Shadow's Blade, page 24
In my mind, I shook my head. As Namid would say, that has yet to be scried. And this seems as good a time as any to tell you that I know the real reason you’re after them. I know what you’re looking for, and you’re not going to find it. Neither will Fitzwater. I’m going to get that blade before you do, Saorla, and I’m going to give it to Namid. He’ll know how to destroy it.
This last was a bluff. Namid had already told me that it couldn’t be destroyed. But she didn’t need to know that, and I didn’t give her a chance to say more. Frankly, I was sick to death of listening to her. I didn’t want to use blood for another spell. I hadn’t forgotten Namid’s warning—Weremystes who use blood for spells soon find themselves relying on blood—or his remark from the previous night about how I smelled of dark magic. I even entertained the idea of using the magic Gracie and I had discussed, of trying to draw upon some other source of power. But I didn’t know how, and I wasn’t sure this was the best time to experiment. I knew only that I had to end the pain and get her away from me, from us.
I bit down hard on my tongue, tasting blood. And with my last bit of strength, I cast a warding unlike any I had tried before. This was no simple shield spell. I pictured a steel wall around my mind, and I imagined it charged with power, like an electric fence. My brain, the barrier, the power coursing through it.
As soon as I released the magic, Saorla cried out, sharp, high-pitched, and abruptly cut off.
I exhaled, only realizing then that it had been some time since I last drew a breath. The pain was gone, though the memory of it was enough to make me keep my head perfectly still.
The car was moving. Good. Billie hadn’t stopped.
“Are you all right?” she asked. It was a measure of how much we’d been through together that the words came out even and low. She hadn’t panicked. She rarely did.
“I think so.” My words, on the other hand, sounded raspy and weak, as if they had been spoken by the world’s oldest weremyste.
“What happened?” Gracie.
“Saorla wasn’t amused by my spell. I think she intended to kill me.”
“So why aren’t you dead?”
I shrugged, winced at the pain that lanced through the top of my skull. “I managed a warding that drove her away.”
“I’m sorry, Jay,” Emmy said in a choked voice.
I opened my eyes and found her gaze with my own. My vision swam and even that tiny bit of movement brought agony, but I didn’t care. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Emmy.”
Tears streaked her face. “I didn’t know she’d hurt you.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
“I shouldn’t have . . . I’m sorry.”
“It’s—”
Gracie cut me off with a raised hand. “You shouldn’t have what?” She asked, sitting forward so she could look her daughter in the eye. “What did you do, Emmy?”
Emmy wiped her face, but more tears fell. “She seemed so nice. I didn’t think she could hurt someone like she hurt Jay. Really I didn’t.”
“What did you do?” Gracie asked again, biting off the words.
“She spoke to me. Not with her mouth. I heard her voice in my head. And she could hear me, too. She asked about Daddy, and where we lived. She wanted to know where we had been and where we were going next.”
“And you told her.”
“I thought it would be all right. She had a nice smile and she . . . she said nice things to me.”
“What else did she ask? What did you tell her?”
“That was all. Where we lived, and where we’d been. I think she wanted to ask me more. We were still talking when Jay made her fly away.”
Gracie exhaled, concern in her dark eyes.
“I’d rather she didn’t know where we’d been,” I said. “She might be able to learn more about your . . .” I faltered knowing that Emmy was weighing every word. “About your magic by visiting the motel. But they already knew we were at Organ Pipe. All things considered, it could have been worse.”
Gracie nodded and turned back to Emmy. “You have to be more careful, Emmy. You saw that I didn’t trust her, that Jay didn’t trust her. You heard the things she said. You need to have faith in us. You have to recognize that we know what’s best for you and Zach. Saorla might have seemed nice, but obviously we thought she was dangerous. You should have respected that.”
Emmy nodded, tears still spilling from her dark eyes.
Gracie took a deep breath, then gathered Emmy in her arms and let her cry.
“So where are we going?” Billie asked some time later, breaking a long silence. Zach stared out the window, his thumb back in his mouth. Emmy had fallen asleep in Gracie’s arms.
“We’ll keep heading west,” I said. “Toward Painted Rock State Park. There’s some open desert there, and that’s what we need right now.”
“All right. Then I should probably get on I-8.”
“No!” Gracie and I said at the same time.
Billie raised an eyebrow. “O-kay,” she said, drawing out the word. “Care to explain that?”
“We think Saorla and her friends are watching the interstates. Magically. We’ve been doing everything we can to avoid them.”
“Then I’m going to need directions.”
“Right. Are there maps in the car?”
She glanced my way and shook her head in disapproval. “My phone’s in my bag. And it’s time you traded in your flip phone for something more suited to this century.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We stopped for food outside of Gila Bend and then followed backroads to Painted Rock Road. It was a slow drive, but we didn’t see Saorla or Fitzwater. Late in the afternoon, with the sun gilding the desert in shades of gold and orange, we reached the entrance to the state park. The quality of the road had deteriorated steadily, and it was now little more than a narrow strip of ancient asphalt, smooth enough, but desolate and empty.
