David Coe - Spell Blind

“You make it sound so. . simple,” I said, anger creeping into my voice. “This is my sanity we’re talking about, Namid. It’s my life. I don’t want to wind up like my dad.”

The runemyste gazed back at me, still glasslike. “Then take the Abri. Block your magic, and you will be free of the moon’s pull. You will not have to worry about going. . nuts.” The word sounded strange coming from him.

“You know I can’t do that.”

He widened his eyes. “You cannot? Why is this?”

I started to answer, then stopped myself and chuckled. “All right,” I said. “I get it. I’ve made my choice. That’s what you’re telling me. So I should stop complaining, right?”

“You have made your choice for today, Ohanko. As you did yesterday. You can change your mind whenever you wish. The Abri will always be there, waiting for you.”

“I’m not sure I could give up being a sorcerer.”

“That is your decision to make.”

“I almost died today,” I told him. “I was face to face with this weremyste we’re after. He killed a woman with some kind of spell, and then used his magic to make me put my weapon in my mouth. He would have made me pull the trigger.”

The runemyste’s appearance clouded, his waters becoming turbulent. “He made you do this,” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “Just what I said. He made me. He didn’t say anything that I could hear, but suddenly I had no control over my body. I wanted to run. I wanted to shoot him. But I couldn’t do anything at all. None of my wardings worked against him.”

Namid was scowling. “He controlled you.”

“Yes.”

“How is it you are still alive?”

I grinned. “I defended myself, like you told me to. I couldn’t attack him, so I cracked the sidewalk beneath his feet. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but it broke his hold on me.”

The runemyste nodded. “That is good. You will be a runecrafter yet.” He eyed me again. “What else can you tell me about this man?”

“He can change his appearance. He’s bald and clean-shaven, and then he has long hair and a beard. His eyes are pale though. Almost white. And I have a feeling that they don’t change at all.” I thought for a moment. “He speaks with an accent. I’m not sure what kind. European, I think. Maybe French? And I heard the woman call him Cower.”

“Cower,” Namid said, with an intensity I’d never heard from him before. “Could it have been Cahors? A French name?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Do you know him?”

“There is much I need to learn,” he said. “I must go.” He began to fade.

“Namid, wait!”

He solidified once more, though I sensed his reluctance. “Do you still think I can protect myself from this guy?”

“I think you have no choice.”

I exhaled. “Right.”

“I must go now.”

“Of course,” I said. “Thank you.”

He frowned. “For what?”

“Being honest with me.”

“You expected less?”

I smiled at that. “Not really, no.” I stood. “I’m sorry I called for you that way. I won’t do it again.”

“Be well, Ohanko.” He faded from view.

I stared for a moment at where he’d been and then considered the pile of papers and unopened envelopes on my desk; most of them were unpaid bills. They could wait. As Namid might have said, I had a big date tonight, and I had enough time to get home, eat a little dinner, and change before I had to start back toward Tempe to pick up Billie. I started toward the door, but before I reached it the phone rang.

I strode back to the desk and picked up the receiver. “Fearsson.”

Silence.

“Hello?” I said.

“Yeah, this is um. . this is ’Toine Mirdoux.”

He kind of mumbled it, and at first I had no idea what he’d said.

“Who?”

“ An toine? Remember, dog? You blew up the door to my house?”

“Right,” I said. “How’s it going, Antoine? You calling for that chat you were going on about?”

“What?” he said. Then he allowed himself a half-hearted laugh. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. I wanna chat.”

Something was bothering him. I found myself wondering if whatever business he’d had with the red sorcerer had gone sour. There was a good deal of noise in the background and I had the feeling he was calling from a cell or maybe even a pay phone, if you could still find one in this city. Wherever he was, he definitely wasn’t home.

“Great,” I said. “Let’s chat.”

“Not on the phone, man. I need. . I need some help. I’m in some trouble here.”

“What kind of trouble, Antoine?”

“Not on the phone.”

I checked my watch again. I didn’t have time enough to get to the Mountain View precinct and back, and still make it to Tempe by eight, not if my talk with the kid was going to take any time at all.

“I can’t now, Antoine. How about later tonight?”

“How much later?”

God, he sounded scared, like a little boy left alone in a dark house.

“Tonight. Eleven, at your place.”

“My place?”

“You still have it warded, right?”

There was a long silence, and after a while I started wondering if the connection had gone bad.

“Antoine?”

“Yeah, man. All right. My place. Eleven.”

“Keep your head down until then, all right?”

“No shit, man.”

The line went dead. I returned the phone to its cradle and shook my head. Mountain View’s 733 at eleven p.m. Not even close to the way I had hoped to end my evening. But it seemed that now I had two dates. One with Billie, and the other with ’Toine Mirdoux.

I made certain to get to Billie’s house precisely at eight. She seemed to place a premium on punctuality. I rang the bell and a moment later she opened the door. My jaw dropped.

Don’t get me wrong. I already knew that Billie was beautiful. I liked the way she dressed. I loved the glasses and the pulled-back hair. But I wasn’t prepared for this. Her hair was down, dark curls spilling down her back, and she’d yet to put on her glasses. She had on a close-fitting black blouse, a flowing print skirt, heels, and a pair of long, glittering turquoise and silver earrings. It was like she had transformed herself into a movie star.

I’d showered again before coming and I’d shaved, which I only did when I had to. I’d even put on a pair of black jeans and a button-down shirt under my bomber, instead of the usual blue jeans and t-shirt. But I felt like I ought to go home and put on a tie and jacket.

“Hi,” I managed to say.

Her eyes sparkled. “You’re on time.”

“Always. You look incredible.”

“Thank you.” She spun around once, making her skirt swirl. “You’re going to take me dancing.”

“Whoa!” I said, shaking my head. “I’m taking you to hear a band. I never said anything about dancing.”

She walked away from the door, leaving it open for me. “Geez, Fearsson!” she called over her shoulder. “What do you think people do at these clubs?” She poked her head out of one of the back rooms. “I mean aside from investigate crimes.”

“I’m not much of a dancer,” I said, wandering around her living room, knowing that this was a fight I was going to lose.

“Well, I’m Ginger Rogers, so I guess I’ll be good enough for both of us.”

I grinned.

She came into the living room a few moments later, still no glasses on her face. “Ready,” she said.

“Don’t you need to. . to be able to see?”

“I have my contacts in.”

“I didn’t know you had contacts.”

“I don’t wear them a lot. They’re kind of uncomfortable. But I figure this place is going to be pretty crowded tonight, and a lot of my readers are students. I don’t want to make it too easy for them to recognize me.”