Keeper of the Black Stones (14 page)

Paul shrugged. “I have to admit, this does help your story. I don't want to believe it, because it's crazy, but this Reis character showing up…” Paul shook his head. “Well let's just say that's one hell of a coincidence. Sort of clinches it, I guess.” I got the feeling that Paul didn't want to admit what I already knew. I didn't blame him–once you admitted that the crazy story might be true, it was a little hard to deal with. Still, if he was starting to consider it, then that meant that he was on my side.

“No joke.” I paused. “One thing's for sure, though. There are still too many questions. This is one piece of the puzzle, but there's a lot more. We need more answers.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“When Doc was talking to Fleming at dinner, they talked about there being a stone here. If there's one here, then that's where it all starts. And I want to see it with my own eyes,” I replied.

Paul snorted. “Well that'll be a neat trick. You don't know where it is.”

“Actually, I've got a pretty good idea,” I said.

“Then let's go,” Paul replied. He took a step toward the door.

I shook my head and grabbed his arm. “No, Doc can't see us searching. He doesn't want me to know about it, which means I have to find it without
him
knowing that I'm looking. He leaves in the morning, and I want to know what's going on before then. We'll go tonight, when everyone's asleep.”

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Slayton,” Doc said, watching as Reis laid his green canvas duffel bag on the bed.

“Please, sir, call me Reis.”

“Of course, of course. As long as you'll stop calling me sir.” Doc smiled. “I must admit, Reis, that this is all a little unexpected. I'm not used to having a…”

“Body guard?” Reis finished with a reserved smile.

Doc nodded. “Exactly.”

“Well, Mr. Fleming has paid me a lot of money to make sure that you and your grandson are safe. I don't know why he thinks you're in danger, but his convictions are very strong.”

Doc nodded again. “You must understand, Reis, that my personal safety means little to me. My grandson's safety, however, means everything. The only reason I'm agreeing to John's plan is that I think he may be right about the danger. I didn't want to believe it, but I'm afraid that I may no longer have a choice.”

Reis took a deep breath. “Doc–may I call you Doc?–Mr. Fleming was awfully vague about why he felt you were in danger. I realize that there are things you might not want to tell me, but knowing what I'm up against
and who we're fighting–would sure give me a better shot at doing my job.”

Doc studied Reis for a moment, then nodded slowly, having made his decision. Something about the man made him feel that he could be trusted. And as long as he was going to be protecting Jason, Reis was right–he needed to know everything. Regardless of John's reservations.

“Well, Reis, I suppose you might as well know. I can hardly keep it from you, and it may help you at some point. The fact is, I'm in possession of an object that allows me to travel back in time. Unfortunately, there are others who know about these objects. And others who use them. One of these men is in the past now, attempting to derail history for his own–questionable–reasons. I'm the only one who can use the objects to stop him. In short, I've been entrusted with the fate of the world. John Fleming believes that this fate may bring my grandson into fairly … unique danger.”

Doc stood absolutely still as he finished speaking, and watched Reis carefully. What would this man do? Believe him? Ridicule him? Storm out? After all this time, to tell someone the whole truth, without censoring the facts, and expect belief…

Reis stared back blankly for several seconds before shaking his head. “Listen, Doc, I didn't mean to offend you by asking the question. If you don't want to tell me the real reason that I'm here, you can just say so.”

Doc snorted, then barked with laughter. He didn't know whether Reis truly didn't believe him, or was acknowledging and accepting the situation and secrecy with a code of his own. Either way, it appeared that the secret and the stones–and Jason–were safe for the moment. He nodded in relief, smiled, and strolled casually out of the room.

Behind him, Reis sank slowly onto the bed and began to breathe again. He watched Doc leave the room, closed his eyes briefly, and turned to unpacking.

9

I
rolled over and looked at my alarm clock. It was past midnight–1:14AM. That was it, it was time. I hadn't slept a wink all night, waiting for this, and I wasn't going to wait any longer. I reached for the pretzel that was lying on my nightstand and threw it at Paul, who was sleeping at the foot of my bed.

He jerked awake when the pretzel hit his forehead. “What the hell?” he grumbled.

“It's time,” I whispered as softly as I could.

He groaned and cracked one eye open. “I'm up, I'm up. I hope you appreciate this.”

I laughed. Paul was complaining now, but he'd been beside himself with excitement when I first told him about my plan. Paul loved an adventure more than anyone I knew, and as far as he was concerned, doing it in the middle of the night just made it better. We got up and slipped on our sneakers, which were sitting ready next to my door. I opened the door as quietly as I could, and poked my head out into the hallway, listening. Dead silence, though the house was half-lit with the shine from that damn street lamp. Most importantly, the hallway was empty. I had half expected Reis Slay-ton to be standing guard outside my room, and was relieved to see that he wasn't. Luckily, his room was on the opposite end of the house, away from the stairs. I didn't think he would pose any problem to our plan. Doc's bedroom, on the other hand, was directly between my room and the stairs. And his door was wide open.

I paused. Doc never slept with his door open. Why tonight, of all nights?
If he woke up and saw us, it would throw a very large wrench in the works.

