David Coe - Spell Blind

She was just about my height with the heels on, and I found myself staring into those incredible green eyes.

“What’s with you tonight?” she asked, smiling at me.

“Nothing.” I laughed. “You really look great.”

“You’re surprised?”

“Not at all. I’m wondering what you’re doing with me.”

She rolled her eyes, then took my hand and led me toward the door. “Come on, Fearsson. We’re going dancing.”

We drove to the club, though the walk from where we were able to park was only a few blocks shorter than it would have been from Billie’s house. The moon shone overhead, and I tried to ignore the way it seemed to be tugging on my mind, muddying my thoughts. As we walked, I asked her about her day, and she asked me about mine, almost like normal people. Except that I glossed over my conversation with Shari Bettancourt, and I couldn’t tell her a thing about Shari being murdered, or the red sorcerer nearly getting me to blow my brains out, or the things I had discussed with Namid. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but I was already reaching the point where I didn’t want to keep anything from her at all. I had too many secrets, and they were burning a hole in my chest.

By the time we arrived, the line outside of Robo’s already stretched halfway down the block. Apparently Electric Daiquiri had a good reputation. Most in the crowd were college students, the girls decked out in party dresses and heels, the guys dressed with studied indifference in jeans and untucked tees or dress shirts.

“Hey, you’re Billie Castle!” one of the girls called as we got on line. “I love your blog.”

Billie laughed. “So much for going incognito.”

The press was there, too, clustered across the street. Anything the Deegans did was a big deal in this town, this week more than ever.

We could hear the band doing a sound check inside. They sounded good. Billie said something to me, but in that moment I wasn’t paying any attention. The last time I’d been at Robo’s, Red had been here, too. I sensed that he was nearby again, and I started mumbling warding spells to myself, trying to figure out how I might extend my magic to protect Billie as well. I wasn’t even sure it was possible, though I couldn’t imagine why it wouldn’t be. Act of will, right? Well, I’d kill myself willing her to be safe if it came to that.

“Fearsson, are you listening to me?”

I grimaced. “No, I wasn’t. I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“What were you saying? I heard you muttering something.”

“I was thinking about work.” Too many lies, too many secrets. “This is more than dancing, remember? This is a work night for me.”

“Right!” she said, a conspiratorial smile lighting her face. “I’m your girl Friday.”

“That’s right.”

“Who are we here to talk to, boss?”

I laughed and shook my head. “This isn’t a game, you know. I probably shouldn’t have brought you at all.”

“Why not?”

Yeah, Jay, why not? Sometimes I’m pretty stupid. “Because this could be dangerous,” I said, feeling again like I was in a “B” movie. At least I was telling her the truth, though.

She sobered. “Really?”

“Really. I need to speak with the club’s manager, and the last time I was here, also to speak with him, I had the feeling that I was being followed.”

“That stuff really happens?”

“Not usually, no. But this has become a pretty weird case.”

“All right,” she said, with a small nod. “I’ll stop making jokes.”

I shook my head. “No, don’t do that. I want you to have fun. I want to have fun, too. But understand that I’ll be working.” I slipped my hand into hers. “And also know that I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Wow, Fearsson,” she said, grinning. “That was damn near heroic.” She pointed to her arm. “Check it out: I have goosebumps.”

She did.

Billie started to say something else, but then stopped herself, and whispered, “Oh, crap,” instead.

I frowned, but before I could ask her what was wrong, I saw that Professor Stud from the other day was walking down the street, straight toward us.

“Hey,” I said. “Isn’t that-?”

“Joel. Yes. Don’t say anything. Maybe he won’t recognize me.”

“Billie?”

“I don’t think your disguise is very good,” I whispered.

Billie giggled. “Hi, Joel,” she said, schooling her features.

Good-looking-professor-boy stopped in front of us, glanced at me, but then turned his full attention on Billie. “I didn’t know you liked. . this kind of music.”

“Yes, very much.”

Joel opened his mouth to say more, but I stuck out my hand, and said, “Hi. Justis Fearsson. How are you?”

He shook it with some reluctance. “Fine, thank you. Joel Benfield.”

“Nice to meet you, Joel.”

“Are you with the university, Mister Fearsson?”

“No, I’m a private detective.” I used my Dick Tracy voice again. I figured I’d let him know what he was up against. Compared to private eye, professor of American history didn’t sound all that glamorous.

“Did you say your name was Justis?”

“Yeah. Kind of weird, huh? You can just call me Fearsson, though. Everyone else does.”

Billie burst out laughing.

Joel didn’t seem to know what to make of us. “Well,” he said with false brightness. “I should be going. Billie, nice to see you again.” He shot me one last less-than-friendly glance. “Nice to meet you, Mister. . uh. . Justis.”

“You, too, Joel. Take care.”

“You’re awful!” Billie said, after Benfield had walked away. But she was still laughing.

The line started to move, and a cheer went up from the college kids.

“All I did was introduce myself. You were the one who couldn’t stop giggling.”

She gave my hand a hard squeeze.

The cover charge was twenty dollars per person, which seemed a bit steep for a college band. But I didn’t let Billie pay her own way. When she objected, I shook my head. “I told you: this is business.”

Inside, Robo’s was a lot like every other college-town bar in the world. It wasn’t a big place, and I had the feeling that an accurate head count of the crowd would already put them over whatever limits Phoenix’s fire marshal had placed on occupancy. There was a bank of different-colored spotlights mounted on a scaffold above the band, a small, parquet dance floor in front of the stage, and a bunch of round, wooden tables scattered around the rest of the place, one of which was supposed to have my name on it. It was hot and loud, and it smelled of stale beer and sweat. But I could feel the excitement as soon as we stepped inside.

Electric Daiquiri started their set with a couple of up-tempo instrumentals, including the piece that I’d heard them play a few days before. They sounded great. True to her word, Billie wasted no time dragging me out on to the dance floor. Oh, well. Hadn’t I told myself that I’d be willing to take her dancing if that’s what it took to win her over? Truth is, it was kind of fun, in large part because I got to watch her. She might not have been Ginger Rogers, but she did dance very well.

“I thought you couldn’t dance,” she shouted to me at one point, her voice barely carrying over the music.

“I can’t,” I shouted back.

“Clown!” She smiled.

The first set went by quickly. Randy did most of the talking for the band, though Tilo, as the lead singer and guitarist, was the focal point of much of the music. It made sense: Tilo was a quiet kid, and Randy did a good job as front man. At one point he spotted me in the crowd and he sent a smile and nod my way. Other than that, though, both he and Tilo ignored me.