Devil's Bargain: An Alastair Stone Urban Fantasy Novel (Alastair Stone Chronicles)

by R. L. King

  She snorted. “What will you do, boy? Bring the house down around my ears? If you do, you’ll kill the baby too. Is that what you want?”

  “That won’t be necessary. You’ve just verified what I suspected: that the child is here. That means I can find her. Several different ways, in fact.” He indicated the house. “I can spend the next hour poking around, trying to spot whatever illusion you’re hiding her behind. That’s the slow way. I can tear down the house—that’s the fast way.”

  Behind him, I swallowed hard. This whole situation had gone so far beyond anything I had experience with now that I felt like I was living in the middle of a horror movie. “Don’t let her hurt Emma, Dr. Stone.”

  “I’ve no intention of that,” he said without turning. Instead, he glared at Mrs. Bond. “I haven’t told you about the third way yet.”

  “And what’s that?” She held her ground, and still didn’t appear frightened.

  “Very simple.” He took a step forward, and suddenly the old lady flew backward, slamming into the kitchen wall so hard she rattled an old cuckoo clock and a shelf of Hummel figurines. “Your life or Emma’s. Tell me where she is, or I’ll kill you.”

  I gasped. “Dr. Stone—”

  “No, Ms. Huntley. She brought this on herself, and she’s got to learn a thing or two about consequences.”

  Mrs. Bond’s feet lifted off the floor as her body slid up the wall. One of her sensible slippers dropped off. She brought her hands up, clawing at her neck, and glared daggers at Stone. “You…will…regret this…” she gasped.

  “Not as much as you will. What’s it going to be?”

  “Dr. Stone—please—” I begged. “Let her go! There’s got to be another way—”

  But then I got a look at her. Suddenly, her expression shifted from bug-eyed horror to something nastier. “Look out!” I yelled, grabbing Stone’s shoulder. “She—”

  And then the old lady was gone. In her place was a—

  “NO!” I screamed, backing away.

  Instead of a gray-haired old woman in a housedress, Stone now held something huge and horrific and impossibly alien. Mrs. Bond’s head morphed and grew, like a grotesque balloon. Her eyes popped out further, her skin stretching until it couldn’t stretch anymore, then coming apart at the seams to ooze blood and pus down onto what was left of her flowered dress. Her mouth opened and opened, unhinging until it yawned almost as big as her head itself, its black depths full of multiple rows of pointed, brown-stained teeth. A hiss came from the thing’s throat, and a long, pink-purple tongue shot out toward Stone’s neck.

  He released his hold on the creature, letting it fall to the floor and throwing himself backward away from the reaching tongue. His foot slipped from under him and he went down, crashing into the kitchen table.

  “What is it?” I screamed, fighting every impulse to run out of this house of horrors and not stop running until my legs gave out.

  Stone scrambled back up. I could see apprehension on his face, but mostly cold resolve. “So we see your true form now,” he growled, panting. “I hope you never let the baby get a look at that face—she’ll be in therapy for life.”

  Amazingly, the thing’s jaw was still dropping. Its chin hung somewhere around its chest now, revealing a glistening, red-purple cavern dotted with pustules. With a roar I knew I’d hear in my nightmares, it lunged forward toward Stone, raising clawed, scaly paws. “You…will…not…” it hissed.

  I thought he’d retreat again, but this time he was ready for it. He raised both hands, and I gasped: blue light flickered around both of them, swirling like glowing smoke. He yelled something in a language I didn’t understand, and the swirling smoke flew from his hands and settled around the thing that used to be Mrs. Bond.

  It screamed, backing off, its eyes burning with rage. All around it, the kitchen transformed into something from a drug addict’s bad trip, with running-sore walls, a soft, pink floor that rolled like some hideous beast’s stomach, and a ceiling dripping pus down on our heads. I dropped to my knees, moaning as a gobbet landed on me and dribbled down my neck. It smelled like rot and burned motor oil. I’m fairly sure I screamed at that point, even louder than Mrs. Bond had.

