“I’m fine,” she said.
“You didn’t look fine.”
“I was just thinking.”
“About?”
Cassandra opened her mouth to tell him it wasn’t any of his business, but that would have been rude. Besides, it was sort of his business now. He needed to understand exactly what they were up against.
“About the Escobars. About how Joaquin Escobar’s daughter killed my grandfather.”
Behind his sunglasses, Tony’s eyes widened. “Jesus. I hadn’t heard that.”
“I don’t know why you would have. I mean, none of that really touched the Castillos until the end, when Angela and Connor asked for your prima’s help.” She hesitated, not sure of the best way to explain. “It’s kind of complicated. No one even knew Escobar had a daughter, but he sent her to Arizona to create what mayhem she could. She struck at my mother’s ex-husband, mostly because my uncle Colin was married to a McAllister witch and the Escobars wanted revenge for what Angela and Connor did to Matías.”
“Which was…?”
“His punishment for using McAllister and Wilcox witches to power his dark magic was to have his own magic taken away.”
“Wait.” Tony rested his half-eaten burrito on his leg and shifted in his seat so he could look her straight in the eye. “You’re saying that Angela and Connor stripped Matías of his magic? They can do that?”
“I guess so. This all happened before I was born, though.” And in a strange way, if it hadn’t been for the Escobar witch’s intervention, Cassandra’s parents might never have met at all. “My father was working for the Scottsdale P.D. at the time. He was assigned to the murder case and quickly realized my mother wasn’t a suspect, that something much darker was going on. The trail eventually led to Matías’ sister, but since my mother shot her and she died at the scene, they never were able to get any real information on where she’d come from or anything about the rest of the Escobar clan.”
Tony was looking a little dazed. Cassandra supposed she could forgive him for that, since it was kind of a crazy story when the facts were stated so baldly. When he spoke, however, his comment surprised her. “So…you’re related to both the McAllisters and the de la Pazes?”
“The McAllisters only by marriage, but yeah.” Her sandwich was starting to get cold, so she took another bite before continuing. “My uncle Colin is married to Jenny McAllister. Her mother is one of the clan elders. When I was a kid, we’d usually go up to Jerome to visit at least once a year so I could hang out with my cousins for a few days.” With a pang, Cassandra realized they hadn’t made one of those visits for more than three years now, not since her first year in college. She’d always enjoyed going to Jerome.
Maybe she could again…once this was all over.
“And I thought my family history was convoluted,” Tony commented with a shake of his head.
“Your parents met during a murder investigation?”
He chuckled, then picked up his burrito and helped himself to a large bite. “No, nothing like that. It was the typical ‘we’re distant enough cousins that it’s okay to get married’ thing, as far as I can tell. I guess I just meant all these branches of the family looping in and around each other. I’m glad I’m not the one who has to keep track of it all and make sure it’s safe for the various people involved to be married.”
After making that comment, he suddenly looked a little embarrassed, as if he’d realized that talking about marriage might be kind of awkward. It shouldn’t be, Cassandra thought, but she knew she was just kidding herself if there wasn’t a bit of sexual tension sparking between the two of them. Nothing neither of them would act on, mostly because they had far more important things to occupy themselves at the moment, but still. She’d caught a couple of admiring glances, had noticed the way their gazes would lock for a moment before they both realized what they were doing.
“Well,” she said, doing her best to keep her tone light, “if Miranda is anything like her mother, then she’s probably going to encourage your clan to be a bit more open. Maybe it won’t be so hard to keep track of consanguinity when you get a little McAllister or Wilcox blood mixed in with Castillo.”
“Genoveva would probably roll over in her grave,” he remarked, but that dancing light was back in his dark eyes, and the corners of his mouth quirked into a smile, so Cassandra guessed she didn’t have to take his comment too seriously.
“Was she a member of the purity police?” she asked. “We have a few of them in the de la Paz clan, too. I know my parents tried to keep me sheltered from that sort of thing, but I know there were some in the old guard who weren’t happy that my father married someone who was both a gringa and a civilian.”
To her relief, Tony’s smile only broadened, telling her that he sure didn’t care whether she was of mixed blood or not. “‘Purity police’? I like that. And yeah, Genoveva was definitely old school. She understood why we had to add a little civilian blood here and there, but she sure as hell didn’t like it.”
“It’s kind of silly when you think about it,” Cassandra said. “I mean, there’s no proof that being part civilian dilutes your magic. My talent is a rare one, and pretty strong, despite having a civilian mother.”
“And my talent is just kind of there,” Tony said, “even though both my parents are Castillo through and through.”
“What is your talent?” Cassandra inquired, then quickly added, “If you don’t mind my asking.”
Obviously, he didn’t, because he replied right away. “Wind.”
“‘Wind’?” she repeated.
“I can summon wind from anywhere,” he told her. “Everything from a little breeze to a full-blown gale. I’ll admit that it did help a little when we were fighting Simon Escobar, but as witchy talents go, I’d say it’s sort of underwhelming.”
“I don’t know,” she countered. “You could do a lot with that.”
