Stone and a Hard Place (27 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Stone spent the rest of Thursday evening and all day Friday studying the books Ethan had found, and powering up as many magical focus objects as he could. He knew he had to be careful: every bit of his power that he put into them was that much less he’d have to draw from within himself, so he’d have to make sure he had time to recharge before the ball. It wasn’t helping that he hadn’t slept after Wednesday’s nightmare, and barely at all on Thursday night. He didn’t tell Megan how much the nightmare had affected him—especially since it was the second one he’d had in less than a week. He wondered if he’d even be able to fall asleep before he was so exhausted that his body just took matters into its own hands. He didn’t have time for rest this weekend anyway.

Megan had a couple of finals on Friday, so he had the day to himself. The books, unfortunately, turned out to be mostly useless for what he needed, though they were fascinating magical texts in their own right. One in particular, bound in brown leather with a red gem on the cover, was unusually potent and contained detailed information about how to summon several different types of powerful and useful creatures. Of course the book practically reeked of black magic, but that was where Stone had gotten most of his “pale gray” distinction: if it had to do with magic, it was like catnip for him. He didn’t care if it was good, evil, or somewhere in between—he wanted to know its secrets. And besides, there was a big difference between knowing
how
to perform a particular technique and actually
doing
it. That was why he was pale gray instead of dark gray: because he didn’t have any particular lust for power beyond what he could get from white magic techniques. He just wanted to be able to recognize the others, and understand the mechanics and philosophy behind them.

He caught himself wondering idly how much old Stefan Kolinsky would offer for these books, but immediately dismissed the thought. Sure, it would make things easier, since he’d probably take them in payment for his last bit of very useful help instead of some of the more…
interesting
means of repayment he usually came up with, but Stone wasn’t ready to let them go just yet. Maybe, if he was able to get his hands on the ones from the basement summoning room, he might offer a couple of them to the black mage. But that would come later.

Mrs. Olivera showed up at midday with his tuxedo, which she’d picked up from the cleaners, and stuck around to make him lunch when she saw that he’d gotten so busy with his research that he’d forgotten to eat. She shook her head in mock maternal concern. “You should marry that woman, Dr. Stone,” she told him. “You need somebody to look after you.”

He chuckled. “Come on, Mrs. Olivera. You know better than that. We’d drive each other mad if we got married. I’m too much of a hermit for that much togetherness. Besides, what makes you think she’d even have me? I’m not exactly the world’s best catch, am I?”

“I think you sell yourself short,” she said, but let it go at that. She’d learned long ago to leave him alone when he got like this. It was easier for both of them that way.

By the evening, he’d managed to get through all the books with at least enough comprehension to tell that they didn’t contain the true name of the thing in Adelaide’s basement and probably wouldn’t be any help in dealing with it. He had just called Ethan and left a message asking whether he wanted to be picked up tomorrow night when the phone rang.

It was Tommy Langley. “Hey,” he said. “A couple of the other guys and I were gonna go out and have a few drinks. Thought you might like to join us. You know—get your mind off all this heavy hocus-pocus shit for a while and talk about boring stuff like the old days.”

He almost said no, but realized that his only real alternative was to crawl into bed and probably not sleep. At least if he got drunk enough, he might not have the nightmare. “All right, Tommy,” he agreed. “That sounds like just the thing.”

And it was. They met at a little pub where they usually got started, and Stone bought the first round. The “other guys” were three fellow professors, one from the Computer Science department, one from Mechanical Engineering, and the third from Journalism. They were all around Stone’s age, give or take a few years, and their interests were eclectic enough that even when drunk they were full of fascinating stories and anecdotes.

It felt good to be back together with them again—to be normal, even if it was just for an evening. Every once in a while—not that often, admittedly—Stone caught himself wondering what his life would have been like if he
hadn’t
been born with the potential to be a mage, and raised among those who had the ability to recognize and nurture that potential. Sometimes he felt like his life had been mapped out for him from the time he was a small child, and occasionally he resented it. Sometimes he just wanted to be mundane, with no idea what kinds of things were out there in the world, right beyond the edge of where those who didn’t have the Talent could see them. At times like that, blissful ignorance seemed like a pretty damned good idea.

The feeling never lasted long, though. He loved magic, loved using his will and his training to shape and control the world around him, even in his own small way. He knew it was an occupational hazard of mages, and worse among those at higher power levels: they often succumbed to arrogance about their own abilities, believing that there was nothing out there that they couldn’t handle. Though he had succumbed himself on more than one occasion, Stone usually knew better. That’s why he had accepted Langley’s invitation: he just wanted to forget about it all for a night, before it all came crashing back down on him tomorrow. There was a very real possibility that he might not survive the weekend—that was a good enough excuse to get roaring drunk the night before. Hey, it worked for the Vikings.

