Stone and a Hard Place (24 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Stone more than half-expected Ethan to come up with an excuse for not showing up for his lesson Wednesday afternoon, and was surprised when the blue car pulled into his driveway promptly at three o’clock. “I take it your mum’s doing all right,” he said when the boy came in.

“She’s stable,” Ethan said. “Still bad, but at least she’s not getting any worse for the moment.”

Stone nodded. “Any luck with the circle yet?”

“I didn’t get a chance to try it yet. Yesterday I spent most of the day at the hospital. I was planning on working on it this weekend, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine. Actually—come up to my study. I want to talk to you about something.”

Ethan looked nervous, but followed. He sat down on the couch and tossed his backpack down next to him. “About what?”

“I’d like your help, if you have the time.”

“My help? With what?”

“You remember old Adelaide Bonham and her house in Los Gatos, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Well, I’m still dealing with some trouble down there, and I’m running out of time. She’s having a big charity ball this Saturday night and I’d like to get some things done before then. Unfortunately what I want to do involves poking around in an enormous dusty attic looking for some bits of information. It’ll go a lot faster if I can get your help. If your mum can spare you, of course.”

“Uh—yeah, sure, I can do that. When, though?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon? We’ll head up there around this time and with any luck we can find something useful. I’d also like you to attend the ball itself if you can. Having an assistant with magical ability will be invaluable, even if all you do is keep watch with your magical senses. Do you think you might be able to do that?”

Ethan nodded. “Sure. Would I need a suit or something?”

“Rent a tuxedo, and send me the bill.”

“Okay.” Ethan paused. “Dr. Stone—what’s going on down there? Did you ever find out?”

“Yes. There’s some sort of nasty spirit, or demon, or whatever you want to call it, imprisoned in the house’s basement. How it got there is a long story—I’ll tell you tomorrow, when I show you where it is. It’ll be easier to understand with context.”

“And the stuff you’re looking for is related to dealing with it? How does that work?”

“Quite likely it doesn’t. I found some books and papers in the basement, but they don’t seem to be related to what’s imprisoned there. I’m hoping we might find more in the attic, p’raps packed away in a trunk or an old bookcase or something. What I really want to find is the spirit’s true name, but I doubt anyone wrote that down.”

“Its true name?”

Stone nodded. “That’s the best way to deal with spirits—sometimes the
only
way. If you know a spirit’s true name, you have a lot of power over it. You can imprison it, enslave it, or send it back to where it came from. You hope, anyway. There’s still the matter of pitting your power and will against its—they don’t exactly want to go along with what you have planned, and they’ll fight you every step of the way. In this case, all I’m hoping to do is send the bit of it that’s in our dimension back home with the rest of it, and close the opening between the two.” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s
all.
I make it sound like that will be easy. It won’t. But at least we won’t have to deal with the whole thing.”

“So—only part of it is here?”

“Yes, or we wouldn’t have a prayer of doing this. The people who imprisoned it did a good job, but their efforts are slipping after all these years. The prison is failing, and some of it is bleeding through.”

Ethan nodded, taking it all in. “I’ll do what I can to help,” he said. “I—”

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. “Excuse me a moment,” Stone said, and headed out of the room.

It was Megan. “Hey,” she said. “I was in the area, so I thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to do something tonight.” She glanced past him. “Oh, I didn’t realize you had company.”

Stone turned around. Ethan had drifted out of the room and stood at the top of the stairs, watching them. “It’s just Ethan.” To the boy, he said, “I really don’t have that much more prepared for you today, Ethan, if you want to take off early. Come back tomorrow and we’ll go down to Adelaide’s. And don’t forget to see to that tuxedo.”

Ethan nodded, coming down the stairs. “What time do you want me there on Saturday? What time does the ball start?”

“I think it starts at seven; be there at six so we can decide on our plans.”

“You got it.” He nodded goodbye to Megan, waved at Stone, and headed out the door.

She closed it behind her. “Ball? What ball?”

“Just a little thing Adelaide’s having down at her house on Saturday night,” Stone said, trying to sound like it was the most uninteresting thing in the world.

“Are you going to a party? And you didn’t ask me to go with you?” Megan didn’t look angry, but she did look a little hurt.

“I’m not going to have fun, Megan. I’m going to work. This is part of what I’m doing to help Adelaide with her house problem. Ethan’s going to be assisting me.”

“Still,” she said, reaching out to stroke his jawline. “I heard you say ‘tuxedo.’ Are you going to be wearing a tuxedo?”

Stone could see there was no easy way to get out of this. “Yes. I’m going to be wearing a tuxedo.”

“I’ve never seen you in a tuxedo. I want to.” She grinned. “Between the accent and the tux, you’ll be irresistible. Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to break out the sexy black dress I bought a couple of months ago and haven’t had a chance to wear yet. And even better, for one time since we met I might actually be able to see the front of your hair laying down like a normal person’s.” She reached out and ruffled it, making it worse. “So—am I coming with you to the ball, or are things going to get ugly? And by
things,
I mean a certain Dr. Stone’s love life?” Her eyes twinkled to take the sting from her words. “Seriously, Alastair, is there any reason we can’t go together?”

“I suppose not,” he said, still reluctant. “Though I won’t have a lot of time for dancing and whatnot. As I said, I’ll actually be working. Keeping an eye on things.”

“In case the ghost or whatever it is decides to disrupt the party?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“I’ll watch out for ghosts,” she promised. “And I’m sure I can find
somebody
to dance with if you’re not around. Tommy Langley, maybe. Now—how about you let me treat you to dinner for a change? You need a break. You can go back to ghostbusting tomorrow. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough,” he agreed.

