by DAVID B. COE
Even as I felt myself starting to panic, though, it ended. I gulped at the air, curled up in a ball, the desert sun feeling like a cool balm after Red’s assault.
“What happened . . . to our . . . our game?” I asked, when I could speak again.
“Stand up.”
My body tried to resist, but he had taken control of me again. I struggled back to my feet. Even as I did, though, it occurred to me that his attacks on my heart and his control of my will might not be that different. If I could shield my mind somehow, I might be able to keep him out. But first I had to win a moment’s freedom.
I tried to open my mouth to speak, but he wouldn’t allow it. At least not at first.
“You are trying to say something.”
He loosened his hold on me enough so that I could nod.
“Very well.” His touch on my mind lightened.
“You’re a coward,” I said.
He hit me so hard with the back of his hand that I staggered back and fell.
But that was fine with me. It seemed I’d touched a nerve. I made myself laugh, even as I tasted blood.
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, Cahors?”
“Silence!”
“Well, no. As long as you’re letting me talk, I think I’ll go on. Our agreement was, if I failed, you were to punish me. I didn’t fail, did I? But as soon as things don’t go your way, you start changing the rules. Like I said, you’re a coward.”
He was seething. I could see it. He wanted to burn my heart right out of my chest. But I’d gotten to him a little bit. After a moment, he seemed to remember how weak I was and how great an advantage he had over me. He fixed a smile on his face.
“You are right. It was not . . . juste. What is your word? Fair! It was not fair of me. You wish to make another attempt?” He opened his hands. “Go ahead.”
I didn’t have many chances left, and I didn’t know how much more of his punishment I could take. Mostly I wanted my Glock. If I could make him think about my magic and my weapon, I might have a chance.
And then it came to me. My father’s spell. Dual transporting. Shift myself back to the thicket and at the same time retrieve my pistol from where it had fallen. I’d yet to craft the spell with any success, but I knew what had to be done. It was simply a matter of visualizing it, of clearing myself and keeping my thoughts focused.
I began chanting the spell to myself. Seven elements this time; a more complicated spell. Me, the spot where I stood, the thicket, my weapon, my hand, the spot on the ground where it lay, and the simultaneity of the whole thing. That’s where I’d messed up in the past, so that was what I concentrated on now.
Cahors was watching me, waiting, no doubt warding himself. As I continued to stand there, seemingly doing nothing, he narrowed his eyes.
“Qu’est-ce tu fait?” he demanded, his voice low. “What are you doing?”
I didn’t answer. I’d chanted the spell to myself six times, allowing the power of the magic to build. On the seventh chanting, I released the conjuring. I felt that same rush of dizzying cold, as if I had fallen backward into ice water. An instant later, I was standing among the trees, my hand raised to fire. My empty hand.
My damn Glock was sitting in the middle of the path, in the exact spot where I’d been. Within the span of a single heartbeat, he’d spotted me, his eyes locking on mine. Then he looked down at the pistol.
This spell I knew. My weapon, the ground, my hand. Three elements. Simple. One moment my Glock was at his feet and he was bending to pick it up. The next I was holding it in my hand. Without hesitating, I squeezed off a shot.
And as soon as I did, I knew I’d made a mistake. Again. I dove to the side, but Red’s reflection spell was, well, faster than a speeding bullet. The slug from my own weapon caught my trailing arm just below the shoulder, spinning my body in middive and causing me to land hard on my back. I lay there for a moment, stunned, winded, gritting my teeth against the white-hot pain in my arm.
I could still hear the echo from my gunshot dying away, and part of me hoped it would bring help. Another part of me hoped anyone who heard it would be smart enough to stay the hell away.
For once, though, I was ahead of Cahors. I had my weapon back, which meant he had no choice but to try to control me again. I sheathed my mind with a warding spell, and half a second later felt his magic reach for me. My shield held, at least for the moment. I crawled behind a tree and fired off a second round. This one came back at me, too, but hit the tree trunk.
