“Both of my pieces for the art show are done,” she said, voice deliberately casual, as if she knew they needed to speak of commonplaces right now. As much as Loc wanted to cry out his undying love for her, he thought it best to be at least somewhat restrained for the moment. He nodded, and she went on, “I thought I’d drop them off tomorrow, since waiting until the last minute usually isn’t a good idea.”
“That sounds reasonable,” he responded. “Do you want me to come with you?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary. It’ll just be a quick trip to the gallery that’s hosting the show. But I thought that after I was done, maybe we could head up to Abiquiu for the day. It’s some really beautiful country around there — Abiquiu Lake, for one thing, and then we could go on the Ghost Ranch tour, maybe horseback riding. Ghost Ranch is where Georgia O’Keeffe once lived,” she added, as though he should know who Georgia O’Keeffe was.
“That sounds like it would be enjoyable. However, I have never ridden a horse.”
“Oh, it’s easy,” Cat assured him. “These are horses ridden by hundreds of tourists every year, so they’re really mellow. Basically, all you have to do is sit in the saddle and let the horse follow the guide. But it’s a fun way to get into the back country.”
Loc wondered whether a horse would truly bear him. He’d noticed on his travels that dogs seemed to get edgy whenever he was near, either growing nervous and visibly shaking, or being overly friendly, as if they thought they could get on his good side by being ingratiating. Perhaps they somehow were able to sense his otherworldly nature, no matter what he looked like on the outside. He hadn’t been near enough any horses to tell whether they would react in the same way. If they did, attempting to go on this tour at Ghost Ranch would prove difficult. The only reassurance was that Cat most likely would guess why the horses were restive, and wouldn’t ask any awkward questions.
“I like that idea,” he said, and left it at that. No point in worrying about something that might never happen.
“Then it’s a date.” She picked up her wine glass and took a sip, then set it down so she could retrieve an egg roll from the plate where they rested. “My errand won’t take very long — the gallery opens at ten, so I’ll head out around nine-thirty and should be back by eleven at the very latest.”
Loc nodded. He wondered what he would do with himself during that time, but he supposed he might enjoy merely sitting in the sun and breathing in the air and listening to the birds until Cat came home. Certainly there was now no reason to continue looking for someone to send him back to his world. The very thought made him go tense, for now he knew this was where he wished to be, in this little corner of the world, secluded and lovely and serene.
Likewise, he knew that Nicholas Toulouse still lurked out there somewhere, but he did not appear to pose any sort of imminent threat. If Loc never returned, the dark warlock would probably realize that he had given up on his quest, and so Toulouse would also have to abandon his notion of acquiring the de la Paz clan’s lost grimoires. Certainly he had gotten along very well all these years without them, and so he had no real reason to bring down the wrath of the Castillos by attempting to steal the books.
“Are you going to say anything to your brother?”
Cat paused just as she was reaching for a wonton. “Say anything about what?” she asked, but her tone was just a bit too off-hand for him to believe she didn’t know what he was talking about.
“About what has happened between us.”
She straightened, although Loc noticed how she remained facing forward, rather than turning so she could look him in the eyes. “Um, I’ve never discussed my sex life with Rafe, and I’m sure as hell not going to start now.”
“This is not merely about sex,” Loc replied calmly. “That is, he is sure to notice something if I continue to live here with you.”
This comment was met with a long silence, one so long that he began to fear his feelings for her were not reciprocated, that all she’d wanted was a few moments of intimacy with him, rather than the lifelong commitment he’d imagined. He held himself still, for the last thing he wanted to do was let her know how much her reticence alarmed him, but he couldn’t quite prevent himself from letting out a relieved breath when she spoke next.
“Yes, he’ll notice,” she said. “And I know I’ll have to tell him — and the rest of my family — something soon enough. But for now, I just want to get through this week. Rafe and Miranda and my father are supposed to come to the reception on Friday evening, and while I’m not going to go into the gory details at a public event, they’re definitely going to notice that I have you there with me as my date.”
“Your date?” Loc asked, feeling absurdly pleased. Cat must be proud of her connection with him, or surely she wouldn’t invite him along to a party where he would meet a great many of her friends and colleagues and family members.
“Yes, my date,” she said firmly, then leaned over so she could plant a kiss on his cheek. Afterward, she drew back a little and sent him a questioning look. “You didn’t really think I was going to leave you sitting here alone on a Friday night while I went to the reception, did you?”
“To be honest, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
She put her hand on his knee and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Well, I had. And I totally want to show you off. It’s just that there’s no reason for you to come along tomorrow.”
“I understand.” He rested his hand on top of hers, felt the smooth skin and the warmth of the flesh beneath. Cat was so very real, perhaps the realest thing he had ever experienced. After the intimacies they’d shared, he felt as though he didn’t want to lose a single precious second together. But he’d seen enough of human interactions to know that such behavior was not precisely the norm, and so he told himself that it was only an hour or two at the most, and afterward they would spend a wonderful day together.
