At once, he shook his head. “No, nothing like that. It’s only that Miguel and I just got done surveying the fields, and it looks as though the harvest is going to be even better than we thought. I wanted to get your permission to hire more help when the time comes.”
Again, relief flooded through her. “Oh, sure,” she said, airily waving a hand. “However many people you need.”
“It shouldn’t be too many,” he replied. “This is not a large vineyard. But an extra two or three people could make all the difference.”
“Then that’s fine. Thank you for asking — and thank you for taking such good care of the vines.”
“It’s a pleasure.” Roberto nodded at Loc. “You have come at a beautiful time of year, sir. Enjoy Santa Fe.”
Then he was off, heading back to the vines. As Cat watched him go, she saw him meet up with his son Miguel where the path to the house crossed the one to the vineyard. They stood there for a moment, having some kind of discussion, and Roberto pointed briefly toward the fiber studio. Miguel glanced over. Even from this distance, Cat could see the way he scowled.
Loc’s deep voice came at her ear. “Who is that?”
“Miguel, Roberto’s oldest son,” she replied.
“He doesn’t look very happy.”
No, he didn’t. And she thought she knew exactly why. However, she figured it was better not to say anything, and instead shut the door.
“What is it?” Loc asked.
She made an off-hand gesture. “Nothing. I think Miguel has a teeny crush on me. He probably wasn’t very happy to hear that you were staying at the house.”
Loc’s brows pulled together, and he glanced over at the now-closed door. “I don’t understand. Why would my presence affect him in any way?”
Now she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. Attempting to explain the situation to a being like Loc was going to be awkward at best. Still, since he now watched her with an expectant look on his face, she knew she would have to say something. “Generally, if a man feels attracted to a woman, he also feels threatened if there are other males around who might be rivals. That’s all.”
The demon lord appeared to process this explanation for a moment, frown deepening. “But I am not a rival. I am not even human.”
“Well, you know that, and I know that,” Cat said. “But Miguel doesn’t know that. He just sees a guy in his twenties.” A gorgeous, exotic stranger from Spain, and an artist to boot. No wonder Miguel looked so pissed off.
“Ah. Of course.” A long pause, and then Loc asked, “Do you have feelings for this Miguel?”
“No, of course not,” she replied immediately. “He’s a couple of years younger than I am, and besides, we don’t have anything in common.” Plus, he’s not my type.
But there was no way she would tell Loc that, because then he might ask what her type was, and the last thing she wanted to reveal was that he happened to be exactly her type — handsome, dark, movie-star-perfect.
Otherworldly.
“Anyway,” she went on, “it doesn’t really matter, because it’s not like he’s underfoot in the house or anything. He’s out in the vineyard with his father all day, so our paths shouldn’t cross too much.”
“That is something.” Loc was silent for a moment, as if still considering everything she had told him. “Where will your paths go, then?”
Good question. A normal day would have included some puttering around the house, and then at least four or five solid hours of work here in the studio. Cat knew she couldn’t do much more than that because she started to get brain-fried, or at least cross-eyed from staring down at the threads on her loom or the embroidery yarn of a nearly finished piece. That was fine, though, since she usually knocked off around five-thirty or six, and sat down at her favorite stone table in the garden to have a glass of white wine. This pleasant practice would have to come to an end when the weather started to really cool down, but that day was still a few months off.
Problem was, she knew there wouldn’t be any such thing as a “normal day” with Loc staying here. When she’d made that impetuous offer to give him a place to crash for a while, she really hadn’t thought too far ahead. Now she had to figure out what on earth they would do to keep themselves occupied.
Possibly sensing her unease, he said, “There is no need to do anything other than what you would normally do. I had no intention of disrupting your life when I came seeking a place of refuge.”
Maybe not, but he was disrupting it nonetheless. However, Cat knew she was also on a tight schedule to get her final piece ready for the fiber arts show, which was now in less than a week. Normally, she would have been farther along than this, but even though the house had been mostly done for some time and she’d been living here for more than a month, there had still been innumerable last-minute chores and snags to take up more of her day than she’d planned.
“Well….” she began, then gave a helpless shrug. “I still have a lot of work to do on my final piece for the show, so yes, I am going to have to concentrate on that if I want to meet my deadline. But what will you do?”
Loc glanced away from her, his gaze moving toward the windows set high on the wall, although she wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. “My search is not over. I came here because I needed someplace where I could pause and gather my thoughts, but there are still places I haven’t visited. Do you mind if I use your home as a base of sorts? It would make matters less complicated.”
Part of her wanted to shake her head at being used as a sort of glorified short-term vacation rental by the demon lord, but Cat understood why he had made the request. He hadn’t yet given up hope of returning to his home — although, judging by the few things he’d said about that particular plane of existence, she couldn’t quite understand why anyone would want to go back there. Still, it wasn’t her place to comment. And really, it would make the situation a lot easier for her if he wasn’t around all the time. She might actually be able to focus on her work.
