by DAVID B. COE
“You are resourceful,” he said. I remembered the accent from before. Did it even matter anymore that he was French? “I thought you would die from that spell I placed on your house.” He glanced from side to side, clearly surprised that the walls around us still stood. “Tu as fait bien. You have done well.”
I closed my eyes.
My weapon, my shoulder holster, my hand.
Nothing happened.
He laughed again, and I shuddered.
“I do not think it will help you to have that . . . that gun.” It sounded strange when he said it. “But I do not think I want you to have it anyway.” He canted his head to the side. “I do not believe it is where you thought it was. I sense nothing there.”
Of course not. I’d given it to Kona. Like I always did.
“The phasing,” I said. “It . . . you’re not affected?”
“No.”
I should have known this. I remembered someone saying that the moons didn’t touch him. Who’d told me that? And then it hit me.
“That’s what you were doing!” I whispered, amazed at the clarity of my thought. “That’s why you killed those kids! You were . . . doing something to make yourself immune to the phasings.”
Laughter filled the room, as if blown in on a cold wind.
“You are limited. Almost as much as those with nothing. It is a waste that you should have any power at all.” He cocked his head to the side once more. “And yet, you have tracked me and managed to come closer than others. Tu as un peu de talent, eh?”
Apparently he thought I had talent. A little, anyway.
“Why did you kill them then? If it wasn’t for the phasings, why did you do it? You always kill them on the quarter moon, and you use magic. There’s got to be something that you get from them, something that makes you more powerful than you were when you began.”
He stared down at me, nodding, his lips pursed now. For an odd moment, his expression reminded me of Kona. “Yes, you are not without some cleverness. A shame then that you have to die.”
“Cahors.”
Red raised his eyes. I turned, knowing that voice.
Namid stood near my window, his waters as roiled as I’d ever seen them. He was the color of lead, his surface rough as from an unseen wind, like he was covered with scales. His eyes shone as white and hard as the full moon.
“Namid’skemu,” Red said, his voice as soft as a kiss, the name rolling off his tongue as liquid and graceful as Namid himself. I wished that I could speak the runemyste’s name like that one time. “You should not be here, mon ami.”
Namid rumbled, the sound like breakers rolling over a rocky shoreline. “I should not?” he said. “What of you?”
“I am beyond your control now. I am free to do as I please.”
“Not here,” Namid said. “Not tonight.”
Red’s smile turned brittle. “You have already interfered once. They will not let you do so again.” He shook his head, and even this he did with grace. “No, you cannot stop me. And to prove it, I will kill your little friend while you watch.”
I wanted Namid to tell him he was wrong, to laugh at his surety, as Cahors had laughed at me. But instead the runemyste looked down at me, sadness in his glowing eyes.
Cahors stared at me as well, and I felt like a rabbit under the gaze of an eagle. Only more helpless.
I knew better than to think that I could attack him directly. If the moon couldn’t touch him, how could I? But I also knew that with the phasing underway, I was stronger than usual. And now that Red had pulled me out of my hallucination, my thoughts were clear enough to conjure. I hoped.
Defend yourself! I heard once more in my head. And the remembered sound of Namid’s warning triggered another memory.
Three elements: my magic, a book on the shelf by my bed, Red’s head.
The book flew across the room, smacking the myste hard in the back of his head. He spun, as if expecting to see someone behind him.
Before I could cast again, I heard Namid’s voice in my mind—for real this time, not a memory.
Ohanko! I can ward your house.
It was all I needed to hear.
Again three elements: Cahors, my bedroom, my lawn. It was the most powerful spell I had ever attempted, but the phasing made it possible, as long as I didn’t foul it up.
I didn’t. One moment Red loomed over me, eyes blazing in anger, and the next he was gone.
Namid raised his hands, and a clear shimmering shield appeared on the walls of my bedroom.
I clamored to my feet and hurried to the window. Cahors stood outside the house, rage contorting his features.
“You cannot interfere!” he howled. “You challenge me at your own peril, Namid’skemu!”
“My peril?” the runemyste said, keeping his voice low, the way he would have if Cahors had still been in the room. “You are strong, and more than you used to be. But you are no threat to me.”
Somehow Red heard him. “You are forbidden to interfere! I know you are!”
“I have done nothing to you,” Namid said. “I have merely warded this house.”
“That is still interference!”
“Not anymore. The rules have changed. Thanks to you, we had no choice. Surely you did not think that we would stand aside and let you do this.”
Red’s eyes appeared to burn white hot. “After all you did to me,” he said, his voice so low I could barely hear him.
“We did nothing that you did not force us to do.”
The man raged in silence, and my face seemed to be scalded by the heat of his glare. I knew that if not for Namid’s wardings, his mere glance would have turned me to ash and razed my home to the ground.
I had struggled to keep up with their exchange, but even without the moon’s pull, I would have had trouble. How did Namid and Red—Cahors—know each other? Had Red trained with the runemyste, too? Had he once been like me?
