David Coe - Spell Blind

“Is there anything else you can tell me? Any idea why a weremyste this powerful would be killing kids on the quarter moon?”

“Q told you already. He doesn’t know anythin’ about that.”

“I remember you saying so. But look around you. This is serious now. If you’ve got any connection with this guy, any at all, now’s the time to tell me.”

“ You look around, Brother J. Q’s got somethin’ now. Least, he did. House, store. Why would Q wanna mess that up by gettin’ involved with this Blind Angel dude? That’d just be dumb.”

I rubbed a hand over my face. He was right.

“Then why’d this guy come after you?”

Orestes shrugged. I heard another siren in the distance, approaching fast.

“That’ll be your ambulance.”

“Q ain’t got money for an ambulance.”

“You need to see a doctor. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

He didn’t argue, and we listened to the changing pitch of the siren.

“The other day when I came here, what made you think ’Toine had something to do with this guy?” I asked him.

“Q hears things,” he said, his eyes closed. “’Toine was into all kinds of bad doin’s. Not just drugs. Word was he did some pimpin’. An’ word was your badass was after kids, ones who had trouble, you know?”

Something clicked into place in my mind. Of all the things that Q could have told me about Antoine, that made the most sense. A guy like Red wouldn’t want to take a chance on finding a suitable victim on the night of the quarter moon. Not if he was planning some kind of magic that had specific demands. He would have wanted to have a target picked out ahead of time, and even being able to disguise himself, he would have stood out too much in the neighborhoods he needed to frequent to find the kids he wanted for the killing spells he’d been casting. ’Toine could do that for him.

But what, if anything, did Shari Bettancourt have in common with Antoine Mirdoux? Was she finding kids for him, too? Was that why she had that necklace? And even if she and ’Toine were helping the guy identify possible victims, how had they found Claudia Deegan? I would have liked to go back to ’Toine’s house to search for something that resembled Shari’s pendant. But by now the place must have been crawling with cops.

“What are you thinkin’ there, Brother J?” Q asked.

I shook my head. “I’m playing catch-up. This guy’s been way ahead of me from the start, but I may have finally figured something out.”

The siren wailed outside the house, then died away. I heard the rasp of a radio and then, a few seconds later, the slamming of the ambulance doors.

“Hello?” a voice called.

“Up here,” I shouted in return. “Stairs are in the back.”

I could hear another set of sirens now. Probably the fire department.

Two EMTs came up the stairs and hesitated as they took in the scene.

“Man, what happened here?” one of them asked.

My eyes met Q’s. “Stove blew,” I said after a few seconds.

“How long this tourniquet been on?” the EMT asked me.

“Since I called. But I released it once a few minutes ago.”

He nodded. “Good deal.”

I stood. “You’re going to be all right, Q. I’ll see you soon.”

Orestes grabbed my hand. “Q won’t forget this, Jay. He mean it. From now on, if you need to know somethin’, Q will tell it, no charge, no shit.”

I smiled. “Thanks.” To the EMTs I said, “You’re taking him to Samaritan?”

“Yup.”

I nodded, and winked at Q.

He let my hand go, and I started down the stairs.

“Wait a minute,” one of the guys said. “The stove’s electric.”

I heard Q chuckle, low and deep.

A crowd had gathered around Q’s house, and they eyed me as I walked past to my car.

“What happened?” someone called to me.

Another voice said, “Is Brother Q all right?”

“He’ll be fine,” I answered and climbed into the Z-ster.

I started her up, but then sat idling, watching as the crowd parted and the fire trucks pulled up. Something other than that glowing gibbous moon was tugging at my mind, trying to make me see what should have been obvious. The moon was clouding my thoughts, making me feel sluggish and stupid.

“Think, Jay,” I muttered, gripping the steering wheel.

If ’Toine was finding victims for the Blind Angel Killer-and that was just a guess on my part-he couldn’t have been the only person doing so. I couldn’t imagine that Claudia Deegan and Antoine Mirdoux had ever crossed paths. Claudia wouldn’t have gone that far, no matter how much she might have wanted to rebel against her old man.

And that’s when it hit me. Robby Sommer had been Claudia’s dealer.

I’d been at ’Toine’s the third time I felt the sorcerer test my magic, and now the kid was dead. I’d been outside Robo’s the second time, and I’d nearly died there a couple of hours ago.

The first time I’d felt the red sorcerer’s magic, I’d been at Robby’s house.

I threw the Z-ster into gear and raced away from Q’s place, my tires screeching. It was a long drive back to Tempe from Maryvale, but by now the freeways were clear and I made good time.

When I arrived, though, it seemed that I needn’t have bothered rushing.

Robby’s place looked much the way it had the last time I saw it. There was no sign of the violence I’d seen at Orestes’ house or at Antoine’s. The door was still on its hinges, the windows were intact. There was a light on inside, which was a bit strange, given how late it was. But for all I knew, Robby was a night owl.

I got out of the car and walked up to his door. I’d even gone so far as to raise my hand to knock before I noticed that the door was already unlatched, and that there was a small but brilliant flare of crimson magic on the knob and lock. Seeing this tiny bit of craft, I was reminded once more-as if I could have forgotten-of how powerful this red sorcerer was. The stronger the magician, the faster the traces of his sorcery fade from view. The magic at Q’s house had seemed bright, but compared with this, it was flat and dull. This magic, though, was as fresh as warm blood.

Once more, I pulled out my pistol and prepared to push the door open. I knew he could use magic to deflect bullets, but I also knew that I didn’t have enough knowledge of assailing magic to hurt him. The Glock seemed my best bet.

My hands were shaking and I was breathing hard. Back when I was on the force, I was no braver than any other cop. I was no more a coward either. You learn to accept fear as part of the job, to manage it and live with it. But right then, I was really scared; as scared as I had been in years. Just the thought of going up against this guy so soon after Robo’s made my chest ache. I tried to sense him and knew in an instant that he was near, though I wasn’t sure that meant “in the house.” I wasn’t sure it didn’t, either.

I took a breath and kicked the door open.

Robby was sprawled on the couch, his eyes open and fixed sightlessly on the ceiling. A bag of Spark lay beside him, his pipe sat on the coffee table in front of him. The television was on, but the sound was turned down low. Making as little noise as I could manage, I stepped through the living room and peeked around the corner into the kitchen. Nothing. Still holding my weapon, still expecting to be attacked at any moment, I followed a corridor toward the back of the house, edging along the wall. I reached a door, counted to three in my head, and kicked it open. It appeared to be a spare room. An electric guitar leaned against one wall, an amplifier beside it. A bike was propped against the closet door. Otherwise the room was empty. I checked the closet but found only a few cardboard boxes filled with books and junk. The bathroom was across the hall from this room. It was empty, too, as was Robby’s bedroom, which was all the way in the back.