“No, I don’t mind,” she said, hoping the relief in her voice wasn’t too obvious. “Do you know where you’re going to go first?”
“Probably New Orleans,” he replied. “I had not visited there yet, but I have heard the city has some powerful practitioners of magic.”
Cat hoped he would be able to tell the difference between a true witch or warlock and some charlatan hawking fake voodoo dolls in the French Quarter, but she refrained from comment. After all, he was a demon lord, not some wet-behind-the-ears kid who’d just started to grow into his magical powers. Of course Loc would know immediately if someone was trying to sell him a bill of goods.
“That sounds promising,” she said carefully. “And I’ve heard New Orleans is an amazing city.”
Without hesitating, he responded, “Would you like to come with me?”
The request surprised her so much that at first she wasn’t sure how to reply. Then she shook her head. “No, I can’t do that. Like I said, I have a lot of work to do. Also, I’d have to get permission to visit, and the prima of the clan there — the Dubois clan, I think — would want to know why I was coming. That might be kind of hard to explain.”
“Ah, yes. I had forgotten that you witches and warlocks cannot go freely between yours and other clans’ territories.”
Was that a hint of condemnation in his voice? Cat couldn’t tell for sure, because his expression was neutral enough. Maybe he thought it was silly, the way clans stuck to the lands they’d claimed decades or centuries earlier, but it did help to keep the peace. “It’s a courtesy,” she said, trying her best to keep her own expression as bland as his. “That’s all. Anyway,” she went on, thinking it a good idea to change the subject, “where did you learn to speak Spanish so well? On your travels?”
The smile he gave her now was almost indulgent. “If I have heard a few sentences in one of your languages, then I know it. Simple as that.”
She blinked. “Simple as that,” she repeated, mind reelin
g. Of course, she knew he possessed powers far beyond those of any witch or warlock, but….
“Yes. It’s something that comes naturally to me. The patterns are easy enough to decipher, once I’ve heard a phrase or two. Luckily, you chose a homeland for me that is a place I’ve already visited. If I’d had to speak Inuit or Bedouin, I might have had a problem.”
Loc wasn’t joking. No, he stood a few paces away, looking at her with his mouth slightly pursed, as though doing his best to determine why she should be so surprised.
Cat realized it probably wasn’t a good idea to be staring at his mouth. Like the rest of him, it was way too distracting. “Um…okay. Well, that’s handy, I suppose. How long do you think you’ll be in New Orleans?”
“Oh, just for the day. That should be enough time to either find what I’m looking for, or determine that New Orleans is another dead end, just like all the other places I’ve explored over these past months.”
It would have sounded utterly strange to ask, Oh, you’ll be home for dinner?, so she didn’t. She figured she’d deal with that situation when the time came. Clearly, it wasn’t a problem for him to conjure a meal if necessary, so she’d rely on that peculiar gift to take care of dinner, should he come back here in time. If not, she had plenty of frozen stuff on hand.
“All right,” she said. “It’s probably better if you leave from the house. That way, Roberto and Miguel will see us leaving from the studio and won’t wonder why you never came out. You can’t really see the garage from the vineyard, so if they say anything later, I’ll just tell them that you took your rental car and went into town.”
“An elaborate charade,” Loc remarked.
“A necessary one,” Cat said firmly. “Or would you rather I told them the truth about you?”
Those night-black eyes fastened on hers, and she forced herself to stare back without flinching. It was still so hard to remember that he wasn’t human, that the nightmarish shape of his true form still lurked behind the model-handsome features of the man who faced her now.
“No,” he said after a long pause. “I suppose that wouldn’t do at all.”
“Okay, then.” She put her hand on the doorknob and turned it, then pushed the door open so they could go outside. Although the studio was stocked with expensive yarn and the even more expensive stones she used in her finished pieces, she didn’t bother to lock up. She trusted Miguel and Roberto, and besides, she’d be back here soon enough to get to work once Loc had gone off on his fact-finding trip to New Orleans.
That thought sent a little pang through her. Yes, it would be much easier with him gone and out from underfoot for the day, but….
But nothing, she told herself as they walked up the gravel path that led to the front entry of her house. Be glad that he has something to do with his time. That way, even if Rafe and Miranda do drop by unexpectedly at some point, there’ll be a pretty good chance that he won’t even be here. Easier for everyone.
And if he did find what he was looking for, the one witch or warlock with the power to send him forth from the confines of this plane of existence? Well, then, she’d have to be happy that he was able to go home. This was no place for him, a world where every second of every day, he had to conceal who and what he truly was. What kind of life was that?
“You appear troubled,” Loc said as they went inside and she closed the door behind them.
“Oh, I was just thinking,” she replied, hoping he would leave it at that.
“Then it seems whatever you were thinking about troubles you.”
Cat supposed she could tell him it was none of his business, but that sort of reply sounded awfully rude. Better to dig up a little white lie, something that wouldn’t cause him to probe any deeper. Thank God that at least he didn’t seem able to tell when someone was lying to him, despite all his powers.
