Blindspot (Daydream, Colorado Book 1)

by A. M. Rose

  “It can’t be more damage than…” he whispered, careful of what he said, but Mason knew what he wanted to say.

  “That’s the thing, Drew. Mal is stronger than Troy and his backup dancers combined. One wrong move from him…” He shuddered and took a deep breath. “It’s better to let him make sure how best to help you. Okay?”

  “Yeah… okay…” he agreed and Mason nodded.

  “Okay… how about we do something fun to take your mind off things?” he offered, and Drew shrugged.

  “Um… sure…” He didn’t really think there was anything he’d consider to be fun at a time like this.

  “We could do a cookout here once we close. Ben will be back from work, we can all do something and then just hang out. Have some good food? Take your mind off things,” Sage suggested.

  Drew was pretty much sold on the kind baker since the moment he met him, but the more he saw, the more he liked him. There was no pretense with Sage. He was just friendly, and open, and caring, and Ben was his perfect match in every way.

  “Yeah… ah… that would be cool…” He looked to Mason for confirmation to see if this was inching too close to the line he’d drawn in the sand.

  “I’m in too. I’m making salad,” he declared, raising his hand in the air.

  “Tossing a premade salad from a plastic bag into a plastic bowl is hardly considered making anything,” Sage scoffed, and Mason mimicked his voice mockingly.

  “Drew, you need to like the salad the best tonight. Got it?” he told him, causing Drew to smile. All negative emotion flew right out the window when Mason looked at him like that.

  “Got it,” he said diligently, and Mason gave him the dorkiest thumbs up he had ever seen. It smashed Drew right in the chest just how absolutely magical Mason was. Loyal, kind, frightening when he wanted to be, but infinitely gentle, and Drew loved him. Fuck, he loved him!

  The thought was always at the back of his mind, but… there was so much going on that he couldn’t let it become his sole focus. His condition, Mason’s reluctance to let him back in, their mission to find answers about the spell used on him… all of it served as a buffer between Drew and his heart’s desire.

  But he couldn’t really avoid thinking about it now.

  Each tick of the clock brought them closer to the moment Drew would have no reason to stay in Daydream. He had a life out there, and he’d come here, convinced he was going to go back as soon as he could.

  But now, looking at Mason, being able to get just a taste of what it would feel like to truly be his… it made the outside world pale in comparison. Would there be a life he was happy with without Mason in it? He honestly didn’t think there would be.

  “Hey…” he heard Mason’s voice, and it snapped him back to reality. A reality where Mason was just out of reach, and it was up to Drew to cross the distance. He had to prove to Mason that if he’d have him, he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

  “Hi…” he said with a smile and Mason tilted his head.

  “All good?” he asked and Drew nodded.

  “Yeah… Yeah, I’m okay…” Drew said. He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, and he pulled it out.

  Malachi: It’s ready.

  A simple text that made his stomach turn both from excitement and fear.

  “It’s Mal,” he whispered, and both Mason and Sage turned to look at him.

  “What did he say?”

  “Just that it’s ready.” He gave the phone to Mason, and they both leaned in to read the text that offered very little information.

  “Would it kill him to say everything at the same time?” Sage asked and Mason huffed.

  “I feel he thinks any form of normal human interaction would kill him,” Mason huffed, typing away on Drew’s phone. “I asked.”

  Drew sat frozen as they waited for further information, Mason and Sage keeping up conversation between themselves.

  “I don’t know how Hawthorne deals with him,” Sage said.

  “No one understands that relationship… no one even knows if it is a relationship,” Mason corrected himself.

  “The last I heard they were soul bonded under the waning moon,” Sage whispered. “Last week they were spiritually connected in another life, and it carried over into this one.”

  “You listen to too much gossip, Sage,” Mason chided him with a roll of his eyes.

  “One of them has to be true!”

  “We’ll probably never know.”

