An Ill Wind

by Christine Pope

  With that handled, she got out her phone and went to the map application. “I figured we should take a look at how long it’ll take us to get to the convent from here,” she explained.

  That made sense. They’d looked up the location of the convent this morning and programmed it into his car’s navigation system before they left Temecula, but obviously they hadn’t used those directions yet, since they hadn’t known where they would be having lunch. “It’s on the outskirts of town, right?”

  “Looks that way,” Cassandra replied. “My phone says it’ll take about twenty minutes to get there, give or take.”

  Tijuana was obviously a lot bigger than he’d thought. The car’s nav had brought them directly to the restaurant, so while he’d been looking around as they entered the city, he hadn’t been paying much attention to the scale of the place. Still, he reflected that it could take a good twenty minutes to get from the Plaza in Santa Fe down to the mall at its southern end if traffic was at all thick. Maybe Tijuana was around the same size as his hometown.

  “Well, even if we take our time with lunch, we’ll get there before three,” he said. “Plenty of time for us to talk to our nun.”

  “If she even exists.” Cassandra drank some of her iced tea, brow puckering slightly from worry.

  It was a legitimate concern. Olivia Escobar had last visited the place when she was barely more than a toddler, and she was now in her mid-forties. A lot could have happened in that amount of time. And though they’d tried to do their due diligence by calling first, the woman on the phone hadn’t seemed to understand what they were asking, even though Cassandra had repeated the request several times in her quite excellent Spanish. About all they could do at that point was come down here and see for themselves what was going on.

  “I’m sure she exists, and is still there,” he said in his most reassuring tones. “I mean, nuns aren’t known for moving around a lot, are they?”

  “No,” Cassandra said. “But it’s been a long time. She could be dead.”

  The same thought had crossed his mind, but there wasn’t much they could do except go and see what they might find. If the woman they were looking for had died in the intervening years, well, they’d try to talk to the other nuns, see if she had told any of them something. Or maybe she’d kept a diary. Tony just knew they couldn’t give up before they’d even started, or what was the point in coming down here in the first place?

  “We’ll deal with that if we have to,” he told her. “In the meantime, we might as well enjoy ourselves. I mean, when you came to Santa Fe a few days ago, did you ever think you’d end up in Tijuana within the week?”

  A flicker of a dimple showed next to her mouth as she gave him a rueful smile. “No, not really. I thought I’d go there, do what I needed to do, and go straight home.”

  “So now you’ve gotten a little bit of an unexpected vacation.”

  “This isn’t a vacation,” she said severely, the smile now gone.

  “It can be…at least until we have to head south.”

  Her brows lifted. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “I can be serious if I need to. But right now I’m in a fun restaurant, it’s warm enough here that we can drive around with the top down, and I’m getting to see a part of the world I never thought I’d visit. I’d say that sounds like a little bit of a vacation. Besides,” he added, since Cassandra was still giving him her version of the stink-eye, “my mother is doing okay, and the secret is out and we don’t have to lie about our whereabouts anymore. I’d say that sounds like a very good day.”

  “Well, maybe,” she allowed, but her tone was still grudging at best.

  “Have you heard anything from your clan?” he asked. Ever since he’d told Ava what he and Cassandra were up to, he’d been expecting them to get a barrage of text messages, but so far the radio silence had been almost spooky.

  She nodded but looked singularly unconcerned. “I got a text from my father this morning while you were in the shower. He asked, ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I said I wasn’t sure but I was okay.”

  There was that honesty again. Tony admired her for being so up front with her father, but he wasn’t sure he would have been as bald-faced about the whole thing if he’d been put in a similar situation. “And he said?”

  “He told me to be careful and to text him if I needed any help.”

  For a second, Tony considered telling her to get back in touch with her father so he could come down here and lend a hand. This was exactly the sort of situation where having a former homicide detective along for the ride might be helpful. Luckily, sanity kicked in. He was here in Mexico, alone with a beautiful girl. What kind of idiot would actually ask to have her father along as a chaperone?

  “Sounds like he’s being pretty mellow about everything.”

  “He is,” Cassandra said, then sipped some more of her iced tea. “Actually, that’s what’s sort of freaking me out. It seems as though he should be reading me the riot act. But then, he doesn’t really know what the two of us are planning. If he did, he’d probably be on the first plane down here.”

  Which was the last thing Tony wanted. “You’re not going to tell him, though.”

  “Hell, no.” She played with her straw, the blue stone in the silver ring she wore flashing as it caught the bright sunlight coming in through the window next to their table. “I mean, I’m not saying he wouldn’t probably be a help, because his power is defensive magic and he’s really, really good at it, but the more people we have working with us, the more conspicuous we are. Once we start adding people to our team, we might as well put together our own private army for a full-on assault. You know?”

  He did know. They didn’t have a plan yet because they didn’t know where they were going, but he saw her point. Whatever they ended up doing would be done in stealth. Otherwise, they’d risk a full-on war with the Escobars, which couldn’t possibly end well. Once, a long time ago, witch clans had engaged in open clashes with each other, with the result being that there were a lot fewer witches and warlocks in the world. The only way to win a witch war was to not begin one in the first place.

