His Father's eyes

CHAPTER 22

I was afraid to open my eyes, knowing that I would probably throw up as soon as I did. If anything, the spinning was worse now than it had been while I was still trapped in the icy between, desperate to reach Billie’s room.

“A transporting spell. As I said, you are resourceful.”

I forced myself to open my eyes, to sit up and face whatever it was the necromancer had in store for me. The dizziness wasn’t as bad as I had expected, and I was able to climb to my feet.

Billie watched me, her eyes wide, her face as white as the sheets on which she lay. I sidled closer to her bed and took her hand.

Saorla sat in a chair near the bed, clad once more in the green dress, her face and hair as lovely as they had been at Martell’s house. As far as I could tell, she had healed herself of the wounds Rolon and I inflicted upon her.

I cast a quick warding that I hoped would protect Billie and me from whatever spells she directed at us.

The necromancer quirked an eyebrow. “You believe that you can ward yourself from me?”

“I’m pretty sure I can’t. But I’d be a fool not to try, don’t you agree?”

“You are a fool in either case.”

Even with a warding in place, I was helpless against her magic. Fortunately, at the first touch of it, I dropped Billie’s hand. Saorla’s spell was similar to one she had used against me in Bear’s house; it swatted me off my feet, so that I rammed into the nearest wall and crumpled to the floor.

“Fearsson!”

I groaned, but forced myself up. “I’m all right,” I said. “She’s playing with me. If she wanted me dead, I’d be dead.”

“I am glad you understand that.”

The door to Billie’s room rattled.

“Miss Castle?” a man’s voice called from out in the corridor.

“Tell him you are all right,” Saorla said, steel in her tone.

Billie glanced my way and I nodded.

“I’m fine,” she said, loud enough for the man to hear.

“Your door seems to be stuck. Can you open it from in there?”

The necromancer shook her head.

“No,” Billie said. “I guess I’m locked in.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out.”

“Maybe you and I should leave,” I said to Saorla.

“They will not get in until I allow them to.”

“Fine. What is it you want?”

“Let us begin with the conversation you just had, the one you would not let me hear. What did you discuss?”

When I didn’t answer right away, she shifted her gaze to Billie. That was all, but it was like watching her aim a loaded pistol.

I moved to Billie’s side again and laced my fingers through hers.“I’m making plans for this evening. I believe you intend to send your weremystes after me before the phasing begins, and I want to be ready.”

“Where?” she asked.

I glowered. “My father’s place,” I said, my voice flat.

“What else did you talk about?”

“The police investigation into Heather Royce’s murder.”

“They believe you are guilty.”

“The police here do. The two I spoke with know that I’m not. I told them about Patricia Hesslan-Fine. And also about Palmer Hain.”

She scowled. “You should not have done that.”

I shrugged. “Oops.”

“What else?”

“That’s all.”

“I do not believe you.”

“And I don’t care.”

The door rattled again. We could hear several men speaking on the other side of it. “Don’t worry, Miss Castle, we’ll have this open in a minute.”

“I could let them in,” Saorla said. “Several of them are detectives. I could vanish and leave you to fight them off.”

“Yes, you could.” I let go of Billie’s hand and gave her a quick smile. “What is this about, Saorla? You didn’t bring me all the way here to ask me about a conversation. If you want to kill me for shooting you earlier, then go ahead. If it’s something else, then get to it. But I have more important things to do with what’s left of my day. I’m not going to waste the last hours of sunlight on you.”

“Once again, you speak bravely, though you have no power or skill to back up your words. I can kill you at will. I can do the same to her, or to your father.”

“And yet here you stand, just talking, just like me. You need me for something. What is it?”

“You know already.”

I took a breath, because I did know. And I was certain as well that she could could compel me to do pretty much anything she wanted, simply by threatening Billie, Kona, and my father. “Namid,” I said.

“Precisely.”

“What about Namid?” Billie asked.

“She wants me to help her kill him.”

“Can you do that?”

“There are ways,” Saorla said.

“Your minions tried last night. If they’d succeeded, I’d be dead, too.”

“Yes, but they are limited, as you are. Working together, however, you and I can kill the runemyste and spare your life.”

“How?”

She shook her head. “Do not mistake me for a fool, Justis Fearsson. I will not tell you that until I am certain that you will help me.”

“I won’t.”

“Not even to save the lives of those you love?”

