David Coe - Spell Blind

She was frowning now. I thought she even seemed a little bit afraid of me.

“I could lie to you. I could tell you that my father had a heart attack when he was in his thirties, and now it’s my turn. But I don’t want to do that.”

She started walking again. When she reached me, I fell in step beside her.

“Voodoo,” she muttered again.

“It’s not voodoo,” I said. “Stop saying it like that. Voodoo is a religion. Some of its practitioners dabble in the craft, but for the most part voodoo is a word that people use to describe things they don’t fully understand.”

“The craft?” she said. “Wasn’t that a movie?”

I shrugged. “It might have been.”

“You said when we got to the club that your work tonight could be dangerous, and that you thought you’d been followed before. Did you know something like this would happen?”

I almost said, Yes, but I hoped I could ward myself . But I stopped myself in time. “I was afraid it might,” I told her. “I didn’t know how bad it would be.”

She eyed me. “How bad was it?”

I stared at the street in front of me. “It was pretty bad.”

“You’re closing down on me again, Fearsson. How bad was it?”

I took a breath and looked at her. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m still alive.”

For a long time she didn’t say anything. Finally, she nodded, and faced forward again. “That’s how it seemed.”

I could tell she still didn’t know what to make of all this, or whether she should even believe me. But she hadn’t dumped me yet, so I figured I was doing all right.

“I bet dates with Joel aren’t this exciting,” I said, chancing a joke.

She wasn’t in the mood for that yet.

“Why would someone who. . who does. .?”

“Magic?” I offered.

“All right. Why would they be after you?”

I didn’t answer; I could see that she was working it out herself.

“Unless magic had something to do with what happened to Claudia, and with the murders of all those kids.” Her eyes went so wide it might have been funny under different circumstances. “Did it?”

“I think it’s possible.”

She shook her head. I could see her racing to catch up with each new implication. “But you understood what was happening. You anticipated it. So this isn’t new for you. Somehow you’re used to this.”

“There’s more magic in the world than you might think. More than most people know.”

“Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

“Why?” I asked. “You know that there are sorcerers in the world. Is it really that much of a surprise that some of them are here in Phoenix? Just because most of us don’t see magic in our everyday lives, that doesn’t mean that it’s not out there.”

“Don’t get all philosophical on me. That’s a different conversation.”

“I’m not sure it is. Ask yourself why you’re having so much trouble believing all of this. Is it because you think I’m lying to you?”

“No.”

“Is it because you think I’m crazy?”

“I’m still working that one out.”

I laughed. She didn’t.

“I’m not crazy,” I said again. How many times did a person have to say that before it stopped being true? “I know crazy. My dad is. . I believe the clinical explanation is that he has psychotic episodes.”

“You told me that you’ve had psychological problems before. And now you’re saying that you have a history of mental illness in your family?”

I could tell I was starting to lose her.

“His problems were a lot like mine,” I said. “And the delusions he has started much later in life.”

“He has delusions?”

Good move, Fearsson. “Sometimes. But that’s not what happened to me tonight. He’s never imagined pain like that. I promise you.”

She seemed to consider this, though I could tell she wasn’t convinced. Not by a long shot. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s assume for a moment that this was magic, that someone put some kind of hex on you.”

“All right.”

“And let’s assume as well that whoever it was really did want you dead. Why are you still alive?”

God, I hated lying to her. But this didn’t seem like the time to introduce the concept of Namid, the magical ghost who only I could see. “The spell failed,” I said instead.

It was circular logic, like saying that I woke up because I stopped sleeping. But Billie was on unfamiliar ground, and she let it go.

“That happens?”

“Of course. That’s why it’s called a craft. It’s not automatic. The effectiveness of any magic is limited by the abilities of the person wielding it.”

We were almost back to the Z-ster. Again I tried to sense the sorcerer, but it seemed that we were still safe. Billie said nothing until we got to the car and I unlocked the door for her-the Z-ster was a vintage car; no automatic locks. I started around to the driver’s side, but Billie caught my arm.

“I’m going to need some time, Fearsson.”

My heart sank. I understood, but I’d hoped that somehow we could get past it. I should have known better.

“I know,” I said, putting on a brave smile. “We’re in no rush here.”

She let me go.

I drove her back to her house and walked her to the door. Neither of us had much to say.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, after we’d stood in awkward silence for a few moments.

I told her the truth. “I feel like I’ve been worked over.”

“You really thought you were going to die?”

“I was pretty sure of it.”

She reached out and rubbed my arm, concern and fear and sadness all mingling on her features, until her face resolved at last into a slight frown. Her hand lingered on my arm, though. “You should get some sleep,” she said after a while.

“I’d like to, but I have someone I have to see.” Checking my watch, I saw that it was already ten-thirty. “Soon.”

“What?” she said. “Who?”

“A guy named Antoine Mirdoux. He called me earlier. Said he needed to talk to me about the case.”

“Is he a magician?”

“Most people call them sorcerers, sometimes mystes. And yes, he is.”

She blinked. “I was kidding.”

“I know you were. But he is.”

She raised her eyebrows and nodded once. “Okay, then. This has been an interesting evening.” She turned and unlocked the door to her house.

I waited until she turned to face me again, and then I leaned toward her and kissed her forehead. “Don’t give up on me yet, okay?”

“Wouldn’t do me a bit of good anyway. You’d just slip me a love potion.”

I grinned, and so did she.

“Would you rather I didn’t call for a while?” I asked.

“I’ll call you,” she said.

“All right. Good night.”

I walked back to the car.

“I really will call,” she said.

I reached the Z-ster and glanced back at her. “Good.”

Namid was sitting in the passenger seat when I got in, but I ignored him until I had pulled away from Billie’s house. No sense in throwing more fuel on the fire by appearing to talk to myself.

“You are all right, Ohanko?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you. You saved my life.”

“I told you the woman was a distraction.”

I cast an angry look his way. “That’s not fair. He would have attacked me whether she’d been there or not. And we both know that I’m nowhere near strong enough to fight him off.”

“You are wrong. You could have warded yourself if you had been prepared. But you tried to ward her as well, and you almost died.”

I couldn’t argue. “You told me that there would be a cost,” I said after several seconds, the memory seeming to come from a great distance. “You were saving me, and I said I didn’t know that you could. And you said, ‘I can’t.’ What did you mean?”