Looking over at Cassandra’s lovely, expectant face, he thought he knew exactly why he was doing this. He wanted to be around her, be with her. And if that meant heading to California so they could question the Santiago prima about the Escobar warlock who’d made her life a living hell, so be it.
“Let’s go,” he said.
It was a twelve-hour drive from Santa Fe to Pasadena, but Cassandra said it would be better if they went straight through and didn’t stop. “We can take turns if we have to,” she said, and Tony reluctantly agreed. There was less chance of any interference by either the Castillos or the de la Pazes if the two of them only stopped for food and bathroom breaks, rather than finding someplace to crash at the midway point of the journey. And while almost all cars were self-driving now, the law required that someone still be behind the wheel in case of system failure. It wasn’t as though he and Cassandra could get cozy in the back seat while the car did all the work.
When they passed the border between New Mexico and Arizona, and he spotted the big sign with the striking blue and yellow sun-rays of the Arizona state flag, Tony felt a strange twinge. Maybe it was only knowing that he was now out of Castillo territory for the first time in his life, but he couldn’t help wondering if he’d somehow set off an invisible alarm somewhere, and whether members of the Wilcox clan, who claimed this section of northern Arizona as part of their territory, would come out of nowhere and surround his car, demanding to know why he was there.
Of course, they didn’t.
They stopped at an In ’N’ Out burger on the outskirts of Phoenix for dinner, since Cassandra said the burgers were awesome and he’d been deprived his whole life, since there weren’t any In ’N’ Outs in New Mexico. He agreed that the food was good, but he refrained from commenting that he thought Five Guys was equally good. Actually, he was just glad of the busy anonymity of the fast food restaurant, of the sense that no de la Paz witches and warlocks had ever set foot in the place.
The meal passed without incident, and he got back behind the wheel.
“I told you I could drive,” Cassandra protested, although she went ahead and dutifully fastened her own seat belt.
“I know,” he said, unruffled, “and maybe we’ll trade places at some point. But I’m not tired yet, and all the caffeine in that iced tea I just drank should keep me going for a few hundred more miles.”
“Okay. But let me know.”
Smiling a little — and wondering if she secretly just wanted a chance to drive the Spider — Tony replied, “I will. Now, let’s get out of here.”
They drove west, toward a horizon that was little more than a sullen smudge of deep orange. Night fell, and the brilliant desert stars came out. Although Cassandra had said she would drive, he noticed the way her head started to droop as they crossed the California border, then lolled over on her shoulder the farther they went into the state.
Which was fine. Even though they’d been on the road for more than ten hours, he didn’t feel at all sleepy. It could have been the caffeine buzzing through his veins, or maybe just the sense of being someplace utterly foreign to him. He wished it wasn’t dark out so he could see more of the landscape, but that was all right. The glow from the highway and the stars overhead helped to give an impression of a sere, empty landscape, a desert utterly unlike the scrubby high desert of New Mexico, blank and harsh.
They drove through Palm Springs, then dropped down into what his nav system told him was a town called Redlands, followed by San Bernardino. The suburban sprawl surprised him, even though he knew California was far more populous than New Mexico, that the entire population of his home state was less than that of Los Angeles alone. Rather than be overwhelmed by it, he found himself impressed by its size, by all the possibilities such a place might offer. Too bad he and Cassandra were here on such a serious mission, because otherwise he’d love to go exploring with her, to search out the interesting restaurants, the best clubs.
Did she even dance? It wasn’t the sort of thing that had come up in their conversations so far. He’d like to go dancing with her, but a slow dance, so he might hold her in his arms.
Somehow, he doubted she would allow him to do that. She’d been friendly but almost deliberately casual the whole day, as though doing her best to fight the sort of forced intimacy that this kind of road trip might invite. And though they would share a hotel room at journey’s end — he’d booked one at the Hilton while they were stopped in Phoenix for their fast food dinner — he’d gotten a room with two queen beds. Anything else would have been completely out of the question.
The nav told him to get off at Lake Avenue, and he wearily pulled over to the right, noting that it was almost eleven-thirty. He’d done his best to not look at the clock on the dashboard, because obsessing over the time wasn’t going to make the car move any faster, but as the hours had worn on, doing so had gotten harder and harder.
Now he was just glad to cut over to Los Robles and point the car south, following the nav system’s directions. At this hour, Santa Fe would have been quiet, only a few vehicles still out and about, but Pasadena’s streets were busier than he’d expected them to be. He was glad to let the nav take over and guide them the rest of the way to the hotel, and then into the parking garage. A minute later, he pulled into an open space not too far from the elevators and turned off the ignition.
“We’re here,” he said, and in the passenger seat, Cass stirred and looked around her with dazed, sleepy eyes.
“Where?”
“At the hotel.”
Voice accusing, she said, “I told you to let me drive part of the way.”
“It’s fine,” he replied. “You were sleepy, and I wasn’t.”
Her lips pushed together in disapproval, but then she seemed to let it go, saying, “Sorry I conked out. I guess I was more tired than I thought.”
“I’m glad you were able to sleep. We’re probably going to have a big day tomorrow.”
