Stone and a Hard Place (29 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Upstairs, Stone glanced at his watch. 8:45. The party was in full swing now, with people dancing, standing in little groups chatting, getting tipsy, and generally having a good time. Truth be told, he felt a bit out of place among all these elderly revelers. Megan had convinced him to dance with her a couple of times, but even she was looking like she’d rather be somewhere else.

“What time is this over?” she asked him. “Isn’t it getting close to bedtime for some of these folks?”

“No such luck,” he said ruefully. “Adelaide told me that the auction doesn’t even start until ten, and things don’t wind down until after midnight.” He glanced around. “Have you seen Ethan lately?”

She thought about it. “Not for a while,” she admitted. “Though I haven’t exactly been looking for him. What did you tell him to do?”

“Just to circulate and keep his eyes open.” He sighed. “I should probably go check on him and make sure he’s all right. Mind being on your own for a while?”

“Not a problem. I’ll go see what they’ve got for the auction. Maybe I can get us a nice weekend in the Wine Country or something. Or dance with some guy old enough to be my grandfather.”

Stone headed off. He had no idea where Ethan had gotten to, nor even where to start looking. He made a quick circuit around the ballroom, then checked the dining room. No sign of him. He looked outside where a small group of men and a couple of women were smoking cigarettes on the porch, but he wasn’t there either.
He’s probably in the bathroom or something,
he thought, though part of him wondered if the boy had just decided he couldn’t handle the party anymore and taken off, possibly having left word with someone who hadn’t made it back to Stone yet.

He went back inside and was moving back toward the hallway leading to the bathrooms when he saw Langley coming out. “Hey,” Langley greeted. “Having fun? No spooks yet, I hope.”

“No, no spooks. Have you seen Ethan recently?”

He shook his head. “No, but I’m not too surprised. There’s a lot of people here.”

“So he didn’t tell you he was leaving or anything?”

“Nope.” He tilted his head. “Why the concern? You think something’s up with him?”

“His mother died a couple of days ago. He’s rather distraught about it. I told him he didn’t have to come, but he insisted. I want to make sure he’s all right.” A thought occurred to Stone. “Hmm...”

“What?”

“I wonder if he’s gone down to the basement.”

“Why would he do that?” Langley asked, perplexed. “There’s nothing down there but spiders and—oh, shit,” he added, eyes growing fearful as light dawned. “That’s where it is, isn’t it? The spook.”

Stone nodded. “Yes. And he knows it. Perhaps he went down to check on it.”

“Wait a minute,” Langley began. “He’s a—” he waggled his fingers, “—too?”

“He’s my apprentice, yes.” He paused, taking another look around. “I should go check on him, I suppose. I was planning to go down there to check on things at some point—this is as good a time as any.”

“I’ll go with you,” Langley said.

“Tommy—”

“Hey, don’t argue. I kinda want to see this spook anyway. And besides, no offense to Aunt Adelaide, but this party is a major snooze if you’re under sixty. I could use the diversion.”

Stone shrugged. “Sure, come along, then. But be careful. It’s quite dark down there. Don’t trip over anything.”

He summoned a light spell (making Langley gape in awe) and headed down the stairs. When they got to the end of the first hallway, Langley asked, “How big
is
it down here, anyway? I’ve never actually been here. I took Aunt Adelaide’s word for the spiders.”

“It’s big. Just stay close.”

Langley did as he was told, sticking so close behind Stone and his light source that it wasn’t long before it got annoying. “Back off a little, Tommy,” he grumbled. “I keep thinking you’re going to grab my arse.”

“I told you I don’t put out on the first date,” he protested, but he did move back just a bit.

Before long they were standing in front of the bookcase. Stone motioned Langley back. “It’s here?” he asked. “What is this, some kind of secret door?”

In answer, Stone slid it open and waved Langley in. Wide-eyed, he entered. “Holy shit...” he breathed.

Stone, thinking Langley was just referring to the room in general, squeezed in behind him. He froze as he took in the scene before them.

The Three were arrayed evenly around the big summoning circle, all focused on the armoire at the end of the room, where the thin crack had increased to nearly a foot wide. A roiling cloud of glowing energy swirled around the opening, probing outward. The Three were too far apart to clasp hands, but their arms were stretched out toward one another. With his magical sight, Stone saw shifting, reddish energy flowing around the outside of the circle, moving between them.