  As he nodded, their waiter came back with their food, and they both lapsed into silence. The restaurant was noisy enough that Tony didn’t think anyone sitting at any of the nearby tables could have overheard what they were saying unless they were trying really hard, but he decided it was probably better to concentrate on his meal instead of continuing the discussion.

  Apparently, Cassandra was of the same mind — or maybe she was just really hungry — because she remained silent as well, attacking her huge plate of molé and rice and beans as if she hadn’t eaten for days. Well, to be fair, they hadn’t had much of a breakfast, just a muffin and coffee from the breakfast bar their hotel in Temecula had offered.

  His tacos were amazing, and the beans the best he’d ever had, although he knew he would never mention that particular tidbit to his Great-Aunt Rosa, who prided herself on her cooking and would be highly offended if he even dared to hint that someone else’s frijoles might surpass hers.

  They slowed down enough to comment on the food, but it seemed clear that Cassandra wanted to get on with their mission, because she went quiet again after they’d exchanged a few superlatives. Faster than he’d thought, they were done with their meal and he’d handed his credit card over to the waiter. At least Tony had remembered to inform his bank that he’d be traveling in Mexico and Central America, so he wasn’t too worried about getting hit with a sudden hold on his account because of a questionable transaction.

  Within a few minutes, he and Cassandra were back in the car, and he engaged the nav so it would take them to the convent Olivia had visited so many years before. They didn’t have to travel very far before the streets around them grew narrower and dirtier, very unlike the touristy area they’d left behind. Despite the warm sun beat
ing down on their heads, Tony wondered if he shouldn’t have put the convertible top back up. They were getting a lot of stares, and not all of them were friendly. In fact, some of them were downright hostile, as if those shabbily dressed men and women were wondering at the temerity of the two gringos in the sports car for daring to come into this part of town.

  He sent a quick glance over at Cassandra, wondering if she’d noticed. Being Cassandra, of course she had. However, she didn’t look worried. If anything, her expression was sad.

  “There’s still a lot of poverty here,” she said quietly. “Things have been getting better lately, but change doesn’t happen overnight. But I don’t think we have anything we need to worry about.”

  “If you say so,” he responded, knowing how dubious he sounded.

  “I do. I’ve never been to Tijuana before, of course, but I’ve spent a lot of time in Mexico.”

  She’d told him that before, and he figured he needed to take her words at face value. Even so, he found himself hoping the convent had a private parking lot the way the restaurant had. Otherwise, he’d be worrying the whole time they were inside talking to the nun they’d been looking for…if she was even there. This still could be a very short trip.

  Unfortunately, when they reached their destination, Tony saw immediately that his hopes of a private parking lot had been more than slightly optimistic. The convent itself had a high wall around it, but the only place to park was on the street. Immediately next to the convent was a long, low building that had a steady stream of people coming and going.

  “La casa de los pobres,” Cassandra murmured as he took the closest parking spot he could find, about half a block away. “That’s probably where Olivia and her family stayed when they were here. The convent gives people a place to sleep, has a kitchen staff. Or at least, that’s what their website said.”

  Of course the convent had a website. He looked around at the beat-up vehicles parked on the street and sighed. “I might as well put up a ‘please steal me’ sign on this thing.”

  To his surprise, Cassandra grinned. “Have you already forgotten what my talent is? I’ll put a shield around the car — no one will be able to see the shield, but if anyone tries to get close, they’re going to get the mother of all electric shocks. No one’s going to take your car.”

  Actually, he had forgotten all about her gift. He wanted to shake his head at himself, but he decided that would be a waste of energy. “Oh, well, in that case….”

  He put up the top, and then they both got out. Cassandra paused for a moment, hand outstretched. Tony couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw just the briefest shimmer of a pale orange light emerge from her fingertips and travel toward the Fiat. When he blinked, though, the light had disappeared.

  “It’s safe,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  They had to wait for a rusty aqua-colored pickup truck loaded with beat-up furniture to pass them. Then they crossed the street and paused in front of the convent.

  “Do we go in here, or over to the soup kitchen?” Tony asked.

  “Let’s start with the convent,” Cassandra replied after pausing for a second or two to consider his question. “It’s a lot less hectic here. If our nun’s still around and working at the facility next door, they can send us over there if they need to.”

  He nodded, then lifted the heavy knocker on the arched front door and tapped a few times. Belatedly, he wondered if the nuns would even let him in. Were men allowed in these sorts of places?

  The door opened, and a young woman — well, not much more than a girl, probably younger than Cassandra — peered out at them with wide, dark eyes. She wore a short veil and a plain dress, and Tony guessed that she was probably a novice, not yet a full-fledged nun.

  “¿Puedo ayudarlos?” she asked.

  Tony shot a helpless look at Cassandra, who smiled slightly and responded, “Por favor — estamos buscando a alguien que trabajó aquí hace mucho tiempo.” In an undertone, she added, “I told her we’re looking for someone who used to work here a long time ago.”

