“True.” She paused as Eduardo came back into the kitchen, looking relieved. “Well?”
“Lorena is heading out now. I told her that she had to go very slowly when she came to the border, and she assured me she’d be careful. It’s about twenty miles from their house to the Texas border, so we should know within the half hour.”
Eduardo wasn’t the only one who was relieved. Not that Rafe really thought that James and Lorena would refuse to make the test, but still, this way they would know very soon whether they could count on the Montoyas to help out.
And in the meantime….
Cat shot him a curious glance. “What is it?”
“Oh, I was just thinking about the differences between our situation now and the one the Castillos faced back when Miranda’s parents came here, asking for help.”
“They must be good, judging by the expression on your face.”
Rafe nodded. “I hope so. That is, I was thinking about how Simon isn’t as experienced as his father. But that’s not the only thing going for us.”
“What is it, then?” Eduardo inquired, sitting back down and reaching for his tea.
“Miranda herself,” Rafe replied. “I don’t know everything her powers can do, and neither does she. I think Simon still underestimates her. And I think that makes her our secret weapon.”
“Fingers crossed,” Cat said, although, judging by the way her mouth pursed slightly, it looked as though she wasn’t entirely sure whether Miranda’s talents were up to the task.
They all went quiet for a moment, probably because there really wasn’t much they could do right then except wait to hear back from James’s wife Lorena as to whether she had been able to cross over into Texas, or whether she’d crashed into the same barrier that was working to trap all the witch-born Castillos in New Mexico.
“I’m going to go outside, get some fresh air while we wait,” Rafe told Cat and Eduardo, then pushed his chair out from the table. They both nodded, and Cat had a look on her face that told him she’d thought about asking him whether she should come, too, but then thought better of it.
Good. Most of the time Rafe was perfectly happy to have Cat around, but right then he wanted to be alone.
He went out into the chilly afternoon air and walked aimlessly down one of the garden paths. It was too bad that everything was so dry and dead right now; he’d hoped that by going outdoors, he’d be able to regain some equilibrium, but there was little about the landscape around him to offer any solace. He’d always hated this time of year anyway, with the color and flash of autumn gone and the knowledge that more than six months of cold awaited before the land became green again. In other parts of the world, spring might come sooner than that, but winter always liked to keep northern New Mexico in its grip for as long as possible.
It felt strange to think that his mother would never see the return of her beloved flowers, would never see these lawns stretch green and smooth again under a canopy of fresh leaves. She’d always taken such care of these gardens, but now he supposed it would be Louisa’s job — assuming she ever came out of her coma.
Rafe’s mouth thinned to a flat line. Simon Escobar had a lot to answer for.
As he drew closer to the casita where Miranda had stayed so briefly, Rafe made himself turn away and head back in the direction from whence he’d come. He didn’t want to look at the casita, didn’t want to think about what could be happening to Miranda at this very moment. True, she was smart and resourceful, but was she really strong enough to hold off a warlock as powerful as Simon?
Hands jammed in his jeans pockets, Rafe came up the steps to the kitchen door, only to have Cat open it and say, “She got through!”
“What?” he asked, not quite able to track what she’d just said.
“Lorena! She went through the barrier like it wasn’t even there, which means it doesn’t affect civilians. Dad’s talking to her now.”
Oh, right. That had to be good news, didn’t it? They could all use some good news about now, that was for sure.
Rafe followed Cat into the kitchen, where Eduardo was still seated at the kitchen table, cell phone held to his ear. “Yes,” he was saying. “I need to get the information off Genoveva’s computer, but I know that Lupita Montoya, the prima of the clan, lives in San Antonio. So it is a journey that will take some time.” A pause as Eduardo apparently listened to Lorena’s reply, and then he said, “It’s urgent, but I understand if you need to make arrangements. And obviously we don’t want you driving all through the night. Yes, that should work. Thank you, Lorena. I’ll text you the address.” Eduardo swiped his finger over the screen to end the call, then laid his phone down on the table.
“Well?” Cat said.
“She’ll do it, of course, but she wants to leave in the morning. It’s already past four, and so even if she left now, she wouldn’t reach San Antonio until midnight. We are already asking a favor of her, and so I thought it better to tell her it was all right to start tomorrow.”
“A favor that benefits the whole clan, including her,” Rafe growled.
“True, but she has young children, and James can’t take off work at such short notice without it causing problems, so she will have to arrange for someone else to watch them. But this way she can set out early in the morning — she hopes no later than seven-thirty — and get to San Antonio by mid-afternoon. We may have help as soon as tomorrow night.”
The thought of so much delay made Rafe grind his teeth, but he managed to say levelly enough, “Only if the Montoyas can get in from their side.”
“True.” Eduardo fiddled with the handle of his now-empty mug and said, “I know this is not the kind of delay you wanted to have happen. But it will be all right. You must have faith.”
Rafe wanted to ask his father how he could have faith when their enemy had already killed his mother and put two of his sisters in comas, but he realized that arguing with Eduardo wasn’t going to change anything. His father was probably hurting even more than he was. And really, Lorena was doing them a huge favor. She might have married into the Castillo clan, but she wasn’t a witch herself. She probably didn’t fully understand what they were facing here.
