Blindspot (Daydream, Colorado Book 1)

by A. M. Rose

Everything between them was a mistake these days, and Drew didn’t want to push, even though he wanted to scream the opposite. It was getting harder and harder not to, however. He didn’t want to leave these things unsaid; he already had a gag placed on him, he didn’t want another.

  Drew leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes for the rest of the journey.

  The large figure of Darian greeted them from the porch when they arrived. They walked into the farmhouse and were led into the same family room. This time the space in the middle had been cleared completely, the furniture pushed back to the walls to create space for the large circle Malachi was chalking on the floorboards.

  The Head Witch was dressed in dirty denim overalls with a stripy long-sleeved top underneath. His messy brown hair had patches of chalk dust in it like he had run his hands through it without noticing. He looked completely unintimidating, and at the same time, the scariest thing in the world to Drew.

  Darian passed by them and grabbed a potted fern from the corner, hefting it into his arms to cradle like a child. “Come along, Grace… you can sit by Jerome in the study, he’ll be happy to see you. There’s a nice patch of sun coming through the west window…” his voice trailed off as he continued to converse with the plant.

  “Malachi,” Mason greeted primly. “Thanks for the invite.”

  The witch didn’t look up. “I assumed you would have seen it.”

  “That’s not how it works and you know it!” he huffed.

  Mal did peek up then. He looked from Mason to Drew and then back. He smiled. “Got it.”

  “Got what?” Drew asked. When he looked at Mason, his face was bright red.

  “Nothing!” Mason denied, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you have then?” he directed at Malachi.

  “An idea,” the witch murmured, concentrating now on precisely drawing out intricate symbols inside the circle.

  “Sounds… vague,” Drew said, shoulders slumping a little.

  “Too vague,” Mason agreed. “Did you call us out here on a hunch?”

  “You expected a definitive answer in a couple of days?” Mal answered, giving them a judging look. He stood up and dusted his hands off on his overalls. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or question both of your intelligence.”

  Mason strode to the edge of the circle. “So what is all this then? Decoration?” he demanded, motioning to the floor.

  Mal didn’t rise to the tone. “There’s a few things I can try without that grimoire, not much, but a few.”

  ‘We’re just going to try a few things, baby brother, don’t you want this to work?’

  Drew lost a breath, heart hammering in his ears and stepped backwards, hitting the doorframe.

  Neither Mason nor Malachi noticed.

  “I’m not letting you experiment on him! He’s already been through that!”

  “Even with access to the book I wouldn’t be able to guarantee removal of whatever they did without trying a few avenues of magic. Unless you brought me whoever did the spell and they told me exactly what they did when they placed it,” Mal stated evenly.

  “Troy’s dickhead friends skipped town,” Mason growled.

  “Then I don’t know what you want from me,” Mal stated frankly, tone still even. “I don’t have a magic cure-all.”

  “Drew?” Darian’s voice pierced through the fog.

  The hand on his shoulder felt warm, a rush of soothing energy seeping into his tight muscles. He relaxed against the wall, heart losing some speed. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

  “Drew?” It was Mason’s voice this time. Mason’s small hand gripping his bicep. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing,” Drew answered for himself. He opened his eyes and looked down into his worried face. He gave him a tight smile.

  “We’ll leave,” Mason said firmly.

  Drew shook his head. “It might work.”

  “It might not.”

  It was worth it, wasn’t it? To finally be rid of this curse. To be able to do something as simple as speak freely without fear of pain and consequence.

  “I… I’ll take the risk,” he finally decided.

  “I make no guarantees,” Mal warned him.

  Drew nodded in understanding.

  Mal nodded back and got back to work. They watched in silence, Mason’s hand moving down to join with his almost unconsciously. Drew squeezed it back for comfort.

  On each symbol that had been drawn a small pewter bowl was placed, some filled with crushed herbs, some with living plants, others with liquids Drew didn’t have the faintest idea about the name of. Malachi sat in the very center, eyes closed, a chunk of amber crystal pressed to his mouth with both hands, where he muttered against it.