He tried for my mind again, and, unable to take control of me, went for my heart. I couldn’t protect both, and knew he’d kill me faster if he could burn a hole in my chest. My heart, his magic, a sheath of power. I was growing weaker and colder by the minute. Pain, physical shock, blood loss. But still, the spell worked. I heard him roar his frustration, and then felt his magic bury my mind like an avalanche.
“Come here!” he said. His voice reached me in a sort of weird stereo, once from the path, sounding normal, and a second time inside my head, where it rolled like thunder.
I jerked upright, and walked out of the thicket again, my pistol still in my hand, which hung uselessly at my side. More than anything I wanted to raise my weapon and put a bullet through that bald head of his, but Cahors kept a tight hold on me this time. I didn’t imagine I’d have any luck talking my way free.
When I reached Cahors, he held out his hand, and I gave him my weapon. You would have thought it had been his all along. I loathed myself: my weakness, my ignorance, my laziness. Namid had been training me for too long for me to allow anyone—even someone as powerful as Red—to use me in this way.
He regarded the pistol as if he had never seen one up close before, turning it first one way and then another. Then he pointed it at my thigh and fired. Not even his magic could stifle my cry of pain or keep me on my feet.
“A most useful weapon,” Cahors said, examining the Glock again while massaging his shooting hand and wrist. “And powerful.”
He pointed it at me once more, this time aiming it at my forehead.
I tried the sheathing spell again, desperate to throw off his control. My mind, the shield, his magic.
Cahors shook his head.
“You do not have the power, little weremyste. With time, perhaps, you might have been strong enough to face me. But you are far beyond your depth. Quel dommage.”
He grinned. I closed my eyes, knowing I was about to die.
“I think it’s time you dropped that weapon and got your sorry French ass away from my friend.”
Kona! My eyes flew open. Cahors spun and fired again.
But Kona was hidden behind a good-sized rock, and his aim was wild.
In that moment, though, Red’s control over me slipped. And everything started to happen very fast.
CHAPTER 23
I could have gone with another assailing spell, but I didn’t think it would work. And I had another idea.
My weapon, his hand, my hand. Three elements. It was so simple, and yet it turned out to be the last thing Cahors expected. I spoke the spell to myself and released the magic. An instant later the Glock was in my hand. I didn’t hesitate at all. Still on the ground, I held the muzzle against the back of Red’s knee and fired twice in quick succession.
Cahors’ howl was like nothing I’d ever heard before. Astonishment, agony, rage; he sounded like a wild animal, one that had never known pain before, and had never expected it would. He collapsed to the ground right in front of me. I had every intention of firing again, of finishing him.
But his magic lashed out at me. No attempt to control this time. No attack on my heart. This was assailing magic, pure and simple. I had no time to ward myself, and I’m not sure any spell I could’ve conjured would have made a difference. The spell hit me hard in the side, like a fist, or the kick of a mule. I heard a couple of ribs snap, and I crumpled in on myself, gasping, though that made it hurt more.
“Justis!”
I looked up in time
to see Kona hoisted to her feet by some powerful, invisible hand. She grabbed at her throat, as if trying to pry away strangling fingers.
“Throw away your gun, or she dies,” Red said through clenched teeth. He was in pain, but I could see that he was already healing himself. The blood from his leg had stopped flowing. I had little doubt that he would be walking again in no time. I really hated this guy.
“Kill him, Justis!” Kona rasped, fighting for breath. “Never mind me! Just kill him!”
“You know better. You cannot kill me, and you cannot save yourself. But this one is of no consequence. I will kill her if you point that gun at me again. Or you can throw it away, and I will let her go once you are dead. You have my word.”
Not that his word was worth anything.
“You’ll let her go before you kill me,” I said, staring into those pale eyes. “I want to see her walk out of here. You understand?”
Cahors shrugged. “As I say, she does not matter. The gun.”
