe
d she’d given him more information. Was Jeremy dying, or simply suffering through the understandable transition process of becoming accustomed to another dimension? He had no idea how a human child born elsewhere would cope with Earth, but obviously wherever Daphne and Neil had landed had been hospitable to human life. They couldn’t have lived there for eleven years if it wasn’t. If she was telling the truth that Jeremy was Neil’s child, that meant the boy was fully human.

  She lied to you before, his little interior voice said as he strode around his bedroom, tossing clothes into an overnight bag.

  She had, that was true. But, while Stone wasn’t any kind of expert at identifying familial resemblances, Jeremy had looked enough like thin, bookish Neil Hanley to dispel the worst of Stone’s concerns. And even if Daphne’s adopted dimension had been more like Calanar, Trevor Harrison was half-Calanarian, and he never seemed to have any problem popping between the two dimensions.

  Maybe it’s different for kids. Hell, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about kids.

  He wished he could call Verity. She didn’t know much more about children than he did, but she was a much better healer and magical diagnostician. Even if she couldn’t fix what was wrong with Jeremy, she might have a better chance of identifying it.

  First things first. Let’s figure out the problem.

  Unconsciously, he began moving faster. The timestamp on Daphne’s message had been from last evening, shortly after he’d left for Louisiana. By now, it had been nearly fifteen hours since she’d called. Would they still be there, or would she have assumed by now that he wasn’t coming and moved on? If Jeremy worsened, would she risk taking him to a mundane doctor?

  Carrying his overnight bag, he hurried upstairs to his workroom, grabbed his ley-line map, and spread it across the table. When he compared it with the map on his phone, he discovered a ley line running through a small town only a few miles from where Daphne had said she was. That was good, because the closest permanent portal was in Dallas, over a hundred miles away.

  He chose a point, stood in the middle of the room, and released the energy, hoping he didn’t end up like he had when he landed in Louisiana.

  Not this time. When he reappeared and looked around, he was standing on a dry, arid street behind a faded concrete-block building. Warm wind blew past him, stirring up dust and a few old candy and fast-food wrappers. Wherever he was, it clearly wasn’t known for its beauty.

  What difference does that make? You’re not on holiday. Get moving.

  He hadn’t brought his regular phone with him. As tempting as it had been—what if Daphne tried to call him again?—he’d resisted the urge. It made things more inconvenient, but that was better than having his presence turning up in East Nowhere, Texas.

  It took him nearly half an hour to find a taxi, get a ride to a rental agency, and procure a dusty silver sedan with his Michael Townes ID. The bored clerk seemed to have no urgency, and by the time she handed over the keys and drawled her way through the inspection, Stone was ready to punt her through the nearest dimensional portal. Maybe she could bore the spider-things to death.

  Finally, though, he managed to convince her he wouldn’t be driving the car off any cliffs (let’s hope not, anyway) and shortly after that he was speeding off toward Daphne’s last known location. He drove in silence after discovering the only radio stations he could get out here were political talk shows and country music. He’d endure a lot for Daphne, but even he had his limits.

  The landscape grew marginally more encouraging as he drove. He’d always, with his woefully inadequate knowledge of American geography, pictured Texas—at least outside its major cities—as an enormous, flat state full of longhorn cattle, scrubby desert, and people who wore comically oversized hats. This part of the state was greener, though, and prettier than he’d expected. He forced himself to stay close to the speed limit, since he wouldn’t get there any faster if he got pulled over.

  All the while, his overactive imagination kept sending him increasingly dire scenarios about what might be happening while he was putting his way through the sticks. What would they do if Daphne had to take Jeremy to a hospital? Her experiences were eleven years out of date, and the boy had no records at all. Would they arrest her if she couldn’t prove Jeremy was her son? Take him away from her? If they tried, would she retaliate? He remembered the conversation he’d had with Jason recently, about the dangers a parent would face to keep their child from harm. Daphne might be out of practice on Earth, but she was a smart, powerful, and resourceful mage. What lengths would she go to, to keep her son safe from threats?

  Without realizing it, he stepped harder on the gas. Come on, Daphne, hold it together. We’ll sort this out one way or another.

