No Quest For The Wicked
And yet, he looked vaguely familiar.
“I should have known you were up to no good,” he said. He didn’t sound like someone being held at gunpoint. He sounded rather pleased with himself. “You’ve certainly been determined in your quest to obtain the Eye. I can only imagine what you’d want with power, control, and invulnerability.” His bland face remained perfectly neutral. He might as well have been chatting about the weather.
The assailant’s fingers twitched slightly, and Owen said, “Don’t even try a spell.” Then he sighed wearily and asked, “What makes you think I have plans for the Eye?”
“You said you had plans for it, and you’ve worked very hard to keep it in your possession.”
Owen grimaced and shook his head. His ruse to make the magical puritans think he wouldn’t get in the way of their plans had backfired. But that meant this guy must have been there in the park. I didn’t recognize him, but it had been dark and there had been so many people and things there. There was still something familiar about him, though. I knew I’d seen him somewhere recently.
Abruptly, his bland, neutral face twisted into a mask of sheer hatred, his eyes narrowing, and furrows appearing in his forehead as his lips thinned to a harsh slit. “What do you want with the Eye and its power?” He spat the words at Owen.
“I want to keep it out of the wrong hands,” Owen said with his characteristic crisis calm.
“Not to mention foiling an evil plot to stir up the magical world,” I said, moving to sit beside Owen in a show of solidarity. Sitting may not have been a position of strength, but it was stronger than falling, which was what might have happened if either of us had tried to get up and run. “You aren’t another one of those magical puritans, are you?”
“I have nothing to do with those fanatics,” the man said with a shake of his head.
“Then who are you?” Owen asked. “What do you want with me?”
“My name is Raphael Maldwyn.” He paused for a moment, like he was waiting for Owen to react. When Owen showed no sign of recognition, Raphael went purple with rage. “You don’t know who I am? My name means nothing to you?”
His name didn’t mean anything to me, either, but I finally realized where I’d seen him. “Hey, you were in the coffee shop! The one sitting by us who had a coughing fit. You must be the person Sam thought was tailing us. You were using illusions and Sam noticed the magic.” I wondered if I’d seen him anywhere else, but as busy as we’d been, chasing and being chased, I doubted I would have noticed any individual who hadn’t physically attacked us. Was he the man I’d seen outside 21? I hadn’t had a good look at his face, but his coat was familiar. Then again, it was just a bland, generic trench coat.
“Following you has been a challenge,” he admitted. “You’ve been on the move all day, surrounded by your guards, and then there were the other people following you.”
“Yeah, if you wanted to follow us today, you’d have to take a number and get in line,” I said.
“Since you have the Eye, I can prove that you’re up to your parents’ tricks, and then you will be dealt with,” Raphael said.
“I never even knew my parents,” Owen said, his voice heavy with weariness. “I think my father died without knowing I’d been born, and my mother gave me away as soon as I was born. They didn’t get a chance to influence me.”
“And yet you have a weapon pointed at me.”
Owen’s gun wavered. He was in a no-win situation. He couldn’t exactly protest his innocence and pure motives while holding someone at gunpoint, but without the gun, he was vulnerable to the madman with a vendetta.
Taking advantage of Owen’s moment of hesitation, Raphael moved his hands in the form of a spell as he muttered words. I felt the magic building around us. He kept at it until beads of sweat formed on his brow. When several minutes went by with no result, he finally gave up and stared at Owen. “How do you resist me?” he asked.
“No magic. Not even enough to allow you to use magic on me. The Eye doesn’t do me any good. Now do you believe that I don’t want it for myself?” Owen very deliberately put his gun down and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
“This is a trick!” Raphael shouted. Before either Owen or I had a chance to react, he lunged forward, grabbed Owen, and jerked him to his feet, shaking him violently. He was half a head taller than Owen and not nearly as weary or as badly hurt, plus he was crazy, so he was at a distinct advantage. I was afraid he’d kill Owen with his bare hands.