  Drew didn’t have magic, but he could feel the pure power in the air around them, the static in the air, the tingle on his skin that made him shiver and shy away. All of it was drawing inwards to that one fixed point where Mal sat completely still.

  “We really can leave,” Mason whispered to him.

  Drew tilted him a wane smile. “Are you worried about me?” he joked.

  “You’re an idiot,” he hissed back, but moved in closer to him, fingers squeezing his hand tighter.

  Malachi’s eyes popped open, and for a second Drew thought he saw a sheen of amber, exactly the color of the crystal, fall over his eyes, before it melted back into its usual hazel. “It’s time,” he said softly, getting to his feet. “No one else can enter the circle once you pass through. I’ve attuned it to both me and you, no one else.”

  Drew swallowed, walking forwards. Mason clutched his hand until the very last second, their arms stretched between them until that point of contact could no longer be maintained.

  He hesitated before stepping into the circle, mouth going dry when he did. There was immense power here, the weight of it nearly pushing him to his knees. He managed not to buckle, yet there he stood, rooted to the spot, terrified to move.

  Malachi cocked his head and extended his hand. So innocuous looking but filled to the brim with overflowing magic. “To the center, come.”

  Drew started to breathe heavy. His legs wouldn’t move. He could feel sweat beading on his brow already.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Mason said. “Come out, Drew. We’ll do this another day.”

  Drew locked eyes with Mal, the witch observing for a suspended second before walking forwards. Drew flinched but didn’t move backwards. Couldn’t.

  “Mal, I mean it, that’s enough!”

  Malachi ignored him and kept his eyes on Drew. “I would never perform magic on an unwilling person. Would you like to dissolve the circle? Be warned, I won’t be able to perform this again for a while if you change your mind after.”

  “Will it hurt?” Drew asked, voice barely there.

  “I don’t know,” Mal answered honestly. “The last time I tried to interact with it…”

  Pain. Panic. He couldn’t breathe…

  “Right.”

  “We’re running out of time,” Mal said, then offered the crystal out between them. “It’s up to you.”

  “Drew…” Mason said behind him, but Drew was fixated on the crystal presented to him.

  The choice.

  He’d had a choice before, an illusion of one. He was a child then, desperate to be ‘normal’ and easily influenced. He’d had his autonomy taken away swiftly after and hadn’t had full agency over his own life since then.

  This… this was a choice that was fully his own. To try… or not… if he had the courage.

  He reached for it with a shaky hand, gasping when he connected with the hot, rough surface. It was like a vice had been tied around his hand shackling him to it. Panic set in, and he glanced up with panicked eyes at a serene Malachi. The witch simply smiled and began to lead him forwards, hands cupping his around the crystal, until they reached the very center of the circle.

  He let go of him and began to step away.

  �
��Wait!” Drew yelped.

  Malachi raised a brow, hand still extended.

  “You were just going to… do it?”

  Mal stared at him for a beat. “Would you like a countdown?”

  Drew blushed, overwhelmed. “No… yes… I…”

  “Close your eyes,” Mal instructed.

  Drew did as he was told, shaking on the spot.

  “Clear your mind.”

  He shook his head. “I… I can’t…”

  “It doesn’t have to be blank…” he murmured, “…think of a place where you feel safe, content. Let that feeling fill you up.”

  Drew could think of only one place he felt like that.

  An old wonky treehouse in the woods with mismatched lanterns hung up and names carved into the sturdy tree trunk that kept the whole thing steady.

  He could hear Malachi saying words, unfamiliar, alien, but they were far in the distance, masked by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, the creak of floorboards and the sounds of laughter, carefree and happy… and then darkness began to creep in, blotting out the brilliant blue sky. He frowned, looking around and finding that the leaves on the tree had begun to wither, falling away and turning to dust on the floor. His chest began to heave. He rushed to the heart of the treehouse for safety, the trunk of the tree, and recoiled away as he found it rotting from the inside out. Everything was falling apart around him, darkness creeping in…

  He screamed.