“Oh, I have to make some design decisions before I go forward with my final piece for the art show,” she said. “Faceted or smooth garnet beads for one, and I’m still not sure whether I’m going to use onyx or hematite to go along with the garnet. Things like that.”
“It seems you’re already thinking of your work. Good. Then I will leave you to it.”
For just the barest second, it was as though she could see Loc’s true self, the great leathery wings, the gleaming black skin, the sharp harshness of his features. Then he was gone, and she stood alone in the foyer, wondering why she could suddenly smell the scent of a bonfire. Had it come from him?
Maybe. Now, though, she was alone, and had work to do.
She hoped to hell she’d be able to concentrate on it.
4
The air touched him first, heavy and hot and wet, like a damp blanket someone had folded around his body. If he had been in his true form, Loc probably wouldn’t have even noticed the discomfort, but now he found himself wondering how anyone could live in such miserable conditions.
Still, he was here on a mission, and some temporary misery caused by the local climate certainly wasn’t enough to keep him from pursuing his goal. Instinct had led him to reappear in an alleyway, a place where he wouldn’t be observed by the locals. Now he emerged from the dingy spot and headed out to the sidewalk, where he paused for a moment to get his bearings.
Despite the heat and the humidity, the streets and walks here were crowded with cars and people. The scent of exhaust and frying food and blooming flowers he couldn’t name hung on the heavy air, all of it overlaid by a dark, damp smell that probably came from the river, which was only a few blocks away. No one seemed to pay any attention to him, except a gaggle of young women a few years younger than Cat, who stared at him, giggled, and then leaned their heads together as they indulged in a whispered conversation of some sort.
After spending more than eight mortal months in this form, Loc guessed well enough why they were paying attention to him. However, he was not here to attract foolish girls, but to find the person who could free him from the bonds of this world. He walked a few paces and then paused, pretending to be engrossed in the offerings presented in the window of an antique shop, while in reality he was sending his hyper-attuned senses outward, searching for the ripple in the fabric of this place that would tell him he was in the presence of the one he sought.
He’d sensed such a fold in the world when Simon Escobar first brought him to Santa Fe. Miranda Castillo had created yet another, even though Loc had known immediately that she did not possess the necessary skills to send him back. The strongest witches and warlocks always sent out these eddies of power, and yet merely possessing power was not enough. That power had to be married to the knowledge of certain arcane practices and spells, a combination that had proved exceedingly difficult to find.
Still, he had to start someplace.
There was something here…or rather, several somethings. One seemed quite close, probably only a few blocks from where he stood. The other seemed to be farther away, perhaps as much as a mile or more, although that was not so very far in the grand scheme of things.
Well, he would start with the closest one, that strange vibration of power only he could feel. If that venture proved unsuccessful, then he would move on to the next. Loc tried not to think, ‘When that venture proved unsuccessful,’ for truly, after so many failures, he had no reason to believe this one would be any different.
His senses led him to a brick building with black shutters, one that appeared to house yet another of the old city’s innumerable antique stores, although this one seemed to focus on jewelry and other small accessories rather than furniture and paintings. Well enough. He could pretend to be there searching for a gift for his woman. Not that he had one, of course, but the important thing was the illusion of having a significant other to shop for.
Or you could purchase something for Cat, he thought as he mounted the concrete steps, now worn by the passing of too many feet. Something to say thank you for allowing you to stay in her home.
Loc had never before thought of buying a gift f
or anyone, and the concept was so novel, he had to pause and consider it for a moment. That was what people did, wasn’t it? Of course, he’d barely entertained the notion that she would refuse his request, would tell him that he must find someplace else to go, for it seemed only logical that she would do what she could to provide him a refuge. But now it seemed he must acknowledge what she’d done for him, and a gift seemed the best way to do it. Money was not an issue, for he made sure that his wallet always had exactly what he needed at any particular moment.
A necklace, perhaps…one he could drape around her lovely throat. He thought of how soft her skin must be, how exciting it would be to push her wavy dark hair aside so he could fasten the clasp.
His body stirred and he frowned, willing the strange reaction away. By necessity, he’d learned something of what humans did together when procreating or merely indulging in a few moments of pleasure, and yet he’d never found himself interested in any of those pursuits despite the human form he wore while here. This was the first time his assumed body had reacted to any kind of sexual stimuli.
And for that stimuli to be something as innocuous as placing a necklace around a woman’s throat….
Loc was not sure what to do about that. He’d allowed himself to admire Cat’s beauty, but he’d thought that admiration something in the abstract, certainly nothing he would ever act upon. Now, though, he realized it wasn’t just this body that wanted her.
He wanted her.
You can ponder that conundrum later, he told himself as he pushed the door open and entered the antique store. A string of bells dangled from the knob, and they chimed faintly, signaling his arrival.
But if he was successful here, would there even be a later? He would leave this world and everything in it — Catalina Castillo included — far behind. For the first time, such a prospect did not seem particularly appealing.
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