David Coe - Spell Blind

But in that moment, sitting across from Billie Castle, watching her watch me, I would have done it all to win her over: the flowers, the candlelit dinners. Hell, I would have taken her dancing, if that’s what it took. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been with someone. I don’t mean for a night. That was easy enough to find, if you knew where to look. I’m talking about something serious, something that makes you think about the future.

How weird is that? Twenty-four hours ago I thought she was the most annoying person I’d ever met. An hour ago we were fighting. And here I was getting way ahead of myself. Thinking about it, I realized it wasn’t weird so much as stupid. But that didn’t stop me from opening my mouth again.

I glanced at my watch. Five thirty. “I know it’s a little early,” I said. “But would you like to get some dinner?”

She opened her mouth to reply, her forehead wrinkling a little, and I knew before she said a word that she was going to turn me down.

But at that moment I heard a voice-a man’s voice, of course-call out, “Billie!”

She peered past me, I turned.

He was tall, handsome in a nerdy sort of way. Straight, fine brown hair, parted on the side, dark-rimmed glasses that resembled hers so much it was a little scary. Blue eyes, square chin, blah, blah, blah. He was your basic nightmare in a tweed jacket and jeans. Forced to guess, I would have said that he was a professor at the university. My first thought-after who the hell is this? — was that he had to be every bit as smart as she was, which meant he was way smarter than me. I. Whatever.

I turned back to Billie, and was glad to see that she appeared mortified.

“I’m sorry,” Professor Stud said. “Am I interrupting?” He had stopped a few feet from the table and was eyeing me with a kind of proprietary concern. It’s times like these when I find it dangerous to carry a weapon. The temptation to use it is too strong. But I was good.

I could tell that Billie was gearing up for introductions, and I wanted no part of that. I’m sure her friend was a great guy; intelligent, friendly, articulate. I didn’t want to know about it. I didn’t want to know his name. I didn’t want to find out that he had a solid handshake and a winning smile. In this case, ignorance really was bliss.

When faced with an untenable situation, beat a quick and graceful retreat.

I stood. “Thank you, Miss Castle,” I said in my best Dick Tracy voice. “If you think of anything else, feel free to call me.”

She didn’t say anything. After a few seconds, she nodded.

I stepped away from the table, nodded once to Billie’s friend, and left, hoping to God that I didn’t trip over someone’s bag or try to push the door open when I was supposed to pull it.

See? This is why cops and PIs aren’t romantics. Because we know what the real world is like. And in the real world, these things never work out the way you want them to.

Walking from the coffeehouse back to the Z-ster, I remembered in a rush the weremyste who had been testing my magical defenses as I left Robo’s. I tried to sense him, to open myself to his magic, but I felt nothing. As far as I could tell, I was the only weremyste in the area who wasn’t using blockers. I suppose a sorcerer as powerful as this guy could have hidden himself, but he hadn’t been shy before about letting me know he was nearby. I couldn’t see why he’d start now. Reaching the car, I climbed in, drove one more circle around Robo’s, and headed for home.

My house in Chandler is in a nice family neighborhood near Arrowhead Meadows. It’s not a big place, but it’s more than I need. Two bedrooms, a decent sized kitchen, living room, dining room, two bathrooms. I got a good deal on it and had intended to turn one of the bedrooms into a home office. Then the other office fell into my lap, and I never got around to it.

It was built about twenty years ago, but the previous owners remodeled the place-redid the kitchen and bathrooms, tore out the old carpet and put in oak. Then they got divorced and rather than one of them staying, they sold it and split the money. It’s a good place. Well lit and open. Usually I like it a lot. But this evening, for some reason, it felt big and empty.

Until Namid materialized in the kitchen.

I had just gotten a beer from the refrigerator, though I hadn’t opened it yet.

He took form right in front of me, his waters rough and wind blown.

“I expected you long ago,” he said.

“You my mother now?” I asked with a small laugh.

I started to open the beer, but he shook his head. “Do not drink that now. If you need to drink, have water.”

“Good God, you are my mother.”

“We need to work, and you must be completely clear.”

Strange that my mind should need to be clear and free of alcohol in order to practice magic that was driving me nuts. But he was right. I returned the beer to the refrigerator, poured myself a glass of water, and followed Namid into the living room.

“I felt it again this afternoon. The sense that I was being watched.”

The runemyste turned. “I have no doubt that you were.”

My eyes widened. “Have you learned something about the weremyste who’s following me?”

“No. But it does not surprise me that he tracks you.”

“He? Do you at least know that it’s a man?”

Namid shook his head. “I know nothing, Ohanko. I have told you this already.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Two times now,” he said. “You understand why he does this?”

I nodded. It hadn’t occurred to me until then, but as soon as he asked the question, I knew. “Yes. I warded myself with a deflection spell, in case whoever it is tried to attack me. But nothing happened.”

He said nothing.

“A deflection spell wouldn’t have helped, would it?”

“A deflection spell is easily defeated,” the runemyste said, seeming to choose his words with some care. “A skilled runecrafter would have little trouble overwhelming such a warding.”

“So what should I have done?”

He stepped to the middle of my living room floor and sat, eyeing me like an expectant cat, his head canted to the side. More training.

For once I didn’t argue.

“Do I need my scrying stone?”

“No.” He indicated the floor with an open hand that glowed like starlit waters. “Sit.”

I lowered myself to the floor in front of him.

“Clear yourself,” the runemyste said, once I was settled.

I closed my eyes and summoned the vision of that eagle in the Superstition Wilderness. As I did, everything else melted away. The Blind Angel Killer, Claudia Deegan, Cole Hibbard, Billie Castle, my dad. All of it seemed to dissipate, like a vaporous breath on a cold day. In moments, I was clear, centered.

“Now,” the runemyste said, “defend yourself.”

It was like meeting up with your best friend and having him haul off and punch you right in the mouth, for no reason at all.

One minute I was sitting there, and the next, it felt as though I’d been stung on the legs and arms by twenty hornets.

“Son of a bitch! What was that for?”

“Defend yourself,” he repeated, as calm as you please.

The stinging started again, on my neck and chest this time.

I jumped up, swatting at bugs I couldn’t see. The pain stopped.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, my voice rising.

“I am teaching you to ward yourself.”

“You could at least give me some warning!”

“Will the crafter who tracks you be so courteous?”

That brought me up short. “Of course not,” I said.

“Then why should I?”

There wasn’t a person alive who could make me feel foolish and young the way Namid could. I guess that came with hanging out with a being who was centuries old. “I thought we were going to be training, that’s all. You caught me off guard.”