“You cannot guard this one forever,” Cahors said at last, still staring at me from the lawn. “Your vigilance will slacken, and when it does, I will be ready.”
Namid said nothing. Cahors’ lips curled upward in a smile that made my stomach turn.
“You know I am right,” Red told him. “And you know that he cannot stand against me.”
“That has yet to be scryed,” Namid said. “As I said, you have changed the rules. Where you are concerned nothing is certain anymore.”
“This is, Namid’skemu. This is.” He spared me once last glance. “Farewell for now, little weremyste. We will meet again soon, you and I. And we shall see how you do sans ton ami, oui?” He laughed again. Then he turned and walked out into the street. An instant later, he vanished.
For several moments, I continued to stare out at where he’d been standing, fearing that he’d reappear, wondering if I’d imagined it after all. Already the moon was dulling my mind again. I felt as though I’d downed a bottle of wine.
“Ohanko.”
I turned to face Namid. His waters had softened, though the glow of his eyes remained as intense as it had been when he spoke to Red.
“You’re really here?” I asked, sinking to the floor. “This was real? It wasn’t just the phasing?”
“I am here. Cahors was as well, but he has gone. You did well. Very well. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m . . .” I took a breath. “I’m fine. Who is he, Namid?”
The runemyste shook his head. “Tomorrow. In the morning, when you can understand what I tell you. Now you should sleep.”
As soon as he said this, I realized that I was exhausted. I nodded. “Yes, all right.” I started to close my eyes, then jerked myself awake. “No!” I said. “I never sleep during the phasings. You know that. The dreams . . .” I shuddered.
“You will be all right tonight. I will remain here until you wake.”
“You will?” Even on this night, my mind drifting again, I knew how unusual an offer this was.
Namid lowered himself to the floor. To the gro
und. Sun reflected off his waters. He appeared calmer now, more at peace. “I can guard your sleep, keep the moon from intruding too much, as I am doing now. You will sleep.”
“Why would you do this?”
Again he shook his head. “Tomorrow. Sleep now.”
The sun shone overhead, and bees buzzed in the clover and cinquefoil. I lay down where I was, my head cushioned in fresh grass, and I slept.
CHAPTER 21
Another reason I didn’t like to sleep during the phasings: waking up during the full of the moon was a bit like waking up after a night of heavy drinking. I wasn’t sick to my stomach, but my head felt thick and dull, and my muscles were stiff. I’d left the light on all night, and my face felt weird where it had been pressed into the bedroom carpet. If I was going to sleep, why the hell hadn’t I climbed into bed?
I sat up, rubbed a hand through my tangled hair. Namid sat cross-legged on the floor a few feet away. His face and body like glass, his eyes bright.
“Ohanko. You slept well?”
“What are you—?” Memories of the night before flashed through my mind, vivid and terrifying. “Crap,” I whispered. “It was real, wasn’t it? He was here, in my house.”
“Yes. It was real.”
“And you know him,” I said. It came out as an accusation.
“Yes.”
“Yesterday, when I told you that the guy was French, and I repeated the name I’d heard Shari Bettancourt use, you knew right away, didn’t you? You disappeared pretty quickly to check it out, but you already knew.”
“I did not know for certain, but yes, I had some idea that it was the man you saw here last night.”
I said nothing, but stared back at him, waiting.
“His name is Etienne de Cahors. He was a druid in Gaul during what you would call the early dark ages. At one time he was a member of my council, but over the centuries he grew resistive. Eventually he began to challenge our adherence to the Runeclave’s directives. He was particularly dissatisfied with his inability to use magic directly on your world.”
“You mean he’s a runemyste?” I asked.
“He was.”
“Tell me there’s some good news in this, Namid.”
“There is not. Somehow he has managed to master the magic that first created him. He has assumed corporeal form and is now free to roam your world. But he retains something of what he used to be. That is why I have been able to keep him out of your home. He . . . well, you would say that he changed the rules.”
I remembered Namid saying something similar to Cahors the night before.
“And you guys allowed this to happen?” It was the first thing that came to mind, and I knew as soon as I said it that it wasn’t fair, not when one considered all the stupid things we humans had managed to do to the world on our own. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“You should not apologize. The Council has asked the same question of itself, and the answer is simple: yes, we allowed this to happen. He has made his displeasure known for a long time. We should have been vigilant and we were not.”
“We allowed it, too,” I said. “That’s what he was doing when he was killing those kids. He was gathering power from them somehow, and using it to break free of what he was. If we’d caught him sooner, we might have stopped him.”
“Maybe. Or he might have killed you.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, my mind still struggling to keep up with all he’d told me. “He’s one of you? How come I’m still alive? He should have been able to kill me with a thought. You could, right?”
“As always, Ohanko, you simplify things too much, and you make them too complicated as well. You are most difficult. Yes, my kind are powerful, which is why we place limits on ourselves, limits Cahors has rejected. But you have powers of your own. Your wardings, while still crude and weak, can offer you some protection.”
“Is this supposed to reassure me?”