“Keep going,” I said.
Billie’s brow creased. “But I thought—”
“I want open desert, and, if possible, no other people.”
A few miles past the park, that asphalt road gave way to dirt and gravel, cut across some irrigated farmland, and crossed the mostly-dry bed of the Gila River. Just beyond the river bed, we came to a rutted dirt track that descended into an arid, shallow valley.
I glanced back and saw no one behind us. “Turn here.”
Billie shot me a dirty look. “You’re buying me new struts.”
She drove us down the rutted road, keeping to about five miles per hour. I could hardly blame her; the road was bad, filled with huge potholes and washboard stretches. Even at that speed, we bounced and bucked like a supermarket kiddie ride.
After we had gone perhaps a mile and could no longer see the main road, I suggested that we stop and get out. The kids were a little green around the gills, and I didn’t want to pay for the struts and an upholstery cleaning.
“What are we even doing here?” Gracie asked, stretching her back and surveying the terrain, which was pretty desolate, even for an inveterate desert lover like me.
“Lying low for a while,” I said. A half-truth. I glanced at Billie across the top of the car. “Were you able to find all the stuff I asked you to bring?”
She nodded, though her expression soured. “One of your neighbors watched me like a hawk. I think she knew I didn’t belong there. And you know I don’t like having anything to do with guns.”
“Don’t worry about the neighbor. The glamour I cast shielded you from the people who can hurt us; the rest don’t matter. And I’m sorry about the pistol, but we need it out here.”
“Who for?” Billie asked. The unwitting straight man.
“You, of course.”
She blinked.
I walked to her side of the car, and put my arms around her waist. “You told me during the summer, after all that we went through then with Saorla, that it was time you learned to defend yourself. Do you remember?”
“Yes,” she said, speaking softly. “I didn’t think you did.”
“You were still recovering from the explosion, and more recently you’ve been contending with the PTSD. But I haven’t forgotten, and I think it’s long past time we got started.”
“But does it have to be a . . . a weapon?”
“It should be lots of things. If I could teach you spells, I would. I’m not qualified to teach you self-defense, though I’ll train with you whenever you want. But I can teach you to shoot. I’m good at that. And I have a feeling Gracie can help, too.”
She didn’t appear pleased, but she shrugged and said, “All right.”
“I’m hungry!” Zach said, to no one in particular. Apparently his queasiness from the ride had vanished.
Billie grinned. “I guess we should break out the snacks first.”
It soon became clear that Billie had taken to heart my instructions to raid my pantry. In addition to a half-eaten bag of chips, some pretzels, a jar of almonds, several bottles of juice, and a box of dry cereal, she had brought a loaf of bread, peanut butter, and my prized cache of chocolate-hazelnut spread.
While the kids feasted, Gracie kept her distance, her arms crossed, her gaze continually flicking in the direction of the main road.
“You hungry?” I called to her.
She shook her head. “Not really.” But she wandered back in our direction anyway, still checking the horizon periodically.
“I don’t think we were followed,” I said.
“That doesn’t mean they can’t find us.”
Billie approached her and held out a hand. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Billie Castle.”
“The blogger?” Gracie said, her eyes widening a little.
“That’s me.”
Gracie turned my way. “You didn’t tell me your girlfriend was a celebrity.”
“Wait,” I said to Billie, “you have a blog?”
She smirked.
“You’re famous?” Emmy asked, chewing on a bite of peanut butter and chocolate sandwich.
“Just a little bit.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Billie,” Gracie said. “I’m Gracie Davett. And you’ve met Emmy and Zach.”
“Yes.”
For a moment neither of them spoke and at last, lacking anything else to do, Billie took a pretzel from the open bag.
Gracie toed the dirt. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said back on the trail. I was scared and . . . I don’t know how the weres found us, but I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”
“Thanks.”
“You can ask Jay; I’m not the easiest person to get along with, and I get downright mean when I’m scared for my kids.”
“That’s understandable. I’m certain I’d be the same way.”
They lapsed into another silence, eyeing each other. I had the feeling they were never going to be best friends, but I also thought that they could work together if and when they had to.
“I’m going to teach Billie to shoot,” I said. I pointed north, toward a section of the riverbed. “We’ll go over there and obviously we’ll aim away from here. But keep the kids close, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I took the .380 and ammo from the trunk of Billie’s car and walked in the direction of that spot I’d pointed out. Billie walked with me.
“She’s nice,” Billie said, so that only I could hear.
“You think?”
She exhaled. “Not really, no. But from what you’ve told me, she’s been through a lot.” She peered up at the sky, which was deep blue and empty of clouds. “She doesn’t seem to like me very much.”
“It takes a while to get past her defenses.”
“Have you?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes it seems like I have. Other times, not so much.”
“She’s beautiful.”
I stopped, and Billie did, too.
“Something on your mind?” I asked.
