David Coe - Spell Blind

“It doesn’t matter,” I told him, my chest aching. “Like you said, she was a distraction. I have more important things to deal with today.”

He gave that little shrug again, and I had to fight an urge to smack him. Not that it would have done any damage.

“You are still determined to go after Cahors?”

“Yes.”

I retrieved my shoulder holster from the chair on which it still hung and started to strap it on. Thinking better of it, I pulled an ankle holster from my closet and strapped it on instead. I’d hide my weapon there, under my pants leg. Maybe that would confuse Cahors for all of two seconds. The magazine from my weapon still sat on the table; I slipped it into my jeans pocket.

I tried to think of anything else I might want to have with me, but really all I needed was the Glock. I strode to the door and pulled it open.

“Do you want me to stop shielding you now?” Namid asked.

“Not yet. I need my weapon first. I’ll call for you when I have it.”

The myste frowned but nodded. I left him there.

It was Saturday and the drive to Kona and Margarite’s place in Mesa took far less time than it would have during the week. When I reached their house, Kona was sitting outside on the front steps. The door to the house was shut. My weapon rested on the cement beside her.

She watched me as I approached, her expression flat, her eyes boring into mine.

“This is a bad idea.”

I halted a few paces short of the steps. “Give me a better one, and I’ll take it.”

Her gaze dipped to the stone path at my feet. “I shouldn’t give you your weapon. Maybe if you don’t have it you’ll be forced to reconsider. I should lock it away inside.”

“We both know you’re not going to do that.”

She looked up at me again. “If you could just-”

“Please don’t, Kona. I’ve been through this with Namid, and I’ve wrestled with it myself. More people are going to die. He’ll keep killing for as long as he wants to live, which is forever. So I have to stop him, or at least make the attempt. I’m not going to convince you, and I don’t have time to try. But I can do this. And even if I can’t, it’s my weapon, my life, my choice.”

The muscles in her jaw bunched. “Then go ahead and take it.”

“I’d rather you gave it to me.”

She turned away once more, her dark eyes welling. A tear slipped down her cheek and fell to the step, darkening the cement. “Damn you,” she said in a whisper. But she reached for the weapon and held it out to me, her hand steady. She wouldn’t look at me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking it. I pulled the magazine from my pocket, slid it home, chambered the first round, and strapped the weapon into my ankle holster. Still Kona kept her gaze averted, tears on her cheeks.

“I have to go.”

She nodded, the motion jerky.

I wanted to say more, but no words came to me. At last I turned and walked back toward my car. Halfway there, I halted and faced her again.

“The guy’s name is Etienne de Cahors,” I said. “He’s basically the reincarnated ghost of a druid from medieval France. Q can give you a description. You might need it.”

“Justis-”

“Take care of yourself, partner. Give Margarite a kiss for me. I was kind of short with her on the phone earlier.”

“Justis!”

I wanted to leave, but she deserved better. “What?”

“Where are you going?”

I shook my head. “I’m not telling you that.” I returned to the car, got in, and drove away. Only when I was sure that Kona couldn’t see or hear the Z-ster anymore did I steer toward South Mountain Park.

“Namid,” I said aloud as I drove.

An instant later the myste was beside me in the passenger seat, his waters roiled.

“You have your weapon now?”

“I do. You can stop shielding me.”

“You are certain?”

No. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Namid, and an excellent teacher. I’m grateful to you.”

“You have learned much, Ohanko. I do not know if it is enough to defeat Cahors, but you are a formidable runecrafter. Remember that when you face him.”

I nodded. “Stop shielding.”

There was no flash of light, no weight lifted from my mind or my body. I had to take it on faith that the myste had done as I asked. He stared at me for a few moments more before fading from view and leaving me feeling more alone than I could remember. First Billie, then Kona, and now Namid. My chest tightened at the thought of my Dad. I should have found a way to say goodbye to him, too. But that was more than I could handle right now. I knew that if I didn’t survive the day, Kona would take care of him.

I kept to side roads and avoided the interstates. This was the safer route-if I was on the freeway when Cahors came after me there would be no telling how many people might die. But this way was also slower. Too many intersections; too many traffic lights. I checked my mirrors every few seconds, expecting to see Red pull up behind me, wondering what kind of car the ghost of a Gaulish druid would drive.

I managed to reach the park before he found me, and wasted no time starting up the trail back to the spot where Claudia Deegan’s body had been found. Cahors knew the area, but so did I. There might be a few hikers on the trail, but that couldn’t be helped. At least I wouldn’t be at a supermarket when he found me. I might not be able to keep him from killing me, but I could keep him from taking out a bunch of other people, too.

The hike took me less than half an hour. I was winded and sweating when I glimpsed the yellow police tape and slowed. I’d seen a few people early on, but none in the last fifteen minutes. I was alone, except for Cahors, who I sensed was nearby. I sat on a rock and cleared myself, expecting at any moment to see him materialize right in front of me.

When after several minutes he still hadn’t appeared, I started to grow antsy.

“Show yourself!” I called, my voice echoing off the hills around me. “You’ve been after me for days!

“ Days. . days. . days. .

“Well, I’m right here. .!

“ Here. . here. . here. .

“. . Waiting for you!

“ You. . you. . you. . ”

Nothing.

I bent down and pulled out my weapon, and then left the trail for the thicket beyond the spot where Claudia had been found. If Red was approaching on foot, maybe I could surprise him.

That was the plan anyway.

I felt him strongly now; I knew he was getting close. And he must have felt me, too, because before I saw or heard him, he attacked.

He went for my heart again, and despite what Namid had told me, despite having cleared myself, I couldn’t do anything to stop him. One moment I was crouched in that small thicket, my Glock in hand, and the next I was on the ground in agony, my shoulders hunched, my knees drawn up. It felt as though he had ripped open my chest and poured lava over my heart. I couldn’t breathe; I was blind, deaf, utterly senseless. There was nothing but me and the pain.

And then his voice.

“You dared call for me?” he said, the words echoing inside my head the way my challenge to him had reverberated off those desert hills. “You believe yourself my equal now, eh? You think you can stand against me? Tu es un enfant. Tu n’es rien. ”

It shouldn’t have been this easy for him. I should have at least put up a fight before dying. But the words for a spell wouldn’t come. My pistol couldn’t have been more than a foot or two away from my hand, but it might as well have been on Mars.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, his assault stopped. I was aware once more of lying on the ground, dried palo verde leaves in my hair, sand and twigs pressed into the skin of my arms and face. I took a long breath, savoring the absence of pain, bracing myself for its return.