The Witches of Canyon Road, Books 1-3

by Christine Pope

  Simon touched the controls on the steering column, and the door to the center bay began to open. As far as I could tell, the garage was empty except for a few trashcans lined up against one wall. We got out and retrieved our baggage from the rear of the BMW.

  “This way,” Simon said.

  I followed him through a door on the same wall where the trashcans were located, and then along a path that wound through a carefully tended garden, where a few hollyhocks and hydrangea bushes still bloomed, despite the time of year. Because we were approaching from the garage rather than the front walk, we came into the house via a pair of French doors that opened on the patio. I assumed Simon must have a key, but he didn’t use one, only touched his fingers to the doorknob and used his inborn magic to let us in.

  We stood in an enormously long hallway illuminated by recessed lighting overhead. An equally long, narrow bench ran along one wall, while against the other was a pair of antique tables topped by a matching set of vases filled with sprays of autumn leaves. Landscapes in serene hues lined the walls.

  “What is this place?” I asked, my voice hushed. I’d only seen this one hallway — well, and the grounds as we drove in — and I could already tell it was the kind of property that no twenty-one-year-old kid could have rented by himself, even if said kid happened to be part of a prosperous witch clan. This was way, way beyond merely prosperous, and I felt a little like the beggar-maid heroine of a fairytale, sneaking into the king’s palace.

  He grinned as if he’d guessed precisely what I was thinking. “It belongs to some rich Texas oil guy. The property was being rented by a Hollywood actor while he was doing a film shoot here in Santa Fe, but he left a couple of weeks ago. Now the oil guy is trying to decide whether to sell or not, so he needed someone to caretake the place in the meantime.”

  “That someone being you?” I inquired, not bothering to keep the skepticism out of my tone. That is, I could see why a place like this might need a caretaker, but I found it difficult to believe that anyone would entrust a multimillion-dollar property like this to someone barely old enough to drink.

  “Yeah, me.” His grin didn’t fade. “I saw the ad and knew the property would be perfect. So what if I padded my resume a little?”

  And, for all I knew, used a little magical persuasion to convince the property manager or whoever it was doing the hiring that he would be perfect for the job. I didn’t ask, though; right then, I really didn’t want to know if a talent like that was included in Simon’s magic bag of tricks, because then I’d be forced to wonder whether he’d used it on me to get me to come here in the first place. My decision had been made, and I was too tired to start second-guessing every little thing, especially since I had absolutely no indication that Simon’s plans included anything beyond helping me discover my talents.

  “Let me show you your room,” he went on. “Since it’s so late, I figured all we’d do tonight is get settled. I guessed you probably wouldn’t want to get to work right away.”

  After the day I’d had, absolutely not. The trips that morning to the nail salon and the hairdresser and the makeup artist to get ready for the wedding now felt as though they had happened roughly a million years ago. “Sounds good.”

  I followed Simon down the hallway to a room that was almost the size of the entire ground floor of my parents’ house in Jerome. Actually, it was really a suite, since it had a sitting room attached on one side, and then an enormous bathroom and closet on the other. That closet was bigger than the casita where I’d been staying at Genoveva Castillo’s property, and I knew my few shirts and sweaters were going to look pretty forlorn hanging in that vast expanse. Although it seemed as though the entire house had been done in the same muted shades of beige and gray, with a few accents of pale green or soft terra-cotta, the effect wasn’t dull at all, thanks to all the different textures the decorator had used.

  No, the overall effect was just very, very expensive.

  “I’m afraid to touch anything,” I said, and Simon grinned.

  “Don’t worry about it. I mean, I had to sign a waiver that we wouldn’t be throwing any big parties or anything while we were here, but a little normal wear and tear is okay. I already have a cleaning crew signed up to come in and go over everything, change the sheets and towels and stuff, after we’re done with the place.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask how long he’d been planning this whole getaway, but again, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  He went on, “I’m going to stay in the caretaker’s house. I figured it wouldn’t feel as strange to you if we weren’t sleeping under the same roof.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I protested. Yes, it might have been weird to share the place with Simon, but on the other hand, the house was so big, I doubted we’d be tripping over each other.

  “Really, I don’t mind. The caretaker’s house is bigger than the house where I grew up.”

  Absolutely wild. I’d noticed the other buildings as we passed by them on the way to the garage, but with the darkness of dusk creeping in on all sides, I hadn’t been able to see a ton of detail beyond the basic design of those structures. It was a little mind-blowing to think that there was a secondary home here that was larger than most people’s regular houses.

  “Anyway, I’ll let you unpack and get settled in,” Simon said. “You can meet me in the kitchen when you’re done. Then we can scrounge something for dinner, since I figured you probably wouldn’t be up to going out tonight.”

  “No, I definitely am not.” What I really wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for a hundred years, but since it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet, I figured that wasn’t a very good idea. “But maybe I should use your phone before it gets any later.”

  “Sure.” He pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it over to me. “It’s unlocked.”