  Before I could clamp my eyes shut, certain my sanity couldn’t handle another second of looking at this mind-bending sight, Stone barked out a command and the room flickered. That’s the only way I could describe it: the disgusting imagery switched rapidly on and off like it was being broadcast from some distant source and couldn’t lock in.

  “Drop the illusion, Bond!” he snapped. “I can do this all day. Can you?” He waved a hand and flung the thing into the wall again. By now, its eyes had popped almost fully out of its face, and its jaw had reached its knees. It almost looked as if it could leap forward and devour me or Stone in a single gulp.

  But it didn’t. It also didn’t get up. Instead, all the drug-trip imagery flickered one last time and then dropped away, revealing the familiar old-lady kitchen. A second later, the monster faded, leaving Mrs. Bond sitting against the wall where Stone had tossed her. She glared up at us, her cardigan sliding off her shoulders and her flowered housedress ripped. She’d lost her other slipper, too; I fixated on her toes, with their nails painted in a jaunty shade of pink. Somehow, that horrified me almost as much as the thing she’d been.

  “What’s it going to be, Mrs. Bond?” Stone loomed over her, hands raised and still crackling with the blue nimbus.

  Breathing hard, she scrabbled at the linoleum floor and swallowed hard. She looked like she was trying to kill Stone with the sheer force of her gaze. When that didn’t work, she jerked a sharp nod. “You’ve won,” she said. “For now. But you will regret it. Both of you will.”

  “We’ll take the chance. Where’s the child?”

  Her eyes shifted, looking around as if trying to spot anything that might help her. When nothing presented itself, she sighed. “There is an illusionary door in the master bedroom, leading to a small hidden room.”

  “Excellent,” Stone said. “Come on, get up—don’t think I’ll let you out of my sight until the child is safely in Ms. Huntley’s hands.” He made no move to help her, but instead stepped back so he could keep her in sight, and offered his hand to me. “All right, Ms. Huntley?”

  “Uh—” I honestly didn’t know how to answer that question. I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. My heart was still pounding so hard I was afraid it would never slow, but once again I made myself think of Emma. I would get through this for Emma.

  Mrs. Bond made a show of dragging herself up using the wall for support, then threw another poison glare at Stone and shuffled off down the hall.

  I’d already checked the master bedroom during my crazy rush—it was decorated in the same fussy-old-lady style as the rest of the place, neat but cluttered with stuffed animals, bric-a-brac, and dolls. I hadn’t seen any sign of a door except the one leading to the bathroom.

  Stone didn’t seem bothered, though. He followed Mrs. Bond into the room, where she plopped down on the bed and made a grudging gesture toward the wall a few feet down from the bathroom door. A Thomas Kinkade print in an ugly frame hung there.

  To me, the wall looked like any other wall, but Stone didn’t seem to think so. He took down the print and set it aside, then glared at Mrs. Bond. “Drop the illusion. And if you try anything—anything at all—I’ll kill you. Don’t think I won’t. Understood?”

  “Understood,” she muttered. All the fight seemed to have gone out of her.

  For all I could tell, Stone wasn’t doing anything but staring at the wall, pacing up and down its length. I was about to ask him what was going on when it shimmered. “Oh, God…” I moaned.

  A simple, white interior door had appeared where no door had been before.

  From behind the door came the sudden sound of a baby’s cry, as if someone had switched on a television set. One second it wasn’t there, and the next it was.

  “Emma!” I yelled, running forward.r />
  “Wait.” Stone held up a hand and glared at Mrs. Bond again. “Remember what I told you.”

  “Yes, yes…”

  He opened the door.

  I pushed in next to him, unable to contain myself anymore, and gaped at what I saw.

  Inside was a small space, barely larger than a large bathroom. It had been decorated like a nursery, with a crib, changing table, shelves with colorful stuffed toys, and soothing yellow walls. Soft, classical music played from an unseen source. In the bed, crying in full-throated blasts, was—

  “Emma!” I cried. “Oh, my God, Emma!” I shoved the rest of the way past Stone and grabbed the baby, half-afraid she’d turn out to be another illusion and my hands would slip through her like smoke. That didn’t happen, though: I gathered her into my arms and held her tight, and she reached out her little arms to grip me as I sobbed into her wispy, silken hair.

