I remained where I was, not moving, not doing anything, until the pain receded to a more comfortable ache, then carefully inched forward. The driver's license—visible through a somewhat grimy plastic window—said the Razan's name was Henry Mack. I might not remember what the Razan in the tunnel had looked like, but I remembered the name. It was a fake—one of two this man was using. His real name—which was part of the information Uncle Quinn had pulled from his mind—was Mark Jackson, and he lived in a Brunswick West warehouse rather than in Broadmeadows as his license stated.
I quickly checked out the rest of the place, but didn't find anything else. I hovered in the kitchen for a moment, staring out the window, wondering if I should risk using the stones to get back to the storage place or simply get there under my own steam. Or, given the lancelike flashes of pain that were beginning to stab through my particles, get as far as I could under my own steam.
Then I actually focused on what I'd been staring at rather blindly and realized it was two more stones. They were less than half the size of the ones in the small box room and formed part of the water feature that dominated one corner of the courtyard. But even from here I could see the cuneiform etched into the glistening stone, which in itself suggested they were at least created by the same hand as the others.
Curious, I headed out to investigate. The stones stood on a small rock island that had been built in the middle of the lily-filled pond. Water spurted from the top of each, then ran down their cuneiform-etched sides before trickling back into the pond.
As I approached the stones, they began to pulse with energy. This time, it was darker, more threatening. I hesitated, then mentally shrugged. I'd come this far—why stop now?
I entered the stones. Again the energy encaged my particles, then swept me not into brightness, but utter darkness. A darkness that was cold, devoid of sensation, and as frightening as hell. Then the energy surged, and I found myself in a very different garden. One that was lush and exotic, filled with plants and the happy calls of birds.
Where the hell was I? The air was hot and moist, and clung uncomfortably to my particles. Somewhere in the distance water bubbled, a soothing accompaniment to all the birdcalls. Yet no birds fluttered through all the greenery, and I soon realized why—the calls were being piped in from somewhere nearby. Then I saw the glass wall. I was in a greenhouse of some sort.
I moved in to the plant life. I had no sense that anything—living or otherwise—was close, but that didn't mean caution wasn't required.
After a few seconds I found a second glass wall, but this one looked out onto a backyard that ran down to sand and then sea. A sea that was blue and bright and vast and was nothing like Melbourne's own bay even on the best of days.
And I still had absolutely no idea where I was.
I followed the wall until I found a set of double doors that opened out into the yard and slipped underneath them. The outside air was cooler, but it was still far warmer here than in Melbourne. I slipped across the manicured lawn, then onto the sand. The sea rushed to greet me, its foamy fingers crashing upward, spraying my particles with salt water.
I studied the beach that stretched endlessly before me and suddenly recognized the long line of high-rise buildings that crowded the shore.
I was in Queensland—the Gold Coast, to be exact.
To have come this far meant those stones held some serious magic. Most transport spells—or at least the ones created by human witches and white sorcerers—were restricted when it came to distance. There were very few people with enough power capable of producing a spell that could take you from one state to another. Which meant that even if whoever the hell had made these stones wasn't involved with Lucian or the key quest, they were someone we needed to be very wary of.
I moved back through the greenhouse and into the house. As you'd expect of a property on such a prime piece of real estate, it was vast, bright, and expensive looking. The decor was minimal and modern, and this lower floor consisted mainly of a pool and barbecue area, as well as changing rooms and a bar. The entire first floor was devoted to a massive kitchen and living area, with panoramic folding glass doors opening onto a balcony that overlooked the beach. The second floor held all the bedrooms. There were no other standing stones that I could find, so maybe the ones in the greenhouse worked both as an entry and an exit point. The one we'd found underground certainly had.