Spell Blind by David B. Coe

were possible, but as I had learned a thousand times, the world didn’t usually make things that convenient for anyone, runecrafters included. In order for blockers to work, they had to be in our systems at a certain level for an extended period. If I wanted to escape the phasings, I would have had to give up magic entirely, and like my father, I wasn’t willing to do that. So I didn’t use blockers at all. I suffered through the phasings; I accepted as fate the eventual loss of my sanity. And I wielded my magic.
    The truth was, even as I argued with Namid about mastering runecrafting, I liked being able to conjure. When I was a cop it gave me an edge over the creeps I was trying to put away, and now that I was a PI, it still came in handy. Maybe more to the point, it’s who I am. I can’t give up being a weremyste any more than I can give up being a Fearsson.
    But I wasn’t ready to share all of this with Billie Castle and her readers, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t ready to hear it.
    “Mister Fearsson?” she said, eyeing me with what might have been concern.
    “I think he blinds them because he’s nuts,” I told her. “I think he blinds them for the same reason another serial killer might rape his victims or dismember them or do something else that horrifies the rest of us. It gives him a sense of power, of control. It makes him feel like a god in his twisted little universe.”
    “And why do you think the police have had so much trouble tracking him down?”
    Again, an honest answer would have come back to magic. We couldn’t catch the guy because despite all appearances, he wasn’t a typical serial killer. He wasn’t crazy, and didn’t secretly want to be caught, like some of those nut jobs you read about in the papers. He killed with purpose, he was sane and calculating and intelligent, and he had managed to leave no clues of value at any of the thirty-plus crime scenes we’d found. But I couldn’t tell her all of that, either. So I tried to punt.
    “I’m not on the force, Miss Castle. I haven’t been for some time. Questions about the PPD’s investigation should go to the PPD.”
    “You were with the force for the first year and a half of this case. I would think that you’d have some ideas.”
    I shrugged. “I think he’s been clever,” I said. “And I think he’s been lucky. But I also think that his luck will run out sooner or later. It always does in these cases. The PPD will get him.”
    “Do you think they would have already if you’d remained on the job?”
    I laughed, short and harsh, and reached for a piece of pizza. Taking a bite, I shook my head and said, “I’m not going to second-guess the detectives working this case.”
    “I’m not asking you to,” she said, taking a piece of her own. “But I would think that you’d have spent the last nineteen months second-guessing the department’s decision to fire you.”
    I stopped chewing and glared at her. Her gaze didn’t flinch at all. Pretty, smart, and tough. At that moment, I wasn’t sure which I wanted to do more: get up and walk out, or ask her out on a date.
    I looked away before she did. “I’m not talking about this.”
    “Why were you fired, Mister Fearsson? Did it have something to do with the Blind Angel killings?”
    “No.” I said it automatically, my gaze snapping back to hers. As soon as I thought about it, though, I wondered if this was true. I was fired because of the phasings, because my erratic behavior and my inability to function for three nights every fourth week became too much for my superiors to tolerate, and too much for Kona to cover up. I was fired because I’m a weremyste. And wasn’t that the same reason the Blind Angel Killer had evaded us for so long?
    Billie must have seen the doubt in my eyes. “Did they blame you for the fact that they couldn’t catch him? Is that what happened?”
    I shook my head, resisting the urge to say, You’re getting colder . “No. It wasn’t like