That comment earned him a nod, even as she reached down to undo her seatbelt. “You’re probably right.”
They both got out and retrieved their bags, then headed toward the elevators. When they emerged into the lobby, Tony halfway expected to see a delegation of Santiago witches and warlocks waiting there so they could demand what these interlopers were doing in their territory.
All he saw, though, was a tired-looking woman around his age standing behind the front desk, and a couple in their thirties sitting in a sort of conversation pit off to one side, half-drunk martinis on the table in front of them. They looked a little worse for wear, but at least they didn’t seem to be paying attention to anyone except themselves.
Check-in went smoothly enough, and within a few minutes, Tony and Cassandra were in another elevator, this one taking them up to the eighth floor. No one was out and about in the hallway, so they were able to slip into their room unobserved. To his Santa Fe–bred eyes, the room looked very sterile and modern, but at least it was clean, and the beds were probably comfortable enough.
Not quite meeting his eyes, Cassandra said, “I’ll just be a few minutes in the bathroom. Take whichever bed you want.”
Still holding her bag, she disappeared into the bathroom. He went ahead and set his own suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed closest to the window, then pulled out the T-shirt and sweat pants he’d brought to sleep in. Usually he went to bed in just his underwear, but he had a feeling Cassandra wouldn’t be too thrilled if she came out of the bathroom to find him lounging there in only his boxer briefs.
Since the bathroom door remained closed, he hurriedly got out of his jacket, jeans, and long-sleeved shirt, and into the sleep things he’d brought along. He was just running a hand through his disheveled hair to straighten it a bit when Cass emerged, wearing an outfit almost identical to his, except the T-shirt had long sleeves.
“All yours,” she said, still not quite looking at him.
Awkward. Well, there wasn’t much he could do about the sleeping arrang
ements, except to act as matter-of-fact as possible. “Thanks,” he replied, and took his toiletry case with him into the bathroom, where he took care of business, then splashed some warm water on his face and brushed his teeth.
When he came back out, Cassandra had already slid under the covers in the second bed, and had them pulled up almost to her chin. What she was trying to hide, he wasn’t sure, since her sleepwear wasn’t exactly what you could call revealing. Still, he didn’t comment, only went over to the bed he’d claimed for his own and got in as well, then reached over and pushed the button to turn off the lamp on the table between the two beds.
“Good night, Cass,” he said, although he wondered whether it actually would be a good night. Would it be hard to sleep, knowing she was only a few feet away?
“Good night, Tony,” she responded. In the darkness, her voice sounded brisk and no-nonsense, not at all sleepy. However, neither did it invite confidences or further conversation, so he knew there wasn’t much point in doing anything except rolling over and trying to go to sleep.
And so that’s what he did.
He woke up to the sound of the shower in the bathroom. After turning over, he did his best to focus on the clock radio on the bedside table. Eight-thirty. That was actually kind of early for him, since he didn’t have a job to go to each day and his nighttime activities often kept him awake well past midnight.
Clearly, Cassandra didn’t have the same sleeping patterns. Her bed was already made, her overnight bag sitting open at its foot, indicating that she’d probably rummaged through it to find the things she needed to take with her into the bathroom.
In a way, it was kind of disappointing to have missed seeing her with morning-mussed hair and no makeup. She might have seemed more vulnerable that way, a little less tough. It was hard for him to realize that she had to be four or five years younger than he was, because in a lot of ways, she seemed far more grown-up, far more prepared to deal with the unpleasantness of adult life.
Since he couldn’t do much until she was out of the bathroom, Tony picked up the remote and turned on the TV. A local newscast was on, with a slick-looking meteorologist predicting that temperatures would range from the mid-sixties at the coast to the low seventies inland.
Low seventies in early November? He thought he could probably get used to that.
The water in the bathroom shut off. A minute or so later, a hair dryer was turned on. So much for getting in the bathroom any time soon.
However, there was a coffeemaker on the desk across the room, along with a basket of premixed coffee in a variety of flavors. He got out of bed, selected mocha java, and put the cup in the machine. In less than a minute, he had a cup of coffee in hand and wandered over to the window so he could pull the curtains aside and take a look at their surroundings.
This felt like the big city, even though he knew Pasadena was nowhere near the size of Los Angeles. Even so, he could see a number of tall buildings flanking the wide boulevard in front of the Hilton, as well as on all the surrounding streets. The sky overhead was bright blue, unbroken by a single cloud, and far off to his right he caught a glimpse of tall, purple-hued mountains.
Tony felt obscurely comforted by their presence. He’d spent his whole life in places where mountains were part of the landscape, and it would have felt completely alien here if he hadn’t been able to see their comforting bulk filling in some portion of the horizon.
“I’m out,” Cassandra said, and he turned to see her moving toward her overnight bag so she could put some of her supplies away. Today she was wearing the same tall boots and a pair of slim-fitting jeans, along with a plain black long-sleeved T-shirt. He supposed she was wearing some makeup, but she just looked glowing and gorgeous and natural.
Damn.
“Thanks,” he replied, trying to sound casual. It wasn’t really fair for someone to look that good so early in the morning. “There’s coffee, if you want some.”