Assuming, of course, that the horses at this Ghost Ranch didn’t bolt as soon as they caught wind of him and realized they had a demon in their midst.
It felt a little strange to pull her Mercedes SUV out of the garage and realize that Loc was staying behind at the house, but Cat told herself it was good for him…good for both of them, really. They couldn’t spend the rest of their lives continuously joined at the hip. She hoped that as he stayed here and became a part of her life, he would make friends both within her clan and without, would find a way to stitch himself into the fabric of existence here in northern New Mexico. They would have to decide how much of his background could be known among the clan, but of course to her civilian friends he would have to remain Loc de la Cruz, the artist from Spain who had found a way into her heart.
She’d awoken in the middle of the night to hear his deep, even breathing next to her — and what a relief it had been to see that he really did sleep — and she’d murmured the phrase in her mind, even though neither of them had yet said it to the other.
I love you.
Because she knew she did love him, his strangely generous heart, his enthusiasm for the world around him…the way he looked at her, as though she was the most perfect work of art ever created by god or man. It didn’t matter that he had come from a world she could barely begin to imagine, that underneath his model-handsome looks he hid the face of a devil. He was simply, uniquely Loc, and she wondered how she had ever lived without him.
The morning was a sunny one, but thunderheads were already beginning to build up behind the Sangre de Christo mountains, promising afternoon thunderstorms. Would they reach as far north and west as Abiquiu? Maybe, but Cat figured they’d chance it. Worst case, they could still go to the visitor’s center at Ghost Ranch, maybe have a late lunch at the Abiquiu Inn, which had great food. They would have at least gotten out and about for the day, explored a different corner of New Mexico than what Loc had seen previously.
And she knew she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that she wanted to be seen i
n public with him, wanted to show him off a bit…except someplace safe where she was pretty sure there wouldn’t be any other Castillos around. Yes, they’d have to hash all that out eventually, but she really didn’t want to be forced into it when she was still enjoying the afterglow from their lovemaking of the night before.
The gallery was located on Paseo de Peralta as it began to curve toward the north and east. Luckily, it had plenty of parking, so Cat pulled into an open spot, then went around to the back of her SUV to retrieve the two tapestries.
She’d called as she was leaving the house to let the gallery manager know she’d be stopping by with her entries in a half hour or so. He was a tall black man with a faint Jamaican accent, about as rare in Santa Fe as a unicorn, but over the years he’d managed to become a part of the somewhat insular community there, and Cat knew he did an outstanding job of running the gallery.
He came out into the parking lot just as she was raising the tailgate of her SUV. “I thought you might need some help with those,” he said.
“Thank you, Jacques.” Truth be told, the tapestries were kind of unwieldy, and she was glad of the help. Loc had given her a hand back at the house, but of course he wasn’t here now.
And whose fault is that? she asked herself as Jacques took the larger of the two tapestries from the cargo area of her vehicle. Loc could have been here helping you, but you told him to stay home.
The excuse she’d given him was that this was going to be a quick trip, just to the gallery and back, and so there was no real need for him to tag along, but there was another reason besides that. The gallery was in nearly the heart of Santa Fe, and she hadn’t wanted to risk running into someone from her clan and having to explain Loc’s presence. It wasn’t as big a deal with Tony, because Tony knew who Loc was — and, more importantly, he could be trusted to keep quiet on the topic. But with almost anyone else, well, she just didn’t feel like going into it right now. She wanted to hold the amazing night she’d shared with Loc close, and introducing him to anyone else in the clan would somehow feel as if it was impinging on their newfound intimacy.
Cat pulled out the second tapestry, then shut the tailgate. It locked automatically as she walked away, following Jacques to the rear entrance of the gallery where his office was located.
“You can go ahead and hang those in the exhibition space in the north wing,” he told her. “I already have your information pulled up on the computer, so I’ll log your entries as being received. I’ll be along in a few minutes to bring you the information cards for both of them.”
“Sounds great.” Cat picked up the second tapestry from where Jacques had laid it down on top of a worktable, then headed off in the direction he’d indicated. Carrying both of the pieces was a little cumbersome, but not too bad now that she didn’t have to wrangle the lift gate of her SUV at the same time.
The exhibition space was a large wing of the gallery, windowless but exquisitely lit. Cat located the spot toward one end where she knew her tapestries were supposed to hang. Jacques had already left behind magnetic hangers that would carefully hold the heavy fabric in place without allowing it to crease and wrinkle. She got one up and was just about to start on the second when he appeared with the foam core–backed information cards for her entries in the competition.
“I’ll just leave these for you here,” he said, setting them down on the long polished juniper bench placed at the very center of the exhibition space. Pausing, he gave both tapestries an appraising look with a practiced eye. “You might have outdone yourself this year, Cat.”
“Thanks,” she replied as her cheeks heated slightly from the praise. “I wanted to try a few new techniques, see how they blended together.”
“They look very good. The eye keeps moving from texture to texture, color to color.” The phone clipped to his belt buzzed, and he sent her an apologetic smile. “A client. I need to take this.”
