The Witches of Canyon Road, Books 1-3

by Christine Pope

  Lupita pursed her lips. “That will help. I am sorry you couldn’t find her here. Is it possible she’s still in New Mexico, although not close enough for your cousin with the gift of finding things to locate?”

  More than anything, Rafe hoped that was the case. Marco had never said exactly how close things had to be for him to find them, but as far as Rafe could tell, his cousin’s gift wasn’t unlimited. It wasn’t as though he could locate a missing cell phone on the other side of the planet. Maybe Miranda was just way, way north, up near the Colorado border in Chama, or all the way down south in the Carlsbad Caverns. He had no idea what she’d be doing in either of those places, but it was better than thinking she’d vanished into thin air, never to be seen again.

  He couldn’t face the possibility that the last time he’d ever see her was standing on the altar in Loretto Chapel, her green eyes widening in horror as he tossed her aside like a crumpled piece of paper.

  “It’s possible,” Cat replied, once she realized Rafe wasn’t going to answer right away. “And obviously, we’ll head back to see what we can do there. But we really appreciate you keeping an eye out for Maria, just in case.”

  A nice, generic name…but also one that was close enough to “Miranda” that they could always claim a misunderstanding if any of the Montoyas happened to come across her in the future. Once again, Rafe felt a rush of gratitude for his sister’s ability to think on her feet.

  “It’s no problem,” Lupita said after taking a sip of her daiquiri. “Young people often do impetuous things — but I suppose you know that already.”

  Cat could only give a helpless lift of her shoulders. Had his sister ever done anything truly impetuous? Genoveva kept her on a pretty tight leash. Rafe wondered what would happen if Cat ever got tired enough of being controlled that she truly rebelled. He had a feeling that particular confrontation wouldn’t be pretty.

  And, now that he knew he couldn’t do anything else here, he chafed to get back to New Mexico. Thank God the Montoyas had allowed them to sit down and talk this out amicably, but he could only think of the minutes and seconds passing by. If he didn’t get over to a ticketing kiosk soon, he and Cat would miss the next flight and would be stuck here for another two hours.

  Although he didn’t recall making any kind of a nervous movement, Lupita still gave him a knowing smile. “You wish to go. I understand. You have twenty minutes to make the next flight.”

  “Thank you,” he responded. “Not that we don’t appreciate your hospitality, but — ”

  “Hospitality? This?” She raised a penciled brow at him. “You and your sister should return some time for some real hospitality. The Montoya clan makes some of the best barbecue in Texas.”

  “That sounds awesome,” Cat said.

  “In the meantime, though — ” Lupita made a waving motion with one hand, and several of the other witches and warlocks slid out of the booth so Rafe and Cat could extricate themselves. “Best of luck with finding your cousin…and if you should discover a need to return here, try to call first.”

  “We will,” the two of them answered in unison. They both gave a half-hearted wave, and then hurried out of the bar in search of the nearest ticket booth.

  “That was close,” Cat murmured in an undertone once they were a safe distance away.

  “Tell me about it.” Rafe walked up to a kiosk and hurriedly slid his credit card into the slot. The machine read all his information, determined he was cleared for domestic flight, and sent the ticketing information to his phone. “Come on — they’re boarding now.”

  As they hastened toward the designated terminal, Cat sent one last glance over her shoulder. “Do you really think they bought our story?”

  “I hope so,” Rafe said grimly. “Or else we’re going to have a lot of explaining to do in the very near future.”

  9

  Boundaries

  Miranda

  Any thoughts that Simon was trying to woo me with a romantic dinner vanished as soon as I followed him into the Tesuque Village Market. Oh, it was cute, with its rustic interior and homemade murals on the walls, but it definitely wasn’t the kind of place you’d take a girl if you were trying to score with her. Maybe in the summer, when it would be warm enough to sit out on the patio and watch the sunset, but definitely not now, when chilly nighttime temperatures banished any idea of dining al fresco.

