Blind Warrior (The Weavers Circle 3)

“To the left, there’s one,” Grey murmured softly.

“The coffee shop. There’s outdoor seating, and a man is watching us,” Calder replied. He grunted. “Oh, he knows who we are. He’s smiling right at us.”

“Wonderful,” Grey muttered. He continued to search the area, but he couldn’t get a sense of any other pestilents. Was this man really the only one? “I’m not getting any others.”

“I think he was at the beach. I saw someone on the upper ridge watching the fight.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“Lounging in a seat at a small table. Drinking coffee. Smiling as he watches us.”

Grey chewed on the inside of his mouth for a moment as he tried to decide what to do next. Should they just leave? Would he let them walk away?

But wasn’t it better to talk to him first? At least try to figure out what his game was? Determine what he knew about the Circle?

“You want to talk to him, don’t you?” Calder’s tone was flat and not happy in the slightest.

“You and Cort, both mind readers.”

Calder snorted. “Doesn’t take a mind reader to figure out the smart solution is to try to uncover what they know.”

Grey, still able to sense him, started walking in his direction.

As they neared the man, Grey began to wonder if it was wise to reveal that he was injured. Unfortunately, it was too late to change course.

“I was hoping you’d stop over to say hello,” the man said as they came to stand near him. Grey struggled not to gag on the horrific smell surrounding him, but even that wasn’t enough to take away from the twisted pulse of power that dripped off him in thick, sticky clumps. “I understand you’re called Grey now.”

“I take it we’ve met before. In one of my past lives,” Grey replied stiffly.

“Yes, we knew each other quite well in your last one, when you went by the name of Davian. You called me John then, so we might as well keep that name for the sake of ease. Why don’t you sit down?”

“I’d rather not.”

John chuckled low, and Grey hated that his voice did sound strangely familiar to him, though he couldn’t explain it.

“If I wanted you and your friend there dead, it would have been done already. We both know that. There are well over a hundred people in this shopping plaza alone. I don’t have to move from this spot to enthrall every last one of them. To make killing you and your friend their sole purpose in life. But I haven’t.”

A chill ran through Grey and Calder’s hand on his arm tightened as if he planned to jerk him away from John and the table.

“What do you want?” Grey bit out through clenched teeth.

“Just to chat. It’s been so long since we had a chat. Sit and talk with me, and I promise that I’ll let you and your companion leave unmolested.”

To his left, Grey heard the scrape of a chair being dragged across the concrete. He felt around until he could safely lower himself into the chair. Calder remained standing, one hand on his shoulder. Grey wasn’t sure if he was attempting to reassure him that he was covered or settling his own nerves. Poor Calder was not being eased into his new life with them.

“Are you…” John started and then stopped again. The air shifted in front of Grey’s face and he jerked back.

“Stop it!” Calder snapped, and Grey could suddenly imagine what had happened. John had waved his hand in front of Grey’s face.

“You’re blind,” John whispered in surprise.

“Yes. A relatively new development but temporary, I assure you,” Grey said sharply.

“Blind or not, it makes little difference to us. We’ve fought your kind plenty of times while you’ve been injured. We know not to underestimate you,” John murmured. He fell silent for a second. “But I am sorry for the loss of your sight. That is unfortunate.”

And the truly insane part was that Grey actually believed him. He sounded genuinely saddened that Grey had suffered such an injury. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want John to sound so reasonable and sane. None of the others had been reasonable, and Ardette had definitely not been sane.

“You said we hadn’t chatted in a long time. We’ve spoken before?” Grey asked, wanting to talk about something other than his blindness. He ran the fingers of his left hand across the smooth metal surface of the table. It was cool to the touch, likely from sitting in a shaded area for most of the morning. He could no longer feel the sun on him, and he was beginning to regret not walking directly to the car.

“Yes, we had many long talks in your last life. Unfortunately, things didn’t work out so well for either of us that time. Certainly not as planned, but that’s not here nor there.”