It was what was in the center that drew most of his attention, though. Lying spread-eagled, tied to a table that had been dragged into the circle, his chest bared, was Ethan. Blood shone on his side from a wound there, but he was still alive because he was writhing in pain. His eyes were clamped shut. The lines of pulsing reddish energy that ran between The Three also extended from each of them and into the center, where it converged on Ethan like eldritch wheel spokes, dancing around him as if looking for a way in.

The Three were all chanting something in the same unintelligible language and ignored the newcomers.

“Holy shit,” Langley said again. “We have to help him!” He stepped toward the circle, but Stone grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

“No!” he snapped. “Don’t break that circle, Tommy. If you do, you’ll kill everyone inside it, and probably yourself as well.”

“What do we do, then?” Langley’s voice began to take on an edge of panic. “It looks like they’re gonna—sacrifice him or something! And why aren’t they noticing us?”

“They’re focused,” Stone muttered, thinking hard. His gaze fell on the books open on the table—books he hadn’t seen before. “Stay here. Just—don’t do anything for a minute. I need to think.”

“But—”

“Stay
here,
Tommy,” he ordered. He ran across the room and snatched the open book on the table, skimming over the information on the page, and then riffling through other pages near it. Every few seconds, he glanced up at the circle. The reddish energy was growing more distinct, the lines clearer and thicker. Stone was very much afraid he knew what was going to happen next. They had already opened the thing’s prison—it was coming through. Their next step would be to try to bring it into the circle and control it. That was where Ethan came in. Stone berated himself for not seeing it before: it was the only other way that might allow them to deal with the spirit if they didn’t have its true name: to kill a mage and generate sufficient power for their circle that they could wrestle it in by main force and subjugate it while it was still weakened from its trip through.

The frightening thing was, they had a chance of succeeding.

“Alastair, come on, hurry up! I gotta do
something
,” Langley pleaded, continuing to stare at the circle. “ We can’t just let them kill that poor kid! What can I do?”

Stone was distracted, still paging through the book in the vain hope that he’d find something useful in it. “I don’t
know,
Tommy,” he growled. “If you want to help, find a way to disrupt that circle without breaking it.”

Langley nodded. He looked around until he found a heavy stone gargoyle candle holder sitting on a nearby bookshelf. Shaking, he picked it up, hefted its weight, and then drew his arm back. His football days were long behind him, but he aimed at the head of the closest circle member—an athletic-looking blond man—and let fly.

Stone glanced up just as he did this, his eyes going wide with shock. “Tommy,
no
—!” he cried. He tried to summon a spell to grab the gargoyle and pull it back, but was too late.

The heavy projectile flew unerringly to its target, smashing into the back of Oliver’s head with a sickening
thud
.

Several things happened nearly simultaneously at that point, so quickly that for a moment Stone could only stare in horror.

A bright light flared in the circle as the red energy conduit was disrupted. Oliver died instantly. He pitched forward, his arms and legs jerking as his body had not yet realized he was dead. His flailing right leg struck one of the thick black candles around the outside of the circle, sending it rolling off to the side of the room where it ignited a pile of papers and one of the wall tapestries. Dry and brittle, they flared up like kindling.

Oliver’s body continued lurching forward, crashing into Ethan’s table. The table, its rotting wood barely strong enough to hold Ethan’s weight, collapsed to the floor. The reddish energy flared and died.

Miguel and Trin clutched their heads, fighting crushing psychic feedback. Both had but a second to erect their mental shields, and both had done so, but imperfectly. Miguel screamed, staggering around half-blind.

Trin, meanwhile, her eyes blazing with rage, recovered fastest. She pointed at Langley and snapped out an unintelligible command. The terrified professor lifted off his feet and flew toward her. She clamped her hand on his shoulder and locked her gaze on Stone.

Stone regained his wits just in time, and was able to raise his shield just as Trin screamed something and pointed at him. Langley’s screams rose above hers as he bucked under Trin’s touch as if she were running a strong electrical current through him. His scream pitched to a shrieking crescendo and then suddenly he was gone. His badly fitting tuxedo fluttered to the floor, along with a swirling pile of ashes.

“
Tommy!
” Stone cried, lunging forward despite knowing there was nothing he could do.