  Luckily, we were given a seat in a secluded corner, away from most of the chatter. Oh, the tables around us were all occupied, but it seemed that our fellow diners were much more interested in their own conversations than listening to anything Simon and I might say.

  We both ordered wine, which made me feel a little reckless. Not that I had anything against drinking wine, but on top of coming out in public like this in the first place, it did seem as though I was rather throwing caution to the wind. I thought it might have something to do with my successes of that afternoon, of realizing that I had been able to tap into my powers, that I was no longer useless Miranda McAllister, helpless as any civilian. My birthright had asserted itself with a vengeance, and I finally felt as though I was my parents’ true daughter.

  If any Castillos did manage to confront me here, I thought I’d be able to hold my own against them.

  However, it didn’t seem as if such a confrontation was likely. Everyone else here in the restaurant was clearly a civilian, so it seemed as though Simon had been right when he said the local witches and warlocks didn’t really hang out in Tesuque. Some of the tension that had never entirely left my body disappeared now as I realized we were safe enough here — and even more of that apprehension went away after my first two sips of wine.

  Simon was studying the menu. “I’ve only had a few things here,” he said. “But they were all good. I’m pretty sure you can order whatever you like.” His eyes met mine over the top of the menu. “And I’m paying for dinner, Miranda. For one thing, it should be my treat, after all your successes this afternoon. Also, although I doubt the…people you left…have anyone with those kinds of skills in their ranks, it’s better that you not use your credit card. They could be trying to trace you.”

  I forgotten about that possibility, but he was right. Probably my parents could have initiated a trace if they wanted to, but they knew I was safe and that everything was fine, and so they had no reason to do something like that. And I hadn’t missed the way he was careful not to mention the Castillos by name. True, no one appeared to be listening to us, but even if you left the Castillo clan’s magical powers out of the equation, they were still clearly a force to be reckoned with in Santa Fe society. It was probably better that Simon was being circumspect.

  “Got it,” I said. “I promise I won’t argue with you about who’s picking up the check.”

  “Good.”

  He went back to looking at the menu, while I did the same thing. Since I really hadn’t had much of a chance to sample northern New Mexican cuisine yet, thanks to the topsy-turvy past few days I’d just survived, I decided on a combo plate with an enchilada, a tamale, and a taco. Despite the big sandwich I’d made for myself earlier that afternoon, I was hungry all over again. Using magic did seem to burn a lot of calories.

  We placed our orders. Simon waited for the waiter to be out of earshot before he said, “I’m really proud of you.”

  Blood rushed to my cheeks. The lighting in the restaurant was fairly dim, so I didn’t know how much of the blush he actually saw. Hopefully, not any. “Well, I think a lot of it was due to your help.”

  He lifted his glass of wine, seemed to study the dark ruby-colored liquid for a moment before he took a large swallow. “I don’t know about that. I might have given you a little push in the right direction, but I don’t want to take much more credit than that. If you didn’t already have the innate power within you, nothing I said or did would have made any difference.”

  Maybe. Still, I knew it was that “little push,” a way of helping me look at my power in a different way, that made my
demonstrations earlier that afternoon at all possible. “I think you’re being modest. You’re a very good teacher.”

  That praise elicited a smile, although I could tell he was uncomfortable — his gaze shifted away from mine, and he seemed a little too interested in adjusting the napkin on his lap. Then he said, “I’m glad you think so. This is the first time I’ve done anything like this.”

  “Same here.”

  We both chuckled a little, but that wasn’t quite enough to relieve the tension. Was it only because we had to watch what we were saying, surrounded by civilians as we were, or because there was something else going on here?

  Out of nowhere, I recalled the pressure of his fingers on my neck and shoulders. He was good at giving neck rubs, that was for sure. And even though that was all he’d done, I could still remember all too well how it felt to have him touching me.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about that. Not yet.

