Although at the time she’d thought it a good idea for Loc to get out and continue his search for someone with the power to send him home, now she was reevaluating that particular plan. She had all this work to do, and yet all she seemed capable of was sitting here and thinking about what he might be doing at this moment.
Which, she realized, was stupid, because of course he’d tell her about it when he got back.
If he got back. If he was lucky enough to find someone who could help him, he might just leave then and there, and not bother to come back here to say goodbye.
Cat realized she was expecting a lot from a person that she’d probably exchanged a few hundred words with at best, and yet…she didn’t want to think of him disappearing and not giving her a proper chance to offer him at least a “fare thee well.”
He’s a demon lord, she told herself. He’s going to do what he’s going to do. And you’d better get your ass moving on this piece, or it’s never going to be ready in time.
Suddenly purposeful, she tipped a quantity of garnet beads into the wide, shallow bowl she used to make it easier to thread them onto wire. They glinted in the light coming down through the high windows of her studio, a light that had shifted a good bit since the time Loc had disappeared out of her living room.
She didn’t keep a clock in the studio, because she didn’t want her work dictated by the hour. Now, though, she let out a frustrated huff of breath and reached for her phone so she could check the time.
One-thirty. That meant he’d been gone for almost three hours.
So? she thought. New Orleans is a big place.
Or at least she thought it was. She’d never been there, of course. Just another on a long, long list of places she’d never been. It wasn’t the first time she’d chafed at how circumscribed her life was, but now it felt even worse, possibly because she couldn’t help thinking of all the places Loc must have visited on his quest, cities and countries that were just a dot on a map to her but must be exotically alive in person. Paris and Milan and Berlin…Kyoto and Casablanca and Singapore. Of course, she had no way of knowing that Loc had actually been to all those places, but….
She allowed herself another sigh but also went to work, needle flashing as she stitched the garnet beads on top of the fluffy yarn that rested atop the hand-woven linen base. The colors did go beautifully together, and she found herself relaxing as she worked, occupied — for the moment, at least — by the intricacy of the details, the need to keep every stitch as neat and precise as possible.
Thus occupied, she was able to push Loc out of her thoughts.
Almost.
“Come inside,” the man — the warlock — said. “It’s insufferably hot out there.”
Loc couldn’t argue with that description. It was brutally hot and humid. And, although he could still feel the evil that seemed to flood every corner of the house, he was unable to detect any spells directed at him, whether to trap him here, or possibly attempt to tap into his own enormous powers.
“Thank you,” he said politely, and stepped into the foyer.
At once the man closed the door, although again, the movement didn’t seem particularly sinister, but rather an attempt to keep any more of the precious air conditioning from seeping outside. The foyer was small, furnished in the sparsely elegant style of the Biedermeier period. A landscape of a rolling green countryside hung above a small table.
“This way,” the man said, and Loc followed him down the hallway into another room, a salon of some sort, with a pair of couches upholstered in dark green velvet, and striped wallpaper upon the walls. A fire burned in the hearth, but it was not a natural fire, for no logs rested on the grate, and the flames flickered in shades of acid green and cobalt blue. The warlock must have noticed the way his gaze moved to it, because he said, “I suppose you think it an affectation.”
“The colors are quite bright,” Loc replied, his tone neutral.
“I find them soothing.” The warlock went to a side table, where a crystal decanter and several matching tumblers awaited. “Bourbon?”
“None for me.”
“It is safe, you know.”
It wouldn’t have affected him even if it weren’t, but Loc saw no reason to explain such a thing to the warlock. “I am more of a cognac man.”
The man smiled, once again showing off his white teeth. “A refined demon. How…unusual.”
“You know what I am.”
“Of course. If you throw a stone into the center of a still pond, the ripples always spread out, don’t they?” He busied himself with pouring several fingers of bourbon into a tumbler, then paused with it lifted halfway to his mouth. “I am Nicholas Toulouse. What should I call you?”
Loc knew it was safe enough to give the name he had been using, since it was not his true name and therefore had no real power. “Loc is good enough for now.”
The warlock nodded and took a sip of his bourbon, and said, “Loc, then. What brings you to our fair city?”
“You don’t know?”
Nicholas Toulouse paused for a moment, seeming to consider the question. “I can guess. But I don’t know for sure.”
“What is your guess?”
The warlock set his tumbler of bourbon back down on the table next to its mate. “Well, since I know that you possess powers equal to or greater than my own, I believe there is only one thing you could need from me, the one thing you can’t do for yourself. And that is to be sent home.”
Even though he had been halfway expecting such a response, Loc couldn’t quite prevent a small chill from moving down his spine. It was never easy to have another guess one’s weaknesses quite so accurately.
Instead of directly admitting to such a failing, Loc asked, “Can you do it?”
“Yes.”
He had not been expecting such a direct answer. Perhaps noting Loc’s surprise, Toulouse went on, “Oh, there will be a cost. Such things always have a cost.”
Loc narrowed his eyes at the warlock’s presumption. “I do not barter.”