“Not really,” he said. “I mean, it does make sort of a cool weapon, but I can count the number of magic duels I’ve been in on the thumbs of one hand, so it’s not as useful as you seem to think.”
Since he seemed determined to disparage his talent, Cassandra decided to let it go. She lifted her shoulders, then picked up her now very lukewarm breakfast sandwich and ate the last few bites. Tony did the same with his burrito, his gaze now seeming to avoid hers. Was he embarrassed by what he’d said, or was he simply trying to give her the signal that it was time to move on to other topics of conversation?
It was hard to tell. Now that she’d finished her sandwich, she rolled up the wrapper and stuffed it in the paper bag their food had come in. Tony handed her his burrito wrapper as well, and for a while they both focused on the scenery passing by outside the car windows, which now seemed to be more agricultural than the endless suburban sprawl. In a way, she was glad to see the neatly plowed fields, the huge dairy farms with their herds of cows, just because she’d begun to wonder if this part of California was nothing more than endless housing tracts punctuated by strip malls.
Once they crossed over the 91 Freeway, the landscape became even more open, rolling hills dotted with low trees that might have been some kind of oaks. The sky was blue and mild, traffic lighter than she would have expected for a weekday. Then again, it was only a little after twelve. She was sure this freeway would tell a very different story a few hours from now.
They passed through a few smallish towns, then turned off on Winchester Road and headed east before turning again into a tract of nicely maintained houses, most of them two stories tall. For all its neatness, though, Cassandra wasn’t sure she could ever live in a neighborhood like this, with all the houses smashed in together on tiny lots. She thought of her parents’ house in Tubac, of the wild country that surrounded it on every side. The only way to reach it was by a dirt road, and the nearest neighbors were half a mile away. She’d been glad to assert her independence and move to her condo in Tucson, but she had to admit that having people on every side had taken some getting use
d to, even though the condo complex backed up to open land and the neighborhood wasn’t nearly as built up as this one.
“There it is,” Tony said, pointing to a two-story house on a corner lot, its garage and the shutters on the two picture windows on the front of the house painted a cheerful red. He took control of the car then, slowing down so he could park on the side of the house, rather than right out in front.
Cassandra was glad he’d done that. This way, it wouldn’t be quite so obvious to anyone inside the house that they were about to get a pair of visitors. She lifted her purse from where it had been sitting in the footwell. “Ready?”
“I suppose so.” He glanced past her at the house, and didn’t look quite so at ease as he usually did. “Maybe we should have called first.”
The thought had crossed Cassandra’s mind, but she decided that it was probably better for them to have the element of surprise on their side. If she’d called to make an appointment, so to speak, there was always the chance that Olivia would make sure she wasn’t at home when they showed up. Some of the matters they needed to discuss had to be awkward, or even painful for the other woman to relive. But they also couldn’t be avoided.
“Too late for that,” Cassandra said lightly, then touched the button to open the door and got out.
Tony climbed out of the driver’s seat, and together they walked around the corner and began to head up the front walk. The air here was mild, a cool breeze sending the leaves on the trees dancing.
Just as they reached the stoop, the red-painted door opened, and a dark-haired woman wearing jeans and a floral-print blouse looked out at them.
“Hello,” she said. “I’ve been expecting you.”
7
“Marisol decided to call and warn me that you were coming,” Olivia explained as she ushered Tony and Cassandra into the family room. It was a bright and cheerful space, the walls painted a warm yellow, the furniture beige linen with blue and yellow pillows. A pitcher of iced tea and several glasses sat on the pale wood coffee table. Tony sat down on the couch and Cassandra took a seat next to him, a little closer than he’d been expecting. It was nice to have her there, to catch the faint drift of sweet shampoo scent from her hair, even though he knew that was probably the last thing he should be focusing on.
“I’m sorry about just dropping in like this — ” Cassandra began, but Olivia only shook her head.
“It’s all right. To be honest, I’m surprised no one from either of your clans came to talk to me before now.” She paused there, and although her expression remained serene enough, Tony thought he could catch a glimpse of sadness in her big dark eyes. “That is, word filtered through eventually about what happened to Simon, but….”
“I guess someone in my clan should have reached out directly,” Tony said. “But we were all a little traumatized by what happened.”
“I can imagine.” Olivia gave the two of them a tired smile. He guessed she had to be somewhere in her middle forties, but even though she was a pretty woman, she looked somehow older than that, as if the terrible things her brother had done had left an indelible mark on her soul, one that also showed in her features.
Cassandra reached for one of the glasses and poured herself some iced tea. Voice brisk, she said, “There’s been another attack in Castillo territory. Tony’s cousin said the magic felt like the magic your brother used.”
That remark made Olivia’s eyes widen, and some of the color seemed to go out of her cheeks. “Oh, no. How is that possible? There are no other — I mean, Simon was the only Escobar remaining here in the United States.”
“We think whoever it was teleported in and out,” Tony said. “At least, there didn’t seem to be any other way for them to get inside my mother’s house. So it’s really hard to say where they were teleporting from.”
“You said ‘attack.’ Was anyone hurt?”