  To cover my awkwardness, I reached for my wine glass, lifted it to my lips and took a sip. It was a malbec, rich and strong and a little fruity, something that should be able to stand up to the spicy food I’d ordered. And I knew I was doing my best to focus on my wine because it was suddenly hard to look across the table at the man who’d brought me to dinner.

  “Have you thought about what you want to do tomorrow?” he asked, his voice casual…too casual.

  Puzzled, I said, “I thought we were going to practice some more.”

  “Oh, we are. But what are we going to practice?”

  Good question. I’d covered some basics today, but there were so many more types of magic I could explore. Suddenly, it didn’t seem strange to think that I could try to make myself invisible, or call a storm cloud off a distant mountaintop. It was exhilarating, but also a little frightening.

  “I’m not sure,” I told him, then gave a wary glance at the occupants of the tables nearby. “Maybe I’ll have to sleep on it.”

  Simon seemed to understand my reticence, because he nodded. “I understand. There is a lot to choose from.”

  Our waiter arrived with our food then, and once he was gone, we spent a few minutes eating in silence. Everything was excellent…and spicy hot. Good thing I had rice and beans to help cool off some of the burn from the restaurant’s green chile sauce. Even that didn’t get rid of all the heat in my mouth, and I reached for my wine glass again. Simon’s mouth quirked.

  “You grew up in Arizona and can’t handle a little heat?”

  “Northern Arizona,” I said primly, then grinned at him. “Of course I’ve had spicy food, but there’s spicy, and then there’s spicy.”

  “If it gets to be too much, we can order some chips.”

  “I’m fine,” I replied, determined to defend my honor as a native of the Southwest. No, I wasn’t ever going to be one of those people who entered chile-eating contests on a regular basis, but I also didn’t want Simon to think I was a complete wimp. Even though he was the teacher in our relationship, I still felt as though I needed to show I could hold my own, that I wasn’t lesser in some way.

  “All right,” he said, still wearing that knowing smile.

  I forged ahead, doing my best to ignore the rising heat in my mouth. When the waiter came by to see how we were doing, Simon ordered two more glasses of wine, since he only had a few sips left in his glass and mine was completely gone, thanks to swallowing way too much in a vain attempt to put out some of the fire. Maybe I should have protested, but two glasses of wine really wasn’t that much, not compared to all the food I was eating. It wouldn’t be like the afternoon when I’d fled from my disastrous lunch with Rafe at La Fonda and got completely wasted at the wine tasting room because I was drinking on an empty stomach.

  “Stubborn, aren’t you?” he remarked after the waiter had come back with our second round.

  “Sort of,” I admitted. “I guess I just don’t want some green chile to get the better of me.”

  “I get it.” He lifted his glass and I raised mine, since obviously he wanted to perform a little toast. “To Miranda, for digging in her heels and not giving up.”

  I clinked my glass against his. That was a sentiment I could get behind, mostly because I could tell he wasn’t only referring to my dogged attempt to finish all the food on my plate. I could have given up. I could have gone home and washed my hands of New Mexico…and of magic. But I hadn’t, and now I knew I could summon a wall of fire, could change my appearance, could teleport from place to place at a mere thought. If I’d given up, I would never have been able to do any of that.

  “Thanks for this,” I said, and he tilted his head toward me.

  “For what?”

  “Just…this.” I gestured with my glass toward the restaurant. “Going out. Feeling normal. Doing something regular people do. I definitely did not feel normal in Santa Fe.”

  “I can’t blame you for that. They’re not exactly a normal group of people. I mean, I don’t know all that much about the family, but it seems clear that the woman in charge is a little unhinged.”

  Once again I noted how he avoided mentioning any names. As for “unhinged”? I wasn’t sure if I would go that far. Controlling, yes. Domineering, definitely. But it was pretty obvious that Genoveva Castillo was fully in control of her faculties, even if you didn’t much care for how she used them.

  “Well, let’s just say I’m very relieved she isn’t going to be my mother-in-law after all.”

