An Ill Wind

by Christine Pope

  They called a cab after dinner, but before Cassandra could pull out her phone and tell the vehicle’s AI their destination, Tony leaned forward, knowing he needed to take the lead here.

  “Take us to the nearest dance club, please.”

  “Yes, sir,” came the car’s programmed voice, which sounded like an actor doing a voice-over for a high-end tequila commercial.

  Cassandra stared at him, an unwelcome, nervous flutter starting in her stomach. “What are you doing, Tony?”

  “What does it look like?” he responded. “It’s not even nine o’clock yet. We need to work off some of that dinner.”

  “I don’t dance,” she said, her tone flat.

  “That’s okay,” he told her, and grinned. This was going to be fun.

  “I do.”

  13

  She really couldn’t believe that Tony had talked her into this. All right, there hadn’t actually been that much discussion involved — he’d basically spirited her away without any discussion at all.

  The club the cab had brought them to was only a few blocks away from the restaurant where they’d eaten dinner, so technically they could have walked. However, Tony clearly hadn’t known where they were going, had relied on the cab’s A.I. to choose an appropriate venue.

  Right now, though, Cassandra was wondering exactly what the cab’s idea of “appropriate” was.

  Oh, the club was popular, all right. The only reason she and Tony had been able to snag a table was because a group got up from it and left just as the two of them were walking in. They’d sort of pushed the empty shot glasses and beer bottles to one side and used a paper napkin to wipe down the damp surface, since it didn’t seem as if anyone was going to come by to clean up any time soon.

  He went up to the bar to get them drinks, even though Cassandra protested that she’d had plenty of wine with dinner and only wanted some bottled water or something.

  “A shot of tequila isn’t going to kill you,” he informed her as he got up from the table.

  She wasn’t so sure about that. Luckily, she’d seen enough of her cousins get messed up on the stuff that she’d always avoided it herself, but even so, there was a reason why the liquor’s nickname was “ta kill ya.”

  Tony came back to the table and set down two shot glasses filled nearly to the brim with amber liquid. He pushed one glass toward her, then lifted the other in a toast. “Salut,” he said.

  “Salut,” she echoed, clinking her shot glass against his, but carefully. They were so full that it wouldn’t take much to spill tequila everywhere. Although, come to think of it, maybe that would be a good thing.

  As she watched in amazement, Tony knocked back the entire contents of his shot glass in one quick swallow. “What?” he said in tones of injured innocence when he was done, obviously noticing the way she stared at him.

  Cassandra was still holding her glass, hadn’t taken a single sip yet. “Don’t you think you should slow down?”

  “Nah,” he replied, the old smile back in place. Whatever Consuelo Navarro had done to knock him off track earlier that day, he seemed to have recovered. “You’ve never partied with me. This is nothing.”

  Why did Cassandra have a feeling he was only telling her the truth?

  “Well, I’m not as much of a party animal,” she said. “You’ll have to bear with me.”

  “It’s okay,” he responded, dark eyes twinkling. “You can go at your own pace.”

  Which meant taking small sips from her shot glass, even as Tony got up to fetch himself another drink. Inwardly, she shook her head and wondered how much it would cost to pay to clean up the vomit in the back of a cab if he got himself drunk enough.

  However, despite the amount of alcohol he’d already consumed, he seemed steady enough on his feet as he threaded his way back to their table. By that point, Cassandra had barely drunk a third of her tequila…and that was fine by her. She really didn’t like the taste of the stuff, but it wasn’t worth protesting. If she went slowly, sooner or later she’d be done with the drink — and hopefully by then Tony would be ready to call it a night.

  He didn’t pound the second shot like he had the first, but the mouthful he swallowed was still a lot larger than the tiny sips she’d been allowing herself. Casting about for something harmless to ask, she inquired, “Do all the Castillos party as hard as you?”

  “Nope,” he replied, then swallowed some more tequila. “I mean, there are a few who can keep up with me, but most of them settle down way too soon. Can’t really go out and party hearty if you have to get up and go to work in the morning, or always worry about getting a babysitter.”

  Well, that was true enough. Once again, she wondered what it was that drove him to avoid settling down, from behaving the way most warlocks were supposed to behave.

  Maybe he just never found anyone to settle down with, she thought then. Maybe he’d be different if he met the right person.

  Maybe she was the right person.

  A flush touched her cheeks, and Cassandra found herself glad the nightclub was so dimly lit. She really shouldn’t be entertaining thoughts along those lines, not when they were here on clan business and not a simple pleasure trip. Anyway, he might be good-looking, but Tony was so not her type. Up until that point, she hadn’t really articulated what her type was, exactly, but she knew the party-animal playboy type was definitely not it. She’d always known that she wanted someone smart and tough and dependable, just like she was.

  “…dance?” Tony was saying, and she blinked at him.

  “What?”

  “I asked if you wanted to dance.”

  She glanced over at the crowded dance floor. While she didn’t know that much about it, she thought the people over there were salsa dancing, almost all of them fluid and expert, as if they’d been doing this sort of thing their whole lives. For all she knew, they had.