Trin’s spell struck his barrier and pulverized it, sending him careening back into the wall. He slammed into it and fell to the floor, scrambling sideways, his whole body alight with pain. Her eyes wild with power now, Trin advanced on him, pressing the attack.

Stone wasn’t giving up that easily, though—stunned as he was by Tommy’s sudden and horrific death, he knew he couldn’t let his guard down. If he did even for a second, he’d be dead.

Grateful for all the time he’d spent infusing his crystals and other power objects, he summoned a lightning bolt and directed it at Trin. She dived aside, and got her own shield up just in time, but the bolt flew past her and struck Miguel a glancing blow. He staggered again, swaying alarmingly close to the rising flames. Blinking sweat out of his eyes, Stone saw the opening in the armoire had grown wider, and the swirling mist a little more substantial.

It was coming. He had to finish this fast. He dragged himself back to his feet and faced Trin, breathing hard.

She laughed, still brimming with the power she’d sucked in from killing Langley. She pointed both hands at Stone and let loose with another concussion attack. “Die, you bastard!” she snapped. “I already killed your pet. Maybe I can use you in his place!”

Stone had once again barely managed to get his shield up, but the feedback from her spells made his head feel like it was splitting in two. “Not—yet—” he breathed, aiming his own concussion beam at her. This time it hit her, and he was rewarded with the sight of her being flung back and slammed into one of the bookcases. Her shield flared and died.

Neither of them noticed Miguel making his slow and painstaking way toward the door. He’d swiftly taken stock of the situation, and realized things were not looking good. Oliver was dead. The fire was rising. There was a very real possibility that Stone would beat Trin—even if Miguel stayed to help. But half-blinded, his head splitting from the circle’s disruption, he was forced to be a realist. Realists survived—and Miguel was nothing if not a survivor.

With one last glance at the two combatants locked in their battle, he shoved open the bookcase door and slipped out.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Upstairs, Megan was beginning to wonder where Stone had gone. It had already been longer than fifteen minutes, and she was growing bored with listening to the enthusiastic war stories an old man in a plaid tie was trying to regale her with. Politely excusing herself, she hurried off, thinking she’d find Stone somewhere nearby.

She didn’t see him anywhere, though: she didn’t realize it, but she nearly retraced the steps he’d taken searching for Ethan: dining room, grand ballroom, outside smoking area, hallways leading to the bathrooms. A little concerned now, she ranged out further, taking another hallway that she didn’t think was strictly part of the party area.
Maybe he found Ethan and they’re having a talk,
she decided. If that were true, she’d just find them, verify that they were both all right, and then head back to the party and wait for them to rejoin it.

She kept waiting for a security guard to stop her, but none did. She guessed there probably weren’t enough of them to cover the whole house, and in any case, she didn’t think the elderly guests were much to worry about, security-risk wise. The worst that might happen was that one of them might get lost on the way to the bathroom, or maybe stroke out in the punch bowl.

She was about to turn around and go back the way she’d come when she smelled something unexpected.
Smoke? That’s strange. Maybe I’m near where the smokers are—

But she wasn’t near the smokers. They were up at the front of the house, and she was somewhere in the middle. She moved back, following the smell until she saw something that made her gasp: wafting up from an ancient floor register were tendrils of foul-smelling black smoke. Not a lot, but she knew enough to know that this was not the cheery smoke from a fireplace—even if there had been a fireplace for it to be coming from.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. For a second she froze, then she hurried back down the hallway and back into the party area. She grabbed the first blazer-clad security guard she could find. “Come on—you need to see this,” she breathed.

He looked at her oddly: here was a pretty young woman in a tight dress and heels, looking like she’d just seen a ghost—or a murder. “What’s the problem, ma’am?”

“I think there’s a
fire,”
she whispered, not wanting to start a panic if she were somehow wrong. She grabbed his arm and tugged. “Come
on
—let me show you this!”

The man followed, his expression suggesting that he was humoring her. That lasted until he saw the smoke wafting up from the register. “Holy shit,” he growled, stiffening. He turned back to Megan, already pulling his walkie-talkie from his belt. “Listen, lady—you need to get out of here. I’ll call it in. We gotta start evacuating people. Oh, holy hell, this is gonna be a nightmare with all these old people.”

“I’ll help,” she said. “I’ll start getting people to leave, to go outside. I’ll tell them there’s a gas leak or something.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, already focused on talking into his radio. He waved her off.

