Blindspot (Daydream, Colorado Book 1)

by A. M. Rose

  Drew nodded.

  “How does he even know that?” Mason asked, glancing around them. The street was quiet, the only cars parked around being those on driveways. No fedora-wearing, trench-coat-toting, chain-smoking, mysterious PI anywhere to be seen.

  “Maybe he has his schedule figured out?” Drew suggested distractedly. “I just had a letter waiting for me one day when I got back from work, but I don’t think this is the same thing.”

  “Not quite,” Mason agreed.

  He briefly considered sending the PI some flowers for finding Drew. As much as it hurt, he was happy they had reconnected. That they were… friends… again.

  “Are you okay?” he asked for the millionth time that morning.

  Drew nodded for the millionth and one. Mason still didn’t believe him.

  “Okay,” Drew breathed. “What’s the plan?”

  Mason looked to Mal, who wasn’t paying them any attention. Again. “How do we approach a grimoire-toting asshole, exactly?” he asked the witch but was met with a wall of silence. “Mal? This is part of the reason why you’re here…”

  “He didn’t spell the house,” the witch murmured. He cocked his head, looking perplexed for a second, before he strode towards the front door.

  “Wait,” Drew said, following after him.

  Malachi knocked.

  He knocked.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Mason hissed with wide eyes, grabbing onto Drew’s arm, ready to pull him away.

  Malachi didn’t answer, simply stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest as he waited.

  It was a few seconds later, which felt like a lifetime, before the door swung open, an unsuspecting Reginald ‘Reggie’ Kyle standing in the entryway. Mason couldn’t remember him all that well. He knew he had dark hair, which he could see had grey creeping in at his temples now, but his face seemed youthful and healthy. They had never really crossed paths enough for him to note too many differences, but the way he felt Drew tense under his hand and take an involuntary step backwards said everything he needed to know.

  “Can I help you?” Reggie asked, looking first at Malachi and then over his shoulder towards them. His eyes passed over Mason with no recognition… but paused on Drew. Panic settled into his face immediately. “You’ve got the wrong house, I’m sorry,” he said hastily, trying to retreat, pushing the door closed.

  Malachi’s hand shot out and the door blew inwards with some unseen force that sent Reggie stumbling back.

  The witch invited himself in, casually walking and tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. “It’s better if we talk inside,” he said, completely at ease.

  Mason glanced up at Drew and saw him staring sightlessly forwards, lost in his own head. “Drew? Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” he asked softly.

  Drew shook his head finally. “No… but I don’t think I ever will be… I… He’s just living here, in this normal house, in this normal neighborhood…” He let it trail off as he looked at their surroundings and Mason squeezed his arm.

  “He won’t be for long, I promise. Let’s get this done,” he said, and Drew nodded in resolution, puffing out his chest in an inhale.

  They walked into the house together and found Reggie cowering behind a sofa, a hand held out towards the smaller figure of Malachi who was regarding him with exasperation. His wild eyes jumped to them as they crested the doorway, Mason kicking it closed behind them for privacy. They didn’t want any passersby stumbling upon them.

  “H—how did you find me?” he asked Drew. “I thought we…”

  “Silenced him?” Mason finished for him, venom in his tone.

  He went to step towards him, violence in mind, but Drew’s hand on his suddenly held him back.

  “Where is it?” Drew asked quietly.

  “What?” Reggie asked, playing dumb, his eyes skittered towards the right wall, and Mason got a glance of him running towards there, his hand disappearing inside an illusionary nook.

  “Watch out!” Mason gasped as he came back to his senses. “It’s in the wall!”

  Reggie broke out in a sprint across the room and Malachi muttered a spell. The paisley rug on the floor came alive suddenly, a fluid wave rolling through its fibers as the witch bent it to his will. Like a snake it coiled itself up, striking forwards and wrapping Reggie’s legs tightly, taking him to the ground with a muffled shout.

  “Get it off!”