  The phone chimed again, and Drew reached for it with shaky fingers.

  Malachi: Darian’s Farm. Six P.M.

  It seemed only fitting that they were back in Darian’s family room, the furniture pushed aside again, plants vacated. There was no intricate design drawn on the floor this time, no pewter bowls or crystals… just Malachi Tarrenward, standing in the center of a chalk circle with the covered grimoire in his hands, the setting sun backlighting his figure.

  Drew couldn’t feel that suffocating presence from it while it was under the spelled cloth, but he still shied away from the very sight of it, keeping near to the wall instead of entering fully.

  “We’re here so often we should start paying you rent,” Mason said to Darian as he followed him further in.

  The older man laughed. “You’re welcome to stop by any time you like, no money required. It would be nice to see you both without dark magic dragging you here.”

  If I’m still around… Drew thought, but didn’t voice. He met Mason’s eyes, and he could see a similar thought going through his own head.

  Mason turned away first and nodded to the other occupant in the room. “Malachi. You look like you haven’t slept.”

  “Other things required my attention,” the witch answered airily, fixing his gaze on Drew. “Are you prepared?”

  “I don’t know what I should be prepared for exactly, but if you’re asking if I’m prepared to finally be done with this, the answer is yes,” Drew said frankly.

  “Which brings me to my first point. There are some things we should discuss before we start,” Malachi said seriously.

  “About the process?” Drew asked.

  “About the potential aftereffects.”

  Aftereffects. What aftereffects could possibly be worse than the blackouts he already experienced?

  Drew met the witch’s eyes and suddenly knew what he was saying somehow, without words.

  “What do you mean?” Mason said. “Is he going to pass out afterwards? I can take him back to my place again…”

  Malachi shook his head.

  “You think my symptoms won’t go away,” Drew said numbly.

  “But… but you’re removing the spell!” Mason exclaimed, starting forwards.

  “I am. And he’ll be able to speak once it’s gone. The damage already done, however… We can’t be sure until the spell is gone, but looking at the amalgamation of magic your brother and his friends used over the last few days...” He shook his head again. “I’m honestly surprised the repercussions aren’t more severe than what you currently experience.”

  “More severe than blacking out? Then almost collapsing, unable to breathe simply for talking?” Mason scoffed.

  “Now you see, there’s the difference,” Malachi stated, pointing a finger. “The blackouts aren’t a part of the spell, they’re a symptom of it, yes? The spell is causing the lack of speech, of course; it was a powerful silencing spell they used, but simple, it doesn’t cause the recipient harm to be put under it. Now, they were scared of Drew finding another way to communicate their actions, so they melded this spell with something much more sinister. This is the part of the spell that is really causing the harm… it’s reactive. As close to alive as a spell can make something.”

  “The spell is alive?!” Drew asked in horror.

  “Not quite, but it’s the easiest way to explain it. Spells like this have been locked away from common use for a long time now. On the surface they can be harmless. The signposts around town for example, you ask them the quest
ion, and they point you the right way. That magic hasn’t been altered since it was first cast, and yet, even with every new road or building, they still know where to point you…”

  “And this is what they cast on him?” Mason asked, disgusted and shocked.

  Malachi nodded. “They were young, stupid, but apparently self-aware… or lazy. They didn’t want to plan for every eventuality, so they found a spell that would adapt and do it for them. It’s why it recognized myself and Darian the second time we tried to interfere with it.”

  Drew felt sick. God, he was going to be sick.

  He stumbled for the door but was caught by Darian’s large hands, soothing energy moving through him and quieting his stomach.

  “Easy,” Darian guided him.

  He felt Mason’s small hand slip into his, thumb rubbing over his knuckles. He turned his weary gaze towards him and saw concerned eyes staring back at him before they moved back towards Malachi.

  “There has to be something you can do to reverse the effects,” the smaller man said, glancing down at the grimoire. “Isn’t there something in there?”