She stared off to the side for a few seconds before meeting my gaze straight on. “She’s very beautiful. Are you going to tell me you didn’t notice?”
“No, I’m not going to tell you that. And I’ll even admit that things got a little awkward between us last night, after she took her were form and then shifted back. Apparently the change leaves her a little . . .”
“Randy?”
“Good word.”
“So what happened?”
“Absolutely nothing. And that’s how I wanted it. I promise.”
She blew out another breath. “Well, good.”
“You believe me?”
“Yes, I do. Really.” She kissed me. “Now, let’s go shoot something.”
I laughed.
We found what appeared to be a safe spot, and I began her first lesson. I named the various parts of the pistol and showed her how to thumb the safety on and off, put in a magazine, and chamber a round. I also taught her the basic commandments of firearm safety: always assume a weapon is loaded, keep the muzzle pointed in a safe direction, never put a finger on the trigger until ready to fire.
I could tell she was intimidated by the weapon, which I didn’t want. Respecting a firearm is one thing; being afraid of it is quite another.
But to my surprise, once we started shooting, she did really well, better than I did the first time I shot with my dad so many years ago. At first, she was jerking the weapon each time she pulled the trigger, and she missed the crude targets I set up low and right. But once we corrected that, it turned out she had a knack for shooting. She couldn’t have been more surprised.
I let her try the Glock, but she didn’t like it. Too powerful, too loud. She loved the Sig Sauer, but I wanted to keep that one with me as a backup. And she seemed comfortable enough with the .380.
As we walked back to where Gracie and the kids waited for us, she still held the weapon. The magazine was empty, and I’d had her check to make sure there was no round in the chamber. She kept looking down, as if continually surprised to see a firearm in her hand.
“I enjoyed this more than I wanted to,” she said.
“It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said, making it sound like an accusation. “I have a progressive blog to maintain, Fearsson. How am I supposed to rail against the NRA after this?”
“That’s easy. The guys who run the NRA are idiots. But that doesn’t make the owners of firearms idiots. And it doesn’t make all guns bad.”
“You mean weapons.”
I grinned. “Obi Wan has taught you well.”
“You two done making noise?” Gracie asked as we drew close to the car. The kids were playing some game that involved throwing rocks at the lobes of a prickly pear.
“Yeah. Sorry we kept you waiting.”
Gracie waved off the apology. “How’d she do?”
“She did well. We’ve increased our little army by fifty percent.”
“Good. When do we get to fight something?”
I chuckled. “Not yet. We’re going to get ourselves settled in a campsite, and then I have a couple of errands to run.”
“No,” Gracie said, shaking her head. “We’re not splitting up.”
“We have to. And you didn’t mind sending me off for dinner last night.”
“That was different,” she said. “I hadn’t met Saorla yet.”
“I know. I won’t be gone long.”
“But—”
“Gracie, I’m heading to 620.” In answer to her puzzled expression, I said in a hushed voice, “Phoenix police headquarters. Unless you want to be booked for a couple of magical murders, you can’t come with me.”
She eyed the kids, who hadn’t heard what I said. “It was self-defense.”
“I know that. My old partner knows that, too. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re wanted. I need to talk to her, find out where her investigation is and what she might have learned about Fitzwater.” I had other people to see as well, but I didn’t think it would be such a good idea to mention my other errands.
I’d had enough of reacting and running. I felt like I was playing the weak end of a chessboard endgame, my king dodging and weaving, just trying to stay alive. That might work for a few moves, but eventually I was going to lose. The time had come to change the dynamic. I needed more information, and I was ready to stir things up a bit. But I couldn’t do much of what I had in mind with Gracie by my side.
“Fine,” she said, after chewing on what I’d said. “We’ll keep busy. You play poker?” she asked Billie.
“A little. I take it you’re good.”
“I’m okay. Emmy will take you for everything you’re worth. It’ll be fun. We’ll play for M&M’s.”
Billie smiled. “All right.”
“Before we get to that,” I said, “I need a few minutes alone with Gracie.”
Billie simply nodded and said, “All right.” But Gracie studied me, her scowl conveying a mix of fear and hostility.
I walked back toward the makeshift shooting range, knowing that she would follow, and purposefully keeping within sight of Billie and the kids.
“Billie seems nice,” Gracie said, once we were out of earshot of the others.
“She said the same about you.” I didn’t bother mentioning that she had retracted the compliment as soon as I challenged it.
“She calls you Fearsson.”
I stopped and faced her. “Yeah. What of it?”
“I did, too, at one point. The way you reacted, I figured you didn’t like it. But you didn’t want me calling you that.”
“It’s her name for me,” I said.
“I get that. And you were afraid that things between us were straying into dangerous territory.”
“This isn’t what I wanted to talk about.”
“No shit.”
“How did you get the knife, Gracie?”
She eyed me for a breath, then scanned the horizon again, a hand raised to shade her eyes. “That’s what you wanted to discuss?”