“My mother,” he replied. As Olivia appeared to turn even paler, he hurriedly added, “She’s okay. I mean, she’s in some kind of coma, but my father says she’s improving, so I think she’ll be fine.” Why he felt the need to reassure this woman, when it was probably someone from her former clan who had assaulted his mother in the first place, Tony wasn’t quite sure. He supposed it was that she seemed so fragile, so worried. And really, she might have been born an Escobar, but she’d been raised by the Santiagos and couldn’t really be held accountable for the things her blood kin might or might not have done.
“I am so sorry,” Olivia said. She’d been hovering this whole time, but now she sat down in the armchair opposite the couch. “I suppose it is possible an Escobar could have been involved, but I’m not sure what I can do to help you find the person responsible. My mother took my brother and me away from the Escobars when we were very young.”
“We know that,” Cassandra responded. Her voice was a little gentler now, as if, now that she’d seen Olivia for herself, she could see that she needed to be handled carefully. “But really, anything you could tell us might help. Do you remember anything of the time before you were brought to California?”
Olivia’s lips pressed together, and she glanced away from the two of them, gaze moving to the carefully groomed pocket lawn just outside the family room’s sliding glass doors. “I was very young. Barely three. It’s difficult to remember much from so long ago.”
“Please try,” Tony said. He didn’t want to push her too hard, but he also knew that she was their only hope in tracking the Escobar witch or warlock — if that truly was who’d stolen the grimoires — back to their lair. “You were from Central America originally, right?”
A sigh escaped Olivia’s lips, and she nodded. “Yes, El Salvador. I remember the heat, so much more intense than here in Southern California. Tropical heat, moist. You know?”
Both Tony and Cassandra nodded, although he had to reflect with grim amusement that neither of them really could know. Desert dwellers both, but he supposed Cassandra at least had more exposure to extreme heat down in the Tucson area than he ever had in Santa Fe. As for humidity…well, you might get a little right after a monsoon storm, but otherwise it really wasn’t something you had to worry about in northern New Mexico.
“Did you live in a city or a town?” Cassandra asked.
“A small town, not much more than a village…I think.” Olivia’s eyes shut for a moment, as if she could visualize the scene better when not distracted by her current surroundings. “The streets were muddy, full of ruts. And I remember a spire on a church, but I don’t know for sure if it was part of the village or not.” Still with her eyes closed, she went on, “I remember my mother crying. It was nighttime. She came and got me out of my bed, and took Matías from his cradle. She took us away from the house and walked with us to another village. Someone there drove us into the city.”
“Which city?” Tony asked. “San Salvador?” To be honest, that was the only city in El Salvador he even knew of, but he figured it was worth a try.
Olivia’s eyes opened, and she shook her head. “I don’t know. I know we got on a bus and traveled all night. We came to another town, and then there was a train. I’m not sure how long that part of the journey took, but it seemed like we were on trains for a long time. Then there was another bus, or maybe two. By then it had been several days since we left the village. The whole time, my mother was afraid — she didn’t speak to anyone unless she had to, and she kept looking over her shoulder.”
“Worried that Joaquin was going to come after her?” Cassandra said.
“I would guess so. At last we came to a place that was bright and hot, and where I heard people speaking English and Spanish. I didn’t understand the English, but I knew we must be far from home if that many people on the streets were speaking another language. There were many cars, some of them new and expensive. Now I know we were in Tijuana, although my mother never said the name of the place to me.”
Tony looked over at Cassandra, whose shoulders lifted a fraction. This was interesting, but he did
n’t know how the information could help them if Olivia couldn’t remember any place names.
“There is something else, though,” Olivia said then, eyebrows lifting as though something had just occurred to her. “Let me see if I can find it.”
She got up from her chair and left the family room. A minute later, Tony could hear her light footsteps on the stairs.
Cassandra murmured, “What do you think she’s going to get?”
“I have no idea,” he replied. “What do you think of her story?”
“It sounds about like what I’ve heard through the family grapevine,” Cassandra said. “That must have taken some guts, though — to run away from a warlock like Joaquin Escobar and go through miles of jungle on foot.” She paused there, frowning slightly. “I wonder why he wasn’t able to catch up with them. It doesn’t sound as though it would have been all that difficult.”
“Maybe Olivia’s mother had some kind of gift that made it hard for her to be tracked,” Tony suggested.
“I thought she was a healer, though.”
Oh, right. He’d forgotten about that. While it was possible for a witch to have a secondary talent in addition to her main magical gift — just as Cassandra did — usually that secondary talent wasn’t nearly as strong. Even if Olivia’s mother had the skill to hide her presence, he doubted that particular magical power would have been enough to keep Escobar off her trail.
They both fell silent then as Olivia came back down the stairs, something clutched in her right hand. She resumed her seat in her chair and put something down on the table in front of them. Leaning forward, Tony saw that it was a small religious medal of some gold-colored metal, probably bronze.
“El corazon de María?” he read aloud in questioning tones, and Olivia nodded.
“Yes, that was the convent associated with the halfway house that took us in. Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time — I only knew we were someplace safe, with real beds to sleep in and warm food. We stayed there for several days, and then a man came to take us away.”
An Ill Wind Page 9