Even knowing that the threat was coming, I experienced a moment of pure terror. It seemed my heart was in that taloned grasp again; she had only to squeeze.

“Don’t, Fearsson! Don’t you dare let her use me that way!”

I’m not sure I’d ever loved Billie more than I did in that instant.

“I won’t,” I said again, to her this time. And with the words still on my lips, I lunged at Saorla and took hold of her, one hand gripping each of her shoulders. The stink of rot filled my nostrils, and I had to grind my teeth together against a wave of nausea. But I held fast to her.

She let out a small disbelieving gasp. That was all I gave her time to do. I cast again, blindly, without pause or thought. The elements flashed through my mind like flickers of lightning. The necromancer, me, my grip on her, the room where we were, the parking lot, the distance in between, and Billie, safe and alone here once we were gone.

Cold and darkness closed in on me once more. My breath caught in my throat, and we spun as if thrown from a speeding car. But I refused to let go, even as she made her skin flare like the sun. Flames seared my hands, and I howled. She let out a wail as well: shock, rage, the indignity of being touched by a mere weremyste.

We landed hard on the pavement, rolled twice before stopping with me on top of her. That lasted about a tenth of a second. I was blasted into the air, flailed as if trying to fly, and then came down hard on the hood of a sedan.

The car alarm blared. I hoped I hadn’t ruined Amaya’s Lexus.

She stood. I slid off the car and faced her, swaying, my body aching, a trickle of blood flowing from a scrape on my elbow. But already I could hear raised voices and approaching footsteps. My hands still tingled with the pain of touching her, but when I chanced a glance down at them I saw that they were unmarked. The skin wasn’t even red.

“I could kill you now,” she said, her voice a raw snarl. “You who dare to lay your hands on me. I need only form the thought.”

“Then do.” As I spoke the words, I cast again; two spells this time, not simple wardings, but something more focused that Namid had taught me a couple of months before, when I was about to face Cahors. And I used that small bit of blood in the casting. I felt guilty about it, but this didn’t seem like the time to let qualms get in the way.

She went for my heart first, as I had known she would. I grunted at the impact of her assault. But the clawed hand could not penetrate the warding I’d placed around my heart. She tried for my mind next; the thousand-spikes attack again, I expect. That shield spell held as well. I was learning.

Saorla let out a low growl, more demon than human. But then she pointed a finger at me and shouted, “There he is! Justis Fearsson is here.”

Crap! Men and women were already closing on us from several directions, and at the sound of my name, most of them broke into a run.

I glanced back at the sedan. It was a smoke gray BMW, with a great big Fearsson-shaped indentation in the hood. Me, where I was standing, and Amaya’s cream-colored Lexus.

The closest of the cops had their weapons drawn, and one of them-a tall, blond-haired guy I remembered vaguely from my last visit to 620-halted now and leveled his pistol at me. “Get your hands up, Fearsson!”

I released the spell, felt the icy air overtake me again.

An instant later, I was behind the wheel of the Lexus, about six rows away from Saorla and the cops. I had time to see the cop blink and straighten, his mouth hanging open. Then the necromancer vanished as well, and I swear I thought Blond-hair was going to piss himself.

I eased the Lexus out of the space and pulled away, driving slowly, trying to make it seem that I didn’t have a care in the world.

But I checked my rearview mirror and watched as the rest of the detectives converged on the spot where Saorla and I had been. Blond-hair was gesturing wildly with the hand holding his weapon, and the other cop who had been nearest was nodding. They’d be explaining this to Hibbard and their other supervisors for the rest of the day.

You were fortunate to escape, the necromancer said in my mind.

“Maybe,” I said. “I’ll see you before the moonrise, and you can try again.”

And what is to keep me from going back and killing the woman?

I nearly swerved off the road. Idiot! I could see that chess board before me: I had put my opponent in check, but I’d left my queen exposed.

“Nothing,” I said, ashes in my mouth. “Nothing at all. But you’ve done enough to her, Saorla. Leave her alone.”

And what do I get in return?

“What do you want?” I asked in a monotone.

I want Namid’skemu.

“I can’t give him to you. I won’t.”

He means more to you than the woman?

“I’m not choosing between them. But I’ll give you my life for hers.”

Your life has no value to me.

“And hers does?”

Silence. Either she had ended our negotiation or I had stumped her.