  “There’s no way to know for sure until after it’s removed,” Mal said simply. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Drew murmured.

  “We can do this another day if you’d like?” he suggested. “I realize I should have told you this before now so you were prepared. Thorne advised me to, several times, but I’m not even sure if my theory is correct…”

  “The anxiety could be worse than the shock,” Darian concluded with a nod.

  “I still want to do it,” Drew said after another shaky inhale, skin still crawling with the idea that this spell had been living in him, tormenting him, all this time. He wanted it gone. What came after… Darian was right, the anxiety of thinking about it was more than he could handle. He’d had enough of uncertainties, now was the time to get answers.

  He stepped towards the edge of the circle. Like last time, Mason kept a hold of his hand, but this time, he didn’t let go. Drew looked over his shoulder at him and saw his brow was pinched in worry.

  “It’s okay,” he lied.

  “You’re shaking,” Mason told him.

  Drew looked down to their joined hands. He was indeed trembling. He was terrified of yet more magic being used on him, the idea of seeing that book again made him want to run from the room… but he needed to do this.

  “I’m kind of terrified… but I need this to be over,” he said.

  Mason seemed to be fighting with his own words for a second before he gave up and instead wrapped a hand around Drew’s neck, yanking him down into a kiss. Drew fell into it like he always did. Surprised or not, his body reacted to Mason without conscious permission. When his brain caught up, he wrapped hands around Mason’s waist and yanked him closer, using him as his grounding point.

  Mason detached their lips after an ephemeral moment where everything had faded into the background, but stayed close, his hand squeezing his nape. “I’ll be right here,” he whispered.

  Drew swallowed and nodded against him, unable to express how safe those words made him feel.

  Mason finally let him go, and Drew steeled himself before he stepped away from his safe haven and into the circle. Like last time, Malachi’s power was concentrated in here tenfold, but Drew didn’t feel as wary of it as he had before. Instead, all his attention and fear were fixed on the book in Malachi’s hands.

  Malachi noticed. “This is not a simple reversal spell, the magic used is too complicated. I have to remove the spell from you by reaching inside with my own magic… with the help of the grimoire.”

  “You’re using it on me,” Drew asked, heart jackrabbiting, memories sweeping in to steal his nerve. He stepped back unconsciously.

  “There’s no other way to remove the spell. I’m sorry. As Head Witch, I at least know how to use the grimoires, unlike your brother and his friends…”

  Drew couldn’t say anything as his eyes darted around, trying to focus, trying to breath calmly.

  “…I can’t promise you this won’t hurt, however,” Mal said next. “The spell has reacted more and more volatile every time I’ve attempted to interact with it. My hope is that the grimoires presence will help ease the way or at least mask enough of my magical signature… but I can’t guarantee it.”

  Drew closed his eyes, trying to rationalize. Just once more, one more time and then never again. He was still shaking. Face pale. Hands clammy.

  “As for you two…” Mal said, directing it over Drew’s shoulder. “Once this begins you cannot enter the circle, no matter what happens. It will endanger both Drew and me, let alone your own safety.”

  “But what if something goes wrong?” Mason demanded.

  “If I feel I cannot accomplish what we set out to do, I’ll pull back and break the circle myself,” Mal stated confidently before switching his gaze. “Darian… we’ve discussed what comes after.”

  The larger man nodded seriously.

  “What comes after?” Drew asked shakily.

  Mal hesitated before saying, “I imagine this is going to take a lot out of you and me.”

  It was the first time Drew had even considered the repercussions this might have on the witch. Malachi seemed so otherworldly and above normal human failings sometimes that he didn’t even think what he was giving up to do this.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Mal said, as if plucking the thoughts straight from his head. “Concerned looks give me heartburn.”

  “Malachi—”

  “This is my purpose in life. I chose it freely,” Mal said, waving him away again. “Now… are you ready to begin?”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked anxiously, arms hugging around his midsection.