“Okay,” he said at last. “I get it. But I’m going to be climbing the walls until then.”
“I know,” Eduardo replied, his expression one of sympathy. “And I don’t know what to say, except that we need to be patient.”
“In the meantime,” Cat said. “I’m going to make us all a big batch of chicken enchiladas for dinner. It’ll destroy the kitchen, but it’ll keep me busy.”
In response to this suggestion, Rafe could only offer her a weak smile. Still, he understood her motivation. They all needed to do something to keep busy so they wouldn’t go completely crazy. In fact —
“I’ll help,” he said.
12
A Summoning
Miranda
I should have known this would be Simon’s endgame — to use his insanely powerful magical talents to sweep away anyone who might challenge his authority, and to take over the clan whose prima had once given her own life to make sure his father died before his plans for domination could come to fruition. And who would stop him? Louisa had already shown that she really wasn’t strong enough to be prima. Maybe during peacetime, when there wouldn’t be anyone to contest her authority or question her powers, but going up against someone like Simon Escobar?
She didn’t stand a chance.
And neither did anyone else in the Castillo clan, unless they were hiding some insanely powerful witches and warlocks in other parts of the state. Rafe had a fairly amazing — and rare — talent, but I didn’t see how changing into a wolf, coyote, or even a bear would be enough to take down Simon.
After I’d stared at him in shock, not sure I’d heard him correctly, he’d smiled at me and said, “Give yourself some time to think about it, Miranda. Maybe get some air — it’s a nice day.”
He’d been flaunting his control ove
r me, I was sure. Letting me know I would be free to walk the grounds, but that I didn’t dare try to escape. I hated the whole charade, and yet I’d taken him up on the offer. At least that way I could get out of the house, away from him, and see if some fresh air might allow me to figure out a way to stop his terrible plan.
So here I was, walking the grounds, pretending to be looking at the trees and the bare flowerbeds and the clear blue sky overhead, but really doing my best to figure out how I could prevent him from taking control of the Castillos. It did feel good to be outside, although I’d had to stop and put on a jacket before I went out.
This property was more extensive than I’d thought. Maybe not quite as big as the Tesuque compound where we’d been holed up previously, but still at least four or five acres. Unfortunately, the trees kept me from seeing very far, and besides, I didn’t know New Mexico nearly well enough to even start to guess at my location. I figured we were next to Cienega Creek, but that didn’t tell me very much, since it could wind along for miles.
It was very quiet except for the sound of the wind shuffling some fallen leaves along, and the occasional cawing of a raven. I knew it had to be a raven, because the sound was hoarser, throatier than that of a crow.
Weren’t ravens supposed to be harbingers of death? I couldn’t remember, because I’d never studied up on that sort of thing, had sort of avoided some of the more woo-woo aspects of being a witch. I might have been born with magical blood in my veins, but it had taken its own sweet time manifesting itself, and I’d never wanted to compensate by playing with crystals or trying to pretend there were signs and symbols in the most ordinary, everyday things.
Even so, the sound of that raven croaking off in the distance made the skin at the back of my neck prickle.
I went down to the shore of the creek and stood there for a long time, watching the water move slowly past. At this time of year, after the monsoons but months before the snow melt would return, it was running low and languid. I could see the rocks in the bottom, saw a quicksilver flash that might have been a fish, or only my eyes tricked by the angle of the sun. Even at its current low point, the creek was still probably at least two feet deep, with a rocky, treacherous bottom. Despite that, I might have attempted to wade across, except that I knew I wouldn’t have gotten very far. Simon would have been at my side in an instant, and I didn’t want to think about the consequences such an escape attempt might invite.
Instead, I turned away from the water and walked back toward the house. From this vantage point, it appeared friendly enough, a large square structure in the traditional pueblo style, with a sizable covered patio that looked out over the garden, a built-in kiva fireplace, and some cast-iron furniture to complete the outdoor space. If I were here with anyone else, I might have enjoyed sitting out on that patio, even at this time of year — after all, that fireplace had been put there to allow the home’s residents to be outside as long as the weather wasn’t too cold. However, I certainly didn’t want to participate in such cozy activities with Simon Escobar.
He came out through the French doors and stood there, watching as I approached. A brief squint up at the sun, which was now moving ever lower toward the west, and he said, “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
I made a noncommittal sound. Although I didn’t want to directly contradict him, neither did I have any desire to agree that it was in fact a beautiful day. How could it be, after the scene in the church earlier, after he’d coerced me into coming here with him?
A brief tightening of his lips was the only sign that I’d gotten to him. Still in that friendly, casual tone, he said, “Come on. There’s something I want to show you.”
That was about the last thing I wanted to hear from him. I could feel myself tense, but I nodded, pretending that his comment hadn’t sent alarm bells sounding through my entire body.
We went back inside the house, and he led me past the kitchen and into the garage, where his white BMW SUV was parked. I glanced at it for a moment, wondering if he planned to take me somewhere, but he ignored the vehicle and went over to a little alcove off the main part of the garage. It was the sort of place you might use for storage — and in fact there were metal shelves on all three walls filled with cans of paint and stucco patch and all the other detritus of a house that’s been recently remodeled.