  “Thanks.” Even though I’d asked for the phone, I hesitated for a moment before inputting my mother’s cell phone number. What in the world was I supposed to say? As soon as my parents heard what had happened, they would know none of this was my fault, but…. I gulped in a breath, then quickly entered the digits on the keypad before I could lose my nerve.

  The phone rang three times, then went to voicemail. What the hell? I would have thought my parents would be ready to pounce as soon as I called, considering I’d been in touch only an hour or so earlier, when Cat texted them a couple of pictures of me in my wedding gown. Then again, maybe they’d thought I would be so occupied with the ceremony and the reception afterward that I wouldn’t have a chance to make any phone calls. It was sort of early, but maybe they’d gone out to dinner or something. While they might answer the phone if it rang during dinner at home, I knew they wouldn’t do the same thing when out to eat, since they hated it when other people had loud phone conversations in restaurants.

  Not sure whether to be disappointed or relieved, I took another breath and then said, “Mom, Dad, this is Miranda. Um…some weird stuff happened. The wedding’s off, I guess. Not because of me,” I added hastily. “Rafe got cold feet. Anyway, I’m all right, but I’m staying with a friend for a few days until I can figure out what I want to do next. I’ll try to call again tomorrow. Love you.”

  I ended the message there, since I knew my mother could get Simon’s number from the call log on her cell, and handed the phone to Simon. He took it from me and slipped it back into his pocket. “Maybe tomorrow we can go into Española and get you a phone of your own. It’s probably safer than trying to go shopping in Santa Fe.”

  “There aren’t any Castillos in Española?”

  “Not that I know of. None here in Tesuque, either, which is a big part of why I thought this would be a good place to hole up.”

  “I wonder why,” I said. “I mean, I know they have a branch of the family up in Taos, and that’s a lot farther away.”

  Simon’s shoulders lifted. “Haven’t a clue. But it helps us out.”

  That was for sure. Of course Simon
wouldn’t have brought me someplace where the Castillos hung out, but still, I felt a little better knowing I wouldn’t have to worry about stumbling over them in my immediate environs. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll get my stuff put away, then meet you in the kitchen…if I can find it in this place.”

  He chuckled. “It’s not that hard. Just go back down the hallway and through the living room. It’s at the other end of the house, but it’s basically a straight shot.”

  “Got it.”

  A small wave, and then he exited the bedroom, leaving me to myself. I knew I should have gone to hang up my clothes, or put my toiletries away in the bathroom. However, I did neither of those things. Instead, I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around at my unfamiliar surroundings, at the pale whitewashed beams overhead and the equally pale bleached-wood floor.

  I’d vowed not to think about him, but I couldn’t help wondering what Rafe was doing right at that moment.

  2

  Tracks

  Rafe Castillo

  Cat left after about an hour, and Rafe sat on the couch in the living room and stared at the bottle of Avíon Silver tequila on the coffee table, wondering if he dared have another shot. He wanted to — more than anything, he wanted to blot out the pain and confusion he was feeling. Something had been taken from him, and he didn’t even know how.

  Or why.

  After an interminable moment, he reached out and grasped the bottle and shot glass, then rose from the couch and went into the kitchen. He put the bottle of tequila back in the cupboard and set the glass on the counter next to the sink. His stomach rumbled grumpily, and he knew he’d have to eat something soon to soak up the alcohol, even though the thought of consuming solid food made him feel sick.

  Miranda was gone. They should have been at the reception by now, surrounded by family giving them champagne toasts. Everything had happened so quickly, Rafe didn’t even know what had been on the menu, but since the event was being held at one of the family restaurants, he assumed that whatever that dinner was supposed to be, it would have been good. There would have been a first dance, cake, more dancing, more champagne. Not too much, though — he and Miranda were supposed to have hit the road for Taos as the reception was winding down. Anyway, another bottle of champagne would have been waiting for them in their suite at the resort.

  Shit…had anyone called to cancel the reservation?

  His head hurt. He didn’t quite know what he was supposed to be doing with himself, but he guessed it wasn’t standing here in his empty house and getting drunk.

  There were things he could be doing. He could be calling Cat to have her notify the staff at El Monte Sagrado resort in Taos that no one would be using their fancy thousand-dollar-per-night honeymoon casita. He could be wandering the streets, looking for Miranda. Hell, he should be calling her parents to let them know she’d disappeared again, even though Genoveva had emphatically stated that she wanted Angela McAllister and Connor Wilcox left out of the loop, at least for now. Rafe knew his mother was hoping they’d locate Miranda soon, and all this nastiness could just get swept under the rug. Nothing to see here — we’re all fine, thank you.

  Only it wasn’t fine at all. He had the overwhelming sensation that he was missing something vitally important about the whole mess, but he couldn’t for the life of him think what that might be. His brain still felt fuzzy and not quite there, and he knew that sensation wasn’t entirely due to the tequila. According to his sister Louisa, someone had gone in his head and messed around. Some kind of a spell, although no one in his family could say who would have a reason to cast such a spell.

  Because now he had to circle back to the question he’d asked Cat only a short while earlier. Who would do such a thing…and why? Who would profit from wrecking an alliance between the Castillos and the northern Arizona witch clans?