  It took him another fifteen minutes to reach the even smaller town Daphne had mentioned. He’d checked the address when he was home, and discovered the cabin was five miles out of town, up a winding road. Clearly, she didn’t want anyone to find her. Had she stolen another vehicle to get out here? If Jeremy was ill, he didn’t think they’d walked.

  Either way, she wasn’t making this easy.

  He drove through Corrin and out the other side, glancing at his written directions and then back at the road so he didn’t miss the turnoff. The sign was small, pointing to a recreation area near a lake a few miles up. A smaller sign below that advertised cabin rentals, with a phone number. That jibed with what she’d told him.

  The road took him past the lake and several more high-end-looking structures directly on the water, but he drove past those. “It’s not next to the lake,” she’d told him. “Those are too expensive—too much chance somebody would notice us. There’s a little turnoff next to a bait shop. That’s where I’m calling you from. We’re a couple miles up the road from that.”

  Stone found the bait shop with no trouble and made the turn, noting there were several cars in the lot and a few people lingering outside. Popular place during the day. Maybe that was why she’d called him so late—so she could walk down here without being seen.

  She’s probably gone already.

  He refused to let himself think that, though. He eased up on the gas pedal, forcing himself to take care as he steered the car up the twisty road.

  The cabin was hard to spot, as Daphne had said it would be. It was half a mile up a single-lane gravel road, with a gate separating it from the larger road. The gate was open, which seemed odd to Stone. If Daphne was trying to hide, she’d want the place to look uninhabited. Maybe she’d gone out to pick up something for Jeremy—but if that were so, why wouldn’t she have closed it behind her with magic?

  He guided the car up the narrow road, careful not to scrape the sides against any of the trees and bushes lining it, and kept a close eye ahead of him. If anyone was coming the other way, one of them would have to pull well into the underbrush, or back up until they reached a turnout.

  But nobody was coming the other way. The road widened to reveal a tiny wooden cabin surrounded by a sea of weeds and scrubby brush. There was an open area to the left side, probably for parking, but no car.

  Odd. How did she get here without a car?

  He stopped his own car at the end of the road without pulling it into the parking area, and got out. Now that he was closer, he could see clearly that there had been a car here, and not long ago. Two pressed-down lines of weeds told him something with tires had been here recently. The road itself was gravel, so no tire tracks there.

  Stone shifted to magical sight, not sure what he was looking for. Nothing stood out, though: no odd glows, no bright flashes indicating something had happened out here.

  Glancing around to make sure nobody was watching him, he walked to the cabin’s door. It was closed, of course, and drawn blinds covered all the windows. He knocked briskly. “Daphne? It’s me. Are you in there?”

  No answer.

  Damn. She is gone.

  The place felt deserted, devoid of life. It had nothing to do with magical sight, either—Stone h
ad known plenty of mundanes who had the same sense. Most of them, in fact, at least to some extent. He’d speculated in the past that it had something to do with the “spirit” an inhabited house developed.

  He knocked again. “Daphne?” he called, louder this time. Nobody else was going to hear him—he was at least two miles from the nearest other person, unless some lost tourist or hiker took a wrong turn and ended up here.

  Still no reply.

  Stone sighed. Now he had a choice: break into the cabin and check to make sure everything was all right, or leave, return home, and wait for Daphne to call him again.

  It wasn’t really a choice, though. It was certainly possible she wasn’t here, that she’d taken Jeremy and left, perhaps to find a doctor when the boy’s condition worsened. Probable, in fact.

  But it was also possible she’d taken the car and gone off to buy food or medicine, leaving Jeremy here. And Jeremy didn’t talk. If he was too weak to get out of bed, he couldn’t call out. He might not anyway, if he was scared of strangers.

  No, I’ve got to check.

  Popping the lock on the door was easy. Holiday cabins usually had either very good locks or rubbish ones—not much in between—and this one fell into the latter category.

  He opened the door, summoning a light spell to illuminate the dim space beyond. “Daphne? Jeremy? Are you here?”

  No answer.

  The cabin appeared to have only two rooms. The larger, main one, where Stone was standing, had a tiny kitchenette on the right side, a comfortable grouping of furniture arranged around a fireplace, and a small table with two chairs. The décor was folksy, a combination of country kitsch and Native American patterns, none of it expensive. An old Native-print rug covered half the wooden floor. The place reminded Stone of the cabins at Harmony Farms, back when the Forgotten had still been in residence.