  Malachi walked past his struggling form, not sparing him a thought as he headed for the wall. “Here?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Beneath the painting,” Mason said.

  Malachi stopped in front of the wall, casting a hand over, but not touching it. “Oh yes… I might have missed this,” he murmured.

  “Is it there?” Drew asked hesitantly, hope giving his voice a tender edge.

  The witch hummed an affirmative.

  “Is it spelled to hurt him if he tries to take it?” Mason demanded of Reggie.

  Those panicked eyes flew towards him. “Get me out,” he pleaded, as the rug constricted tighter. The more he moved the tighter it pulled.

  “Why? Do you not like feeling trapped?” Mason goaded, hoping the rug would choke him to death so he didn't have to.

  “Drew, please, help me,” Reggie struggled to say next.

  Drew froze. “Help you?” he asked without tone.

  “We were only trying to give you magic like you wanted. We were trying to help you! It was Troy who found that book, it had nothing to do with us!”

  “Nothing to do with you…” Drew repeated robotically. “It had nothing to do with you when you held me dow—ah!” he choked, doubling over in pain.

  Mason reached down quickly to support him. “Drew…?”

  “I’m okay,” he gasped.

  Mason led him over to the armchair and sat him down carefully, fussing over him uselessly. He didn’t have Darian’s powers, there was nothing he could do to ease him through it.

  “What the hell is wrong with him?” Reggie asked in fear. “Is it going to happen to me?”

  “No, you absolute moron!” Mason hissed. “This is what you did to him when you cast that spell on him so he couldn’t tell anyone what you were doing to him!”

  “And you’re going to tell me exactly what you did,” Malachi said, approaching him again and leaning down into his eye view. “Aren’t you.”

  Reggie went white. “I didn’t put that part of the spell in there, I swear. Pete added it in, it wasn’t my fault! I didn’t think it would do… that,” he said, looking at Drew who was trying to get his breath back.

  “You shouldn’t have done it in the first place!” Mason shouted, red in the face, his own magic tingling at his fingertips, reacting to his heightened emotions.

  “The book,” Malachi prompted.

  “It’s not trapped, just take it. It killed Troy and Pete, I don’t want anything to do with it,” Reggie said.

  “It killed Pete?” Drew gasped.

  Reggie trembled inside his carpet prison. “He was always using it… I kept telling him he was going too far… One day I came home, and he was just… gone.”

  “How do you know he didn’t just run?” Malachi asked with a brow raised.

  “He wouldn’t have left the book… he never let it out of his sight… and there were…” He turned a little green. “…pieces.”

  Mason couldn’t help but feel a burst of satisfaction at hearing that, as horrifying as the visual was. It was no less than both these assholes deserved.

  “What about Troy?” Drew asked quietly, and Mason snapped his head around to see his grim expression. “Did the same thing happen to him?”

  Reggie shook his head. “After the last time we…” He shot a glance to Mason who was baring his teeth and stopped himself. “Troy said that he had his own lead. He took the book to the old, abandoned warehouse just outside of town. He didn’t show up the next day, so me and Pete went to find him…”

  He swallowed thickly, eyes
going faraway for a moment before he refocused.

  “He was just lying there with the grimoire still in his hand… we didn’t know what went wrong, but we couldn’t stay! That book has been a curse since the moment Troy found it!” Reggie declared.

  “So why did you keep it?” Mason growled.

  “I couldn’t turn it in!” Reggie said, turning to Mal. “After it killed Pete… I just hid it away. I haven’t used it since, I promise. Please let me out of this.”

  Malachi ignored his request and walked back over to the wall, his forearm disappearing as he reached inside. When it came back out, it was holding an ancient-looking gnarled book. The cover was raised and mottled in brown leather. It looked like the book itself was ill, and the energy it put into the air just being near it made Mason shudder.

  Drew stumbled out of his seat and backed away towards the door, gasping for air. “Get it away from me,” he barely managed to choke out.

