“Smart,” Cat observed. “I’m sure he’ll be able to come up with something.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I had to start somewhere. Of course, Genoveva doesn’t approve.”
His sister shrugged. “Why does that not surprise me? I think she hates the idea of anyone in the clan proving that life goes on after divorce, so it drives her nuts that Daniel is successful. But whatever. I’m just glad you found something that was worth following up on.”
“I hope it’s worth it,” Rafe said grimly. “Right now, I honestly don’t know. Genoveva thinks I’m wasting my time, so she’s consulting with Marco again.”
“Because that was so successful the first time.”
“Well, we both know that, but I guess she needs to see for herself. Which is fine, since for now it keeps her out of my hair.” He pushed himself up off the couch and went over to the window, more to work off some nervous energy than because he expected to see anyone outside. The street remained empty, except for one of his civilian neighbors, who was walking by with her big golden retriever Nellie. “Did you have to run the gauntlet to get out of the house?”
“Not really. I guess no one was quite bold enough to camp out on our doorstep, which was why my phone wouldn’t shut up.”
Rafe nodded. It made sense. If Genoveva had warned everyone not to bother him, then she definitely would have done the same for her own property. “Did you check the casita?”
Cat looked at him blankly. “No, I didn’t. I mean, I looked in late last night after I got home, thinking I’d better feed that cat Miranda sort of adopted. But as soon as I opened the door, it bolted. I haven’t seen it since.”
Was that strange behavior for a cat? Since his mother had never allowed them to have pets growing up — and he hadn’t bothered to adopt a cat or dog once he was living on his own — he really couldn’t say. “Well, it sounded as if it might have been on the street before it wandered in, so I guess it should be able to manage on its own. Maybe it was just having a cat vacation and decided to go back home. We’ve got more important things to worry about right now.”
“Should we check the casita again?” Cat inquired. “I mean, I can’t imagine Miranda went back there — and even if she did, she would have let me know, wouldn’t she?”
“You’d think, but this whole situation is so crazy, I don’t even know what to say.” Since almost anything sounded better than sitting around the house and stewing in his own juices, Rafe thought they might as well go take a quick look at the casita. Besides, if their parents were meeting with Marco, that meant they’d both be safely occupied for a while. Genoveva hadn’t specified exactly where that meeting was supposed to take place, but Rafe guessed it was probably going to be at the La Fonda, since Marco was staying there. “Let’s go. It’s not as if I have anything else I can be doing right now. I have to wait for Daniel to get back to me, and I already cleared my schedule for the week because I thought I was going to be in Taos on my honeymoon.”
“I’m sorry, Rafe,” Cat said, and she did look truly sorry, her features taut with worry.
“It’s all right.” Well, actually, it wasn’t, but the words were an automatic defense, a way to make her think he wasn’t quite as upset as he knew he truly was. “Anyway, it’s something to do. Maybe we can grab something to eat afterward.”
“Sounds good. I had some coffee, but I just couldn’t force anything else down my throat. But not eating isn’t going to help, either.”
No, it wasn’t. He murmured his agreement, and they both headed for the front door, by unspoken arrangement going outside so they could take Cat’s Mercedes SUV rather than his Jeep.
She climbed in behind the wheel, and he got in the passenger seat. A few minutes later, she was pulling into the driveway of the house where he’d grown up, although she didn’t bother to park the vehicle in the garage. Instead, she parked where she’d stopped, and they both got out and headed for the side gate that would lead them onto the property.
All was quiet and still, although Rafe thought he could hear someone raking leaves in one of the yards that bordered the house. The sharp, metallic scraping noise made him want to wince, although he ignored it as best he could as he strode along the path that led to the casita. Once there, he paused at the front door, Cat a foot or so behind him, and knocked on the door.
“Miranda? Are you in there?”
Only silence met his query, and Rafe sent a glance over his shoulder at his sister. Maybe Miranda wasn’t answering because she was still furious with him…and he couldn’t really blame her for that.
Nodding in understanding, she stepped forward and knocked as well. “Miranda, it’s Cat. We just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
No response. The two of them stood on the step and looked at each other.
“Go in,” Cat said in an undertone. “I really don’t think she’s here.”
He had that same feeling as well. Holding back a sigh, he laid his hand on the doorknob and turned it, then opened the door.
Nothing appeared to be any different from the last time he’d been here. The vase of roses he’d sent as an apology after his and Miranda’s first quarrel still sat on the little table by the window. The only thing that looked out of place was a bowl of water on the floor in the kitchen, presumably put there for the cat.
Which had taken a powder, so there was no need to leave the bowl on the floor. Rafe bent and picked it up, then set it on the tiled counter.
“Miranda!” he called out, but softly. He could already tell from the waiting stillness that no one was here. Besides, the casita wasn’t all that big. It would be hard to hide in a place this small.
Cat moved past him and went down the short hallway, headed for the bedroom. A brief silence, and then she said, “Rafe? I think you’d better come in here.”
“What is it?” he asked, blood already going cold, horrible images of a murdered Miranda lying on her bed flitting through his mind.
