The Seventh Stone: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  “Al—”

  He raised a hand. “Fine. If you want to do it, I won’t stop you. At least see if you can find out where they’re meeting, and let me know before you go.”

  “I will. Hopefully they meet on Sunday mornings—that would be the easiest. V gets back from her alchemy thing sometime Sunday, so with any luck we can all get together for dinner and figure out where to go next.”

  Stone stood. “All right—keep me posted, though. This isn’t something you want to go off on your own with.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I find out anything.”

  32

  Stone couldn’t sleep past seven a.m. Saturday morning, which was uncharacteristic for him. He was sure it was because his mind was spinning so hard on the twin issues of Ian and Portas Justitiæ, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Instead of tossing and turning for another hour or two and annoying Raider, he rose and drove to the University, where he went for a run and spent an hour at the gym. He still didn’t particularly like the place—he’d never be the enthusiastic gym rat Jason was—but his training on Calanar had made positive changes to his body and he knew if he wanted to keep them, he’d have to put in the work.

  The workout brought Ian back to his mind. The boy obviously put in some serious time on himself as well—perhaps that was something they could find in common other than magic, which was going nowhere near as well as he’d expected. He wondered if Ian enjoyed long-distance running too.

  He’d spent some time doing research over the past couple of days as he waited for his son to call him back, but so far he hadn’t come up with anything he didn’t already know. Some students, he knew, simply took longer to pick up certain techniques than others. Hell, even after all these years Stone still hadn’t managed to significantly improve either his healing techniques or his invisibility spell. Verity excelled at healing and mind magic, but lagged far behind Stone in most direct combat spells. Every mage was different, and each had his or her own strengths and weaknesses. Perhaps Ian simply lacked whatever inherent skill it took to pick up magical sight easily.

  What the boy needed was confidence. If magical sight wasn’t his cup of tea, Stone decided, then they’d start with something else: telekinesis, for example, or illusion. With all that power inside Ian, there had to be something he had an innate affinity for. All Stone had to do was find that and restore his son’s faith in his ability, and then they could work on the more difficult concepts.

  Of course, Ian had to call back first.

  Stone had decided he wouldn’t attempt to push the boy, or contact him before he was ready. Much as he hated to acknowledge it, he couldn’t force Ian to be as interested in magic as he was. To his mind, there was nothing more compelling in the world than the ability to shape the forces of reality with one’s will, and the joy of discovery that came with tracking down new magical secrets. That had been true ever since he’d been a small child, from the first moment his father had revealed the existence of another world to him. But that wasn’t true for everyone, hard as he found that to believe. There were people out there—he’d met some of them—who had magical talent but chose not to develop it because it was ‘too hard’ or ‘too much work’ or required ‘too much study.’

  He couldn’t bring himself to think Ian could be one of those people.

  Magic didn’t necessarily require a towering intellect anyway, although some branches of it, such as the one Stone practiced, benefited greatly from smarts and mental discipline. Others, including the more nature-based schools, drew their power far more from empathy, connection with the Earth, and emotion, and could produce every bit as potent and impressive practitioners. Perhaps Ian was one of those. He’d have to chat with Verity about it—he could introduce the two of them and let her have a look, and maybe she’d discover something he’d missed. She was due back tomorrow, so if Ian hadn’t called by then, he’d break his stricture against contacting the boy and see what he thought of the idea.

  His phone rang while he was in the shower. He barely managed to turn off the water and levitate it over the glass cubicle before it went to voicemail, feeling stupid because it was probably a wrong number or someone from the University with a question.

  Ian’s now-familiar number displayed on the screen.

  “Yes, hello?” He knew he sounded breathless and too eager, but he didn’t care.

  “Hi, Dad. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “Er—no, not at all.” Stone quickly stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve been doing some thinking, and I want to try the magic thing again. Maybe I was just having a bad night.”

  A thrill ran up Stone’s back. “Brilliant. I’m glad to hear it. Did you have a chance to practice at all?”

  “No, not really. I figured it was better if you showed me again, so I could be sure to get it right.”

  “That’s fine. I’ve got nothing going on today—come over whenever you like.”

  “Great. I’ll see you in an hour or so, then.”

  Stone put the phone down, only then realizing he was dripping all over the floor. He didn’t care, though—his pleasure at Ian’s words surprised him. It had been a long time since he’d been as enthusiastic about a project as he was about this one, and he was determined he wouldn’t let his son down.

  Ian showed up a little after noon. “So,” he said as Stone let him in, “are you ready to take another chance on me?” Today, he wore different designer jeans, a slim-cut buttoned shirt in dark plum, and stylish leather boots.

  Stone, in his faded Levi’s and black Occult Studies Department T-shirt, felt underdressed. “As many chances as you need,” he assured him. “As I said the other night: if you want to learn, I promise I’ll find a way to make that happen. Different students learn in different ways—we just need to find yours.”

  He led Ian back downstairs to the workroom, with Raider trailing hopefully along behind them. “Have you found a place yet?”