  Mason followed him. “Drew it’s okay, it’s okay,” he said softly, not understanding fully what was happening.

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw Malachi wrapping the book in a red silk cloth he had pulled from his pocket. The cloth itself had intricate gold runes painted onto it. As soon as it was covered that suffocating power vanished again.

  Drew took a gasp of breath and collapsed against the doorway, barely able to make himself stand up. Mason ducked under his arm to help him.

  “What was that? Is it supposed to feel that way?” he asked Malachi.

  “No,” Malachi said. His eyes fixed on Drew. “I think it’s reacting to him.”

  Mason threw him a worried look.

  Malachi snapped his fingers, and the rug released its prey, the thing falling inanimate again. Malachi reached down and yanked Reggie to his feet with no care that he was four inches taller and considerably more muscled. Reggie allowed himself to be manhandled, absolutely terrified of the witch.

  “Which spell did you use? What did you combine it with?” he demanded.

  “We wrote it in there,” Reggie rushed to say. “Please, it’s in there. Don’t hurt me!”

  Malachi regarded him for a full minute before releasing his shirt. Reggie was about to scamper away when Mal’s hand reached out lightning fast and grasped his wrist.

  Reggie screamed.

  It lasted a full twenty seconds before Malachi released him fully.

  “What the hell did you do?” Reggie yelped, yanking away and cradling his wrist.

  Mason could see a brand had been burnt into his skin, the skin pink and a wisp of purple smoke dissipating into the air. Malachi wiggled his hand, the ring that had been there was turned upside down and facing outwards from his palm. The brand matched it exactly.

  “You didn’t think I was just going to leave?” Mal asked condescendingly. “That’s no simple slap on the wrist.”

  “What is it?” Reggie whimpered, face pulled into a painful grimace as he cradled his arm.

  “What it looks like. A brand. Since you like old magic so much, you should enjoy it.”

  Wide eyes were looking at him in horror. “I can’t feel… I can’t feel my magic anymore.”

  Malachi hummed, uninterested, and began to walk out of the door.

  “Wait! Please! Will it wear off? Please!”

  The witch walked towards the car, grimoire in hand, leaving Drew and Mason in the room. Reggie turned on them, desperation in his eyes.

  “Please, you have to get him to reverse this. Drew, I’m sorry, please, please,” he begged.

  Drew regarded him as he was, this monster from his childhood who was about to go down on his knees before them.

  “That didn’t work when I—” Drew started.

  “No, Drew. Don’t hurt yourself because of him anymore,” Mason cut in. “He doesn’t deserve any of your words.”

  They walked out of the house hand in hand, Reggie’s cries fading behind them.

  Back inside the car Mason got them out of there quickly, driving back the way they had come feeling completely surreal. They had done it. They had got the book. But it didn’t feel like any sort of victory.

  “Will it wear off?” Drew asked into the silence.

  Mason glanced back and saw Malachi shake his head as he removed the ring from his finger and placed it into an intricate looking ring box. The whole thing glowed a brilliant white after he closed the lid, the seam vanishing and leaving no visible way to get into it. The witch pocketed it again, like he wasn’t holding an incredibly powerful item.

  “The penalty is high for those who use magic to do harm to others. These books were locked away for a reason,” Mal said, resting his hand on the grimoire under its silk cloth.

  Drew shuddered, looking away from it.

  “And we’re just leaving him here?” Mason asked, ready to pull a U-turn. “Surely you have to turn him in to some kind of higher witch council or… something!”

  “He is marked. Wherever he goes within the magical community, they will know what he has done. No one will shelter him now.”

  “So, he’s exiled with no magic?”

  “It was the punishment decided upon. We thought it fitting for his transgressions.”

  "Who's we?" Drew asked.

  "I know I may seem that way, but I'm not actually a renegade. I did report this case to the Coven as soon as it was brought to my attention. This was the punishment we settled on," Mal said.

  No one said anything to counter it.

