“That’s great,” she responded, relief clear in her tone. “I’m looking forward to it.”
He didn’t know if he was, but he’d already committed to going over to Sophia’s house. Might as well get this over with.
After checking his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed any calls or texts from Miranda — which of course he hadn’t — Rafe went to the garage and got into his Jeep, then headed up to the Hyde Park area in the foothills above Santa Fe where Sophia’s home was located. A long time ago, before his mother had become prima, Rafe had lived here as well. He still experienced a small pang as he passed the turn-off that led to one of his favorite hiking trails, a twinge at the way his life had changed forever when his grandmother Isabel died and Genoveva had to take over as prima.
Well, all that was ancient history. Now, through a twist of fate — and the intervention of his sister Louisa, who should’ve been prima — Miranda was the head witch of the Castillos, and he was her consort. But Miranda had already shown that she was going to be a very different sort of prima from Genoveva. Just the feeling he experienced whenever he walked into his house was enough to tell him that. It already felt lighter and happier, as though Miranda’s very spirit had somehow infused the walls of the old adobe home.
He turned off onto the street that led into Sophia’s neighborhood, winding up and away from Hyde Park Road and into the hills. Her community was gated, but those sorts of security measures weren’t enough to keep out any witches or warlocks; Rafe merely waved a hand at the little box that controlled the gate and then drove his Wrangler through as though he had every right to be there.
Sophia’s big Spanish-style house was located at the end of a cul-de-sac, on a piece of land that topped a promontory and afforded a spectacular set of views west across Santa Fe and all the way to the Jemez Mountains and Los Alamos. Rafe pulled up into the driveway and parked, then got out and headed toward the front door. They’d had some early snow a few days back, and it still gleamed pale and cold from some of the more sheltered spots in the front yard.
Almost as soon as he’d rung the doorbell, his cousin Sophia was at the front door. She was in her middle fifties, slim, but in the sort of taut, strained way that seemed to indicate she watched every bite that went into her mouth and was vigilant about never missing a Pilates class.
“Come on in, Rafe,” she said, stepping aside so he could enter the foyer. He’d only been here a few times, but the house was as pale and elegant as he remembered, cool travertine on the floors, the walls the world’s lightest shade of parchment. “Why don’t we go into the living room?”
“Sure,” he replied, and followed her to that room, which was also pale, with its bone leather couches and iron coffee table topped by inlaid stone in shades of cream and beige. A pitcher of water sat on top of that table, accompanied by a pair of glasses.
“Some water?” Sophia asked, and he nodded.
She poured a glass for each of them, then handed one to Rafe. He sat down, acutely aware of the expensive leather of the couch crinkling beneath him. The place looked like a model home, but in its own way, it was just as off-putting as his own house had been before Miranda started putting in her own little touches to make it more homey. More than once, Rafe had wondered how Tony had turned out so freewheeling when his mother was so uptight, but he figured that Tony’s devil-may-care attitude had to be a direct reaction to Sophia’s rigid self-control.
Besides, her talent wasn’t an easy one to live with. She had the ability to read any type of magical spell or book, no matter what language it might have been written in. Since many magical writings tended to explore the darker side of the powers that witches and warlocks possessed, Rafe guessed it couldn’t be easy to be exposed to that sort of thing.
No one else in the clan had anything like Sophia’s magical power, and so it fell to her to be the guardian of any magical items that were remotely questionable…which was also why she’d become the keeper of Simon Escobar’s personal effects, so to speak.
Rafe took a sip from the glass of water she’d handed him, then asked, “What’s this about, Sophia? Did you find something in those spell books Escobar left behind?”
Her normally full mouth thinned. “It’s not really what’s in them…more the very fact of their existence.”
“Well, I didn’t think he’d be carrying around anything as simple as a couple of paperback mysteries,” Rafe said.
“I wish it were that easy.” Sophia lifted her own glass and drank as well. “Frankly, I’m having a hard time figuring out what the de la Paz clan was doing with those sorts of books in the first place. They’re extremely dangerous.”
“What’s in them, anyway?” Rafe didn’t know whether he should even have asked that question, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. “I mean, obviously there were spells about calling demons, or Escobar wouldn’t have used them to summon his own private demon army.” And the Lord of Chaos, the otherworldly entity Simon had called to do his bidding, although Rafe figured it was better not to mention the demon lord’s existence, the way he seemed to now be trapped in this world with no way to get back to his own plane. Everyone who’d been present for the final showdown with Simon Escobar — including Sophia’s son Tony — had been sworn to secrecy about the presence of the powerful demon, especially since it turned out that he was more or less sympathetic to the Castillos’ cause. Besides, since the Lord of Chaos had made himself scarce ever since he helped them defeat Escobar, there didn’t seem to be much point in bringing up the subject now.
“Demon summoning is only a very small part of it,” Sophia said. Her face was pale, but she seemed composed enough, possibly relieved now that she had someone to talk to. “Blood magic, animal and human sacrifice, terrible spells to bend others to the magic-user’s will…I could go on, but I think you can get the picture.”
