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?”