“Wow, you’re — ”
“Totally not me,” Tony said. The contrast between his obviously male voice and his appearance was so jarring, Cassandra put a hand up to her mouth to hold back a laugh.
Only that hand wasn’t hers. The skin was darker and the nails short, unpainted. It was also much chubbier.
So was the rest of her. She looked down and saw a round body with ample breasts, so large she had to bend slightly to see her feet. It was utterly strange, because although she still felt like herself, she knew she sure as hell didn’t look it.
“Wow, Cassandra, you’ve really let yourself go,” Tony said, appearing as if he wanted to burst out laughing as well.
“Great — now I know you only love me for my body,” she retorted.
Gabriel shook his head. “They are only illusions, you know.”
“Oh, we know,” Tony said, the laughing lilt in his voice horribly at odds with the severe face of the woman whose appearance he currently wore. “That’s why it’s so funny.”
Judging by the way Gabriel’s brows drew together, he didn’t find anything particularly amusing about their current situation. But then his shoulders lifted, and he said, “Let us go. Remember, we will be appearing near the goat pens, so I do not think there is much risk of us being observed.”
“Except by the goats,” Tony cracked, and now it was Cassandra’s turn to shake her head. She knew this was just his way of whistling in the dark, but she thought it was probably time to sober up and focus on the difficult task ahead.
Whether any of that got through to him, she wasn’t sure, but at least he was silent as she slid her purse satchel-fashion across her body — luckily, Gabriel’s illusion hid it as well — then pulled out two of the nylon bags she’d brought with her and handed them to Tony. He folded them as small as possible and tucked them in a pocket of his jeans — which she knew were still jeans and still there beneath the illusion, despite what her eyes were telling her.
Then the Escobar warlock took their hands again, and just like before, the room where they were standing promptly disappeared, this time replaced by an outdoor scene. As Gabriel had said, they were standing by the goat pens, each of which contained a half dozen of the animals. They all looked up and swiveled their heads to stare at the newcomers who’d arrived so precipitously in their vicinity, but he paid them no attention.
“This way,” he said, leading them across the open area that had been cleared between the house and the goat pens. The air here didn’t seem as humid as it had been down in San Matías, even though the rainforest crowded in on every side, the vegetation lush and almost virulently green.
The house itself was an impressive two-story building, done in the Spanish style with white-plastered walls and a red tile roof. Birds of paradise bloomed in the beds that surrounded it, and everything looked well-tended and clean.
Well, of course it is, Cassandra thought as she followed Gabriel along the path that led to the back door. Vicénte Escobar probably has clan members gardening for him, too. As frustrated as she could sometimes get with all the restrictions involved in being part of a witch family, at least she didn’t have to worry about a high-handed prima lording it over everyone. Zoe was probably one of the world’s most laid-back clan leaders, maybe sometimes too laid-back.
But even as relaxed as Zoe tended to be about clan business, this mess with the books certainly wasn’t her fault. It had been a tradition going back generations for individuals to store and maintain the grimoires they collected, and some people had been more careful with their property than others. Then again, how were you supposed to guard against someone like Simon Escobar, a warlock who could mask his very nature and come and go like the wind?
Gabriel put his hand on the knob for the back door and turned it. “Come inside,” he said.
Cassandra wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting — probably a kitchen as rustic as the scene outside — but the room she and a disguised Tony entered was surprisingly modern, with scrubbed butcher-block counters and appliances newer than the ones in her own condo. Her astonishment must have registered even through the illusion she wore, because the Escobar warlock smiled.
“We have solar here, and propane for cooking. And of course Vicénte must have the best of everything.”
Of course. Since she really didn’t have an answer for Gabriel’s comment, she only shrugged.
Now brisk, he went on, “This way. The library is on the other side of the main room.”
He took them through the kitchen and out into a large, open space in the center of the house, with high ceilings and dark beams overhead. To one side was a staircase that led to the upstairs rooms, and on the other side of the living area were several doorways. Gabriel headed toward the one on the right, Cassandra and Tony only a few paces behind him. She still wasn’t entirely sure about her companion’s motivations, but she knew she didn’t want to get too far away from their guide, just in case…well, just in case.
The room they entered was small, not much more than ten feet square. Each wall had a bookcase made of dark wood placed against it, although she saw right away that the bookcases weren’t yet full.
And the one directly across from them held the stolen grimoires, those twenty-odd volumes that had caused so much mischief. Sitting on top of the bookcase where they now rested was a metal dish, and in that dish was a black pillar candle, its flame moving sullenly in the still air.
The scent it released was something she couldn’t quite identify, but it felt cloying and heavy and slightly off, sort of like musk that had gone bad. Tony obviously noticed it, too, because the thin nose of the illusion he wore wrinkled slightly.
“What is that?” he asked.
Gabriel shook his head. “Something one of the elders made. She said it would help to enhance the power of the books, allow it to be more focused.”
That sounded like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo to Cassandra. However, she’d be the first to admit she didn’t know anything about the dark magic those books contained, how to use it, how to make it even more powerful than it already was. She supposed it was possible the Escobar elder had been speaking the truth. It was also entirely possible that she’d made the whole thing up to enhance her own influence with her clan’s primus.
