The Other Side: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  He might just see if he could find a little time to head up and take a look at the area above the Brunder house tomorrow, though. Just in case.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The Obsidian Hotel and Casino on the Strip seemed, as it always did, to blend in with the night. Taller than most of the other more spread-out megacasino complexes, its black-glass tower was relieved only by subtle highlights of electric blue outlining its edges. The only other decoration was the hotel’s name vertically up one side in the same electric blue. As much as it was possible for a Las Vegas casino to look classy and upscale, the Obsidian managed to do it.

  As they approached, Verity remembered the first time they’d encountered it, when she, Jason, and Stone had come to Las Vegas three years ago in search of one of the extradimensional travel portals the Evil had used to pour into this plane. At the time, they’d all thought the place had to be the Evil’s local headquarters. It certainly looked the part, no denying that.

  Instead, they’d ended up finding an unlikely ally in the mysterious Trevor Harrison, who had some shadowy connection to the Obsidian and commanded a level of magical power higher than anything Stone had ever seen before. Although they’d never quite trusted Harrison’s motives—he’d casually killed a squad of Evil-possessed survivalists with a wave of his hand and shown no remorse about it—he’d also managed to recover sufficiently from a mortal gunshot wound to sacrifice himself by walking into the Evil’s portal so Stone could shut it down from this side.

  They’d all thought he had to be dead after that, until Stone had received a message from him some time later that included the rudiments of his powerful and unconventional magical style. Though he had not, as far as Stone knew, returned to the Obsidian (or perhaps even to this plane), Stone had made progress in learning the new style. He still didn’t have much control over it, and using more than the tiniest fraction of it caused his own magical abilities to burn out for anywhere from a few hours to several weeks, but it had proven useful enough in several instances to take the risk.

  “So what are we doing here?” Jason asked as they walked in. This time of year, the transition wasn’t as profound as it was in the summer, when the searing heat of the desert gave way to the arctic chill of the air-conditioned interior. “I’m guessing it’s not just dinner you’re interested in. Do you actually think Harrison might be here?”

  “Nah. I mean, I’m gonna ask. But I really wanted to talk to Mr. Nakamura.” The place was packed with gamblers this time of night; she led Jason through the casino and back toward the restaurants, passing by the several upscale offerings in favor of a more modest coffee shop featuring less expensive fare. “This okay with your expense account? We can get burgers and stuff here, I think.”

  “Yeah, it’s fine.” Jason seemed distracted. “But what do you want him for? Do you think he can help us?”

  “I do. You remember last time we were here together—they tracked down some stuff for us pretty fast. Maybe they can do it again. Like where David Ames was staying, for example.”

  They grabbed a quick dinner—the food here was simple but well prepared, and the prices were reasonable, at least by the Obsidian’s standards. When they finished, Verity led the way back to the front and the long, black stone registration desk. As expected, when she asked for Harrison’s assistant, the woman informed her that she’d have to make an appointment.

  “Can you just call his office and let him know Verity and Jason Thayer are here? I think he might be willing to talk to us.”

  “Of course. But I don’t think it will do any good, I’m afraid. Mr. Nakamura rarely sees anyone without an appointment. One moment, please.” She picked up the phone, punched a number, and spoke softly. After a moment, her eyebrows rose and she glanced at Verity and Jason in surprise as she hung up. “He says he’d be happy to speak with you. He asks that you meet him in the Obsidian Club bar in fifteen minutes.”

  Verity flashed a smile. “See? I told you. Have a good one.”

  The Obsidian had several bars scattered throughout its main floor; the Obsidian Club was a small, intimate space tucked into the back, away from the muted clamor of the casino. Jason and Verity arrived first, so they chose a secluded table and ordered drinks while they waited. Once again, Verity enjoyed the confidence of flashing her genuine ID instead of her fake one. She supposed it wouldn’t be long before she didn’t even notice, but for now it was still enough of a novelty that it amused her.