Megan hurried back toward the party, realizing as she did that she still hadn’t found Stone or Ethan. She hoped very much that the fire and their disappearance weren’t related.

Outside the summoning room, Miguel hurried as fast as he could down the aisle back toward the main large room. He was in full panic mode now—all he wanted to do was get out of here alive. The fire was already burning through the wooden wall of the summoning room, providing flickering light that made the shadowy piles of furniture loom eerily above him. He glanced upward—

—and tripped over a piece of the ruined player piano, falling forward. He tried to throw himself sideways, but in his disorientation he miscalculated: his reeling body slammed into a tall pile of stacked furniture. It swayed alarmingly, and then something large dislodged from the top and tumbled down, crashing onto Miguel’s legs. He screamed as he felt bones break among the splintering wood, and a wave of agony washed over him. He went down and lay still.

Inside, Stone and Trin were still locked in their battle.

“Give it up, asshole,” Trin growled. “You can’t fight me. You’re soft, like all your type. Can’t handle the power.”

She flung another bolt at him—his shields were weaker now, and most of it got through and smashed into his arm. He staggered back, falling over the top of another table.

Scrambling up, he didn’t bother answering her. More than ever now, he knew he had to end this fast, before Trin killed him. She didn’t have a chance of controlling that thing now if it came through—not by herself, and not in her weakened state. If he failed, all those people upstairs would die, and probably a lot more, too.

She was right about the combat-type spells: they weren’t his specialty, and they were tiring him out fast. Instead, he went with his strength: telekinetically snatching up the same stone gargoyle that Langley had hit Oliver with, he flung it at her, putting all his will behind it.

She wasn’t expecting that. It breached her shield and hit her leg hard, taking her down with a pained shriek. Stone struggled up again and tried to press the attack before she could get her bearings back.

Unfortunately for him, the power black mages drew when they killed their “batteries” was immense, and she still had quite a bit left. Without getting up, she put her two hands together, aimed them at Stone, and let fly with a spell that looked like a whirlwind full of tiny knives. It sliced through his shield, weakening considerably as it did, but what was left flayed at his body, opening up myriad small, bleeding slashes all over. He tried to ward them off, but couldn’t concentrate enough to cast anything. He lurched backward, hit the wall, and slumped to the floor in a bloody heap. He lay unmoving as his consciousness faded.

Trin threw one last concussion blast at him, laughing as she watched his body jerk and writhe on the floor against the wall. Then she turned and quickly left the room.

Megan did the first thing she could think of: she found Adelaide. The old lady was holding court in the main ballroom near one of the large Christmas trees, laughing with some old friends while Iona stood beaming next to her.

Megan hurried up to her. “Mrs. Bonham?”

She smiled. “Oh. You’re Dr. Stone’s date, aren’t you, dear? What was your name again? Mary? Margaret?”

“Megan,” she said. She ducked down to whisper in the old woman’s ear. “Mrs. Bonham, there’s a problem. There’s a fire somewhere down below. I’ve already told security, and they’re calling in help, but we need to get everyone out of here quickly. It won’t be safe much longer.”

She glanced around, her eyes growing wide and fearful. “A—fire?”

Megan didn’t have time to wait for it to sink in. She hurried over to the bandstand and snatched the microphone, startling the bandleader. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, feeling herself shaking. “Please listen to me. We need everyone to exit the house and go outside onto the front lawn. There’s been—a small kitchen fire, and we want to make sure everyone’s safe. Please go now in an orderly fashion, and help those who can’t make it on their own. Thank you.” She handed the mic back to the bandleader and climbed back down off the stage.

There was a murmur of conversation among the guests, occasionally punctuated by a louder “Fire?” or “Fire!” Meanwhile the security force was coming in, attempting to usher people out of the ballroom and toward the front lawn. It was slow going; some guests didn’t believe there really was a fire, and some couldn’t move very fast. Others were already heading toward the door.

Megan looked around. Where was Stone? Where were Ethan, and Tommy? Suddenly everyone she knew had disappeared, and in the middle of a potential disaster. This didn’t bode well.

Trin found Miguel outside the circle room, his legs crushed, moaning in agony. “Trin...” he whispered. “Help me. For God’s sake, get me out of here...” He reached toward her.

She looked at him, then back at the fire. “Sorry, man. You’re on your own.” And then she was past him and away, running back past the growing flames toward the exit.