Keeper of the Black Stones (13 page)

The Earl crouched with Trigva, waiting for Dresden's next move. The fall had unsettled him, and he was breathing heavily. He'd just started to relax when a voice boomed through the trees.

“Richard!”

The Earl cringed. Hearing his twenty-first-century name in fifteenth-century England could mean only one thing. Lord Dresden. His worst enemy, and the man he'd been asked to save.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, Richard!” the voice mocked.

“There my Lord! A white flag,” one of the Earl's men said. He pointed toward the far end of the path, where the trees swallowed up what little light remained. A white handkerchief swung slowly in the wind, a sign of peace and good will.
Or trickery
, thought the Earl.

“They want to talk,” Trigva said skeptically. He looked at the Earl, his face full of suspicion.

The Earl nodded. “It's Dresden. He wants to speak with me. Alone, it would seem.” Privately, he wondered what kind of game Dresden was playing. He knew better than to trust the man. His one-time associate was full of deceit, and cared only for his own goals and power. He had refused to meet numerous times in the past. Why was he willing now? And why in this manner?

The Earl rose to his feet, sweat pouring down his back and sides, and considered the path before him. The situation. The repercussions. Finally he decided that he had little choice in the matter. His men were surrounded, and wounded. Some of them were dead. As their commander, it was his job to save them if he could. Even if that meant risking his own life.

He walked to one of his men and accepted his horse, nodding once to the man. Reaching one hand up, he rubbed the horse absently on the nose, then mounted and turned back to Trigva.

“How far back was the bridge we crossed at the river?” he asked.

“Perhaps as much as a full thirty minutes, my Lord,” Trigva replied.

“That's if you follow the path my friend,” the Earl said. He looked past Trigva to the hill on his right. “Find a faster route to the bridge, and then think of a way to get the men out of here. Quickly.” He smiled faintly. “I will try to give you as much time as I can, but I cannot guarantee that I will be joining you. I do not trust this situation, and fear that I may be walking
into a trap. Wait as long as you can. If things begin to get ugly, run. Save yourselves.”

Trigva nodded, unquestioning, and the Earl turned and spurred his horse forward, toward Dresden's waiting horsemen.

Doc shook himself out of his memories. And particularly bad memories, at that. That day had nearly cost him his life. The peace flag had been a trap, as he'd suspected. Men had descended on him as soon as he'd entered the woods. They had seized his reins, dragged him from his horse, and blindfolded him, then led him, shaking, blind, and cursing, to Dresden.

The scene itself was no worse than Doc would have expected from the man. Dresden had accused him of terrible things, insulted his family, asked him questions he couldn't answer, and finally threatened his life…

Doc shook himself again, and heaved a sigh. He had escaped, though it had cost him the lives of several of his most trusted men. Men that had laid down their lives willingly for a man they hardly knew. He shook his head in wonder before his mind turned back to the image of Dresden. That man didn't forgive, and he didn't forget. Doc couldn't be caught again, because Dresden would be more careful, more brutal, next time. This time … this time he had to win. He had to finish things, because he wouldn't be going back again. He had promised himself that much, and he always kept his promises.

8

“W
ould you please leave it on one channel?” I snapped, my eyes struggling to adjust to the television screen. Paul was rolling through all two hundred-plus channels again and again.

I, on the other hand, was doing what I did best–drawing up a list of facts. Things I knew to be true, at least as far as I was concerned. Doc was into something heavy. It was definitely dangerous, and not only for him. From what I could tell, the entire world as we knew it was depending on his success. I might be quiet, and I might not speak out in class if I didn't have to, but I wasn't stupid. And I sure wasn't the type to sit back and watch while someone else had an adventure or did something monumentally stupid.

Doc had said he was jumping again on Monday morning. Today was Sunday, so that meant that I had only one day to come up with a plan. Paul's obsessive channel changing wasn't helping me think. I wanted to be alone, or at least in a quiet environment, to lay out the facts and figure out what my next move was.

“There's nothing on,” Paul complained.

“Paul, you're not helping me here. Remember all that stuff I just told you about? All that jumping through time stuff? I'm trying to figure out what to do about it. And you're worrying about what's on TV?”

Paul grunted. “You know, buddy, I've been thinking about that. Don't you think it's all a little strange?” He turned down the TV and looked at me. “I don't mean that your grandfather's crazy or anything like that, but don't you find the whole situation a little … farfetched? Maybe you're a little too quick to believe in fiction. Reading too many comic books, these
days.” He grinned.

I felt my mouth tighten in frustration. Paul was my best friend, and I loved him like a brother, but some aspects of his personality really drove me crazy. This was not what I needed from him right now. I needed him to take me seriously, not play devil's advocate. Or joke.

“What exactly do you mean?” I asked quietly.

Anyone who knew me knew that I was generally pretty easygoing. I didn't fight with people, didn't usually throw around threats, and almost never got angry. When I did, though, I got very quiet. It was something I'd inherited from my mom, who'd had a hot Irish temper, and had trouble keeping it. She'd never shouted, though. A drop in her voice was how you knew you were in trouble.

Paul evidently missed my voice, though, since he kept going. “I just think you should chill, that's all.” He turned the TV back up. “Watch some TV. Return to reality. Forget about all the time travel crap. There's no way it's true, so why bother thinking about it?”