  He couldn’t breathe anymore. He couldn’t find solace. There was pain now. Terrible pain that started in his head and moved through his body. He was rotting from the inside out, falling apart, withering away. He sunk to his knees in the treehouse, curling up to try and escape.

  “Drew! Drew!”

  He recognized that voice, but he couldn’t see him. Couldn’t find him.

  It hurts. It hurts, Mason. I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. There’s something wrong with me. I can’t stand it anymore.

  The words stayed caged inside his head, smashing at his skull trying to get out, scrambling at the edges, looking for a crack. He sobbed.

  And then… light peeked in again at the very corner… a warm soothing sensation pushing at the cold darkness, at the pain. He grasped onto that light, chased it, sobbed harder because of it.

  “Drew, Drew, open your eyes… open them right now, you absolute idiot. I swear to god if you leave me again, I’ll–”

  He fluttered his eyes open, vision swimming in and out. Light. There was light.

  “Oh, thank god. Drew, can you hear me?” Mason asked. “Breathe, c’mon.”

  He was okay? He could breathe? He gasped for air like he was coming up from underwater.

  “Easy,” Darian coached. “That’s right, in and out. You’re okay.”

  He began to cough as awareness trickled back in. He realized he was on the floor, Mason cradling him in his small lap, Darian by his side with a hand spanning his chest and Malachi plopped on the floor a few feet away, eyes distant and face drawn in exhaustion.

  “What happened?” he croaked, voice jagged and throat hurting, his vision was still hazy.

  “It didn’t work,” Malachi said. “It didn’t work…”

  “You knew this would happen!” Mason accused, gaining the witches attention. Drew stared up and saw him swipe angrily at the suspicious wetness on his face. His fingers were trembling, and there was a quiver in his voice Drew had heard before. “You knew… why else are we here at Darian’s?!”

  Malachi weathered Mason’s ire calmly. “I spoke truthfully. I had no idea if this would work or not, I was hopeful, yet I knew if things took a turn for the worst, here would be the safest place, yes.”

  “Mason,” Drew spoke before Mason could launch into another tirade. He coughed again, drawing a deep breath in that felt eased with the warmth seeping through Darian’s palm. “I knew the risks, he told me. I said yes.”

  Mason clenched his jaw.

  Drew reached up for him, finding the forgotten about crystal in his hand was splintered into chunks. He held it up shakily, and Malachi gathered the pieces from him.

  “I’m sorry. The crystal was supposed to draw the dark magic into it, it’s the most powerful one I have,” Malachi explained, falling onto his butt on the floor again.

  “Thank you,” Drew said. He felt hot and wrung out, on the verge of passing out again, but he was thankful. The witch looked up. “For trying.”

  “I need that book if I’m to help you. I wouldn’t put you through this again,” Malachi said.

  “I wouldn’t let you touch him again,” Mason growled.

  Drew was able to reach a shaking hand out for him now and grasped his wrist that was under his chin from where he was cradling him.

  “You know Mal meant no harm,” Darian broached softly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t draw the pain away faster, Drew, it was fighting against me. It’s like it remembered me.”

  Mal nodded. “It recognized my magic too, I felt it. Whatever those kids were messing with… we need that book and one of them if at all possible.”

  “I could give you the pieces of them, would that work?” Mason asked.

  Mal snorted. “I’m not good with puzzles. Whole would be preferable.”

  Drew laughed, then winced, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. “Shit.”

  “We should take him home, let him get some rest,” Darian suggested. “I would offer you a room here, but familiar surroundings help with recovery.”

  “He’s going to be okay?”

  “Physically, everything is stable again, though he’s feeling some nasty aftereffects. As long as he doesn’t try to discuss anything related to the spell, he should be fine. I wouldn’t test it right now, it seems to be worsening in severity, is that correct?” Darian asked.

  Drew nodded, body limp everywhere else. He felt like he had no energy left in him, eyes already halfway to closing again.