  “Not yet. Still looking. Rents are crazy around here. Even a one-bedroom apartment is a lot more than where I’m from.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Find something you like, and don’t be concerned with the cost. If you decide to stay in the area, I’ll help you find something more permanent.” Stone busied himself arranging chairs and gathering a few books, keeping his tone deceptively casual. “What have you been doing with yourself?”

  “Eh, this and that. A little sightseeing, picking up a few things, boring stuff. I went to a good party at a club up in San Francisco last night.” He shot Stone a challenging glance, as if expecting him to object.

  “Brilliant. You’ll have to tell me about it later. I’m always looking for new clubs.”

  Ian tilted his head. “You don’t seem much like the party type.”

  “I’m not. I despise crowds, to be honest. But I do like good music, so I force myself to endure them now and again if the band is worth it.”

  Stone felt oddly satisfied by Ian’s sideways glance as he placed the chairs facing each other. “Now, then,” he said, changing to a more businesslike tone, “have a seat and we’ll have another go at this. If it doesn’t work out, that’s fine—we’ll move on to something else. But this time, we’re going to try a little meditation technique. You might not be getting it because you’re too stressed about it.”

  “Sure, whatever you want.” Ian settled gracefully into the chair, leaned back, and continued watching Stone.

  Stone took the other chair and began to speak in a soft, soothing voice. “Start by taking a few deep, slow breaths…”

  He continued walking Ian through the technique, pleased to see the boy’s blazing silver-and-purple aura dropping into a calm, unruffled state after only a few minutes. “There we go…” he murmured. “Now open your eyes and look past me, at the wall behind me. Keep me in your peripheral vision, but try to let your mind see my essence, not my physical body. Don’t wor
ry if it gets blurry—that’s normal. Try it now.”

  Ian did as directed, remaining in his relaxed slouch rather than leaning forward. He peered at Stone, then shifted his gaze a little sideways until it was pointed at the blank wall behind him. Stone watched his aura as it shifted and flowed around his body as if trying to lock in on something.

  Then, suddenly, Ian jerked and sat upright, nearly knocking his chair over backward. His eyes widened. “What the—?”

  Stone tensed. “What’s wrong?”

  But Ian didn’t look like something was wrong. His gape of shock turned into an expression of wonder. “I saw something! Sort of a weird glow around your body. Just for a couple seconds. It’s gone now, but I’m sure it was there.”

  “Excellent.” Once again, a swell of pride rippled through Stone. “Can you describe it?”

  Ian pondered. “Sort of. Like I said, I only saw it for a couple of seconds. It stuck out from your body for maybe six inches or so, and it was really bright.”

  “What color was it?”

  “I saw two colors. Most of it was purple, but there was this ring of gold around the outside. And—”

  “And?”

  “I’m not completely sure, but I think I might have seen some silver too. But if I did, it was so faint it was barely there.”

  Stone didn’t let his reaction reach his face, but inside him something clenched. Ian was seeing his third color on only his second attempt? That had to mean something—if nothing else, that he hadn’t been wrong about the boy’s potential. So far, the only people who’d seen it were Madame Huan and Stefan Kolinsky—and possibly Trevor Harrison, but he’d forgotten to ask. Even Verity, who was sensitive to auras, hadn’t mentioned it.

  “So—was that okay? Did I do it right?”

  Stone snapped back from his thoughts, and smiled. “You did. Brilliant job, Ian. Brilliant. That’s exactly what I wanted you to see. Try to do it again.”

  Ian focused once more, and Stone expected this time that he’d get it right away. Instead, he squinted and shifted in his chair. “Problem?”

  “Yeah…” The boy sounded discouraged. “I had it, but now I can’t get it back.”

  That ran counter to everything Stone had ever experienced: it was supposed to get easier with each subsequent attempt, not harder. But every student was different, he reminded himself again. “It’s fine,” he said, forcing himself to sound reassuring. “You’ll get it. That will be your first homework: spend some time working on it on your own, when you’re at home. It might be easier without me looming over you. See if you can detect your own aura. I won’t tell you what it looks like—your first assignment is to report on that to me.”

  Ian nodded, but he still looked discouraged. He got up and began pacing around the workroom, examining the circle on the floor, the bookshelves, and the magical diagram prints on the walls. “Can we just talk for a while? I’m ready to work, but I need a little break after that.”

  “Of course.”

  He continued drifting from one part of the room to another, not looking at Stone. “This whole thing isn’t what I expected. It feels weird. I barely know you, and you’re already teaching me magic. It doesn’t exactly fit with what I thought would happen.”

  “What did you think would happen?”

  Ian shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I thought I’d meet you, make up my mind about whether I wanted to have anything else to do with you, and then once we both decided to give it a shot, we’d spend a lot of time talking about things like your time with Mom, what we’ve both been doing all these years, that kind of thing.”

  Stone remained in his chair, following Ian with his gaze. “What do you want to know? If you have questions, ask.”