“Just come here.”
He hurried back to the bedroom, where he found his sister standing in front of the open closet and frowning. “What is it?”
“Look,” she replied, pointing at the closet.
Staring at it didn’t seem to help. All he saw was the door to the small walk-in closet standing open, the rod bare except for a few unused hangers.
“So?” he asked. “Miranda packed for our trip to Taos. You brought her stuff over to my house yesterday, remember?”
“Oh, right, I forgot,” Cat said, looking crestfallen. But then she lifted an eyebrow at him. “I left her bags right inside your front door because I was in a hurry, but I didn’t see them today. Did you move them into your car?”
“No.” He had the vaguest of vague recollections about noticing the two weekender bags sitting in his foyer when he came home yesterday, but he couldn’t even say for sure whether that was a true memory, or whether he just thought he’d seen them.
“Let me check something.” Cat left the bedroom and went into the bathroom, where Rafe heard her opening and shutting several drawers. Then she returned to where he was waiting, her expression one of undiluted worry. “Nope, nothing here, either.”
“Which there wouldn’t be, if she packed it for the trip.” He pushed a hand through his hair, annoyed that he couldn’t seem to remember whether Miranda’s luggage actually had been at the house this morning. “I guess we need to go back to my place and look. I can’t believe I didn’t notice whether her stuff was still sitting in the entry.”
“Well, you had a lot on your mind.”
True, but he wasn’t used to experiencing that kind of brain fade. Then again, he also wasn’t used to having his mind taken over by some kind of dark spell that made him spew hateful words to the woman he was supposed to marry.
Rafe looked around the bedroom again. The bed was made, and everything seemed to be in its proper place. It looked as if no one had stayed here in the recent past.
But there was someone, he thought fierce
ly. She was here, even if we don’t know where the hell she is now.
He was just about to tell Cat that they might as well go when his phone buzzed in his pocket. After pulling it out, he saw it was his mother calling. So tempting to ignore the call…but what if Marco really had seen something, had been successful this time in locating Miranda even though his first attempt had been a bust?
“Hi, Genoveva,” he said after running his thumb over the biometric reader.
Usually, she would have made a huff of annoyance at her son calling her by her first name. Now, though, she only said, her voice taut and brittle, “I need you to come to the hospital. Marco’s collapsed.”
5
Permissions
Miranda
“How far is Española from here?” I asked Simon as he walked with me out to the garage.
“About a half hour,” he replied. It was warmer today, almost spring-like after the chill of the week before, despite the gold-leafed trees that surrounded us. The sleeves of his knit shirt were pushed up almost to his elbows, and I was sorely tempted to take off my jacket.
Still, I figured I’d better wait and see what the temperature was like in Española.
After a good bit of tossing and turning, I’d finally gotten a decent seven or so hours of sleep. It was enough to make me feel refreshed this morning — or maybe my mood had been improved by the luxurious shower I’d taken. I may not have been at the Monte Sagrado resort with Rafe, but it sure felt as though I had my own spa right here, thanks to the enormous marble bathroom that was attached to my bedroom.
I’d eaten breakfast alone, which felt a little weird, but again, I figured Simon was only doing his best to give me some space. The refrigerator and pantry had been well stocked with just about anything I might need, and so I’d indulged myself with an English muffin and delicious plum jam, and some great coffee. However, I wasn’t sure I wanted all my mornings to be quite this solitary. Even though Simon was trying to be solicitous of my feelings, I would have rather had his company while I ate.
“You know, you could have come over for breakfast,” I remarked, standing off to one side as he entered the security code for the garage door.
“I didn’t want to seem like I was intruding.” He went to the driver-side door of the BMW and got in.
After I’d climbed in on my own side of the vehicle, I responded, “I get it. But it seems sort of silly for us to have separate breakfasts when we’re living on the same property. I know I wasted coffee because I couldn’t figure out how to have that enormous coffeemaker brew just a single cup.”
He smiled and shook his head, then backed the SUV out of the garage. “Well, we don’t want to be wasteful. So sure — I’ll come to the big house for breakfast. Do you want to set a time, or should I text you?”
Since we were on our way to get me a new phone, texting would be simple enough. Then again, I thought it might be better to have a set schedule. That might make it easier to stick to a routine when it came to my magical training.
“Let’s just set a time,” I said. “Does eight o’clock work, or is that too early?”
“Eight is fine. I tend to get up early anyway.”
I did, too. I wasn’t sure if that made me a morning person, because I wasn’t always overjoyed to be up at that hour of the day, but I generally got out of bed before seven. Even with having to make sure I was showered and more or less put together — I might not be thinking romantically of Simon yet, but that didn’t mean I intended to let him see me with no makeup and in the oversized T-shirt I usually slept in — eight o’clock in the morning would work well enough. And that should give us plenty of time to practice magic.
“Good. Then let’s plan for that.”
“Sounds good.”
