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“I did?” He paused, frowned. “You mean by the gazebo?”
“Yes! You deflected it. And again just now. How the hell do you know how to do that?”
To my surprise his ears turned red with embarrassment. “It’s, um, part of what I’ve wanted to talk to you about for the past few weeks.”
Few weeks? Shit. Amber Palatino Gavin’s body had been found a few weeks ago. “The murder scene at the eighteen wheeler. You asked me out for a beer.”
“Yeah.” He nodded once, stiff and uncomfortable. “That scene was bad.”
“Yes, it was.” I sat and hoped he would as well. “I never pegged you for someone who could see the arcane.” Idris stepped onto the porch and took up a position behind Pellini, glowering and with his arms folded over his chest.
Pellini glanced at Idris then sat heavily. “The arcane,” he said, as though trying out a new word. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to see it twenty-four-seven.”
“How long have you been able to see the arcane?” I asked. Casual. Friendly.
He shrugged. “As long as I can remember. Used to be I could choose to see it, but not anymore. It’s always there.”
Perpetual othersight, like in the demon realm. On Earth I had to consciously switch to othersight. Or did I? Was that true anymore? I’d spent so much time in the demon realm I felt blind without othersight, so always had it engaged. Experimenting, I tried to not see the potency flows around us. And tried again. Though the flows appeared faded without othersight, they were still easily perceptible.
“So, why did you want to talk to me?” I asked, puzzled.
“Because I can’t shut it out anymore,” he said, desperation thickening his voice. “Not for the past couple of years. And then that murder . . . I needed to shut it out, but I couldn’t.”
I shook my head. “I still don’t get why you thought I’d be of any help.”
One side of his mouth twitched. “It was all the little marks you left on your door or your desk,” he said. “I realized you could sense it, too.”
Little marks. Wards. Aversions to deter coworkers from raiding my chocolate drawer. An alarm on the door to warn me if anyone went into my office. In a million billion years, I never would’ve imagined that Pellini, of all people, could see them.
“Why is everything stronger now?” he asked. “Why can’t I shut it out?”
“A lot of shit is happening,” I said remaining vague for the moment. “How long have you been able to move potency?”
Pellini exhaled. “Since my senior year in high school.”
“What happened then? Did someone start teaching you?”
He cleared his throat. “Never talked to anyone about this stuff before,” he confessed, then added, “I mean, no people.”
Idris and I both tensed. “What non-people have you talked to about this?” I asked, doing my best to remain outwardly composed.
Pellini licked his lips before speaking. “Shit. I had an imaginary friend when I was little.” A flush darkened his face. “I called him . . .” He hesitated then took a deep breath and plunged on. “I called him Mr. Sparkly because that’s what he looked like. For as long as I can remember, until I was in second grade, he’d find me when I was in the sandpit in my backyard and take me away.”
“Wait. Away?” I asked. “Where to?” Maybe Mr. Sparkly was just an ordinary creeper?
He chewed his lower lip. “The place I saw him wasn’t like Earth,” he said. “It was like that.” To my shock he gestured toward the nexus. “Energy and colors and light.”
So much for my Ordinary Creeper theory. Idris remained perfectly still, but the intensity of his gaze could have drilled a hole through Pellini’s head.
“And it was always in your backyard?” I asked, suspicion forming as he nodded. I was willing to bet Fuzzykins’ non-existent tail that Pellini’s sandpit had contained a valve. “Can you describe this Mr. Sparkly?”
Pellini’s eyes went distant in memory. “Like a man made out of a billion pieces of crystal. Long hair. Purple eyes.”
Shit. Fuck. Son of a bitch. Purple eyes. Violet eyes. Kadir fit the description of Mr. Sparkly right down to the Creepy part. Hostility rolled off Idris. Holy shit, was I ever glad I had the kehza standing by as physical backup in case the situation went tits up. Not that I was sure it could get much more screwy after Pellini’s revelation of a lifelong association with the shrewdest of the Mraztur.
I took a few seconds to keep my composure intact. “What happened to Mr. Sparkly?”