  Simon’s eyes met mine. So dark, with that fringe of black lashes all around. “I’m relieved, too.”

  Uh-oh. I really hadn’t meant it that way, but clearly he was just as pleased that I was now unattached.

  Well, I’d worry about his remark later. Even with all the food I’d consumed, I could tell that the second glass of wine was starting to get to me. Not exactly in a bad way, but I knew I was a little tipsy. I’d have to watch it.

  “So,” I said quickly, knowing I needed to change the subject, “what do you do for hobbies, Simon?”

  He stared at me blankly for a moment. “Hobbies?”

  “You know, the stuff normal people do to occupy themselves when they aren’t at work or school or watching TV or whatever.”

  “I know what hobbies are.”

  “Well, then.”

  “Photography, mostly. That was the reason I could convince my parents I was going on that night photography workshop/expedition. I’ve been pretty serious about it since my sophomore year of high school.”

  Photography. Yes, that was a nice, normal hobby to have.

  “What about you?” he asked, his tone faintly challenging.

  “Rocks.”

  “Rocks?”

  “You know, those hard things that you walk on, or that make up mountains.”

  This time, he didn’t bother to reply, only sat there across from me, fingers wrapped around the stem of his wine glass.

  I relented, saying, “I guess it made sense, since I grew up someplace that was kind of geologically unique. But I always found rocks fascinating. I collected lots of them, had them all labeled on shelves.” A pang went through me as I thought of those shelves of rocks left behind in Arizona. My parents would make sure they remained dusted and looked after, but the collection would now remain forever static, its final addition a gorgeous piece of rough tourmaline I’d found on the dirt road between Jerome and Williams.

  “That’s pretty cool,” Simon said. His tone wasn’t derisive or anything; he sounded genuinely interested. “Did you study geology at school?”

  “I took some classes, but my major was European history.”

  “Why? I mean, why that and not geology?”

  “Because….” I let the word trail off as I tried to think of a way to explain my decision. Both my parents had been surprised by my choice of major, considering all the hours I’d spent collecting specimens and looking them up and labeling them. “This is going to sound weird.”

  “Try me.”

  I took a fortifying sip of wine before I said,
“Because I knew the history major would be interesting, but I wasn’t exactly attached to it, you know? Whereas I really did love geology, and I knew I could get a degree and not be able to do a damn thing with it because I had to come here to marry Ra — well, to get married. So what would be the point? I could already tell that his mother wasn’t the type who’d let her daughter-in-law go tromping around digging up specimens on the weekend. It was better to major in something I didn’t care about so much.”

  For a long moment, Simon didn’t say anything, only sat there and watched me, brows pulled together slightly, thin, mobile lips compressed. At last he leaned forward a bit, although he didn’t try to reach out toward me. “I’m sorry.”

  I didn’t ask him what he was sorry about. “It’s okay. It’s not as though you had anything to do with any of it. But that’s my hobby. I liked going on hikes, looking at the formations, gathering new stones for my collection. It was something I could do that didn’t have any connection to mag — well, to the things I was expected to do and couldn’t.”

  “I get it.” He drank more wine, emptying his glass.

  Taking that as a signal that he wanted the meal to end, I finished the last sip in my glass as well.

  “Did you want anything else? Dessert?”

  “Oh, no,” I replied at once. “I’m so full, you’re probably going to have to roll me to the car.”

  He smiled at my comment, and I could practically feel the tension dissipate. I’d told him some truths, and he didn’t seem to mind, in fact appeared glad that he now knew a little more about me. This was how it was supposed to work, wasn’t it? We’d each become more and more familiar with one another, and then….

  And then…what?

  I still didn’t know for sure.

  However, I didn’t really need to worry about contemplating my immediate future, because the waiter came back, and Simon gave him a bunch of twenties and told him to keep the change. I was a little surprised by this, just because I knew so few people who carried any cash with them these days. It was so much easier to just wave your phone or your watch over a waiter’s tablet.