“Saorla?” I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

Very well, Justis Fearsson. I will spare the woman. But if you survive this night, you will owe me a boon. I do not know what it might be or when I will collect. But you will owe me. Is that agreeable to you?

I knew better than to think that I had gotten off easy. I was incurring a debt, and the cost of repayment would be high. There would come a day when I cursed myself for the bargain I was about to strike. But for today I had kept Billie alive, and that was all that mattered to me. For today.

“Yes, I accept those terms.”

Good.

She practically purred the word. My stomach knotted.

An odd pressure withdrew from my mind-I hadn’t known it was there until I felt it vanish. Saorla was gone, at least for the time being.

I steered the Lexus onto the freeway and headed out to Wofford. About five miles short of my father’s place, I pulled off the highway, parked along the side of the road, and hiked a short distance into the desert. Satisfied that no one would hear me, and that I couldn’t be seen from the road, I called Namid’s name.

I didn’t have to wait long before he appeared before me, the desert sun glimmering on his waters and shining through him so that he appeared to glow from within.

“You summoned me, Ohanko. You do this with disconcerting frequency.”

“I know; I’m sorry. But I wanted to warn you, and I need your help.”

“Begin with the warning.”

“Saorla is still determined to kill you. She tried to force me to help her by threatening to kill Billie. I refused.”

“Is Billie-?

“No, I . . . I talked her out of it.” I didn’t want to admit to him that I had struck a deal with the necromancer. He wouldn’t approve. Not that I thought I’d been so clever, but the last thing I needed was a lecture from Namid about how foolish I was.

“She relented?” he asked, sounding skeptical.

“Not exactly. The important thing is that Billie’s safe for now; you’re not.”

A tight smile rippled the surface of his face. “I will tread like the fox.”

“Good. As to the second thing-”

“You know that I cannot help you. It is-”

“Against the rules that govern your kind. You’ve told me before.”

“And yet, still you ask me.”

“That’s right. Because in this case, those rules don’t apply.”

His face roughened. “Explain, please.”

“Do you believe that the two women who used their magic against me the other night were responsible for the murder of the runemyste in Virginia?”

“You told me that you believe this to be so. I found the evidence you presented to that effect quite compelling.”

“And do you also believe that if their spell had worked last night they would have managed to kill both of us?”

“The runes they had you draw on yourself would have made such a murder possible, yes.”

“Then you must also believe that at this point you and your fellow runemystes are at war with Saorla and her fellow necromancers.”

“War may be too strong a word, but I believe I see your point. Still, Ohanko, I cannot act on your world. We have laws, and even a conflict with other beings as mighty as my kind does not allow us to forget who and what we are.”

“But what if Saorla is trying to act on our world so that she can gain an advantage in her fight with you?”

“I am not sure that matters.”

“Doesn’t matter?” I said, my voice rising.

“If the runemystes ignore the laws that created us, we betray the trust placed in us by the Runeclave. And at that point, we cease to be what we were. We become no better than the necromancers themselves.”

I suppose there was something admirable about his principled dedication to the law, and at some point maybe I’d be able to tell him as much. But just then he was really pissing me off. I realized, though, that he didn’t have to act on our world. Not in a strict sense, at least.

“Surely, though,” I said, “your mandate from the Runeclave involved more than abiding by the law that keeps you from interfering in our world.”

He frowned at that, his brow turning choppy. “Yes. But-”

“You were tasked with protecting our world from the influence of dark magic, isn’t that right?”

“I believe I see what you are getting at.”

“Do you? My life depends on your understanding.”

“You would argue that my oath to uphold those laws is in conflict with my oath to guard against dark magic, and that therefore I should honor the latter over the former.”

“I would argue that, but I know you too well to think you wouldn’t find a way to honor both.” I smiled. “So I’ve found a way for you.”

His frown deepened. “You have?”

“Yes. Are there others of your kind who can help you?”

“Others?”

“I don’t trust Saorla, and I fear the blood magic of her weremancers. You should have backup.”

“Backup,” he repeated. Another word that sounded awkward when he said it. “I do not know what this is.”

“It’s a police term,” I said. “It means support, help.”

“Ah, yes. Perhaps . . . backup would be wise. But how does having help allow me to obey my laws and still fight for you?”