“No problem,” Cat said.
He nodded and left the room, his voice trailing back to her as he left. “Yes, Mrs. Goldsmith. It will be delivered on the fourth as promised. You are back in town, then?”
That was all she heard, but Cat could guess at the rest. Jacques was the type of person who never seemed to get ruffled, even though a lot of his clients were extremely demanding types with more money than they knew what to do with. Then again, she supposed she would get a little anxious, too, if she was awaiting the delivery of a piece that probably cost more than most people’s cars.
With a slight lift of her shoulders, she went back to finish hanging the second tapestry, then carefully affixed the information card that accompanied it to the wall a few inches away. Once she had the other card mounted as well, she’d be done here, and she could go home and collect Loc.
“Hey,” said an unfamiliar voice, and Cat turned, information card still in her hand, to see a woman maybe a few years younger than she was standing near the entrance to the exhibit space. The stranger had warm blonde hair that fell in careful waves down her back, and she was very pretty in a sort of scrubbed, all-American cheerleader sort of way.
“Hi,” Cat said, smiling at the unknown young woman. “Can I help you with something?”
“Are those yours?”
“Yes,” she replied, still feeling a bit flushed with pride, thanks to the compliments Jacques had just paid her work. “But this part of the gallery isn’t really open yet. We’re still getting all the pieces hung, as you can see. The actual exhibit and juried show starts on Friday afternoon — there’ll be a reception, if you’re going to be in town that long.” She figured the strange young woman must be a tourist, because she had a faint trace of a Southern accent, although it didn’t sound as though she was from Texas, which was where Santa Fe got a lot of its tourists.
“Oh, no, we won’t be here,” the woman said. “This is sort of a lightning trip, you see.”
“That’s too bad,” Cat replied. “The reception should be pretty good — Jacques always makes sure there’s lots of great food.”
“We have plenty of that in New Orleans,” came another voice, a male voice, and Cat whirled to see a man behind her, someone who hadn’t been there a second earlier. He was tall and had black hair slicked straight back, and icy blue eyes that contrasted with the warm brown of his skin.
Her shocked brain registered his words almost as soon as it logged the man’s presence.
New Orleans. Nicholas Toulouse lived in New Orleans.
Oh, no —
She turned to bolt, to run back toward the spurious safety of Jacques’ office, but before she could take a step, the warlock’s hand had grasped her by the bicep, holding her with fingers so cold, they felt like bands of ice around her bare arm.
“I’m afraid not, my dear,” he said, amusement flickering in his pale eyes. “Your lover and I have some unfinished business.”
And even though she opened her mouth to scream, no sound came out. It was as though her vocal chords had been as frozen as her arms.
Nicholas Toulouse laughed, and laughed, and the walls of the gallery disappeared as the world went black.
16
Loc glanced at the digital clock on the stove and felt a frown crease his brows. Cat had now been gone almost two hours, and he knew that was far longer than she’d said her errand would take. Perhaps she had gotten delayed while talking to the gallery manager, but he doubted she would have allowed herself to be delayed for such a significant amount of time.
He’d come into the kitchen to fetch himself a glass of water, but now that he’d realized how much time had passed, he realized he was not as thirsty as he thought. Worry coursed through him, although he tried to tell himself that there was probably a perfectly logical reason for why Cat was taking so long to get home.
It wasn’t as though he could call her to find out what was going on, because even though he could summon a phone for himself easily enough, he didn’t know what her number was. He supposed he could call the gallery, but he had a feeling sh
e might not much like the idea of him keeping tabs on her in such a way.
But something might have gone wrong, he thought as he went to the kitchen window and peered out through it. Far off to one side, he spied Roberto and Miguel as they made their rounds through the vineyards, checking on the progress of the several varieties of grapes planted there, and yet there was no sign of Cat’s SUV.
Well, she might not be happy about him checking up on her, but he knew he would never forgive himself if she’d had an accident of some sort and he’d sat here meekly waiting for her to return. He shed his human form and took to the air, making sure he was carefully shielded from human eyes, although he could feel his heart beat a little faster at the risk he was taking. As best he could, he followed the route she would have taken into town, moving along the little two-lane highway to something that more closely resembled an actual freeway, tracing its path until it ended on the north side of Santa Fe. In all those miles, he saw no sign of a dark gray sport-utility vehicle pulled off to one side of the road, nor were there any indications that there had been an accident of some kind.
Frown deepening, he passed over the heart of the town, peering down at the Plaza with its scores of milling tourists, at the streets which encircled that open area, but again, he didn’t see a vehicle that looked like Cat’s. Luckily, she’d described the gallery to him, its position on the northward curve of Paseo de Peralta, the large enclosed garden to one side with its multitude of bronze statues. However, as he descended, then assumed his human form again and threw off his concealing veil of invisibility, he did not see her vehicle parked in the large gravel lot that faced on the street.
So had she come here and left? It was possible she hadn’t taken the highway out of town, had driven some other, less direct route, but he saw no reason why she would have done such a thing, not when she knew he was waiting for her.
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