  “I don’t really know how — ” she began, but that was as far as he allowed her to get.

  “Not a problem,” he told her. “Like I said before, I do. All you have to do is follow.”

  Easy for him to say. As crowded as that dance floor looked, she’d be lucky if she didn’t get stomped on before she’d taken her first step.

  But even as these new protests bubbled up to Cassandra’s lips, Tony reached for her hand and pulled her out of her seat. She knew that if she pulled her fingers from his grasp, he probably wouldn’t push things, but she also didn’t want to make a scene. No doubt after he’d had to put up with her unschooled stumbling for a minute or two, he’d give up on the whole thing and let her sit down again.

  She wasn’t quite sure how he did it, but he somehow managed to slip through the moving masses of people on the dance floor and find a relatively open spot. Before she knew it, his hand was on the small of her back.

  “Put your left hand on my shoulder,” he told her, and Cassandra did as he asked, feeling the taut muscles beneath the cotton of his shirt.

  The weight of his hand on her back wasn’t unwelcome at all. In fact, a little tingle went through her at his touch, although she told herself to focus on what he was saying so she wouldn’t end up looking like a complete fool out here.

  “Just follow,” he said. “Three steps for every four beats. If I want to spin you or turn, I’ll take my hand off your back.”

  Spin? Turn? She’d be lucky if she didn’t trip over her own feet.

  No time to talk, though, because they were already moving, the gentle pressure of his hand on her back telling her where to go. And really, once she let herself relax a little and listen to the music, she could feel how her body was supposed to move to it, how if she let the wild, infectious beat move through her, it was almost instinctual where she was supposed to step.

  “Awesome,” Tony said, dark eyes shining down at her. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

  She shook her head. “Never. I haven’t had the chance.”

  “Well, I’m glad I could correct that lack.”
<
br />   Before she could reply, he’d raised his hand from her back, spun her around. A startled laugh escaped her lips. It was okay, though, because almost as quickly he held her again, was guiding her through the next sequence of steps. An unexpected thought passed through her mind.

  This is fun.

  They weren’t supposed to be having fun, though. This trip was supposed to be about locating the stolen grimoires. Then again, they couldn’t do anything about that until tomorrow. Was it okay to give herself permission to enjoy this evening…to enjoy being held by Tony Castillo, even though she had no idea how this was all going to end up?

  She decided it was okay. If nothing else, the dancing would help burn off some of the alcohol they’d consumed tonight. It would probably be a good thing for them to be a little more sober when they got to the hotel.

  After a few more minutes, the song ended, and everyone clapped. Cassandra tried to let go of Tony’s hand, thinking they should go back to their table and catch their breath, but he shook his head.

  “Another song’ll be starting in a minute,” he said. “Do you really want to sit down this soon?”

  She was surprised to realize that she didn’t. It felt good to be standing here next to him, to have his fingers entwined with hers. A lot of other people had remained on the dance floor as well, so it wasn’t as if they were being terribly conspicuous by hanging out there.

  “Not really,” she confessed.

  His fingers tightened on hers, gave them a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  And then the music started up again, and she was moving with him once more, letting the music sink into her, into a part of her soul she’d never recognized before, letting her be wild and free and — yes, damn it — sexy. She liked the way Tony looked down at her, liked the heat that rose in her when their eyes met. Maybe it was the wine and the tequila, maybe it was the pounding beat of the music…or maybe, just maybe, it was merely her recognizing the need deep within her soul, an attraction she certainly hadn’t expected but would be stupid to ignore.

  They danced and danced, and then, several hours later, they both decided they’d danced enough and it was time to go. A cab came to get them and took them away to their hotel, and as they sat in the back seat, Tony held her hand again, even though they’d been in physical contact on the dance floor for hours and hours. He continued to hold on as they went inside the hotel and rode up in the elevator. During that ride, his eyes sought hers, as if trying to determine whether she was okay with him holding on for so long.

  Oh, yes, she was okay. By that point, most of the alcohol had burned off, but she still felt lightheaded, not quite herself. When she shut the door to their room behind her, they stood in the little entry area for a long moment, not speaking, just staring at each other.

  When Tony spoke, his voice was wondering, sounding not at all like his usual casual self. “I think I might be in love with you,” he said.

  Heat washed through Cassandra again. Although she’d finally allowed herself to recognize the attraction between them, she really hadn’t expected him to be that blunt. Not sure what to say, she blurted, “You only think you are?”

  For a long moment, he didn’t reply, only stood there as his eyes scanned her face. “No,” he replied at length. “I know I am.”

  “Tony, I — ”

  “Sorry,” he said, and now his tone was brusque, as if he was trying to steel himself for inevitable disappointment. “I guess I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “I’m glad you said it,” she told him, and his eyes widened slightly.

  “You are?”

  “Yes.” It was the simple truth. This was going to cause all sorts of complications, and yet Cassandra didn’t want to let herself worry about any of that. Something in her soul was singing now, happy and relieved. If it had turned out that he didn’t care about her except as someone to work with, possibly be friendly with, she thought she could have stood the disappointment, but that didn’t matter now. He cared, just as she cared, and from here on out, they could figure out what to do as a team.