“I don’t need you to fight for me, not really. I’ll have some . . . some backup as well. We’ll be able to fight the weremancers. All I need for you to do is live by your laws and make certain that Saorla does the same.”

“You want us to keep her from fighting against you.”

“Exactly. You wouldn’t be acting on our world so much as preventing her from doing so.”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “I do not know, Ohanko. We are not to interfere, even if others possessing powers similar to ours do. I do not know if others of my kind will agree to your request.”

“Then you’ve already decided,” I said. “The runemystes believe that following the Runeclave’s directive not to interfere is more important than combatting dark magic.”

“I did not say that.”

“Your actions say it. If the dark sorcerers have Saorla on their side, and she’s able to do as she wants with us, I’m dead, and so are any who fight beside me. But it’s up to you, Namid-you and the rest of the runemystes. If you’re determined to stop the spread of dark magic in my world and, oh-by-the-way, if you’re also determined to prevent further attacks on members of your little circle, you’ll help us in this one way. If not . . .” I shrugged. “Well, I’m going to fight anyway.”

He stared at me for a long time. I didn’t know if I had ticked him off, and I sure wasn’t sorry if I had.

“I will speak with the others,” he finally said. “Be well.”

I watched him evaporate into the desert air. Then I got back in the car and drove the rest of the way out to my father’s trailer.

Sunlight angled across the desert, casting long, twisting shadows from the bases of saguaro cacti and bathing the sand and sagebrush in gold. I pulled up near the trailer, my eyes on my dad, who was slumped in his chair as usual. He didn’t appear to be twitching anymore, but there was an empty, dirty cereal bowl at his feet, and he wasn’t wearing socks. He certainly wasn’t at his best. I opened the car door.

Upon stepping out of the car onto the dirt and gravel drive, I felt the pull of the moon again, even more forcefully than before. My thoughts seemed to fragment and for a moment I just stood there, one hand on the door, the other braced on the roof of the Lexus. I couldn’t remember what I’d been about to do.

But the phasing hadn’t started quite yet, and after a few seconds I was able to clear my head enough to recall where I was and why I had come. I did a quick survey of the land around my father’s place and saw nothing. That was what I had hoped for, and also what I expected. Still, I knew a moment of relief.

I shut the door and walked to where my dad sat, feeling a little unsteady on my feet. I kissed his forehead, drawing his gaze, which was clouded, unfocused.

“How are you doing, Pop?”

“Justis?”

“Yeah.” I pulled out the extra chair, unfolded it, and sat. “Are you feeling all right?”

He rubbed a hand over his face and then ran both hands through his thin hair. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not . . . I’m better, I think.” He eyed me again. “What are you doing here?”

“Long story.”

He glanced at the bandage on my wrist. “What happened?”

“Another long story.”

He nodded rather than pursue either question. “I feel the moon. What day is it?”

“The phasing begins in less than two hours.”

“Crap,” he whispered, reminding me of me. “Why are you here? Do you usually come for the phasings?”

“No, but this month is different.”

“Different how?”

Another long story, but this one I couldn’t keep from him.

“Do you remember the pain you’ve been experiencing the last few weeks?”

“Pain? I . . .” He stopped, pressed his lips into a hard line and dipped his chin. “The burning,” he said. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Dark magic. You’ve been under attack from what Namid calls necromancers.”

“Namid.” He sat up straighter. “He was here. In fact, you were with him.”

“That’s right.”

“And these necromancers . . .”

“They’re like runemystes. Their powers are similar, but they weren’t created by the Runeclave. They bought their power and their immortality with blood magic.”

“And they were hurting me to get at you.”

I nodded. “I’m sorry. They wanted to learn about our wardings, our defenses, so that they could then use me to kill Namid.”

His forehead creased. “Kill Namid? That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not. And at some point I’ll explain to you how they intended to do it. But what matters now is that at least one of them is coming here, along with some weremystes who have been helping them. They threatened to hurt you again, and I’m here to make sure they don’t. But ultimately what they want is a fight, some would say a war. And this is going to be the first real battle.”

He smiled at that. “I’m not a praying man, Justis, and I haven’t been to church in about a hundred years. But even I know that the first battle in this fight was fought a long, long time ago. This is the latest incarnation of the same damn war.”

I lifted a shoulder, conceding the point.

“So you and I are going to fight side by side, huh? I always dreamed of that.”

I grinned. “So did I. But no. You’re going to stay in the trailer.”