“I do.” She came over and studied the offerings in the basket, then selected the one remaining mocha java cup. Tony felt oddly pleased by her choice, as if them both having the same taste in coffee made it seem as if they would be compatible in other things as well.
He took a swallow of his coffee and did his best to ignore the sweet scent of her freshly washed hair. It was probably stupid for him to be so focused on her presence when she hadn’t shown any signs of interest in him. In fact, she’d barely glanced in his direction before she started making her coffee.
“I’ll get in the shower now,” Tony said, then put down his cup. There was still about a third of it left, but he figured they might as well get things moving, especially since Cassandra obviously wasn’t the type to dawdle in the morning.
“Okay,” she replied, gaze still fixed on the coffeemaker as she slid the cup into place.
He decided to take his entire overnight bag into the bathroom rather than stand there and rummage for clean underwear right in front of her. The air still felt steamy from her shower and a faint fog obscured the outer edges of the mirror, although she’d left the fan running. He also thought he could catch a soft floral scent on the damp air, probably from her shampoo or body wash.
Since he knew he’d only get himself in trouble if he thought about Cassandra showering in here, he pushed the mental image aside and went ahead and brushed his teeth, then got into the stall and turned on the hot water. The heat was immediate, which he appreciated; the hot water heater at his house was balky and needed to be replaced, although that was only one in a long list of issues with the house that he’d promised himself he’d get to eventually and still hadn’t fixed.
Over the years, he’d gotten fairly good at not thinking about anything when he needed to, and so that was what he did now — let himself go on autopilot and get cleaned up, the whole time doing his best not to think about Cassandra, or the reason why they were here in Pasadena…or the coming confrontation with Marisol Valdez. Somehow, he had a feeling she wasn’t going to be very happy about a couple of out-of-state witches showing up on her doorstep unannounced.
Or maybe she already knew they were here. He still hadn’t quite figured out whether all primas shared that particular sixth sense, or whether only the very strong ones were able to know when outsider witches and warlocks crossed over into their territory.
After his shower, he wiped the steam off the mirror, inspected the scruff on his chin, and decided it could go another day or so before he had to shave again. With any luck, by then he’d be back home with the books in hand, proving that he could actually accomplish something worthwhile from time to time.
But no, his imaginary little scenario wouldn’t play out like that, mostly because he assumed that if they were somehow lucky enough to recover the grimoires, then Cassandra would take them back to her own clan for safekeeping. Then, he supposed, he would go his way and she would go hers, and that would be the end of things.
He didn’t want that to happen. In fact, he found himself hoping they wouldn’t be immediately successful, because right then he wanted this road trip of theirs to continue, for them to keep searching for the thief and the books he’d taken for days and days.
Weeks, maybe.
Right. Tony doubted he and Cass would be allowed free rein for quite that long. Sooner or later, both their primas would reel them back in, or at least, someone in his clan would step in and say enough was enough. Miranda might not be in good enough shape to do such a thing right now, but he had no doubt that Louisa would be more than happy to play bad cop if need be.
He emerged from the bathroom to see Cassandra sitting at the foot of her bed, coffee cup in one hand as she scrolled through the messages on her phone with the other. Judging by the faint frown she wore, she didn’t much like what she was looking at.
“Is something wrong?” he asked as he went over to retrieve his shoes from the spot where he’d left them next to his own bed.
“Not really,” she replied. “At least, not yet. I just had to send an
other vague text to Zoe to the tune of ‘we’re working on it’ and hope she doesn’t start asking any hard questions.”
“But she doesn’t know you’re here.”
“No, of course not, and I’ll do what I can to keep it that way. She thinks I’m still in Santa Fe, working with you Castillos to find out where our stolen books were taken.” She set the phone down on the bed and slanted a glance up at him. “What about you?”
“I haven’t even looked at my phone,” he said honestly. “But I didn’t hear anything from my father or sister last night as we were driving, so I guess that means there aren’t any changes to report.”
“They wouldn’t drop by your house without asking, would they?”
“I doubt it. I’m in and out a lot, and they’re both probably occupied with looking after my mother.”
Cassandra’s hazel-green eyes suddenly seemed very keen. “And you’re sure it doesn’t bother you?”
“That I skipped out and left them to keep watch over her?” Put that way, it did sound pretty bad. But he knew there really wasn’t anything he could have done for his mother, and it still felt better for him to be tracking down her assailant than staying in Santa Fe and hanging around in an attempt to look useful.
The remark didn’t even earn him a blink. “Yeah, that.”
“Not really. I’m helping, just in a different way.” He went to his coat, which he’d draped over the back of a chair the night before, and dug his cell phone out of the inside pocket. To his relief, it didn’t look as though he’d missed anything too important — there was a text from Ava around nine o’clock the night before, telling him that their mother seemed stable, and then another text from his cousin José about a party coming up on Saturday night. Tony wanted to think he’d be back in Santa Fe in time for that party, but he couldn’t know that for sure. He held up the phone and went on, “It looks like everyone thinks I’m still in town, so I think we’re safe for a while longer.”
An Ill Wind Page 7