  Nakamura—they’d never learned his first name, only that “M” was his first initial—showed up shortly afterward. A tall, slim man in his late twenties, he wore an immaculate black suit with an Obsidian pin on the lapel. His sleek black hair gleamed in the indirect overhead light.

  When he spotted the two of them, he smiled. “Ms. Thayer. Mr. Thayer. It’s good to see you again. How are you?”

  “We’re good,” Verity said. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice. How are you doing?” She waved him to a seat across from the two of them.

  “I am very well, thank you.” Nakamura sat, and immediately a waitress set a drink in front of him. “It has been a while. I hope you and Dr. Stone were able to deal with your issues. Has it already been two years?”

  Jason glanced sharply at her, and her insides clenched. She’d forgotten she hadn’t told him about her and Stone’s trip to Vegas shortly after Burning Man, when he’d thought he’d lost his magical powers. “Uh—yes, we did. It’s all good now.” She shot Jason a look that clearly said I’ll tell you later, and hoped he picked up on it.

  “So,” Nakamura was saying, “I was told you wanted to speak with me about something. Is there some way I can help you?”

  “Maybe so,” Verity said. She noticed Jason had settled back to watch the conversation; she wasn’t sure it was because he was angry with her for keeping secrets from him, or if he merely regarded this as her show. She supposed he’d speak up if he had something to say, or if she left something out. “Before I get to that, though, I have to ask: Is Mr. Harrison here?”

  “I…have not seen him recently.” Nakamura sipped his drink.

  “Did he ever come back? Have you seen him since—the portals?”

  His expression didn’t change much, but Verity picked up discomfort in his aura. “Ms. Thayer—I hope you’ll forgive me, but Mr. Harrison’s business is his own, and I don’t feel it would be appropriate for me to comment on it.”

  So he had been back. Verity filed that bit of information away—she’d have to tell Stone about it when she saw him again. It was clear, however, that Nakamura didn’t want to discuss Harrison, and since she wanted his help, it might be best not to push it. “Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Quite all right. Is there something else I can help you with?”

  “Yes. I don’t know if you can, but I’m hoping so.” She nodded toward Jason. “We’re looking for somebody in town. Jason’s working on getting his private investigator’s license, and I’m helping him out with a case that started out as a missing person and ended up as a murder.”

  Nakamura tilted his head. “You’re looking for someone who was murdered in Las Vegas?”

  “No,” Jason said, speaking up for the first time. “We’re looking for why he was murdered. The guy was supposed to be in Los Angeles, but his body turned up in Vegas.” He explained the case as they knew it so far, including the part about Verity noticing magical traces around the dumpster, and the part where they’d gotten jumped by five guys who seemed to know about magic. She was a little surprised he’d reveal those bits, but supposed she shouldn’t be—it wasn’t as if Nakamura wasn’t thoroughly familiar with the magical world, despite being a mundane.

  Harrison’s assistant listened in silence, taking occasional small sips of his drink. When Jason finished, he considered a bit longer and then said, “So then, you’re not looking for Mr. Wo
ods, but rather Mr. Ames.”

  Verity nodded. “Yes. Well…we’d like to find out what Gary was doing that ended him up the in the state he was in, three hundred miles from where he was supposed to be. Our working theory right now—it’s not great, but it does fit the parameters—is that Gary was secretly gay, and David was his lover that he sneaked away to meet up with a couple times a year.”

  “A reasonable assumption, given what you’ve told me,” Nakamura agreed. “Do you believe Mr. Ames betrayed Mr. Woods somehow—perhaps even killed him himself—or do you think he’s in danger as well?”

  “Who knows?” Jason said, spreading his hands. “It could go either way—or some completely different direction if we’re wrong about Gary. But whichever way it goes, if David’s still alive, I think if we can track him down and convince him to talk, it’ll go a long way toward clearing up what happened.”