That declaration earned him a thin smile. “Possibly you don’t, but I do. I have the power, but I do not yet have the means. You will get me what I need for the incantation, and then I will cast the spell to send you home.”
“And what is it you need?”
“A certain grimoire, a book of spells that contains the exact incantation, the precise sigils, that are required to direct all my power into sending you back to your plane.” The warlock’s pale eyes lit with something that could only be called mischief. “That grimoire is now in the keeping of the Castillo witch clan.”
There were times Loc very much regretted the human body he was forced to wear, for it tended to react in ways that his own demon form never would. As soon as he heard Nicholas Toulouse’s requirements, a cold finger of dread trailed its way down his spine. At least, he assumed that’s what the unpleasant sensation was. Perhaps he should have realized that the Castillo witches would have all of Simon Escobar’s belongings in their possession, including any spell books he had left behind, but Loc had departed immediately on his quest to find a magic-worker capable of such powerful incantations, and therefore hadn’t been around for the aftermath of Escobar’s defeat.
“You want me to steal it from them?” Loc asked, his voice steady.
“‘Steal’ is such an ugly word. And really, the book isn’t even theirs. Its rightful owners are the de la Paz clan in Arizona, although, since they’ve been so careless with their belongings, it only makes sense to have the grimoire come to someone like myself, someone who will treat it with the respect it deserves.”
Cat’s face flashed into Loc’s mind then, the earnest expression on her lovely features as she’d offered her house to him. Surely he couldn’t betray her — betray all of the Castillos — by taking such a thing from them.
And yet…this was not his world. What did it really matter, so long as he was able to go back where he belonged?
“I have not sensed th
e presence of any such grimoire,” he said slowly, which was only the truth. By the time he’d returned to Castillo lands, it must have been long since hidden away somewhere.
“That does not surprise me. The Castillo prima is young, but she is powerful, and intelligent enough to recognize what has fallen into her hands. She would have done her best to secret it someplace within Castillo territory. You, Loc, must track it down and take it.”
“The Castillos control all of New Mexico,” he pointed out. “That is a great deal of territory to cover.”
Toulouse shrugged. He was wearing a plain black dress shirt and dress slacks, but the dark power swirled around him so strongly, he might as well have been wearing sorcerer’s robes. “I doubt they would have hidden it very far from where their prima lives,” he replied, apparently not at all perturbed by Loc’s objection. “You must go and ingratiate yourself to them — it shouldn’t be too hard, considering the face and body you have chosen to wear. Surely there is someone in the Castillo clan who would be susceptible to your charms — if memory serves, the former prima’s youngest daughter, Catalina, is still unattached. She should be your target.”
Those words made another finger of cold trace its way down Loc’s back. How could this warlock know what had transpired between him and Cat? But no, Toulouse had given no indication that he realized the two of them even knew one another. He had made a lucky guess, no more.
Still….
“I will see what I can do,” Loc replied, which he hoped was a noncommittal enough response. He knew better than to promise this warlock anything. Words could be binding, even for a being such as he. Otherwise, Simon Escobar would not have been able to summon him here.
A thin smile. “I’m sure you will be able to do quite a lot.”
“Nicky?”
Both men turned toward the doorway, where a pretty young woman in her early twenties stood. She had honey-blonde hair that fell in ripples down her back, and she wore a flowered sundress that was demure in style and yet still managed to show off the curves of her slender body. Her feet were bare.
“Ah, Celeste,” said Nicholas Toulouse. “I’m almost done here.”
She nodded, but her gaze moved toward Loc, questioning.
Wearing an indulgent smile, Toulouse said, “Celeste, this is my new friend Loc. Loc, this is Celeste Dubois, my…very special friend.”
Dubois? Loc felt his brows pulling together in a frown, even as he did his best to smooth out his expression. Surely this girl couldn’t be….
“Yes,” the dark warlock said, apparently divining his thoughts. “She is one of that clan. The prima’s youngest daughter, actually.”
Noting more clearly the almost blank look on the girl’s face, Loc realized she must be under the control of some sort of spell. And he very much doubted that the Dubois clan had given her up willingly, unless her presence here was some sort of guarantee to prevent any kind of action against her family.
He forced himself to say, “It’s very nice to meet you, Celeste.”
She smiled, but he noticed the way her eyes went immediately to Toulouse and did not linger on him. Because Loc had spent the greater part of eight months wearing this face and body, he knew this was not the sort of reaction he typically elicited from a young woman. Yes, her keeper had definitely placed some sort of dark spell on her…which meant he might attempt the same thing with Loc. Already he knew this warlock was not to be trusted, although he tried to reassure himself with the thought that, while this body was human, the soul it encased was not…and therefore not susceptible to Nicholas Toulouse’s dark magic.
“Nicky,” the girl said. “You told me you were going to take me shopping, and it’s almost two. How much longer are you going to be?”
“Just a few minutes, my pet,” he replied, still wearing that indulgent smile. “Besides, you need to put on some shoes before you go.”
She looked down at her feet and giggled. “Oh, I suppose I do. Thank you for the reminder — you always take such good care of me.”
A flash of a dazzling smile, and she was gone, leaving the two men alone in the room.
