David Coe - Spell Blind

“Who is he, Antoine? Why is everybody so afraid of this guy?”

For a second I thought he’d spill it all. He was scared, terrified even. I glimpsed it in his eyes-I’d seen that fear before, in little kids who were being abused by their parents. Terror, helplessness, the memory of pain, the desperate desire to end the abuse, but all of it overmastered by the belief that no one could end the cycle and the certainty that if he tried, if he dared tell a soul, he’d be punished even more severely than before. ’Toine felt trapped, and he had no faith that I could set him free.

At last he fixed his eyes on the street. It was almost like he expected to see the sorcerer strolling past. “I don’t know nothin’,” he muttered again. “Whoever told you I did was bullshittin’ you.”

He was lying. But again, as with Robby, I couldn’t do anything about it.

I stood. “Fine.” I fished out my business card, and tossed one down to him. It was a waste of time and paper, but what the hell. “If you reconsider, give me a call.”

He laughed. “Yeah, right, man. I’ll be callin’ you.”

I started to walk away.

“We can chat, man,” he called after me. “Like we’re old friends, you know?” He laughed again.

I made my way to the Z-ster, Antoine’s laughter still ringing in my ears. I had been preparing myself all day, planning what I’d do if I felt the Blind Angel Killer’s power again. But like an idiot, I allowed the kid to throw me off balance.

And so, when the red sorcerer suddenly had me in his sights again, I was utterly unprepared. I tried to ward myself, knowing as I did that anything I came up with he could defeat, knowing as well what he was trying to do with these teasing encounters. But I made the effort anyway.

The feeling was much more vivid this time. I knew he was close. Too close. I turned a quick circle, but I also knew that I wouldn’t be able to find him. The hairs on my neck and arms stood on end and my skin grew cold, as if I was in shadow and the rest of the city was in brilliant sunlight. If he had wanted to kill me in that moment, he could have, though I would have put up a fight.

But he was toying with me. For a split second, I thought I could hear laughter. Not ’Toine’s, though I heard that, too. This was deeper, more menacing, more elusive. I turned again, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. But it was everywhere. Around me, above me, below me. It was in my freaking head.

You’re mine now, I thought I heard someone say.

And then it was gone. The laughter ceased, the sun shone on my face and arms, a warm wind touched my skin.

Three times. Once outside of Robby Sommer’s place, once outside of Robo’s in Tempe, and now here, in front of Antoine Mirdoux’s house. Was there a connection there, something linking the three of them to one another and to this sorcerer with the blood-red magic? Or was it mere chance, the random choices of this bastard who was hunting me?

I should have been concentrating on those questions, trying to figure out what Robby, Robo’s, and Antoine had in common with the Blind Angel victims.

But all I could think was that he’d done this to me three times now. He’d touched my mind with his magic; he’d tested my defenses and seen how I would respond to an attack, how I would ward myself.

Three times.

There’s power in numbers. He knew me now. I was his. And the next time, if he chose to attack, there would be precious little I could do about it.

I drove back to Chandler, my heart pounding out a salsa beat, and my hands sweating so much the steering wheel grew slick and I had to wipe my palms on my jeans every few seconds. I spent more time glancing up at my rearview mirror than I did looking ahead. I don’t know what I was watching for-maybe some red glowing car, driven by the bald guy I’d seen in my stone. Every time a car drew too close to my rear bumper I started to hyperventilate.

By the time I reached my office, I’d stopped shaking, for the most part. But I was still jumpy; walking from my car to the office, I must have glanced back over my shoulder a dozen times. I hated this. I’m not one to go through life scared; I’d spent too long on the job for that. But this sorcerer had gotten into my head.

More than anything else, I was mad at myself for letting him get the better of me. I knew full well that I couldn’t stay locked up in my house or office and still do my job.

Usually when I was in a mood like this, Namid was the last person I wanted to see. But as soon as I was inside my office, I called for him, something I had never done before. I didn’t even know if it would work.

It did.

His name was still echoing off the walls and wood floor when he began to take form in the middle of the room.

“Ohanko,” he said. “You summoned me.”

I took a breath. “Yeah, I did. He found me a third time.”

“It was inevitable that he would.”

For reasons I couldn’t explain that made me feel better. “I know that. But. . I’m not sure what to do now.”

“You do what you always do.” I thought I saw a smile creep over his glimmering face. “You tread like the fox, and you do your job.”

“I heard him laughing, and I heard his voice.”

Namid didn’t seem overly impressed by this, but he asked, “What did he say to you?”

“Just that I was his now.”

“It means nothing.”

I nodded, glanced toward the bank of windows. Why had that gray sedan slowed as it drove past?

“Listen to me, Ohanko.”

I faced him.

“It means nothing,” he said again, his tone more pointed this time.

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Three times. He knows you now. This increases his ability to do you harm. But he had that ability already. His main purpose in doing this is to track you, to know what you do from one moment to the next.”

“So he can do that?”

The runemyste nodded. “He can.”

“And this is supposed to make me feel better?”

“Yes, Ohanko,” he said, the way he might if he were explaining something to a ten-year-old. “If he wanted to kill you, he would have already. He tracks you to follow the progress of your investigation. There may come a time when his purpose is darker. You must be wary. You must learn to ward yourself at all times, with spells more effective than deflection. But this was true already.”

I walked to the windows. The gray sedan was gone. It was just another day in Chandler, and no one on the street seemed the least bit interested in me or my case.

“So then, I really do keep going about my business.”

“Is that not what I said?”

I laughed. “Yes, it’s what you said.”

He sat, that familiar, expectant expression on his face. “You need to work on your craft. Now more than ever.”

I checked the clock. It was a few minutes past two o’clock. I felt like I’d been awake for thirty hours.

“Yeah, all right,” I said, sitting opposite him. “But not too long. I have a date tonight.”

He frowned. “Distractions,” he said.

I grinned. Then I closed my eyes and summoned that clearing image of the golden eagle. After a few moments, I opened them again.

The runemyste nodded once. “Defend yourself.”

For the next two hours, Namid threw a wide variety of assailing spells at me-the stinging and fire spells he’d used the night before, a suffocation spell, which scared the crap out of me, and one spell that blinded me temporarily. That one was frightening as well, not to mention frustrating. It took me several minutes to come up with a warding that would defeat it, and all the while Namid was using his power to throw books and CDs at me. By the time I could see again, I was covered with bruises and my office was a mess.