“Go ahead,” Gabriel went on, glancing over his shoulder as if to make sure they were the only ones in the house. “Take the books.”
Delay would only cost them, and Cassandra wanted this over with as quickly as possible. She hurried forward and pulled the first nylon bag out of her pocket, unfolded it, and then filled it with as many books as would fit. Tony did much the same thing, stuffing books into his own bag with an alacrity that surprised her a little, considering how relaxed he seemed most of the time.
Two bags down, and two more to go. Still, it only took less than a moment to shove the remaining volumes into her bag. Tony finished at nearly the same time, and he straightened and turned back toward Gabriel, wearing a triumphant expression.
“Well, that’s that,” he said. “Guess it’s time for you to send us on our way.”
“Thank you for this,” Gabriel replied. As he spoke, the illusion that had shielded Tony disappeared — as did the one that had concealed Cassandra’s identity as well. Or at least she guessed it had, since the hands clutching the two bags of books were now hers again, slender and pale, the nails coated in iridescent polish.
“No, thank you,” she said. “We could never have done this without your help.”
“Do not be so quick to congratulate yourselves,” came a new voice, one that sounded almost like Gabriel’s, only somehow sharper-edged, laced with cruel amusement. This newcomer had spoken in English, as if he’d overheard part of their conversation earlier and wanted to make sure that the intruders in his house could understand everything he was saying.
A man stood at the doorway, arms crossed. He appeared to be a few years older than Gabriel, handsome in his own way, but not nearly as model-pretty. Sta
nding on either side of him were a man and a woman, both much older than the man they flanked.
Oh, shit, Cassandra thought, even as Gabriel said evenly,
“Hello, Vicénte.”
19
All three of the Escobar newcomers fairly vibrated with power, so Cassandra guessed the older man and woman must be clan elders. How they’d known she and Tony were here, she had no idea, but at this point, it probably didn’t matter.
“Put the books down,” Vicénte said. There was almost something frightening about how calm he seemed, as if he knew he had the upper hand here and so had no need to lose his temper.
“Or what?” Tony asked, trying to sound cocky. His voice didn’t shake, and he met Vicente’s gaze stare for stare, but the impression was marred a little by the sweat beading on his forehead.
“Or this,” the primus replied, and raised his hands. There was no flash of magic, nothing to indicate that he’d done anything at all, but at once Tony let out a shocked cry and doubled over, clutching his stomach in pain. The bags of books he’d been holding fell to the floor, and the volumes inside slid out, making a messy pile on the terra-cotta tiles.
Worry overriding her fear, Cassandra went to him. Before she could speak, ask him how he was doing, a wave of agony went through her, feeling like the lightning sharp stab of her appendix failing when she was fifteen. It had been fine, because the local healer took care of her, but the memory of the pain remained, the sensation that something was horribly, terribly wrong inside her body. Her hands unclenched, and the bags she’d gripped with all her might slipped from her fingers, the books within joining the ones Tony had already dropped.
“Enough,” Gabriel said.
The pain lingered for a moment longer, as if Vicénte needed to prove that he had no need to obey his brother’s commands, and then was gone. Cassandra let out a gasp of relief and straightened, her hand reaching over to take Tony’s. His fingers pressed down on hers, strong and warm, and so she knew that whatever Vicénte had done to them, its effects weren’t permanent.
“No, what you have done is enough,” the primus said. He was watching his brother through narrowed dark eyes, and yet Cassandra couldn’t help but note a certain air of satisfaction about him, as if he was almost happy about Gabriel’s betrayal. She had a feeling there was no love lost between the two; maybe Vicénte had been hoping for the opportunity to remove someone he saw as a rival, and Gabriel had handed it to him on a silver platter. “To try to take these things away, when we Escobars worked so hard to claim them as our own?”
Gabriel’s chin went up. “What work did you do, brother? For I was the one who went to retrieve them, since your own gifts were not sufficient to the task.”
That remark earned him a fearsome scowl. “It is not the primus’s place to do such dirty work. But yes, they were dearly bought…or have you forgotten about our own brother’s death at the hands of this one’s clan?” Vicénte flickered an angry glance in Tony’s direction before returning his attention to his brother.
“A half-brother neither of us had ever met,” Gabriel observed dryly. “But I do commend you for your family loyalty.”
Still frowning, Vicénte said, “You know nothing of loyalty. Your actions here only prove that.” He looked at the older man who stood next to him and asked, “What should we do with them, Raúl?”
“Kill the one interloper,” the man replied in Spanish. He was much shorter than either of the Escobar brothers, almost gnome-like with his fringe of white hair and broad nose and close-set eyes. Cassandra couldn’t tell for sure whether he’d spoken in Spanish because his English wasn’t that strong, or because he hadn’t realized that she spoke Spanish as well as he did. “But it would be a shame to get rid of the witch. She is strong, and would be a valuable addition. Perhaps to warm your bed for a time, primus?”