Paul and I glanced at each other, then took a couple of steps forward. The squeak of a floorboard reverberated through the house, and we both froze. When nothing happened, we crept forward again, sticking to the walls and stepping carefully.

“Like walking on explosive eggshells,” Paul breathed quietly.

I glared at him and pressed my finger firmly to my lips. If we got caught now, just because he'd felt the need to make a clever remark…

I got to Doc's door and peeked around the wall. Inside, my grandfather's comforter rose and fell with his slow, steady breathing. Still asleep, then. I darted past the door, and motioned for Paul to follow me. We descended the carpeted stairwell as quickly as we could, nerves rattled but intact, and sprinted through the living room and kitchen. In the mudroom I stopped, collapsing onto the bench in relief. It was working. We weren't out into the shed yet, but we were almost out of the house. So far, the plan was going exactly like I'd hoped. I'd honestly expected to be caught by now, though, so the thought of actually going forward was a bit daunting. Still, that was what I had planned to do, and turning back wasn't an option. I breathed slowly, trying to collect myself.

Paul glanced at me. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

I grimaced at being caught. “Nothing, I … nothing,” I finished lamely. “Let's go.”

We grabbed our coats and the flashlights I'd left out, opened the door, and stepped into the night.

“Holy God, it's freezing out here.” Paul's breath turned white and foggy as he spoke, and I shivered.

He was right–it was cold, and indefinably spooky. The air was dense with mist, and a full moon above turned the entire world white. The thick air muffled our steps and crept down my throat. I couldn't see a thing. I could feel a slow, steady pulse around me, and didn't need my sight to know where we were going. I'd heard that beat before, and I knew what it was
now. It was leading me forward, toward the garden shed.

“This way,” I whispered.

Paul stifled a yawn. “This all seemed like such a good idea when we were inside…”

“Shut it, Paul,” I grunted. “Doc's leaving in the morning. I want to know what's going on, and this is my only chance to find out.”

We stumbled forward, tripping over rocks and bushes in the fog. It was a wonder that we didn't wake up the entire neighborhood, with as much noise as we were making. When we finally reached the garden shed, I handed Paul my flashlight and reached for the combination lock. Doc liked to keep things consistent, and I knew from experience that he only ever used one combination–my dad's birthday. The lock clicked open the first time I tried, and I pushed the heavy door inward.

“Looks like a regular old shed to me,” Paul said. He handed me back my flashlight and we ventured inside.

Our flashlights shone quickly along the floorboards, walls, and ceiling. Dusty and unused, with a generous scattering of cobwebs and a spider or two, but nothing appeared to be out of place. Or out of the ordinary.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Paul whispered.

I shook my head. “I'm not entirely sure. I'll start looking at the floor boards, you concentrate on the walls.”

“The walls?” Paul asked skeptically. “What am I supposed to do with
them
?”

I ignored Paul, who talked too much when he got nervous, and looked around. There was nothing here. “It must be under the shed itself,” I said quietly, thinking out loud. It was the only possibility. I dropped to my knees and started poking at the wooden planks of the floor. The pounding in the air, or in my head, got louder.

Paul walked toward the back of the shed and began to move things out of the way while I crawled around on my hands and knees, periodically
blowing the dirt and sand from between the floor boards to find any trace of an access door. After a few minutes, I stood up and brushed the dirt off my pajamas. The two of us looked at one another, lost.

Paul spoke first. “I'm freezing. What makes you think it's hidden in here anyway? Maybe it's in the garage.”

I shook my head. I knew we were looking in the right place. It was in here, somewhere. “Remember Friday afternoon, when we came home? You and I went right into the house to look around, but Doc made a beeline for the shed. It didn't make sense at the time, but now … It's got to be here somewhere,” I said. I looked around in frustration. I couldn't tell him about the further proof–the sounds, or feelings, or signs, or whatever they were. The bone-deep knowledge of the stone, and the fact that it was here. “We're just not looking hard enough–”

I stopped talking in mid-sentence, overcome with a sensation I had never experienced before. I was dizzy for a split second, and then a cold chill ripped through my body. The hair on my neck and arms rose, and my stomach dropped. Everything grew familiar, as if I were having a deja-vu moment, and it stuck. I knew exactly where the stone was, and how to find it. I knew, because it was calling to me. Giving me directions.

“Are you with me?” Paul asked. He directed his flashlight to my face. “You okay?”

I nodded and pointed toward the back of the shed. “I know how to find what we're looking for. That empty peg next to the rake.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

Without bothering to explain, I took three steps past Paul, reached up, and placed my hand on the empty peg. “You'd probably better move,” I said, looking at his feet.

Paul glanced down and shuffled back several steps. I waited until I knew he was far enough back before pulling the peg down. When I pulled it, a small door dropped quietly open, creating a 2-foot hole in the center of the floor. A ladder led down into the darkness below.

“Holy crap.” Paul redirected his flashlight onto my face. “That's a real James Bond move. You knew that was there the whole time? Why'd you wait so long to open it?”

I shrugged, coming out of my trance-like state. “I didn't know… until now,” I replied.