  Stone remained in the doorway. When I turned back to him, he wasn’t looking at me, but at Mrs. Bond. “We’re leaving now,” he told her coldly. “And you’d best tell your mistress to leave this woman and this child alone, or you’ll both answer to me. I’m on to your games now, and don’t think I won’t hunt both of you down if I hear anything I don’t like.”

  Mrs. Bond’s cackle ended in a rheumy cough, and her bright eyes were as cold as Stone’s. “We’ll see, dear. This isn’t over. Just because you’ve got the child back doesn’t rescind Madame Minna’s claim to her. You’ll regret ever getting involved, boy.”

  He didn’t reply, but instead guided me back through the living room and out the door. It was dark by now, and the house’s outside lights weren’t on.

  I barely noticed the walk to the car, focused fully on keeping hold of Emma. She’d stopped crying now and was looking at me with curiosity. “It’s all right, baby,” I said, and heard my voice shaking with emotion. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  Stone opened the Jaguar’s door for me and I got in. “Sorry there’s no car seat,” he said. “Can’t be helped.”

  I couldn’t imagine ever letting Emma out of my arms again. “Just—drive carefully, please,” I begged.

  Stone backed out, glancing over toward Mrs. Bond’s house as he did. No lights appeared there, and it didn’t seem she was coming after us. He drove quickly but smoothly down the street, then turned back toward the freeway.

  I clutched Emma, rubbing her back. I was terrified that there might be something wrong with her—that she’d be thin, or pale, or sick—but she looked as chubby and pink-cheeked and bright-eyed as any other healthy baby. She had that faint sweet, baby-powder aroma I remembered so fondly from my own two children. “At least they took good care of her…” I murmured, tears trickling down my cheeks.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Stone said. “They wanted her for something.”

  “W-wanted her?” I sniffled, and Emma made little squeaking noises against me. “For what? Some kind of…horrible sacrifice?”

  “I don’t think so. I have a theory, but let me work on that a bit. Right now, I need to get you home so you can take care of the little one.” He sniffed. “At least she’s apparently had her nappy changed recently, so that’s something.”

  We drove in silence for a few minutes, but finally I couldn’t keep the questions spinning around in my head from popping out. “What do I do now, Dr. Stone?”

  “What do you mean? You’ve got Emma back now. That’s what you wanted.”

  “Yes…yes, of course it was. But…what do I tell the police? How am I going to explain turning up with a missing baby? They’ll think I took her!” My voice shook harder as the enormity of that settled over me. What else would they think? I could hardly tell them I went off with a guy who knew real magic and rescued her from an evil witch’s henchwoman, or that all along she’d been hidden behind an illusion in the house next door to her parents’. Even if they didn’t lock me up, they’d certainly take Emma away from me. She’d probably end up in a foster home somewhere. And without anyone to protect her, what would stop Madame Minna from snatching her again?

  “We’ll tell her about Mrs. Bond. If we call right away, they might be able to get to her house before she can do something about the hidden room. You can tell them she was mad, obsessed with the baby, and saw her chance to take her for herself.”

  “Do you…think they’ll believe that?”

  “More likely than they’ll believe a witch had her hidden behind an illusion.”

  I gave a damp little chuckle and stroked Emma’s head. Amazingly, she’d dropped off to sleep in my arms. I hoped she’d stay that way until we got home. “I suppose you’re right, though it was hard to believe that stuff was just illusion.” I shuddered. “That—monster thing she turned into looked so real.”

  “Illusions can be very powerful—even do harm—to those who believe them.”

  I nodded, but right then all I truly cared about was Emma. “Do you have one of those cell phones?”

  He shook his head. “Haven’t seen the point of one yet.”

  “Can we pull off and find a phone, then? I don’t want to wait. I never did call Mark to check on my kids, either, and I want to do that.”

  Stone obligingly took the next exit and headed for a nearby gas station. As we pulled in and he stopped the car in front of a pay phone, I asked tentatively, “Dr. Stone?”

  “Yes?”

  “Were you serious about what you said to Mrs. Bond? Would you have killed her if she didn’t do what you said?” I tightened my grip on Emma.