We both were silent then, mostly because my attention was drawn to the changing landscape outside the car windows. In Tesuque, I felt sheltered, almost closed in, thanks to the hills on either side and the tall trees everywhere. Once we were back out to the highway, though, we were in almost a different world, with rugged mesas and dry, rocky land all around. As we headed into Española, though, the terrain changed again — it still rose and fell, but parts of it were quite flat, too.
“The Rio Grande cuts through here,” Simon commented. “I guess that’s why the town was founded in the first place.”
I couldn’t see the river, but I did notice more cottonwoods, and assumed they must be following the water. Otherwise, Española didn’t appear to have much to recommend it — unlike the parts of Santa Fe I’d seen so far, this smaller town was full of strip malls and national chains, and really didn’t look that much different from parts of Cottonwood or Flagstaff or even Phoenix.
There was one upside to the commercialization, though. We could shop here and get pretty much whatever we wanted.
Simon pulled into the parking lot of a large Walmart, and we both got out. The air here was even warmer than in Tesuque, mild and playful. Immediately I said, “Let me get out of this jacket.”
“Sure,” he replied, and waited while I tugged off my suede jacket and laid it on my seat.
Since we were only there to get one thing, it didn’t take too long to pick out a no-frills phone for me and select a separate card with phone minutes so I wouldn’t have to sign up for a plan. The whole time, though, I couldn’t help shooting surreptitious glances at the other shoppers, trying my best to see if any of them were also witch-kind. But apparently Simon was right, and no Castillos lived in this part of New Mexico…or if they did, they weren’t shopping at the local Walmart that morning.
“You’re sure you don’t want to get anything else?” Simon asked quietly as we headed for the checkout lines.
Since I had my luggage and toiletries, I had pretty much everything I might need. All right, my clothing choices might start to get a bit limited if this whole thing dragged on for more than a week, but I figured I’d make do. And besides….
A flush touched my cheeks. Apparently Simon noticed, because he asked, “What is it?”
“Oh, nothing,” I replied. By that point we’d gotten to an “express” checkout line, although even that seemed to move about as quickly as a half-frozen stream in March. While the other people standing there didn’t seem as though they could care less about my opinions, I still would rather I wasn’t overheard. It would sound impossibly snobby to tell him I really didn’t want to buy my clothes at Walmart, but that was what had passed through my mind. Most of my clothes came from cute boutiques in Jerome and Prescott and Flagstaff, or from department stores like Dillard’s or Macy’s. But if I tried to tell Simon that, I knew he’d think I was being a ridiculous snob.
He shot me a puzzled glance, but then shrugged and appeared to let it go. A pang went through me as I watched him pay for my phone and its accompanying minutes, but I knew better than to offer to purchase those items myself. I wouldn’t put it past my parents to be tracking my bank accounts, even though I’d left them a message letting them know I was all right. For now, I had to let Simon handle this sort of thing. At least now I knew he was a de la Paz and not the starving college student he’d originally told me he was, and so I figured he could afford to manage the logistics. Even so, I vowed to pay him back as soon as I could.
We headed back to Tesuque. I knew as soon as we arrived at the house, I’d need to call my parents. And although I’d already called them the night before and told them I was okay, I still experienced a tremor of unease at the thought of talking to them. They were not going to be happy with my decision to stay here and learn how to use my magic with Simon. I knew they would pressure me to come back to Arizona, and I didn’t want to do that. Twenty-one years of my life spent there, and I’d never shown a single sign of having any kind of magical ability. Three days here, and I was talking to ghosts and teleporting. My decision seemed obvious enough to me, although I doubted they’d see it that way.
All this ruminating made me realize that they’d never responded to my message from the
night before. Or rather, Simon hadn’t mentioned hearing from them, since I’d made the call from his phone. Once we were on the road again, I asked, “Did my parents ever call back?”
“They couldn’t have,” he replied as he pointed the SUV south and eastward. “The caller ID on this phone is blocked. They would have gotten the message, but they wouldn’t have been able to respond.”
“Oh.” I supposed I should have thought of that, should have realized Simon wouldn’t have allowed me to make the call if they could easily trace it back to him. The whole point was to fly low and avoid the radar. He hadn’t come out and said it point blank, but I knew he didn’t want me to give them any information about him. Of course I wouldn’t; my clan was on good terms with the de la Pazes, and if I let too much slip, I knew it wouldn’t take too long before someone in the other witch family figured out exactly who I was holed up with.
“It’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ll be home soon enough, and you can use your new phone to call your parents.”
“And then they’ll have this number, and they’ll be pestering me day and night to come home to Arizona.”
He flashed me a quick sideways glance before looking back at the road before us. “You really think they’ll do that?”
“Oh, probably. I mean, I understand why they would be concerned. And frankly, they’re going to want me to get the hell out of Castillo territory.” I let out a sigh and turned to gaze out the window for a moment. Now we were turning back onto the highway that would lead us into Tesuque, leaving Española behind. “Which means I’ll just have to stand my ground.”
“You’re an adult,” Simon said reasonably. “They can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
The Witches of Canyon Road, Books 1-3 Page 30