She immediately recoiled in disgust and anger, and Vicénte’s mouth lifted in an ugly smile as he stared at her. Although Tony couldn’t have understood the exchange in detail, he obviously had caught enough of the gist to know they were discussing something horribly wrong. He began to step forward, hands knotting at his sides, but Cassandra shook her head at him.
Turning back to Vicénte, she said clearly, “Tócame, y te arrancaré las bolas!”
The elder drew himself up, a shocked expression on his face, but the primus only smirked at her. “Oh, if you are touching my balls, beautiful witch, it will not be to tear them off.”
“Enough of this,” the other elder, the older woman, said. She was tall and thin, and, if not the actual sister of the woman whose face Tony had worn as his disguise, then obviously a close relation. “Do whatever you will with them, but it is your brother who is the biggest problem here.”
Gabriel, who’d watched the previous exchange without comment, as if waiting to see what sentence the elders would deliver, spoke then. “Yes, I am, Elisa. More than you can ever know.”
His hands raised, and although Cassandra couldn’t see exactly what he’d done, at once the trio in the doorway staggered and stumbled backward a few paces, as if they’d been simultaneously punched by a series of invisible fists. The woman made no sound, although Raúl, the male elder, and Vicénte both grunted.
Unfortunately, they both recovered soon enough, Vicénte lifting his right hand to send his own invisible attack toward his brother. Gabriel’s eyes closed for a moment, and Cassandra could see the way his jaw clenched in pain, but he still stood his ground and even took a step toward the primus. Another invisible blow hit the younger Escobar, and he ground his teeth so hard the sound was audible from a few feet away.
“Get the null,” Vicénte spat out. “It is the only way.”
Cassandra exchanged a frightened glance with Tony. This was the situation she’d feared the most — that there would be one of those terrifying, magic-quelling people in the Escobar clan, and that the clan’s leader would use that individual as a weapon. Clearly, Vicénte now understood he was no match for his younger brother, and so had sent for the one person in the clan who would be able to render all Gabriel’s formidable talents useless.
Elisa hurried out, although the squatty elder Raúl remained. Black eyes flashing, he snapped his fingers, and it was if unseen hands had grabbed Cassandra’s ankles, holding her and Tony in place so they couldn’t take a single step.
Tony swore, and the elder gave them an evil smile. “No chance of escape now, I think.”
Gabriel seemed to be similarly immobilized, although Cassandra thought she saw one foot move the slightest bit, as if the spell didn’t have as strong a hold on him as it did on his two companions. “Release them,” he demanded.
“I think not,” Raúl said. He looked up at his primus, a toadying smile touching his thin lips. “Much better to have them this way, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Vicénte replied, that gloating expression returning to his features. If he’d been a few feet closer, Cassandra would have loved to reach out and punch it right off his face.
As it was…she was useless. Tony as well, and even if Gabriel was able to free himself eventually, she had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to overcome the elder’s horrible magic before the null got here and made this whole exercise basically a pointless one. It seemed the fears that had surfaced the night before they’d come here to Pico Negro were going to come true; if she hadn’t been immobilized so completely, she would have been shaking with fear.
Gabriel seemed to understand the depth of their predicament as well, because his angry, frustrated gaze moved to her…then, for some reason, past her. For a few seconds, Cassandra couldn’t quite figure out what he was looking at, until she realized he was staring at the flickering candle on top of the bookcase.
Was he really thinking…?
It seemed he was, because in the next moment, he apparently reached out with another of those invisible salvos. This time, however, he wasn’t directing it toward his brother or the clan elder who stood next to the primus, but toward th
e candle.
Before she could even blink, it had sailed through the air and landed on the pile of books, wax splattering, the flame flickering for a few seconds before it regained its strength.
It touched the edge of one of the books, and the ancient binding began to smolder.
“No!” Vicénte shouted, moving forward.
Next to her, Tony nodded grimly. His feet might have been held rooted to the floor, but he still had his power…and obviously knew what to do with it.
A small breeze came out of nowhere, touched the flame. The smoldering binding caught fire for real this time, blazing up, running along the edge of the book and touching the one next to it as well. Then the breeze became a wind, tugging at her hair, encouraging the fire to grow and spread to more and more of the books in the pile. Now she could feel the heat coming from them, could smell the acrid scent of the old paper and leather burning in the confined space. If left unchecked, the fire would probably burn the whole house down, but right then, she couldn’t feel too bad about that.
Frantic, Vicénte called out, “Fetch me some water!”
“Oh, that won’t do you any good,” Cassandra said. Time to use her power now, to make sure neither the primus nor his ugly little elder could stop what Gabriel and Tony had started.
She reached out with her gift and created a shield to protect the pile of burning books. Yes, the fire needed oxygen to keep burning, but she knew that wouldn’t be a problem. The shield let air in just fine; she’d honed her power by casting these magical shields to prevent rabbits and deer from destroying her parents’ vegetable garden, and so she knew the shield didn’t block the atmosphere itself, only anything solid. The water Raúl had bolted to the kitchen to get wouldn’t help at all, because it would only splash over the shield and run down the sides. Back in the day, she’d had to take down the shields every few days or so to let her mother water the plants, and that was why she knew there was no danger of anyone putting this fire out.
An Ill Wind Page 23