“It is supposed to inform you. Cahors has become something other than a runemyste. We do not know what exactly. But in winning his freedom from the limitations placed on our powers he has weakened himself. Not a great deal, and not forever, but enough it seems to have saved your life a few nights ago. And perhaps again last night.”
I nodded, considering this. “All right,” I said at last. “Then what do I do?”
“I am not sure that you can do anything,” he said, sounding surprised by the question.
“Then what are you going to do?”
“He is part of your world now—”
“So you’re not allowed to kill him. You weren’t even allowed to ward my house, were you? The rules haven’t really changed. You were just telling him that.”
“Attacking you in the moon-time is . . . not fair,” he said, an admission of sorts. “I could not allow that.”
“Not fair,” I repeated, chuckling to myself. “And Kona called me a piece of work.”
We both fell silent. I tried to kick my brain into gear. Despite Namid’s doubts, I knew that we had to stop Cahors, and we had to do it soon. Last night, facing Namid, he’d run up against the limits of his power, and he wouldn’t be happy about that at all. He was going to kill again in two weeks, when the moon reached its first quarter, and he’d be coming after me before then. I knew too much about him now; he couldn’t have me around alerting other weremystes to the danger.
“He’s still more like you than he is like me,” I said, the thought coming to me with unexpected clarity.
“What do you mean?”
“The phasing didn’t bother him at all, just as it doesn’t bother you.”
Namid regarded me with interest. “True.”
“Which means that, comparatively speaking, I’m more of a match for him now than I will be at any other time. That’s why my spell worked last night. The phasings are hard on me, but they also make me stronger.”
“Even with that, you are not ready to face him. In time, yes. But not yet.”
“Then tell me who is. Because we have to do something. I’ve been watching kids die for three years now, and there hasn’t been a damn thing I could do about it. Now I know who’s responsible and I’m not going to let him kill again!”
I got up and walked out into the living room. I faltered at the sight of it, having forgotten about Red’s magical bomb. But I recovered quickly, went to my jacket and shoulder holster, which were draped over a kitchen chair. I halted at the sight of the empty holster; I’d have to get my Glock from Kona. That was going to be a fun conversation.
When I turned, I saw that Namid had followed me.
“Your weapon—” he began.
“. . . Probably won’t kill him,” I said. “I know. But the other day I took a shot at him and he deflected the bullet.”
“And next time you shoot at him he will do the same. It is not difficult magic.”
“Would you do it?” I asked.
He hesitated. I couldn’t help but smile. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d outthought the runemyste. Okay, I could count them on one finger.
“You wouldn’t have to, would you?” I said. “If I shot at you the bullet would pass right through you; we both know it would. But as you said, he’s taken corporeal form. He might not be scared of my weapon, but he can’t ignore it, either. Not anymore.”
“Most interesting, Ohanko. I had not thought of this.”
“If I manage to shoot him, he’ll be able to heal himself, right?”
“I would expect so.”
“But he’ll have to focus his magic on doing that. How many spells can he maintain at once?”
“I do not know,” Namid said. “Several, I would think. Perhaps more.”
I frowned. Several. One to heal himself, one to ward himself from whatever assailing spell I managed to throw at him, and one to kill me. Not the answer I’d been hoping to hear.
“Then how do I beat him?” I asked.
“I am not certain you can. That is what I have been trying to tell you.”
“There’s got to be some way, Namid. The guy isn’t invincible.”
“No, he is not.”
“How would you defeat him?”
“I would take hold of his magic to keep him from assailing me, and then I would reach into his mind and crush his will.”
I shuddered. I’d known for a long time that Namid possessed powers I could barely understand. But in that moment, for the first time, it occurred to me to imagine what it might be like to have the runemyste as an enemy rather than as a teacher and guardian.
“I’m not sure I can do any of that,” I said, my tone dry.
Namid smiled. “I would be surprised if you could.”
“Where can I find him?”
The runemyste shook his head. “You should not try.”
“Where, Namid?”
“I do not believe I should help you in this endeavor.”
I stared at him, thinking it through. “You won’t have to,” I said after a few moments. “He’ll find me. As soon as I’m exposed, he’ll make the attempt. Normally he’d wait until nightfall, for the phasing to start again, but he knows that you’ll protect me then.”
“I can protect you now, as well.”
“So you’re going to follow me around all day?” I demanded.
“I have no interest in spending every moment with you, but I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself to Cahors. It is a senseless act, a waste of your life.”
“How do you know I can’t beat him?” I asked. “How do you know I’m not supposed to?”
“I have touched his magic. And I have trained you. I believe I know the extent of his power and yours.”
“All right, then tell me this: why does he want to kill me?”
“You are a threat to him.”
I opened my hands, as if to say, “See?”
He scowled at me.
“Don’t blame me,” I said. “Your words, not mine. I’m a threat to him. He wants me dead because I know who and what he is, because I have you as my friend, and because I’m a weremyste with a weapon. I can defeat him. But I need you to tell me how to do it.”