  “We were hoping that maybe, if you still have access to Mr. Harrison’s information network around here, you might be able to find out where David Ames is staying,” Verity said.

  Jason pulled out his notebook and flipped it open to the page from their talk with Sergeant Roper. “I have the information from his ID here—driver’s license number, address which is fake, and physical details. I couldn’t make a copy so I don’t have a photo, but he’s tall and thin, with brown hair and a mustache.” He took the photo of Gary Woods from his bag and passed it across the table. “That’s Gary, the dead guy.”

  Nakamura examined the photo for a moment, then handed it back and removed a notebook of his own from his jacket pocket. “Give me the details, and I’ll see what I can do about locating Mr. Ames, assuming he’s still in town. Have you consulted the police about this? I assume since you’re acting in an official capacity—”

  “Yeah, we’ve got a police contact, a friend of Jason’s boss,” Verity said. “But he can’t be much help. They’re swamped with murder cases, he says, and he’s getting pressure from his higher-ups to focus on other areas. They think this one is just a case of a guy wandering into the wrong part of town and getting whacked.”

  “Plus, the whole LVPD is probably up to its neck in Evil,” Jason said. “Which means we’re not in a big hurry to just waltz right in there, you know?”

  “Prudent,” Nakamura agreed.

  “Also,” Verity added, figuring in for a penny, in for a pound, “if you could find out anything about the guys who jumped us, that would be good too. The fact that I found magic near the dumpster where the body was, and next thing we know we’re attacked by a bunch of guys who don’t seem nearly freaked out enough when I start throwing spells around, seems pretty fishy to me. I can’t imagine how a boring suburban dude from Ventura would be tied up with magic, but stranger things have happened.”

  “I’m a suburban dude from Ventura who’s tied up with magic,” Jason reminded her wryly.

  “Yeah, but you’re not boring. Usually, anyway,” Verity pointed out with a grin. Then, to Nakamura, “Seriously, this guy is like the textbook description of a suburban dad. Wife, two little girls, sells accounting software, coaches soccer—even if he was in the closet, I can’t imagine how he might have wandered into the middle of something to do with magic.”

  “Unless David was into that,” Jason said. “Maybe his ID was where the magical traces came from, not from Gary at all.”

  Nakamura sat silently, his face its usual smooth, unruffled mask as his gaze shifted between the two of them. “I’ll check into it,” he said. “Leave me a number where I can reach you, and if I find anything, I’ll let you know right away. Where are you staying?”

  “I’ll write it down for you.” Jason scribbled their hotel name and his cell phone number on another notebook page and handed it over.

  Nakamura took a look at it and frowned. “That isn’t a particularly safe part of town. If you like, I’m sure we have rooms available here at the Obsidian.”

  “It’s okay,” Verity said quickly. “We’re kind of on a budget this time. Thanks, though.”

  “Oh, you’ve misunderstood me,” Nakamura said, shaking his head. “There would be no charge.”

  Verity glanced at Jason—it would be nicer, and safer, to stay somewhere more upscale, even without the magical protections that might or might not remain on the Obsidian in Harrison’s absence—but he shook his head. “Thanks, Mr. Nakamura,” he said. “We appreciate the offer, but we’re good.” He stood up. “Thanks for the info, too. If you can find out anything, we’ll owe you one.”

  “Happy to be of assistance, Mr. Thayer.” Nakamura stood as well. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should get back to work. I’ll stop by my office right away and make a few calls. If I get anything, I should have it within a few hours.”

  “Call whenever,” Jason said. “We’ve only got two or three days to wrap this up before my boss is on me to get back to other stuff, so don’t worry about waking us up.”

  Nakamura nodded, bid them good evening, and left the bar.

  Verity watched him go, then dropped her gaze to her drink, hoping Jason had forgotten what they’d talked about at the beginning of the meeting.

  “So what’s this about you and Al having ‘issues’ in Vegas?”