  The novice frowned then said, “Puedo llevarlos a ver a la Madre Superiora. Venir de esta manera, por favor.”

  She opened the door a little further and gestured for the two of them to come inside. Cassandra hadn’t offered a translation, but Tony thought the girl was saying she would take them to talk to the Mother Superior. Good. She would probably know who they were talking about…or at least, he hoped she would.

  They went down a hallway with white-plastered walls and shiny red tile on the floor. Crucifixes and religious art hung everywhere, and overhead was a large wrought-iron light fixture. Even though it was a warm day outside, in here the air was quite cool, although he didn’t see any air conditioning vents anywhere. Maybe the building itself was comfortable because of its thick adobe walls.

  The novice paused at a closed door, then knocked and said, “¿Madre Superiora? Hay algunas personas a quienes les gustaría hablar con usted.”

  After a brief pause, the door opened, and an older woman with a kindly lined face looked out at them. Seeing her, Tony felt hopeful. She certainly looked as if she could have been here for forty years or more.

  “Gracías, María,” the Mother Superior said to the girl. Then her gaze traveled to Cassandra and Tony. “Come in,” the woman went on, her English heavily accented but certainly intelligible.

  The two of them followed her into what had to be her office. A computer that looked at least ten years old sat on the big wooden desk, and an old-fashioned metal tray held a stack of paperwork.

  “Please, sit down,” the Mother Superior said, indicating a pair of banged-up wooden chairs that faced the desk. “What is it I can do for you?”

  Tony tilted his head slightly, indicating that he wanted Cassandra to reply. He didn’t know why, but he got the feeling that the elderly nun in front of them might respond better to a request coming from another woman.

  Cassandra cleared her throat. “We’re looking for a nun who used to work in the Casa de los Pobres.”

  “Do you know her name?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Cassandra paused. Trying to figure out how much of the story was safe to tell? After that brief hesitation, she continued. “This would have been a long time ago — around forty years. She helped a woman who was fleeing a bad marriage. The woman would have had a small girl with her, a toddler, and a baby who was probably less than a year old.”

  The Mother Superior gave her a sad smile. “That is a familiar story around here, I am afraid. I have only been at the convent for twenty-two years, so I would not have been here when this family arrived.”

  “Oh,” Cassandra said, disappointment clear in her voice.

  “But,” the elderly nun went on, “Sister María Consilio has been with us that long, and has worked at the Casa de los Pobres for most of that time. It’s possible she would know who you’re speaking of.”

  “Can we talk to her?” Tony broke in, unable to contain his eagerness. “It’s really important.”

  The Mother Superior shook her head. “I am afraid she is not here today. She and another of the sisters have traveled further south to a sister convent to take some donations to them.”

  Damn it. Disappointment rippled through him, but Cassandra seemed to take this setback in stride.

  “When will she be back?”

  “Tomorrow,” the Mother Superior said. “Sometime early in the morning, most likely, but it is probably better if you come back to speak with her no earlier than eleven, in case she is delayed for some reason.”

  “Tomorrow morning would be wonderful,” Cassandra said. “Thank you, Mother Superior.”

  “It is no problem.” The older woman’s gaze moved to Tony for a second or two before traveling back to Cassandra, as if trying to read something of their reason for coming all this way. “It is very important that you see her, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Cassandra replied. “She might be the only person in the world who has the in
formation we need.”

  “In that case, I am glad you found us,” the Mother Superior said. “By the grace of God, Sister María Consilio will be able to provide it.”

  “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” Tony told her. This small delay was nothing. Actually, he was glad of it in a way, since it would give him another evening to hang out with Cassandra — and would keep them from having to travel to El Salvador for at least another day.

  “Yes, I suppose you shall.” The Mother Superior added, “We will see you then. Come around eleven, I think. That should be safe enough.”

  The request seemed to be her way of getting rid of them, but Tony didn’t mind. They’d gotten the valuable intel that their nun was still alive, and they could wait a few more hours to hear her story.

  “Thank you, Mother Superior,” Cassandra said.

  They said their goodbyes, and a moment later, were back out on the street. As they approached the Fiat where it was parked, a skinny guy, not much more than a teenager, hurried past them, muttering under his breath and rubbing his hand. Tony looked at him as he went, then shot a mystified glance at Cassandra. “What was that about?”

  “He was complaining about the pinche gringos and their fancy car security systems,” she answered with a grin. “Sounds like someone tried to get into your car and got zapped by my shield. I told you it would work.”

  Apparently. Tony couldn’t keep himself from smiling, too, although he kind of wished he’d been outside to see the guy get shocked by the shield Cassandra had put in place. His initial reaction probably had been priceless.

  Once they were almost at the car, she lifted a hand, waving her fingers. For just a second, a shimmer of orange light surrounded the Fiat before disappearing. “Okay, it’s gone. Let’s go.”

  That sounded like a great idea to him, except…. “Where exactly are we going?”

  “Back to Temecula, I guess,” she replied.