“Yes,” Rafe replied, more than a little shaken. There were reasons why that sort of magic had been forbidden hundreds of years earlier. It was terrible and immoral…which was probably exactly why Simon Escobar had sought it out. Rafe supposed he should be glad that the dark warlock had been focused on demon summoning and not some of the even blacker spells that existed within the grimoires he’d stolen. What if he’d used one of those mind-control spells on Miranda? Would her innate magical powers have been enough to save her?
He really didn’t want to think about that. In a way, it was good that Simon had harbored such a twisted affection for Miranda — he’d wanted her to love him for himself, and not because of any spell he’d cast on her. Otherwise, he might have tried to bend her to his will, might have….
Enough of that. Rafe blinked, and saw that Sophia was watching him with concern in her hazel eyes. He cleared his throat and asked, “Why not send the books back to the de la Paz clan? They belong to them.”
She gave a regretful shake of her head. “That was my first thought, but then I realized it wasn’t a good solution at all. Rafe, I’m not sure the de la Pazes even know the books are missing. Otherwise, surely they would have reached out to us, since Miranda’s parents know what happened with Simon Escobar and must have shared that information with the other Arizona witch clans. If they’re that careless with items that are so clearly dangerous, how can I in good conscience send the books back to them?”
Rafe had to admit, she had a point. On the other hand, if the de la Pazes knew that Simon had plundered their various caches of magical writings, maybe they kept quiet because they were doing an inventory of their spell books and didn’t want to say anything to the Castillos until they knew for sure what was missing.
Or maybe they were plain old embarrassed. Rafe knew he would be, if he had to confess to the other witch clans in the area that a dark warlock had been able to waltz right in and walk away with some of the rare and dangerous items his family had supposedly been keeping safe for generations.
“I see your point,” he allowed. “It could be that they’re still trying to figure out
what Simon took. I don’t know all that much about it, but, as far as I’ve been able to tell from a few things Miranda has said, it’s not as though the de la Pazes keep everything in one central location. Their prima has her own library of grimoires, and there are others in the clan who have collections of spell books as well.”
Sophia’s lips pursed. “If they’re going to be so haphazard, then again, do you really feel it’s a good idea to send the books back to them?”
“Do you want to keep them?” Rafe asked, genuinely curious. If Sophia thought they were such a burden, why wouldn’t she be doing whatever she could to get the books back to their rightful owners, despite her misgivings?
“Of course not,” she replied at once. “But neither do I want them to go someplace where they might not be treated with the respect they deserve.”
A wry smile tugging at his mouth, he said, “I have a feeling the de la Pazes have probably learned their lesson on this one.”
For a moment, Sophia didn’t reply. Her expertly plucked brows pulled together as she frowned slightly. At least a pucker formed in the middle of her forehead, which meant that she hadn’t yet gone so far as to get filler injections to slow down any telltale signs of aging. “Maybe,” she said with some reluctance. “But even if they try to be more careful, will it be enough? Thank God that dark warlocks are few and far between, but it doesn’t mean they don’t exist. It’s possible that word has gotten out in certain circles about the de la Paz clan’s various caches of spell books. If that’s the case, then there could still be a danger.” Her fingers, manicured but bare of polish, knotted together.
Rafe hadn’t even thought about that particular possibility. From what he’d been able to tell, Simon Escobar had been a lone wolf, acting purely on his own without help from anyone else. Not that he’d needed the help — he was the most powerful warlock Rafe had ever seen. Even Miranda, with all her spectacular abilities and the assist from her newly acquired prima powers, had barely been able to defeat him. However, there was still the question of his father Joaquin. He’d come from somewhere in Central America — “Escobar” was a fairly common name in El Salvador — but no one had been able to find out very much about precisely where in El Salvador he’d come from, or what he’d done before he came to the U.S. For all anyone knew, there could be a veritable hotbed of dark warlocks and witches down in that part of the world, although that was a prospect Rafe really didn’t want to contemplate.
“But they probably wouldn’t know we have some of the books they’re looking for — if anyone really is looking for them other than the de la Pazes,” Rafe said. “Simon didn’t tell Miranda everything, of course, but it sounded as though he took the grimoires and didn’t stick around to see what happened next, which means there’s not much chance that anyone else had any idea what he’d done.”
“I hope you’re right.” Sophia tapped her fingers on the knee of her dark jeans, the diamond anniversary band on her left hand glinting in the pale afternoon sunlight that came through the living room’s windows. Her husband, another Castillo cousin, was a lawyer, and probably at work in his offices not too far from the state’s capital building, affectionately known as the Roundhouse. The two of them projected an image of a perfect upper-middle-class couple, and Rafe was fairly certain that none of their neighbors in this pricey development had any idea that they happened to be living next door to a family of witches and warlocks.
And he kind of doubted any of those neighbors would be too thrilled to find out that Sophia was hiding a stash of stolen grimoires somewhere in her house. That sort of thing could definitely bring down property values.
“I just wanted you to know what we’re dealing with here,” she went on. “There really isn’t an ideal solution, but it’s probably best if I hold on to the books for now. If the de la Pazes come to us directly — and if they have an accurate list of what was taken from them — then I suppose we’ll have to return the books. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can to make sure they’re safe.”