I sucked air through my teeth to give myself a moment to settle down. Then I counted to ten. When my anger still hadn't cooled, I held my breath for twenty seconds. Paul was just trying to give me good advice. Trying to be a friend, and help me settle down. Calling my grandfather's story into question was the wrong way to do it, given my defensive reaction, but…

Before I could find a reply to Paul's statement, someone hammered on the door.

Paul and I stared at one another for half a second, then jumped up and ran toward the front door. Doc had been reading the paper in the kitchen, and met us in the mudroom.

“Must be that new boarder,” he said, smiling. He tucked his newspaper under his arm, and the three of us made our way toward the front door together.

Paul got there first, and swung the door open. “No way,” he mumbled quietly. “Mr. Slayton?”

At the name, I stopped next to Paul and stared. Mr. Slayton? The Special Forces sub Paul had told me about? What was he doing at our front door?

“Yes. Have we met?” the man asked, puzzled.

“Boys,” Doc said, nudging the two of us aside, “where are your manners? Please come inside, Mr. Slayton.” He opened the door wider and stood aside to let the man in. “I'm sure the boys don't mean to stare.” He gave us a quick, hard glance, and we both looked down.

The new boarder stepped past us and set down his bag, then turned back. “Thank you, sir, and please call me Reis.” He smiled and turned to Paul. “Now I remember you. History class, fifth period, right?” He held his hand out.

“Yes sir,” Paul replied. He accepted the offer and shook Reis' hand, then turned to me with a dumbstruck look on his face. “This is that substitute I told you about.” He looked toward Doc. “He's been filling in for Mr. Fulton, Doc.”

Doc chuckled. “Ah, a man after my own heart. Nice to meet you, Reis.” The two men shook hands.

I just stared. So this was the guy John Fleming had hired to watch after us. More precisely, to watch over me. Keep me out of danger. Presumably, then, to get in the way when I wanted to do something. I didn't trust John Fleming, and didn't really know what he had to do with my grandfather's situation. I'd had a long talk with myself about this body guard person, and had already decided that I wouldn't trust him, wouldn't let him in. He was here to guard me, and that alone rubbed me the wrong way. Beyond that, though, this guy was taking his orders from Fleming, and if I didn't trust Fleming, then I couldn't trust his employees.

So I was shocked when that little voice inside my head–the one that always judged someone as good or bad, within five seconds of meeting them–started telling me that I could trust this guy. Reis had a genuine, relaxed charm about him. He looked around confidently, assured of his place, but didn't look down on us like he could have. He smiled warmly at me in greeting, nodding gently in my direction. His easy manner made me feel like I'd
known him for years. He looked to be just over 6 feet tall, and had a lean, hard physique; the type of muscular body I'd always wanted and would probably never have. He had dark green eyes, short blond hair, and a small scar on his left cheek. I thought he was in his late twenties until I looked into his eyes. Those eyes had seen too much to be that young. I'd never met a Special Forces guy, but if I had, I was willing to bet he'd have had eyes just like that.

Damn
, I thought. I'd been so ready to hate this guy. And instead, here I was already liking him, and trying to figure out where he'd been. So much for making my mind up ahead of time.

“Listen, I really appreciate you guys letting me stay here,” Reis was saying. “I'm new in town, and I don't know anyone. Looks like I might be here for awhile, so I hope this works out.”

“Well, you come highly recommended, and this house is obviously large enough to accommodate all three of us.” Doc glanced at Paul. “Well, sometimes four. But Jason and Paul effectively share a room.” He grinned at Reis and leaned down to pick up his bag. “I've got your room all set up. Let me show you where it is.”

Reis' hand jumped out to stop Doc's. “I've got it sir, if you don't mind.” He bent over to retrieve his bag himself.

Doc shrugged. “Sure. Do you have any more luggage?”

Was it my imagination, or did Reis' mouth harden just a fraction? I blinked, and looked again; if I'd seen a change, it disappeared as quickly as it came, because he was smiling now.

“I have a couple others, but I can get them later. I generally carry my own bags. Personal quirk. Is it okay to park on the street?”

“Oh, that's fine. But we also have plenty of room in the driveway, if you want to park there. It's totally up to you.” The two of them made their way back through the mudroom, through the kitchen, and out of view.

I shook myself and closed my mouth. I felt an odd urge to follow Doc and Reis to spend more time with the man, but restrained myself. I'd be
seeing plenty of him, and I wanted to gather as much information as I could first.

“That's the guy who manhandled the kid in class?” I asked.

“Yup.”

I whistled. “I believe it. He certainly knows how to fill up a room. I wouldn't want to mess with him.”

“Told you,” Paul quipped.

“It's weird, though.” I shook my head. “I like the guy. He seems … like a good guy, I guess.” Then I laughed. “Man, this is getting stranger by the minute. Last week I was worried about my Physics midterm. Now I've got a body guard.”

“It's bad ass,” Paul replied with a smile.

“I'm glad you think so. Except now I also have to worry about people trying to kill me because my grandfather travels back in time to stop a madman who wants to change history. I have enough people after me that I need a body guard.”