  No more words then, as he bent and kissed her, gently to start, but with increasing passion as her mouth opened to his and she tasted the smokiness of tequila on his tongue. It wasn’t her first kiss, but she knew she’d never reacted to a kiss like this before, never felt her body aflame with honey and fire and the sort of need she hadn’t before thought was possible.

  They stumbled from where they stood in the entry, moving by instinct toward the bed. When they got there, however, Tony stopped, his fingers once more wrapping themselves around hers. “We don’t have to do this now,” he said, his voice quiet but urgent. “I don’t — I don’t want it to be something we did just because we were drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk now,” she said, gazing up into his face. He was slightly flushed, but, she thought, more from the kiss they’d just shared, or possibly all the dancing, than because he was still feeling the effects of the alcohol he’d drunk earlier that evening. “Are you?”

  For a moment, he didn’t reply. His hands were still holding hers tightly, but he glanced away. “I don’t think so,” he said. “But….”

  “But what?”

  To her disappointment — he moved her away from the bed, went over to the sliding glass door that opened on the balcony. After letting go of her hands, he opened the door and stepped outside.

  Wondering what in the world he was thinking, Cassandra went with him and stood there, feeling the cool, slightly salt-scented breeze tug at her hair. And since he didn’t seem inclined to speak, she put a hand on his arm. “Tony, what’s the matter?”

  His face was mostly in shadow, outlined by the faint glow of the lamps they’d left on in the room, but she thought she could see confusion in his expression, coupled with something else she couldn’t quite identify. If this wasn’t Tony she was dealing with — freewheeling, always casual Tony Castillo — she might have said the emotion she saw there was a strange sort of self-loathing.

  “You can do better than me,” he said at last.

  Did the things that the Navarro seer had said to him still rankle? At once, Cassandra shook her head. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  “I’m serious, Cassandra.” Again, he paused, then shifted to put his hands on the balcony’s railing, forcing her to release her grip on his arm. “You can do better than a guy who drifts from party to party because he doesn’t have anything else to do with his time. There’s never been any need for me to have a purpose in life, so I don’t. And I’ve never….”

  “Never what?” she prompted, her tone very soft. He couldn’t be trying to tell her that he’d never been with a girl before, could he? She found that very hard to believe. Yes, there were plenty of warlocks who began a marriage just as inexperienced as their new wives, but Tony was older than witch-kind tended to be when they got married.

  “I’ve never loved anyone,” he said. “I mean, a woman. Dated lots of them, sure. Civilians,” he added. “I never had any interest in all those fifth cousins once removed or whoever else it was supposed to be safe for me to be with. Civilian girls were easier to deal with. We’d both hook up and move on. Now, though….”

  “Now?” Although in a way it hurt to hear him talk about those civilian girls — even as she recognized the foolishness of thinking that he could have remained a virgin this long — Cassandra was glad he’d found the courage to tell her the truth. She’d much rather know that, no matter how bad it might be, rather than have him lie to her about his past.

  “Now…you came along.” He let out a huff of a breath. “There I was, thinking we’d go after those goddamn books and get it over with, no muss, no fuss. I really didn’t think I was going to fall for you.”

  Happiness was a warm flush moving through her, making every single nerve ending come alive. However, she tried to sound at least halfway calm and collected as she replied, “That’s all right. It wasn’t exactly the first thing on my mind, ei
ther. I mean, I kind of thought you were a jerk when I first met you.”

  For the first time, he grinned, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, we’re being honest here, right?’

  “True.”

  “Anyway,” Cassandra went on, “I tended to think all that ‘love at first sight’ crap that’s supposed to happen with our kind must be bullshit, because I sure never felt that way about any of the warlocks I met…and I had the chance to meet McAllister and Wilcox guys when I was hanging out in Jerome with my cousins, so it’s not like this was all about avoiding a hook-up with that fifth cousin you mentioned earlier.”

  He nodded. “Maybe our stars aligned because we’re both kind of freaks that way.”

  “Maybe.” She didn’t mind Tony using that word, mostly because she’d started to think the same thing about herself. All around her, she’d seen cousins her own age already getting engaged or even married, and there she was, knowing for a fact that she’d never felt passionate about anyone. She’d gone out with a few civilian guys in high school and college, but there hadn’t been any real spark. Luckily, her parents hadn’t seemed too worried, her mother probably because she was a civilian and therefore had a completely different mindset when it came to getting married, and her father because he’d stayed single until he was almost forty.

  But obviously, she wasn’t a freak, and neither was Tony. They just hadn’t met the right person yet. That her “right person” apparently had turned out to be a Castillo was a surprising development, one that wasn’t without its own complications, but Cassandra knew they’d figure out the logistics once they were done with all this mess of tracking down the stolen grimoires.

  She reached out and took both his hands in hers. They were still warm, apparently unaffected by the cool evening sea breeze. “If we’re both freaks, then that means we should be together. And that means I don’t want to hear you talking about how I deserve someone better. I can figure out what I deserve on my own, thank you very much. And that’s you, so shut up about it.”