  No one, as far as he could tell. Miranda’s mother might have agreed to the bargain that sent her unborn daughter to the Castillos because she was up against the wall dealing with the dark warlock Joaquin Escobar and had no other choice, but circumstances now were very different. Everyone in the witch clans of the Southwest had been at peace for his entire life. Yes, the Castillos tended to keep to themselves, and yet that certainly wasn’t any cause for enmity from the other witch families. As a rule, they tended to stay isolated, and one could say that the chumminess of the three clans in Arizona was the exception rather than the rule.

  But someone had come along and stirred up trouble, for whatever reason. Rafe had wondered earlier whether the culprit was some previously unknown admirer of Miranda’s, butting in because he didn’t want to see the woman he loved marrying someone else. That sort of motivation was something Rafe could understand. She was beautiful and smart…and tougher than she appeared on the surface.

  An image flashed in his head of the way she’d looked when he’d kissed her for the first time. Wary, and almost as if she’d wanted to bolt, but standing there in front of him with her cheeks flushed and her full mouth parted, her green eyes glowing. Absolutely beautiful, and so very desirable.

  He wished he could remember how she had looked when she stood in front of him at the altar, but everything about that portion of his day was blurry, indistinct. Part of the spell? Maybe. He remembered driving to the church, and nothing after that until he’d come to himself in one of the meeting rooms at the cathedral, his immediate family clustered around him, demanding what the hell was wrong with him.

  Well, now he knew. And he supposed he could say none of this was his fault, although he hated to face the reality that he was so weak, he couldn’t even fend off a magical attack. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been expecting one.

  Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to send Cat away. At the time, he’d thought it better for his sister to head over to the restaurant where the reception was supposed to be held and check in with his parents, but now he wasn’t so sure. She was good to have around, his little sister. The two of them had always presented a united front, since they were so much younger than their two older sisters, both of whom were married and settled and had families of their own. But he and Cat had always looked out for one another, and she’d always been a good sounding board. In fact, he’d joked on more than one occasion that if he ever were forced to kill someone, it was Cat he’d call to help him hide the body.

  It couldn’t be helped, though. She probably was performing a better service by going to the reception and doing what she could to smooth things over with the rest of the family than she would by staying with him and holding his hand.

  However, Rafe knew if he remained here a moment longer, he would go crazy. He liked his house and had lived here alone for several years, but now it only seemed to mock him, to tell him he’d never bring Miranda here as his bride. Maybe that was only the truth, but he didn’t want to face it now. He couldn’t quite acknowledge that this all might be hopeless.

  Damn it.

  He went and got his jacket from the hall closet, then headed toward the garage. Thank God that Cat had driven him home from the cathedral in his own vehicle, rather than leaving it behind to be retrieved later. Yes, he could’ve called a Ryde and had one of the self-driving cars take him anywhere in town he wanted to go, but right now he wanted to drive himself. He needed to feel as though he was in control of something in his life.

  Besides, he had this nagging sensation that he needed to go downtown, although he had absolutely no idea why. Not to drink — he knew he didn’t dare have anything else if he wanted to stay safe behind the wheel. To get some food? Maybe, although he had a feeling it wouldn’t be a very good idea to dine alone on this, of all nights. But he could always get some takeout from one of the restaurants there and bring it home.

  Giving a mental shrug, he pulled out of the garage and pointed his Jeep west on Paseo de Peralta, then jogged over on Lincoln Avenue, which would bring him closer to the Plaza downtown. At least it was a Sunday night and therefore not as crowded as it would have been the e
vening before. Still, no one would have recommended Santa Fe’s downtown as a place for pleasure driving, not with its narrow roads and one-way streets.

  That strange feeling of being herded didn’t lessen as he drove along, dusk now faded all the way into night. When he reached the parking structure on San Francisco Street, it was almost as if someone had poked him in the arm and said, Here.

  So he pulled into the structure and parked on the second level, then sat there for a few moments, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing here. Yes, a little ways up the street was one of his favorite restaurants, Tia Maria, but it wouldn’t be open now. Tia Maria was strictly a breakfast/lunch kind of place. And yet something had made him come here.

  Frowning, he got out of the Jeep and headed over to the stairwell. However, he didn’t descend to the street level, but instead walked up to the roof. Since nothing was going on at the Lensic Theater across the street, there wasn’t much demand for parking; this level of the structure was almost empty. He raised his chin and breathed the chilly night air.

  No, he really didn’t breathe it in — he sniffed it, trying to detect something strange on the wind. This wasn’t as effective as when he shifted into coyote or wolf form, but some of the traits he took on when he used his singular talent to become an animal of the wild seemed to stay with him, to be used when he needed them.

  And he definitely sensed something off.

  What it was, he couldn’t even say. Something foul on the fresh currents of air, something that shouldn’t be there. Eyes narrowing, he headed back to the stairs, walked down to ground level and then let himself out on the street. There was some traffic, not much, so he didn’t have to wait long for an opening to cross San Francisco Street.