He’d lost track of how many Guinnesses he’d downed when Langley took him aside for a private chat—not that it mattered, since the other members of their group were busy entertaining each other with a raucous tale involving (as near as Stone could pick out of their slurred delivery) a naked woman, a rabbi, and three goats.

“You never did tell me what you wanted me to do tomorrow night,” Langley said with a goofy grin. “You want me to—punch that ghost a good one in the nose?” He pantomimed this activity, flailing his fists around so wildly that Stone had to lean back and nearly lost his balance on his chair.

“It’s not a ghost. And I’ll—figure it out as we go along,” he said, righting himself.

“What—you don’t have a plan?”

“Not really.” Stone finished his pint and contemplated whether he wanted another. “Hoping nothing happens at all. Probably won’t. We’ll just have a nice night with your aunt and a bunch of elderly rich people.”

Langley nodded, suddenly looking melancholy. “I’m scared, Alastair. I want to help you, but I’m scared.”

Stone nodded. “So am I, Tommy.”

“You are?” His look of surprise was almost comical. “But you’re Mandrake the Magician. Master of the Mystic Arts, or whatever.”

“No.” Stone shook his head. “I’m just a poor sod who’s out of his league. And I’m afraid that if I bugger this up, people will die.”

“You’re serious.” Langley leaned in close. “Die?”

“Die, Tommy,” Stone said softly. His pleasant buzz was threatening to morph, as it sometimes did when he got drunk while in the wrong frame of mind, into a black depression. “Not too late for you to back out, you know.”

“For you, either. You could still just tell them to cancel it. Aunt Adelaide would do it, if you said so. She’s pretty impressed with you.”

He shook his head, staring down into his empty glass. “Too late now for that. I think it’ll be all right.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Ignore me, Tommy. I get like this sometimes. Just tired, I guess.”

Langley patted his arm. “It’s okay. Come on, have another drink and forget about it for a while.”

“No, I think I’ll be heading home,” he said, dragging himself to his feet. “Got a lot to do tomorrow, and I’m already going to be wasting half the morning fighting off a hangover.”

Shortly after that, he sat in the back of the cab heading back to his house, window rolled down, deep in thought. Even through the fog of alcohol, he couldn’t help thinking there was something he’d forgotten. Some factor in all this that he wasn’t including in his plans.

And as the cab stopped in front of his townhouse and he got out and paid the driver, he suspected that, whatever it was, he was going to regret not remembering it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

By the time Stone dragged himself out of bed slightly before noon on Saturday, Ethan still hadn’t called back. He tried again. To his annoyance, he got the machine. He’d swear that boy was avoiding him. “Ethan, this is Stone,” he growled. “I really need you to call me back and—”

The phone picked up. “Hi, Dr. Stone.”

Stone frowned. Ethan’s voice sounded very strange. Colorless. Though he supposed he shouldn’t talk: his own probably sounded like someone had run his throat through a cheese grater. “Are you all right, Ethan? You sound odd.” There was a very long pause on the other end. “Ethan—are you still there?”

“I...uh...yeah. My—mom died, Dr. Stone.”

For a moment Stone was speechless. If someone had asked him to list the top ten things he thought the boy might say, that wouldn’t even have made the list. “Ethan, I’m so sorry,” he said at last, dully. “When?”

Another long pause. “Thursday afternoon. I—found out when I got to the hospital. She was—already gone by the time I got there.”

Stone closed his eyes and bowed his head. Ethan’s mother had died while he’d had the boy poking around through rubbish in an attic, chasing some obsession that he had no right to even involve him in. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his tone gentle. “Have you been all alone down there?”

“No—the people from the hospital have been helping me out. Helping me deal with stuff that needs to be done. I’m—okay.”

You don’t
sound
okay.
“Do you want me to come down there? I could help you—”

“No, it’s okay. Thanks, but I’ll be all right. Yesterday was kind of rough, but today’s a little better. I—kinda guess I knew this was coming.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier, though, I know.” Stone sighed. “If there’s anything I can do—anything at all—don’t hesitate to call me. You shouldn’t be handling this sort of thing alone.”

“Thanks, Dr. Stone. I appreciate it.”

“I mean it. Any time of the day or night. You take care of yourself, Ethan. Don’t worry about anything else until you’re feeling up to it again.”

“Oh—right—you wanted to know if I needed you to pick me up for tonight. You don’t have to. I can drive myself.”

Stone stared at the phone. “Ethan, you don’t have to come tonight. I wouldn’t expect you to—”

“No, it’s fine. I want to. It’ll—take my mind off things. I kinda want the excuse to get out of the house for a while. If it’s still okay, I mean.”

“It’s—of course it is. If that’s really what you want to do. Please don’t feel any obligation. I can handle it without you if you’d rather not—”

“I’ll be there,” Ethan said. “Six o’clock. See you then.”