Then I noticed the trap door in the cement floor.
“This is part of the reason why I wanted this house,” Simon said, kneeling down so he could grasp the latch and lift the piece of roughly painted plywood out of the way. “I guess the previous owner was going to build a wine cellar down here, but he never got past digging out the space and laying the cement slab. Still, that was all I really needed. Come on.”
“You want me to go…down there?” I asked, gruesome images from every horror movie I’d ever seen replaying in my head. Not that I really expected Simon to be taking me down there for some sort of ritual human sacrifice, but….
He laughed, pausing on the top step. At least there were real stairs — unfinished plywood, but sturdy-looking enough — but even so, I had absolutely no desire to set foot on them.
“It’s fine,” he said, extending a hand. “Come on.”
The last thing I wanted to do was have him holding my hand as I went down the stairs. Unfortunately, I had a feeling he would be annoyed with me if I refused him. I swallowed, then stepped forward, let him wrap his fingers around mine.
That weird sensation of wrongness I’d sensed from him was gone now. I had no idea whether it was because he’d figured out that I’d detected it somehow, and was now masking it the same way he could hide his magical nature, or whether some sort of terrible spell had been fresh on him previously, and that was the only reason why I’d felt something was off. Either way, rather than being reassured that he seemed better — for lack of a different word — I could only feel disquiet move through me once more. There were so many layers of deception in Simon, I had no true idea what about him was real.
If anything.
There was a light switch on the cement wall near the top of the stairs. Simon flicked it on, so at least we weren’t descending into utter darkness. The air felt damp and cold, but it didn’t have the kind of harsh mildew odor I’d been expecting. No, instead it smelled almost sweet.
I saw why soon enough. The area that had been carved out for the wine cellar was perfectly square, about twenty feet by twenty feet. Chalked on the cement floor were intricate symbols, similar to the ones I’d spied in the little shed on the back forty of the Tesuque property, but much, much more complicated. To one side was a low table draped with a black cloth, and the same tarnished silver candlesticks with black candles sat there, with the cruel curved knife in the center of the altar. Off to the other side was a small table — really, more like a plant stand — on top of which rested an ebony incense burner inlaid with what looked like mother-of-pearl. It was from the incense burner that the sickly sweet scent emanated, and I had to hold back a cough, even though no incense was burning now.
“So you got a replacement for your little shed,” I remarked, still trying to sound casual, although being that close to the knife and the arcane sigils on the floor was enough to set creepy crawly sensations moving down my spine and every limb.
“Oh, it’s more than that,” Simon replied. He went over to the table and ran a finger along the hilt of the curved dagger, although, to my relief, he didn’t pick it up. “There’s a power in the earth, and power in this place being so close to water. Air we already have, and fire is easy enough.” With a snap of his fingers, the black candles in their tarnished holders lit themselves, adding to the sickly illumination from the overhead fixture.
“‘We’?” I repeated, unease stirring somewhere in the pit of my stomach. I knew I didn’t want to be involved in anything that might take place in this dank little underground chamber.
“Yes, we.” He turned back toward me, a strange light flickering in his black eyes. “I was able to summon th
e demons without any assistance, just like the brother your Levi murdered so many years ago.”
As far as I could recall, Levi hadn’t murdered anyone. He’d had to kill Matías Escobar in self-defense. Then again, I hadn’t been there. I didn’t know for sure exactly what had happened, except that Levi had sealed the portal which had allowed the demons to come through to our world.
“Then you don’t need me, do you?” I asked. Even though I knew such an attempt would probably be futile, I still eyed the steps going up into the garage, wondering whether I’d be able to make it very far before Simon caught up with me. Or, better yet, if I teleported the hell out of here.
No, I couldn’t do that. Too many lives were at stake.
“I do need you,” Simon replied. He moved closer to me, a lot closer than I would have liked. I was barely able to keep myself from flinching as he reached out and took both my hands, wrapping his fingers tightly around mine. At least his skin was warm, but to me it felt like the unhealthy heat of a fever, not the reassuring warmth I experienced whenever Rafe had held my hand. “You see, to make sure no one tries to contest me, I need more than an army of mindless demons. Those I’ve summoned have only the crudest intelligence, and they can’t be trusted to carry out all my plans. That requires a certain kind of demon.”
“What kind?” I asked, barely able to get the words out past the growing tightness in my throat. While I wasn’t worried about him trying to conjure Beelzebub or Asmodeus or the Devil himself — we weren’t talking about the demons and devils of Christian mythology here, but a kind of creature that existed on a different plane entirely — there were still entities in other worlds we absolutely had no place messing with.
“He is a lord of demons, one who rules over those I’ve been summoning,” Simon replied. For someone who was suggesting summoning beings of intense, alien power, he looked a bit too casual, despite the way his hands remained wrapped around mine. “But because he’s so powerful, I need you to combine your gifts with mine, Miranda. I need us to join our powers to bring him to this plane.”
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