What that would be, Rafe didn’t know for sure. Yes, Sophia’s magic allowed her to read what was in those books of dark spells, but that was about it. Her husband’s talent for being able to tell when people were lying stood him in good stead in his day job as an attorney, but it wouldn’t do much when it came to protecting the dangerous, valuable grimoires that had come into their possession.
“Let me talk to Miranda about that,” Rafe said. “I think at the very least she’ll want to come over and cast a protection spell on the books or something. Those spells worked pretty well keeping everyone safe when Escobar was trying to attack the clan, so I have to think they’ll do as well when protecting inanimate objects.”
“That’s a good idea,” Sophia responded, looking relieved. “Her magic is very strong.”
Yes, it was, and thank God for that, or Rafe was pretty sure he wouldn’t be sitting here now and having this conversation with his cousin. He’d probably be dead, and Miranda…. He drew in a breath and said, “She’s in Albuquerque today, doing some shopping with Cat for the reception, but I’ll talk to her as soon as she gets home.”
A smile, and Sophia said, “Thank you, Rafe. I appreciate that, especially with all the planning I know you need to do for the wedding.”
“Not a problem.” He reflected that there wasn’t as much planning as some might think — the invitations had already been handled, the venue chosen, Miranda’s wedding dress purchased. They still needed to handle the flowers and the cake, but really, they could probably just order the same things they’d had for the first ceremony and call it a day. However, since he didn’t want his cousin to think he was being nonchalant about all the work involved, he added, “Cat and Dad are helping, too, so I think between the four of us, we’ve got everything handled.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Everyone is really looking forward to seeing you two married.”
Which of course he and Miranda already were, but Rafe thought he knew what Sophia meant. In a way, he needed the reality of the ceremony as well, so it could tell him that they truly were husband and wife.
“We’re looking forward to it, too,” he said, then got up from the couch where he’d been sitting. “I should probably go — I need to be home when Miranda and Cat get back from Albuquerque, just in case there’s stuff they need brought in from the car.”
“Of course.” Sophia stood as well. “Let me walk you to the door.”
She saw him out, and he waved and said goodbye before heading down the front walk to where his Jeep was parked in the driveway. He reflected that it was a good thing he’d had it inspected mechanically from top to bottom after the bodywork was done — Simon Escobar had really smashed the hell out of the poor thing when he tipped the Wrangler on its side during their final confrontation — because at least now Rafe knew there wasn’t any chance of the vehicle dripping oil on the pristine concrete of Sophia’s driveway, which was just as immaculate as the rest of her house.
As he drove away, though, the smile he’d put on as he’d said goodbye to his cousin faded away. During the past few weeks, he and Miranda had done basically whatever they could to avoid the topic of Simon Escobar. He was done, in the past, and they had better things to focus on. Now, though, it was as if his ghost had returned to haunt them, thanks to those damn books he’d left behind at his house in La Cienega.
Unfortunately, they’d have to deal with that ghost…and hope they could finally lay it to rest.
5
Miranda
Rafe was sitting at the kitchen table when I returned from Albuquerque. Cat and I had had a great time picking out decorations for the reception hall, and had placed a much larger order with the party rental company than I’d first imagined. Then again, this was a big deal, a way to make our legitimate to all the Castillos. I needed to ensure that everything went as smoothly as possible, and that meant throwing a wedding reception that didn’t look like some hastily slapped-together affair.
Because I ha
dn’t really bought anything, had only placed an order for lights and decorations, I didn’t walk into the house with anything except my purse slung over my shoulder. Cat had dropped me off and sped away after apologizing for not coming in. While we were at the party rental place, she’d gotten a text from one of the contractors she’d been negotiating with. He’d had a cancellation and was available to take a look at the Pojoaque property, and so she didn’t have any time to spare, but needed to get back on the road as soon as possible.
I didn’t mind that she needed to get going. While I didn’t want to bore Rafe too much with elaborate descriptions of what I had planned for the reception, I figured it couldn’t hurt to give him just a little sneak peek. However, judging by the abstracted frown he wore as I approached the kitchen table, I had a feeling he wouldn’t be too interested in descriptions of white and silver topiaries or bare birch branches with twinkle LEDs embedded in them.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, slipping my purse over the back of a chair before I pulled it out and sat down. “You look like a storm cloud.”
“Sorry,” Rafe replied, and reached up to push back the too-long piece of hair that always wanted to fall into the middle of his forehead. “I just had to run over to my cousin Sophia’s house. Tony’s mother,” he added, since apparently he could tell from my expression that I didn’t have the faintest idea who Sophia was.
“Oh,” I said. “He’s not pulling out of the wedding, is he? I mean, I suppose we could find someone else to be best man, but — ”
“Nothing like that,” Rafe broke in. “Basically, she’s the one who got stuck babysitting the spell books that were taken from the house in La Cienega. She wanted to talk to me about what we should do with them.”
Right. Handling the disposal of those grimoires had been one of many items on a long to-do list, a task that I’d mentally filed in the “after the wedding” category and promptly forgot about. “Shouldn’t we send them back to the de la Paz clan?”
A Canyon Road Christmas Page 4