Stone hung up the phone and slumped back onto the bed. Guilt clawed at him: if he hadn’t insisted that Ethan help him hunt through Adelaide’s attic, he could at least have been there with his mother when she’d died.
Bloody brilliant job I’ve done, helping him deal with anything
.
No wonder half the time it seems like he doesn’t even want to talk to me. I don’t blame him.

Despite the fact that he had a lot of things he needed to do before that evening, he couldn’t bring himself to rise from the bed. He lay there, half dressed and face down in the pillows, for nearly an hour before he could rouse himself sufficiently to get up.

When he arrived at Adelaide’s house a little after two o’clock, the place was teeming with activity. There were so many cars, catering trucks, and other vehicles scattered haphazardly around the front part of the grounds that he had to park the Jaguar halfway up the driveway and walk to the house.

He found Adelaide in the living room, seated comfortably with Iona on a couch, dealing with a stream of service personnel flowing in and out. She smiled when she saw him. “Well, hello, Dr. Stone!” she called, waving. “You’re a bit early for the festivities.”

“Just thought I’d do a last-minute check on things downstairs,” he told her. “To be sure—well, as sure as I can be.”

She nodded. “Of course, go right ahead. And when you’re done, come back. I want to have George—he’s sort of the stage manager of our little event here—show you around so you’ll know where everything will be, in case you need something tonight.”

Stone noticed that she looked radiantly happy and more energetic than she had in a long time. Obviously this party, and the money it would bring for her charities, meant a lot to her, and he planned to do everything he could to make sure things went off without any trouble. He slipped out and headed down to the basement, negotiating the maze of hallways and furniture until he reached the summoning room.

This whole situation was a new one to his experience, which was part of why he was being so careful with it. He’d never seen such a powerful spirit, demon, or whatever this thing was imprisoned between two dimensions. He couldn’t be completely sure that it wasn’t just biding its time, pretending to be more weakened and confined than it was, just waiting for the best moment to spring free, and that was the nagging worry that wouldn’t leave him alone. Beyond trying to contact it and dominate its mind sufficiently to compel it to tell him—something he had absolutely no desire to attempt—he’d just have to trust that the measures he’d taken would be sufficient. He knew the hard work would begin after the party was over, but right now he was only allowing himself to think one day at a time. He’d keep the charity ball and its guests safe, and after that, perhaps he could call in some help and see if between himself and some of the other mages he knew, they might be able to send this thing back permanently to where it belonged.

He spent about half an hour prowling around the room, magical senses on full alert, checking and reinforcing his defenses. He realized that what he was doing was the mystic equivalent of building a fort out of random two-by-fours and pieces of corrugated metal, but elegance wasn’t something he had time for right now.

The spirit, for its part, was silent. He could feel its presence, but it seemed to be dormant at the moment. Maybe reaching out and giving him nightmares strong enough to make him physically ill was taxing to it in its half-present state. “You just stay asleep,” he murmured to it as he put the finishing touches on his reinforcements. “We’ll talk again tomorrow, after all these people are safe in their homes.”

Back upstairs, he found Adelaide again and was introduced to George Fayette, a tall, stoop-shouldered older man with an easy smile and dark, lively eyes. “George is the president of our foundation,” Adelaide told Stone. “He’s in charge tonight. I just provide the place for us to hold the ball.”

Stone noticed that she introduced him to George as “a friend of my nephew’s, who’s doing some consulting work for us.”
Yes, well, ‘consulting mage and banisher of extradimensional horrors’ might be a bit much,
he decided wryly. Besides, he hadn’t banished anything yet.

He followed George around the lower floor of the house as the other man pointed out the grand ballroom where the party would be held, where the bandstand and the bar and the tables would be (a crowd of people were busy setting up all three as they went through), where the guests’ coats would be stored, the location of the items up for auction, and the bathrooms that would be in use for the ball. Then George took him into the dining room and kitchen (“We won’t be having a full dinner, of course—just various cookies, candies, hors-d’oeuvres, eggnog, that sort of thing”). Stone had seen most of these areas of the house, of course, but George’s tour gave him a good idea of the logistics of the party, where the guests would be and where they wouldn’t be, and ways he could get around without anyone noticing if he needed to.

“So,” George said as he took Stone back to Adelaide when the tour was over, “What sort of consulting do you do, Dr. Stone?”

Stone shrugged. “Oh, little of this, little of that,” he said. “Sort of—unconventional security.”

George tilted his head. “Unconventional? We’ve got a full security force tonight, to keep an eye on the guests and make sure no one who isn’t invited gets in. We wouldn’t want anyone’s jewelry or purses stolen while they’re having a good time.”

“I’m here more in an—advisory capacity,” Stone said. “Ah, and here we are back where we started. Thank you so much for the tour, George.” He shook the man’s hand and made his exit before he’d have to answer any more questions.

It was now almost four o’clock. He was supposed to pick up Megan at 5:30, which meant he’d have to hurry if he didn’t want to be late. He said his goodbyes to Adelaide and Iona, and told them he’d be back later.