  Troy would never tell him. He would only catch him muttering this and that to himself and then the rage afterwards whilst he was curled on the floor, hurt and shaking, when it didn’t have the desired result.

  “The spell has adapted to you as you’ve grown… the pain started in your head first, yes? But then it grew and spread, like a weed. I aim to draw it out by the roots. But first I need to locate every part of it, nothing can be left behind or, like a weed, it’ll grow back.”

  Drew shuddered. “Rip it out, I don’t care what it takes”

  Mal nodded solemnly.

  “Rip it out without hurting him,” Mason warned, despite Mal already saying he couldn’t guarantee anything. Drew gave him a wane smile over his shoulder, realizing that the smaller man looked beyond stressed. In fact, he looked a second away from breaking the circle already.

  “Do I need to picture anything again?” Drew asked Mal.

  “Only if it helps you,” the witch said.

  Drew didn’t want to experience that again, his safe space crumbling and dying around him. He would have to face this head on. He took a deep breath. “Okay…. I’m… I’m ready…”

  Mal pulled the cloth from the book slowly, and Drew closed his eyes on instinct. He didn’t want to see that book again. Ever. With his eyes closed, his other senses heightened however, and he could feel it so much more. That cold, creeping power that licked over his skin and the thing inside him that greeted it like an old friend.

  He was sure the whimper he made was like that of a dying animal, but he couldn’t stop the sound escaping.

  Malachi began to speak, words of power that Drew would never understand, ones that sounded dusty with age and heavy as stone as they settled on top of him. He felt like Atlas all of a sudden, knees threatening to buckle under the strain, and then he felt a hand placed against his forehead and he gasped.

  Malachi’s hand was burning.

  He jerked away but couldn’t escape the touch, the molten palm with iron brand fingers seemed to have melted into his own skin, joining them irrevocably. He felt the push of magic and rejected it forcefully.

  “Let me in, Drew,” Malachi instructed.

  That cold, snaking feeling of the grimoire was
pouring over his skin, sticking like tar and forcing too many memories upon him that he wasn’t ready to relive. And just when he thought that he truly couldn’t handle this, there was an undercurrent from the witch that peeked through, washing away that feeling. It was powerful yes, but it was clean and sturdy.

  He let him in.

  The feeling of the other’s magic mingled with that familiar feeling from the grimoire was alien and uncomfortable. He felt it move around inside him, searching for a time where nothing happened. Drew opened his eyes to see Malachi’s face drawn in concentration, eyes clouded over in amber again and staring through him.

  There was no reaction from the spell, no tripwire that went off inside him immediately… until Malachi found the place and everything changed.

  As soon as Malachi got a grip around it, the spell reacted, no longer fooled by the presence of the grimoire. The witch cursed, sweat beading along his hair line before he muttered, “This may hurt,” and pulled.

  Drew cried out, white hot pain exploding inside his skull and blanking out his vision momentarily.

  It felt like Malachi was yanking something out of him physically. It wriggled and writhed, trying to avoid his hands, squeezing tighter to the places where it had crept in to make a home inside Drew.

  “Get it out!” Drew screamed with the last of his breath, before it was choked from him, the effects of the spell doing its best to keep its hold on him.

  Mal yanked again with that unseen force, unrelenting, and Drew cried out in pain. He felt a part of the spell detach and come free, the rest of it snaking down and settling around his lungs, its favorite part of him, wrapping them up like a boa constrictor.

  He fell to his knees, clutching his chest, and Malachi moved with him, hand still pressed to his skin, burning and bright, eyes clouded in amber and tight with tension as he fought the spell. And a fight it was, Drew’s lungs were just the battlefield.

  Drew desperately tried to get air into them, but they wouldn’t move, couldn’t, and he knew his face and lips were probably turning blue the longer it went on. Drew was no longer struggling, couldn’t find the energy to as his limbs fell limp.