  He stopped, leaning against the wall, and did face Stone now. “That’s the other weird thing. Suddenly, what you and Mom did in college seems a lot smaller part of the picture than—” he spread his hands “—all of this. I mean, come on. How many guys find out their long-lost father has magical powers? That’s the kind of thing you read about in kids’ fantasy books. It doesn’t happen in real life.”

  “It happens more often than you might think,” Stone said gently. “Parents often keep the magical world a secret from their children until they’re sure the child has inherited the Talent. It’s easier for everyone that way.”

  “Did Mom know about this? Did you ever tell her?”

  “No.” Stone felt sudden guilt about that, even though he never would have revealed such a thing to the unpredictable, troubled Jessamy.

  “Because you didn’t think you two would last?”

  “That was part of it,” he said with care. “Most of it, actually.”

  “Is that why you broke up?”

  “Ian…” Stone got up; this didn’t seem to be a conversation best pursued while seated. “No. It was more of a mutual thing. We were never serious, and when her study program ended, it just seemed better to both of us to end it.”

  Ian nodded, pondering, and then his gaze came back up. “Did you ever see her again after that?”

  “No.”

  “Did you come to the U.S. at all before you moved over here?”

  The question seemed oddly specific, but Stone supposed Ian was just casting about for any bits of information to fill in the incomplete puzzle of his parents’ lives together. “A couple of times, yes, but only briefly, and only for magic-related events.”

  “And you never thought about…I don’t know...looking her up, to see how she was doing?”

  Stone sighed. “Ian…I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s the truth: your mother and I were together for two months. It was a rather intense two months, granted, but it was one of those relationships that blazed brightly for a short time, then flamed out. There wasn’t any sort of animosity—we didn’t have a row or anything. It just…ended. That happens sometimes. Do you understand?”

  Once again, a brief flash of guilt sliced him under the boy’s steady scrutiny. He hadn’t made any effort to contact Jessamy, even when he’d visited the U.S. In truth, he hadn’t even thought about her much after they’d gone their separate ways, and by the time a month had passed, he’d moved on. And all that time, she was carrying a part of me and never told me.

  “Yeah,” he said with a hint of the old bitterness. “Yeah, I do. I guess I can’t really blame you for what happened, if she didn’t say anything about me. She never even gave you a chance. And I get that people don’t work out together. That’s the way it usually happens.”

  So much cynicism for one so young, but Stone could hardly deny his words. Instead, he changed the subject. “As I said before, I can’t change the past. Even mages can’t do that. But I can change the future, and I want to do that. I’ll probably end up making a dog’s breakfast out of it, but I promise you, I’m doing my best to make it up to you. I hope you’ll give me the chance to try.”

  Ian didn’t answer for a while. Then he half-turned, still not meeting Stone’s gaze directly, but at least looking in his direction. “Yeah. That was why I came back—to give you a chance. To hear your side of the story. Come on—let’s go back to trying to get this stuff through to me, okay?”

  Stone got the impression there was more the boy wanted to say, but when nothing more was forthcoming, he nodded. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

  Ian remained for another two hours, and during that time Stone managed to get the basics of magical sight through to him, to the point where he could call it up at will now. It still took him more effort than it should have, though. Stone wasn’t satisfied with his progress, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he maintained a deliberate attitude of encouragement, explaining the concepts in several different ways in the hope that one of them would catch on.

  He could tell Ian was discouraged when he left, but also hopeful. He had made progress, after all. He promised to return the following day, since he had plans for the evening.

  Jason called as Stone was gathering up the mat
erials in the workroom and returning them to their places.

  “Hey, Al—did you see the paper today?”

  Stone tensed. “No. I’ve been busy all morning. What’s going on?”

  “There was a small article about Rivera.”

  The tension increased. “What about him? Is he dead?”

  “No—they’re not releasing his condition, but he’s alive. All it says is that his son discovered him in the house following some kind of ‘medical event,’ and he’s in bad shape at the hospital. He’s on life support.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  “It’s not your fault, Al. Remember that. And at least he’s not dead.”

  “From the look of him, he might as well be.” If the magical oath had affected Rivera physically, it had likely done something to his mind—a stroke, perhaps, or some kind of magical memory-scramble. To Stone, who valued his intellect above nearly everything else, something like this would truly represent a fate worse than death.

  “Yeah, well…I actually called to tell you something else. I thought you’d already seen the paper. But I found out where the New Life Church is meeting now.”

  Stone sat at one end of the dining room table, and Raider immediately jumped up to join him. “Oh? Where?”

  “Place over on Senter Road in San Jose. It’s another strip mall, but this one’s bigger and it sounds like they have an official lease this time. It’s not a secret or anything—I drove by the place this morning, and they’ve even got a sign out front. Services are tomorrow morning at nine-thirty. I’m gonna go and see what I can find out.”

  “I still don’t like it, but if you insist on doing it, be careful. Are you sure the police won’t try to infiltrate it themselves?”

  “Shouldn’t, at this point. Remember, they think they’ve got their murderer. They don’t know anything about that Portas organization, right? No reason to believe there are more people involved?”