David Coe - Spell Blind

He turned to me, and our eyes met.

I nodded. “All right.”

Billie stepped out of the trailer, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Well, your kitchen looks a little better, Lee. I’d love to have a couple of hours with it, give it some semblance of organization, but that’ll have to wait for my next visit.” She smiled and slung the towel over my dad’s shoulder.

“You’re welcome any time, Billie.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”

I gave him a hug and kissed him on the forehead. “Thanks. I’ll be out again soon.”

“Well, don’t come alone.” He winked at Billie.

“No, sir.”

We got in the car and drove away, raising a plume of dust that billowed like red smoke in the angled sunlight. I could still see him waving from beside the trailer when we turned onto the road toward Wofford.

“Thank you,” Billie said softly.

“For what? I think I should be thanking you.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t know what you’d find out here today. I know what that’s like. I remember in high school, coming home from work or from a date, and seeing the lights on in my parents’ house. It was the same way. I didn’t know if that meant that my mom was up reading, or that my dad was on a bender. There were nights when I’d stay out. I’d walk around the block until the lights went out. If they weren’t out by midnight, that usually meant that it was my dad, and I’d go to a friend’s house down the street.” She ran a hand through her hair. “So, anyway, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you suggested it. Days like this are pretty rare.”

We drove in silence for a while. Then she shifted in her seat so that she was facing me.

“Would you like to have dinner?” she asked. “Just something quiet at my place?”

I glanced at her, and she smiled. Before I knew it, my heart was pounding. I tore my gaze from hers, set it back on the road. She was talking about dinner, but really she was inviting me to spend the night. We both knew it.

“That sounds very nice,” I said, a catch in my voice.

She heard it, too. “But?”

“But tonight’s no good. I’m supposed to meet Kona at my place after she’s off. And then. . then I have some work I have to do.” Lies again. But was this the moment to say, Can’t, I’m going to be temporarily insane starting at sundown ?

“Kona,” Billie said, watching the road again. “Were you and she ever. .?”

“No. Kona’s tastes run in a different direction.”

“In terms of race?”

“In terms of gender.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh!”

“Can I take a rain check on dinner?”

She nodded and smiled again. “Of course.”

We reached the city after the worst of the end-of-work traffic was over. I parked near my office and walked her to her car. I only had another hour and a half before the sun went down and the moon rose. I could already feel myself growing confused. I’d very nearly pulled into the parking space diagonally instead of pulling in along the curb.

I started to say something-I’m not even sure what. But before I could get the words out, she was kissing me. Not like the kisses we’d shared before. This one was deep and passionate, and it made me forget all about Kona and Red and just about everything else. I’m not sure I could have remembered my name for a moment there.

She pulled away after a while, and smiled at me, her eyes still closed, her arms around my neck. “You sure about dinner, Fearsson?”

Fearsson. That was it.

“’Fraid so.”

We kissed again.

“Shame,” she whispered. “This has been a really nice day.” She opened her eyes. “I seem to say that to you a lot.”

“It seems that way. Except when I’m writhing in agony on the floor of a bar, or getting myself thrown in jail. .”

“It’s been an interesting week.” She got in her car. “Call me. Soon.”

“I will.”

I watched her drive away, then got back in the Z-ster and drove home. I tried to think about that kiss, the feeling of her lips on mine, her body pressed against me. But thoughts of the phasing kept intruding. The first night was never any worse than the others, but it was no better, either. And I was dreading this phasing more than usual, maybe because it meant that I wouldn’t be able to see Billie for three evenings.

I parked in the driveway and managed to remember to collect my mail. But I was feeling more and more addled as I walked up the path to my front door, which may be why I dropped my keys before I could put them in the lock. Whatever the reason, that moment of clumsiness saved my life.

As I bent to pick up the keys I saw a faint gleam of red light seeping through the small space at the base of the door. I straightened and stumbled back a couple of steps, my heart pounding again, though in an entirely different way.

For a split second I thought that it was him, that Red was in my house. But then I realized he wouldn’t be glowing like that. This was his work all right, but it was sorcery; I assumed it was a magical tripwire of some sort. A skilled weremyste, someone far more adept than I, could conjure a secondary spell, something that would work like a booby trap. I’d open the door, tripping one spell that would then activate the primary magic. Sophisticated stuff, but I had no doubt Red could handle it with ease. The question was, how could I get into my house without getting myself killed. The sun was setting, the moon was pulling hard at my mind, and I didn’t want to be on the streets or with other people when the phasing began in earnest.

I walked to one of the windows and peered inside. Red magic shimmered like fresh blood along the walls, window frames, and doors. He’d managed to mute the glow somewhat, but now that I was aware of the spells, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed them before I did.

From what I saw, I could only assume that the windows and back door weren’t any safer than the front. There was nothing I could do from outside the house. Once inside, I could cover Red’s magic with a warding of my own and then trip the spell, to whatever effect. But out here on my tiny lawn, I couldn’t see all of his magic, and so didn’t know where to place my wardings.

I could think of just one way to get inside: a transporting spell. I had only worked on transporting magic once before, the other day with Namid when I was trying to learn the spell my dad invented. I thought I could pull it off, though. The problem was I didn’t know for certain what would trigger the red sorcerer’s spell. If it was the opening of a door or window, I’d be fine. If it was mere motion on the other hand, my transporting spell would be the last thing I ever did. I’d transport myself to the living room, and-boom! — no more Fearsson.

I thought about calling on Namid again, but he’d made it clear that he couldn’t intervene on my behalf anymore. This time I was on my own. And the sky was darkening.

“What the hell,” I muttered.

Three elements: outside in the yard, where I was now; the living room, where I wanted to be; and me. I closed my eyes chanting the words in my head, not caring that if anyone was watching me when I did this, it would seem to them that I’d vanished. After a minute or so, I felt a sudden wave of dizziness and a rush of cold, as if a winter wind had kicked up.

I opened my eyes and found myself in the living room, surrounded by glimmering red magic. With all that I’d seen of Red’s conjuring in the last couple of days, I was going to be seeing this color in my sleep. That is, if I survived the night.

I took a tentative step toward the door and didn’t blow up, which I counted as a small victory. The next part, though, promised to be far more difficult. First, I warded the house, placing defensive magic all around it, much as Orestes and ’Toine had done with their houses. I tried not to focus on the fact that neither of them had managed to keep Red from destroying the buildings anyway. When I’d finished, though, I couldn’t help but notice how weak and thin my wardings looked. My magic had a bluish tint to it; it was almost aqua, to be exact. And most of the time I thought of the color as being pretty deep. But next to the crimson glow that pulsed from the walls and doors, my conjuring seemed as insubstantial as mist. I could only hope that it would hold.