  The motel they stopped at on the way back was smaller than the first, but similar enough that Mason was able to check them in and navigate it easily with no missteps. Drew had been silent the whole journey back, distracted and distant as he stared absently out the window. He hadn’t eaten when they stopped, and the only time he left the car was to use the bathroom.

  Mason had no idea what to do.

  He got them inside another joint room and sat next to Drew on the bed, breathing in the musty smell of the old carpet masked with lemon cleaning products.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. He felt like that’s all he could ask him lately; it was the only thing on his mind.

  “About Reggie?” his voice was croaky with disuse. He nodded and looked down at his hands, flexing them aimlessly. “I didn’t need him to tell me why. I knew why. I didn’t need closure or an apology from him either.”

  He paused to gather his thoughts, what words he could, and Mason waited patiently as a solid presence at his side.

  “The person I needed that from died a long time ago,” he finally said, looking at him. “I have to come to terms with that. It’s just hard when I can’t… when I can’t…” He cupped his throat with a grimace.

  “In his own twisted, fucked up way, Troy was trying to help you… he thought he was doing something that would help everyone,” Mason said for him. “Which makes it worse… because Pete and Reggie were just assholes who wanted to fuck around with a grimoire… Troy was your brother, and he lost himself in obsession and ambition and forgot about you… but he was still your brother.”

  Drew stared at him with those great big soulful eyes, a sheen of wetness over them, but no tears falling yet. “I thought you saw the future, not read minds,” he whispered, dropping his gaze in shame.

  Mason cupped his face and pressed his forehead against his. “I hear you. You don’t have to say it. I hear you, and you don’t have to feel ashamed about thinking that way.”

  Drew framed his waist with his hands and nodded against him.

  “You think it’s stupid to feel like that though.”

  “I hate him for what he did to you Drew, I don’t think I could ever forgive him. But he wasn’t my brother,” he said simply. It was all he could offer him.

  They settled in, and Mason prepared for another night with no sleep as he held Drew close, wishing Mal found a way quickly to make it all better for him.

  “It’s been three days,” Drew said, sitting across the table from Mason. They were having breakfast at The Bakery while
Mason was on his break, and Sage had joined them at the table eventually, making use of a lull in business.

  Occasionally he’d flick his fingers towards the kitchen, prompting some fairly loud clattering sounds.

  “It’s the dishes,” he explained the first time it happened, when it made both Mason and Drew jump a foot in the air.

  He was nursing a cup of hot chocolate now as the two of them ate. “Is he really giving you the silent treatment?”

  “He keeps ignoring my texts which makes things even worse,” he said, and Mason squeezed his knee under the table reassuringly. His touches were getting harder and harder to handle when he wasn’t allowed to acknowledge them in public. It was excruciating, and the radio silence from Mal was just adding fuel to the fire.

  “I’m sure he’ll call soon,” Mason said, and Drew threw his hands in the air.

  “I wish he’d hurry up!” he snapped, managing to stop himself before he started yelling in the quiet bakery.

  “And I’d prefer him making sure he did it without hurting you this time,” Mason snapped back and okay… Drew might have been a bit on edge since they came back. Even he could admit to that.

  He ran a tired hand over his face and squeezed his eyes shut behind his palm to center himself again.

  “Sorry…”

  “You don’t have to apologize, but please consider how much damage he could do to you if he tried to lift the spell with zero preparation. Remember what happened last time, and the only thing he did was try and see what was done to you,” Mason pleaded with him, and Drew knew he was right. It was just hard to know something you wanted your whole life was so close to you, but yet just out of reach, and there was nothing you could do about it.

  The anxiety he felt over the whole situation was making his blackouts more frequent, and he didn’t want that. A few times a year, he could deal with. Several times over the past few days, that was too much. And it’d happened in front of Mason.

  He was already looking like a basket case to the other man. Throw in random blackouts, and he was starting to think Mason was now only in the whole thing out of pity. Okay… he didn’t really think that. Mason was better than that. But it wasn’t great, and he hated the whole thing.