He tried to forget about the horror in Adelaide’s basement and focus on enjoying a pleasant evening with Megan. They had dinner at a new restaurant in Saratoga, then went to see a movie that both of them had expressed interest in and hadn’t gotten around to yet. They ended up back at Stone’s place a little after eleven, and shortly after midnight they were both asleep, snuggled close together under the covers.

“…I’m going to kill you…”
said a voice in the darkness.

Stone stirred, opened his eyes. He was still where he thought he was, Megan’s cheek warm against his bare chest, his arm draped protectively over her back. He listened for a moment, then shook his head. He must have imagined it. Or maybe it was the wind. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand: 1:42 a.m.

Megan muttered something and snuggled closer to him, and he settled back.

“…I’m going to kill you, and everyone you ever cared about. As soon as I am free, I will rip their entrails from their bodies…”

His eyes flew open again. He sat up a little, looking around, then shifted to magical sight. Nothing was out of the ordinary on either the mundane or the magical plane. “Who’s there?” he whispered, not wanting to wake Megan.

“…I will flay your skin from your body, and boil your eyeballs until they pop. You will beg for death...”

Stone looked around, trying to identify the source of the voice. At first he saw nothing, but then a faint light caught the corner of his eye. He turned.

There was a crack in the door to his walk-in closet. A thin line of unhealthy-looking greenish light shone from it, creeping out into the room.

And the line was getting thicker.

Stone sat up the rest of the way, carefully moving Megan’s arm. She murmured something, rolled over, and began to snore softly.

The greenish light crept inexorably closer, but that wasn’t the only thing going on in the room. As he watched, horrified, the dresser drawers slid open one by one and glutinous tendrils oozed from them, flailing as they reached toward the floor.

The bed began to shake. For a moment Stone thought they were having another earthquake, but the other furniture wasn’t moving. The bed rocked back and forth, then bucked a few inches forward. Next to him Megan slept on, oblivious. Soft, mocking laughter echoed through the room.

Once again shifting to magical sight, Stone nearly cried out in surprise as the entire room lit up with magically active energy. The ooze coming from the dresser glowed with a reddish aura, and the entire floor under the bed flared a sickly, radioactive green. Something wet and dark trickled down the walls on all four sides, puddling on the floor and creeping toward the bed.

They had to get out of here! He prodded Megan’s shoulder, but she just mumbled something about it not being a school day and shoved him away. “Megan! You have to get up!” he urged.

Something dropped onto his head.

That time he did cry out, reaching up to claw at it with both hands. It was soft and yielding, and everywhere it touched, it left burning trails behind it. “Megan!” he yelled.
“Wake up!”

The bedroom door flew open with such force that it slammed into the wall behind it. Stone, kneeling on the bed and still flailing at whatever was on his head, stared in horror.

The creatures from Adelaide’s basement ritual room had found him. They were flowing through the door, shambling one after the other, their wicked sloth claws reaching for him. He tried to gather the energy to throw a spell, but the oozing thing on his head dropped down over his eyes, probing its ropy tendrils into his nose, his mouth, his ears—

He tried to scream and a tentacle plunged down his throat. Another one reached down further and wrapped around his neck, and a third gripped his shoulders, shaking him—

“Alastair! Wake up! Oh, God, please, you have to wake up!
”

He snapped awake. For a moment he had no idea where he was, where the creatures had gone or even why he was still alive. The room lights were on. There were no creatures, no ichor, nothing dripping down the walls. He was kneeling in the middle of the bed, drenched in sweat, his arms up as if trying to ward something off.

Megan knelt in front of him, her eyes wild with terror, her hands gripping his shoulders. “Alastair? What are you doing?” she demanded. Her voice pitched high and bright, radiating fear.

For a moment he just stayed there like that, his breathing coming so hard and fast that his ribs shrieked in protest. “Megan—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re all right. It was just—some kind of bad dream.” Her voice shook; he could hear her trying hard not to sob.

She reached out, trying to pull him into a hug, but the memory of the slimy thing shoving a tentacle down his throat caused his gorge to rise and he knew he was going to be sick. He shoved her away and dashed for the bathroom, barely making it in time. When he finished he just slumped over the bowl, shaking, shoulders heaving, deciding that maybe death might not be such a horrible thing after all, compared to this.

And then Megan was there kneeling next to him, putting a gentle arm around him. “You okay?” she asked softly.

“Don’t—don’t touch me, Megan,” he muttered, miserable. “’M disgusting.” He reached up without raising his head and flopped his hand around until he found the flusher.

“Oh, I’ve seen a lot worse in college,” she assured him, brushing his hair back from where it was plastered to his forehead. “Let me get you a glass of water.”

She got up long enough to get him one, then dropped back down next to him. “Come on, honey, drink this. It’ll make you feel better.” Putting her arm back around him, she tried again to pull him into a comforting embrace.

This time he let her. He took the glass and drank down the water. “Thank you...” he whispered, lowering his head until his face was buried in her shoulder. They sat there on the floor like that for a long time, and Megan held him and stroked his back until he stopped shaking. When he at last looked up at her, a little color had come back into his face.

“What—
was
that?” she asked, clearly afraid that even asking might set him off again. “A nightmare? I’ve never seen one so bad. I’ve never seen you even have one before.”

He shook his head. “It was—a nightmare, yes. But—I think there was more to it than that.”

“More to it?”

He nodded. “I—had a similar one the other night, at Adelaide’s place. Not as bad, though.” He sighed and dragged himself slowly up to his feet. “Let me take a shower, Megan. I feel ghastly.”