I tossed it away. As soon as it landed, I saw heat waves start to rise from it. I heard several quick pops as the bullets still in the magazine went off. But Cahors wasn’t done. The Glock began to glow red, then white. And then it melted into a puddle of steel and plastic.
A moment later, Kona stumbled forward a step, released from his hold on her. She whirled; I knew she was intent on retrieving her weapon. But before she could, she stiffened again.
“No,” Red told her. “You will leave, or you will die.”
“Go, Kona,” I said. “He’ll kill you, too. There’s no sense in both of us dying.”
She stared at me, looking as scared as I’d ever seen her. For all the time we’d worked together, she’d never had to deal with magic in this way. She’d seen its effects; she’d accepted that I could see things she couldn’t; she’d even watched me use it to scry. But she’d never witnessed a magical battle, and she’d never been attacked or controlled like this. For the first time in my memory, she was beyond her depth.
“Go,” I said again. “This isn’t a fight you can win.”
Tears dampened her cheeks, shining in the sun. After a moment, though, she nodded.
“Let her go, Cahors,” I said. “She’ll leave now.”
He regarded us each in turn. I saw her expression change as he released her once more.
She continued to watch me, waiting for some signal from me that she should do something. I shook my head.
“Go,” I said one last time.
Kona’s gaze shifted to Cahors, and her eyes narrowed. “You’d better get the hell away from here,” she said, her voice shaking. “Out of Phoenix; out of the damn country. Because the next time I see you, I’ll kill you. I swear it.”
A rock flew up from the ground near her feet and hit her hard in the forehead, staggering her.
“You should leave now,” he said to her. “Before I change my mind.”
Her eyes flicked my way again, wide now, questioning. I shook my head once more. She winced, then backed away from us, following the path out of the ravine.
When she had disappeared from view, Cahors turned back to me.
“You should not have hurt me, little weremyste.”
My chest seemed to explode in flame. I wouldn’t have thought that he could hurt me worse than he already he had, but nothing he’d done to my heart before could compare with this. I heard myself screaming and there was nothing I could do to stop. I didn’t want to die. Really I didn’t. But at that moment death would have come as a relief. Cahors, though, could read my thoughts, and he must have had other plans for me. The pain stopped.
“No,” he said. “No, little weremyste. Your death will not be that easy.”
“You know,” I whispered, my eyes closed. “I’m pretty sick of you calling me that.”
Cahors laughed, but I barely heard him.
I was conjuring again. Same spell as before, but with a slight difference. Kona’s weapon, the place where it lay on the rock and sand, and her hand. I repeated it to myself three times, taking as much care with it as I could, and then I released the magic. If it worked, I had a chance. But I’d never tried to send anything so far, and I’d never cast the spell when I didn’t know the precise spot for which I was aiming. She could have been anywhere. I knew Kona too well to think she’d left the area. I doubted that Cahors expected her to leave either. He didn’t care because he wasn’t afraid of her, and he had every intention of killing her once I was dead.
“Are you not going to try to hurt me again?” Cahors asked. “Are you giving up already? I am disappointed.”
I knew he was goading me, but I knew as well that Kona needed a bit of time. If I managed to find her with the pistol.
I was growing weaker by the moment. My arm and leg throbbed. I’d been shot before, but never twice in one day, and never in the middle of being tortured in so many other ways.
But I had to do something, and I had plenty of reasons to want to hurt him. First though, I needed to protect myself. I started by shielding myself, and then magically flung a rock at him as he’d done to Kona and me. He deflected it toward me, but my shield held.
He raised an eyebrow. “You are learning. But still you have failed again.” Red got to his feet. He favored his bloodied knee a bit, but he tested it and it seemed to support his weight. “That is better,” he said. “And now, I believe it is time for another punishment.”
His foot, my hand, and a good hard tug. He was expecting spells that would hurt him, not trip him. His good leg flew out from under him, leaving only his injured one to keep him up. It didn’t. He fell hard on his back.