“The hell I am.”

“Dad-”

“Justis.”

I winced and stared out over the desert. A pair of ravens swooped and soared over the first line of hills, jet black against a deep blue sky. “I feel bad saying this, but on your best day you’re not the sanest guy I know. We’re right on the cusp of the phasing, and this is not going to be your best day. I can’t be worrying about you at the same time I’m fighting off a bunch of dark sorcerers.”

“Then don’t worry,” he said, the stern tone taking me back to my childhood.

I opened my mouth to say more, but closed it again. Patty Hesslan-Fine would be coming; I was as certain of that as I was of anything I’d told him. I didn’t know how he would respond to hearing her name, much less seeing her in the flesh.

“Left you speechless, eh?”

“Tell you what,” I said, standing. “Let’s get you some food and a change of clothes and we’ll work from there.”

“You humoring me?”

“No, sir. I’m trying to see how capable you are today. If you’re a danger to yourself or to me, I’ll lock you in the goddamned bathroom. If you’re all right, we sure as hell could use the help.”

He pushed himself out of his seat and stared me right in the eye. We were about the same height, and his eyes were so much like mine it was like gazing into the mirror.

“God, you look like your mother,” he whispered.

“Except for my eyes.”

“Right. Except for them.” He broke eye contact, glancing back toward the city. “I’ll eat,” he said. “And I’ll put on a fucking tie and jacket if you want me to. But if you try to lock me away, I’ll tear this place apart.”

“It’s your trailer,” I said. “I’ve got a place to sleep tonight.” A lie, but that was not a conversation I wanted to have at the moment.

He smiled. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

I followed him into the trailer, pausing on the threshold to check back over my shoulder. I still saw nothing on his land; I hoped that was a good sign.

He changed clothes, which meant putting on a clean T-shirt and jeans. He even put on socks. In the meantime, I fixed us both sandwiches and poured a couple of glasses of orange juice. I hadn’t eaten since leaving the hospital that morning, which may have been why the moon was already affecting me so powerfully. I felt better after I’d downed my sandwich.

After he finished his, I cleaned up and turned to face him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Muddled,” he said. “The way I always do right before a phasing. And you’d be lying if you told me you weren’t feeling the same.”

“You’re right,” I said.

“So, you going to lock me in the bathroom?”

“So that I can spend the next ten Tuesdays doing repairs? No, thanks.”

He chuckled. “Good.”

“But, Dad, there’s something you should know. One of the dark sorcerers-”

“Car,” he said, staring past me toward the door. “Coming fast.”

“Damn.”

He started for the door, but I stopped him.

“Wardings first,” I said.

“Right.”

We each cast several spells in quick succession. I put every warding I could think of on both of us, and I felt his magic settling over me like a warm rain. He had done the same.

Once finished, we went back outside. He halted a few steps from the trailer, and stared at Amaya’s Lexus. “That yours?”

“One more long story.”

His mere glance conveyed so much disapproval I almost laughed. But then our gazes were drawn to the two SUVs bouncing down his rutted road and raising a plume of rust-colored dust. I had hoped that Amaya and the others would arrive here before Saorla and her friends, and it seemed that this once luck was on my side.

And then it wasn’t.

A figure winked into view a few yards from where we stood. Long brown hair twisting in the wind, a green dress, and a shawl around her shoulders.

Dad shot me a questioning look. But he didn’t get the chance to give voice to his curiosity. Several more people appeared behind Saorla. I made a quick count; there were eight in all. Hain was there, apparently fully healed from our encounter earlier in the day. Witcombe stood near him, as did Gary Hacker and four other guys I didn’t recognize. Clearly, Hacker and some of the others weren’t pleased by the company they were keeping. But my dad couldn’t tear his eyes away from the third woman in their group. The setting sun shone on her face, and glimmered in her warm brown eyes. I had wondered if my father would recognize her through the blur of her magic. I should have known better than to doubt.

“What is she doing here?” he whispered.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you a minute ago.”

“Elliott Hesslan’s daughter, right? I’m not imagining this?”

“You’re not imagining it.”

“Justis Fearsson,” Saorla said. “And Leander as well. Did you ever imagine that you would die together?”

“I know that voice,” my dad said, turning his gaze to the necromancer. “Who is she?”

“She’s your worst nightmare,” I said. “A runemyste without a soul.”