  So much for forgetting. She took a deep breath. “Remember right after the stuff at Burning Man, when the Doc said he was going home to England, and you went off to see some friends down in Ventura?”

  “Yeah…”

  She shrugged. “Turns out he didn’t go to England. He went to Vegas, and ran into a little trouble. I helped him out.”

  “He went to Vegas? Why?” He narrowed his eyes. “And what do you mean, trouble?”

  She focused on her hands wrapped around her drink. Why hadn’t she made up some excuse to talk to Nakamura privately? It wasn’t that she wanted to keep secrets from Jason—hell, she didn’t want to keep secrets from him. But Stone’s magical power loss following his massive use of Harrison’s magic to shut down the Evil’s portal wasn’t something he’d even wanted her to know about, which is why he sneaked off to Vegas on his own to try to find Harrison and deal with it. The only reason she’d found out at all was that Stone had gotten in over his head with the Forgotten, and one of them had called her to help. She didn’t feel right revealing Stone’s secrets to Jason, even if he was her brother. “It’s over, Jason, okay? Everything’s fine now. Can we drop it?”

  “V—”

  “Jason…please. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. It’s just…not really my thing to tell. I’m Dr. Stone’s apprentice. I can’t go around revealing his private business, even to you.” She wondered if she looked as miserable about it as she felt. “I’m…sorry. I can’t.”

  He regarded her for a long time, pinning her with that big-brotherly half-disapproving, half-suspicious stare that used to reduce her to squirming discomfort when she was younger. Now, though, she merely weathered it until he sighed and said, “Fine. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to. But everything really is okay now?”

  “Yeah. Has been for a long time. Listen—if you want to know about it, ask him. Maybe he’ll tell you. But I can’t.”

  “Yeah.” He stood. “Anyway, I gotta hit the head before we go. Meet you here?”

  Both his tone of voice and his aura told him he wasn’t quite as okay with this as he wanted her to believe, and suddenly she didn’t just want to sit here in the bar and wait for him to come back. She looked around as it occurred to her that this was the first time she’d been in a proper casino since turning twenty-one. “Nah—I’ve got a few spare bucks. Maybe I’ll see if I can find a cheap blackjack table or roulette wheel and play for a little while, just for fun. Maybe I’ll win something.”

  “Probably not, but good luck. Okay, I’ll find you then.” He headed off toward the restrooms.

  She waited until he was gone, then le
ft the bar and drifted out onto the casino floor. Unlike most of the other casinos she’d entered, where the pit areas featuring the table games were surrounded by a clattering, buzzing ring of slot machines, the Obsidian’s gaming tables dominated the main floor while the slots occupied their own separate wings on either side. This design effectively cut off the slots’ noise from the area designated for blackjack, poker, craps, and other more “serious” games.

  She’d thought it odd the first time she saw it—if all the other casinos did it the other way, there must be a reason for it, probably to sucker people into stopping for “just one more chance” at winning before exiting the place. There was no denying, though, that the Obsidian must be doing well, so even if they made unorthodox decisions about how to structure their operation, it was clearly working for them.

  She found the blackjack tables and paused at each to glance at the placard declaring the table minimum, but couldn’t find one less than ten dollars a hand. Since she only had twenty-five, she decided losing most of it on two hands wouldn’t be her smartest choice. Such a big-time gambler she was! Besides, if she wanted to play cards, poker would make more sense—her ability to read auras would probably help her clean up at that. It would take too long, though, and of all the places she might try it, the Obsidian was probably not the smartest one to start with.

  As she passed the craps tables without stopping (she had no idea how the rules worked except that sevens were good and twos and twelves were bad—but not always—so throwing dice blindly seemed even more stupid than wasting twenty dollars on two blackjack hands), she wondered if Stone gambled. He didn’t seem the type—he didn’t need the money, and he got plenty of adrenaline rushes from magic. Maybe she should ask him about it some time.