Still shielded, I sent another rock at his head. This one hit him, opening a cut on his temple.
He swung his leg around and kicked me hard in the jaw, sending me sprawling again. Before I could strike back, he attacked with his magic once more, searing my chest, paralyzing me with pain. He got to his feet, came around, and put his foot on my throat.
“Which will kill you first, little weremyste? Will your heart give out, or will I crush your throat?”
I tried to fight him, but he had me this time. His magic held my mind, his fire burned in my heart, his weight was crushing my windpipe. And I had nothing left. He’d broken through my warding, and I was too weak and too hurt to conjure another.
I thought of Billie, of my dad, and my eyes welled.
The report of Kona’s weapon, much closer than I would have thought possible, made me start. Cahors’ head snapped to the side, but then he straightened his neck again. Blood gushed from above his ear. He raised a shaking hand to the wound and stared at the blood on his fingers.
A second shot hit him in the neck. A third just behind his eye. And he fell over, landing beside me. He lay still for a moment, but then began to push himself up. Already the bullet wounds were healing over, though he was covered with blood.
My heart wasn’t burning anymore; my mind was my own.
I cast a fire spell, the same one I’d tried earlier, the same one he’d blocked with ease. This time it worked. His clothes burst into flame. But he didn’t seem to notice. He was still trying to stand. A fourth shot from Kona’s pistol hit him square in the back of his head. He collapsed back onto his chest and didn’t move again. The blaze I’d conjured began to blacken his skin.
With Kona’s help, I crawled a short distance away from him. But then I merely sat and watched as Cahors burned.
“Now I know how they felt when they tried to kill Rasputin,” Kona said.
“Yeah.” My voice sounded weak. “No kidding.”
She squatted down in front of me and looked me in the eye, concern etched on her face. “How are you doing, partner?”
“Not too good,” I said. “How’d you find me, anyway?”
“I’ve been working this case, too, remember. I know where I’d go if I’d wanted Red to find me.”
Right.
“The two bullet wounds,” she said, examining me. “What else?”
“A burn on my arm, a couple of broken ribs, some bruises. Oh, and my heart feels like it’s been shish-kebobed.”
She pulled a cell phone from her pocket and frowned at it. “No signal here,” she said. “I’ll walk back up the trail a ways and call for help as soon as I can.”
“Tonight’s the full moon, Kona. I can’t be in the hospital. They’ll think I’m nuts.”
“I’ll be there. You’ll be all right.”
“Kona—”
“Justis, you’ve been shot twice. You’re going to the hospital. There’s no way around that.”
I nodded, knowing she was right. “Yeah, okay.” I lay back down, shading my eyes with my good hand.
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Kona was shaking me awake and the sun was angling across the ravine. I could hear a helicopter in the distance, thudding dully, getting louder by the moment.
“That for me?” I asked, croaking the words. My throat and mouth were dry, and my head was spinning.
She nodded.
I tried to sit up, but she put a hand on my chest.
“Stay there.”
I lay back, then turned my head toward what was left of Cahors. “He still dead?”
She laughed. “Yeah. He’s still dead. Kevin’s on his way, along with Arroyo, Hibbard, and probably half the PPD. You’re going to be a hero.”
“You shot him, not me.”
“Only because you put my weapon in my hand. Nice bit of work, by the way. Scared the shit out of me, but I’ve got to admit it was pretty cool.”
“Starting to like magic, aren’t you?” I said, closing my eyes again. The helicopter was close now.
“No,” she said, her voice rising. “I don’t like it at all. That mojo’s going to get you killed someday. You know that. It might have saved your life today, but one of these times—”
I opened my eyes once more. “The craft didn’t save my life today, Kona. You did.”
She smiled. “Yeah, well, don’t tell Hibbard. He doesn’t like me as it is.”
I laughed. It hurt like hell, but I couldn’t help myself.