  “No. But she didn’t have to know that. I might have done some damage to the house, though.”

  I let my breath out, relieved. As charming as he was, I hadn’t missed the flashes of something darker beneath his pleasant veneer. I wondered if it was part of him, or just a side effect of doing what he did. “Okay. Just give me a minute and we can go.” I looked at Emma, then at him. “Do you…want to hold her while I call?”

  “Thank you, no,” he said. “I’m happy to help rescue innocent infants from the clutches of evil, but that doesn’t mean I want to get too close to them.”

  Not knowing quite how to respond to that, I got out of the car, shifted Emma to one arm, and fished some coins from my purse. I punched in Mark’s number first, then turned back so I could keep Stone and the Jaguar in sight. He sat calmly in the car, but I caught the fuzzed look again. He was scanning for magic, watching over us.

  Mark answered on the second ring, which didn’t surprise me—it was getting late, so any calls might be important. “Hello?”

  “Mark, it’s me,” I said, breathless. “Oh, God, it’s been a long night. I’m sorry I didn’t check in before. Are the kids okay? Are they in bed already?”

  The line crackled as a long pause drew out.

  Something froze in the pit of my stomach. “Mark?”

  “Tamara…is everything all right?” His voice sounded careful, like it held something he wasn’t saying.

  “Why wouldn’t it be? Tell me about Mel and Max! Are they all right?” I knew I was getting louder, but I didn’t care. Emma woke and began making sleepy noises of protest.

  “Is this some kind of joke? If it is, it’s not very funny. You picked them up from here half an hour ago.”

  I felt my world crashing down around me as the receiver slipped from my numb fingers. It was all I could do not to drop Emma, too. I heard Mark’s faint, crackly voice calling my name over and over, but I didn’t respond.

  16

  “She’s got them!” I wailed. “Oh my God, she took them!”

  Stone crouched next to me. “Ms. Huntley. Please—calm down. Tell me what’s happened.”

  He’d leaped out of the Jaguar and hurried over to me when I slumped and dropped the phone. This time he took Emma from my arms without protest, holding her securely but with the awkward grip of a man who’d probably never held a baby in his life. Without appearing to think about what he was doing, he waved his hand and the receiver returned to its cradle, h
anging up on Mark’s tinny voice still calling my name. “Tell me what’s going on. What did he say?”

  “She took them!” My voice shook so hard I wasn’t even sure he could understand me.

  “Who?” Emma was crying now, and Stone looked more flustered at that than he had at all the rest of the night’s unbelievable events.

  “M-Madame Minna! It’s got to be!” I looked up at him beseechingly, begging him to do something. “I c-called Mark to see how they were doing, and he told me that—that I’d picked them up half an hour ago!” I dissolved into sobs, joining my misery to Emma’s.

  “Oh, bloody hell…” he murmured.

  “Oh, God, Dr. Stone, what am I going to do? She’ll kill them! Maybe she already has!” I fought to get myself back under control, but couldn’t do it. Why had I gotten myself involved in this situation at all? I’d been so happy that we’d rescued Emma, but now my own children, my own precious Melanie and Max, were in the hands of an evil witch who’d already killed at least two people—three, if you counted Darby Jameson.

  Stone gripped my shoulder with the hand that wasn’t holding Emma. “Come on—get up, Ms. Huntley. We’ll sort this out, I promise. Take Emma and get back in the car.”

  I didn’t move. “We have to find her! We have to go there and find her and make her give them back!”

  “We’ll get them back. Please—get in the car. I need to make a call.”

  “Call—who?”

  He didn’t answer. Miserable, I let him help me to my feet. He handed Emma gently back to me, then steered us toward the car and opened the door. Beyond us, cars pulled in and out of the gas station, fueling up and driving off as if the world wasn’t suddenly flying to pieces around them. I barely noticed them.

  Stone closed the door on me and went back to the pay phone. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but after a moment he turned back to watch me as he talked to someone. As he did, his expression grew grimmer. I held Emma close, trying to calm her cries. She had to be hungry by now, but all I could think about was Mel and Max in the clutches of that old crone. Had she hurt them? Had she killed them? Was this her sick revenge on me for taking Emma back?