  “I’ll drive you both home,” Darian said. “You can keep him steady in the back of the truck, and we’ll get him to bed.”

  “I’ve asked some of the other communities’ Head Witches, they haven’t come across any grimoires in the last ten years,” Mal explained. “Which means we need to find a way to track those two specifically. They most likely still have the book and have been using it. That might be an avenue to explore.”

  “Enough for now though,” Darian said, just as Drew’s eyes were closing again, unable to hold them open any longer. “We can discuss this tomorrow. I’ll help you get him to the car.”

  “You two okay back there?” Darian asked from the driver’s seat.

  Mason forced himself to peel his eyes away from Drew and meet Darian’s in the rear-view mirror.

  “He’s still out. I don’t… I don’t know if he’s still in pain…” Mason said, squeezing his eyes shut and trying his best to remain calm and strong for Drew.

  “He’s not,” Darian said with a smile that had the inexplicable ability to calm anyone who saw it.

  Mason narrowed his eyes at Darian. “You sure?”

  “I wouldn’t lie about something like this,” the healer said.

  Mason sighed, running a tired hand over his face. “I know… I’m sorry it’s just…”

  “You’re scared.”

  “Yeah… and apparently, it turns me into a complete bitch.”

  “Fear makes people say things they don’t mean. I won’t hold it against you,” Darian said, and Mason returned the warm smile he saw on the healer’s face.

  “Do you even know how to hold grudges?” Mason quirked an eyebrow.

  Darian shrugged his wide shoulders. “Don’t really see the point in it. If I can forgive, I forgive, if I can’t, I forget and move on. There’s too many wonderful things in life to waste time on grudges,” he said.

  “A bit of self-righteous resentment is healthy sometimes,” he suggested, and Darian chuckled.

  “For some, maybe. I don’t find it does me any good,” Darian said as he pulled into
a parking spot in front of Mason’s building. “We’re here.”

  Mason looked back down to Drew who was still out like a light with his head in Mason’s lap, and he ran gentle fingers through sweat slicked hair. He didn’t want to wake him. Not even for the short trip up the stairs to his apartment.

  “He’s not too heavy. I can carry him,” Darian said as if he read his mind and Mason nodded, allowing the huge man to scoop Drew up in his arms and carry him as if he weighed nothing. He ran in front of them holding the door open and unlocking his apartment, leading Darian to his room. He pulled the covers down and soon enough, Mason had Drew’s shoes off and thick covers tucked around him.

  “Thank you for doing this,” Mason said, holding the door for Darian.

  “It wasn’t a problem. Let me know if you need anything, or if he starts feeling any pain or discomfort.”

  “Should I expect him to be in pain?” Mason asked, biting his lip in worry.

  “Mal doesn’t think so… I asked before we left…”

  “But?”

  “Slim as it is, there’s always a chance he’s wrong about that as he was wrong about the spell he used tonight…”

  “I will injure him if he was…” he hissed, and Darian threw his head back, chuckling.

  “Oh…you’re amusing. It’s not easy to hurt Mal.”

  “I’ll do my best!”

  “I’m sure you will, darling. Anyway, I’ll be on my way. Like I said, if you need anything, I’m a phone call away. Have a safe night.”

  “Night, Darian,” Mason called back, and with that, the man was gone, and Mason was alone in his apartment with Drew once again. The last couple of times Drew was around, Mason all but threw himself at the man before pushing him away. And as confusing as his own feelings were about it, he’d much rather have Drew around like that than the way he was now.

  Tucked into his bed asleep because he had been hurt. Hurt because someone found fault in him when everything about him was perfect.

  He tiptoed to his room and walked to the bed as quietly as he could. He shrugged off his jacket and shoes and climbed onto the bed, over the covers. He didn’t dare touch Drew because he didn’t want him to wake up before he was rested and ready, but he needed to be close. He needed to keep an eye on him to reassure himself Drew was okay now. For a moment at least.