Watching Loc closely, Toulouse said, “Is this going to be a problem, demon?”
“No,” Loc said at once. “The affairs of mortals mean nothing to me.”
“Good. Then you know what we both have to do.”
“Yes.” He would say no more than that. The most important thing was to get away from here, away from the dark warlock’s stare. He might be mortal, but clearly he was a very dangerous man, someone even Loc might not wish to trifle with.
“I’m glad we understand one another.” Toulouse paused for a moment, then said, his tone careless, “You shouldn’t worry about Celeste. She is quite happy, you know. I believe the same sort of spell would be quite effective in helping you gain the confidence of the Castillo witch.”
Loc allowed himself a shrug. “I will take that under advisement.”
The faintest hint of a frown passed over the dark warlock’s features. “Do as you like, but if you are really so eager to return to your own kingdom, then I would think you would use whatever means necessary to accomplish your goal.”
“Perhaps,” Loc allowed. “So far, I have not needed to resort to such measures.”
That comment only made Toulouse’s expression darken further. Clearly, he understood the subtle insult implied by Loc’s words, that someone as attractive as he was had no need to use magic to seduce a woman. Bravado, of course, because in all his time here, he’d never been tempted by a human woman, had never had any desire to be intimate with one of them.
Until now….
He thrust that thought away and said, “I will return as soon as I have the book.”
“Excellent.” The warlock’s expression was neutral once again, showing no hint of his previous irritation. “I hope it will not take too long.”
“Does the offer have an expiration date?”
“No,” Toulouse replied at once. A glint came and went in his pale eyes, a flicker of greed that Loc immediately recognized. It was clear that the dark warlock wanted that grimoire, wanted it badly. Of course, he was doing his best to conceal his need, because that would weaken his bargaining position, but he’d betrayed himself there. He would wait as long as necessary in order to add such a prized specimen to his collection. “Only that the longer you take, the greater the chance that the de la Paz clan will send someone to collect their property. If they take it back to Arizona, the grimoire will be that much more difficult to obtain, because of course they will doubly guard something that has been stolen from them before.”
“I don’t see such a thing happening,” Loc said calmly. “Considering that the Castillos have now had the book in their possession for more than eight months. But I will keep your warning in mind.”
“Good.”
That seemed to be the end of that. “I’ll return when I have the grimoire,” he repeated, then took himself away. It was rather amusing to see the shocked expression on Toulouse’s face as Loc disappeared before his eyes. Apparently, for all his magical abilities and powers, that was the first time he’d ever witnessed another living being winking out of existence in the blink of an eye.
Loc did not go directly to Cat’s house in Pojoaque, however. Although he was fairly certain that the warlock had no way of tracking him, he thought it safer to detour to Santa Fe itself. Besides, he wanted to walk the streets there, send his senses out in all directions to see if he could possibly detect where the grimoire had been hidden. This was a long shot, because he guessed that Miranda, the prima, had made sure it was buttressed behind as many protection spells as she could conjure, but he figured he might as well try.
That would be the simplest thing, really — to find the book on his own, without having to use Cat as the means of locating it. For some reason, he didn’t like that idea much at all. He didn’t want to abuse and betray her trust. Perhaps he would still be doing so by taking the grimoire in the first pla
ce, but that was walking a very fine line. Nicholas Toulouse had only been pointing out the truth when he said the Castillos had no real right to the tome, either.
Conundrum settled for now, Loc trod the crowded streets around Santa Fe’s famed Plaza, glad that, while it was still warm here, he no longer had to suffer the sticky, heavy heat of New Orleans. As he walked, he sent his senses ranging forth, looking for anything that felt like a sink of dark magic, but he could detect nothing. Oh, he knew who in the crowd were witches and warlocks, felt the presence of other Castillos as far out as a quarter-mile from where he stood, but their vibrations ranged from neutral to warm and inviting. A particularly bright flare to the east told him that was the prima’s house, a large, ancient building that seemed as if it held its own secrets.
But no grimoire, nor any other object of magical significance. A shop a bit farther down the street had a cursed bracelet among its used jewelry for sale, and on the other side of downtown was an antique bedstead that was still haunted by the woman who had died in it. Those two were the only remotely magical items he was able to sense, and neither of them had anything to do with his quest for the grimoire. As he’d thought, Miranda Castillo had done her best to secret the book away.
Well, he had halfway expected as much. Now he would have to set his sights on Cat, and hope that she was privy to the information he sought.
If not…well, he would just have to find a way to have her get it for him.
6
A warm breeze danced across the garden, setting the leaves of the aspen trees surrounding the patio into a rustling shimmer that reflected the late afternoon sunlight. Cat sat at the little bistro set she’d placed off in the secluded corner, sipping from a glass of sauvignon blanc and trying to tell herself that it was just fine for Loc to be gone this long.
Almost as if she’d summoned him herself, he was suddenly there, letting himself in through the little gate that separated this section of the patio from the rest of its concrete expanse. That same wind blew in his loose, shoulder-length hair, sending raven-hued strands fluttering around his face. They weren’t enough to conceal his dejected expression, however.
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