The Witches of Canyon Road, Books 1-3

by Christine Pope

  He’d always thought that was a trite expression, maybe even a self-defeating one. After all, you should be whole on your own and not rely on anyone else to make you the person you were meant to be. But now, Rafe thought, as he gazed down at Miranda, asleep next to him in his bed, now he understood. She was the person he’d been waiting for his entire life. He just hadn’t realized it until tonight.

  They’d come upstairs and fallen into bed, made love again, a little more slowly this time, savoring each other’s bodies. He’d been somewhat surprised by her ardor, then realized that just because Miranda had been a virgin, it didn’t mean that her blood couldn’t run as hot as his. And God only knew that the internet provided plenty of how-to information for the sex act itself, even for someone who’d had to hold back her entire adult life.

  Well, she sure wasn’t holding back now. Rafe had had enough girlfriends to know that he’d never been with anyone like Miranda, had never experienced lovemaking the way it was with her. This was more than two bodies coming together, more than mere momentary pleasure. They’d connected in a way he hadn’t expected. In fact, the experience had been so intense, he wondered if it was anything like a prima bonding with her consort. It felt that way, even though of course Miranda wasn’t a prima. The most powerful witch he’d ever met, sure, but that still wasn’t the same thing. Then again, she was the daughter of a prima. Maybe they still bonded more strongly than most witches. For a brief second he contemplated asking Malena, since Louisa would have experienced that bond as prima-in-waiting and Cat wasn’t married yet, but he dismissed that idea almost immediately. He didn’t think he could handle the embarrassment of asking his older sister whether she’d had absolutely mind-blowing sex the first time she and her husband had made love.

  Rafe eased himself down onto his pillow, making sure not to disturb the sleeping woman at his side. She shifted slightly, but her eyes remained shut, her breathing regular and even. Good. It had to have been taxing for her to go from house to house, casting spells of protection, even though she’d said it was fine and didn’t really require that much of her energy. Rafe hadn’t been entirely sure about that — by the end of the afternoon, she’d begun to look pale and drained — but he’d also known that he couldn’t stop her from doing what needed to be done.

  The pain of his mother’s loss lay somewhere below the afterglow of the evening’s lovemaking, along with his concern over the very real and present danger Simon Escobar presented. Maybe at some point Rafe would allow himself to grieve properly, but he knew now wasn’t the right time. Instead, he would take that pain and grief and channel it into revenge. What form that vengeance would take, he didn’t know yet. On the surface, it didn’t seem as though he had a very good chance of prevailing against Escobar, since the other warlock was so much stronger. But Rafe had gotten the drop on him this morning, and if he’d done it once, he could do it again.

  Now, though, it was time to sleep, to get the rest he knew he needed. No matter what happened the next day, at least he knew he would face it with Miranda at his side.

  Rafe awoke to Miranda pressing the lightest of kisses against his temple. When he stirred, she started slightly, then looked almost guilty.

  “Sorry,” she said. “You just looked so amazing lying there, I had to kiss you.”

  “It’s all right,” he replied, thinking it was more than all right. Really, was there a better way to wake up than to have the most beautiful witch in the world bending down and kissing you? He pushed himself up to a sitting position, was somewhat pleased to see the way Miranda’s gaze moved over the muscles of his bare arms and chest. “What time is it?”

  “A little past seven-thirty.”

  “No phone calls?”

  She shook her head. With her hair tumbling down in a tousled mass over the tank top she wore and her face bare of makeup, she looked subtly different, but no less beautiful. More, actually. Or maybe that was just the afterglow from the previous night’s lovemaking. “Nothing on my phone.” The faint smile she’d been wearing disappeared. “Then again, no one except Cat even has that number. It’s not like my parents can get through, thanks to Simon hexing all the cell towers in Santa Fe, or whatever it is that he’s done to block my calls.”

  Right. It took Miranda’s words to remind him that the Castillos were effectively cut off from the outside world. Most of the time, they kept themselves separate anyway, but that was their choice. He hated the way Simon had managed to isolate them even further, thus ensuring that there wouldn’t be any help coming from the McAllisters or the Wilcoxes. No, the Castillos would have to manage this crisis on their own.

  Rafe reached for the phone on his bedside table, swiped his thumb over the biometric reader, and checked the home screen. No missed calls or texts. In a way, he supposed the absence of any communication should have been a relief, but he wished someone had reached out to him to check in, even if things had remained quiet overnight.

  “I guess no news is good news,” he said, doing his best to keep his tone light. Better to think that the radio silence only meant everyone was resting and doing their best to conserve their resources, rather than imagine Simon Escobar had come up with a new way to block contact between clan members. “Once we’re up and dressed, I’ll check in with Cat, see how Dad is doing. In the meantime, I guess we’d better order in some breakfast. I don’t have much food in the house.”

  He really didn’t, partly because he tended to go out most of the time anyway, and he’d been anticipating that he and Miranda would be in Taos for a week for their honeymoon and hadn’t bothered to restock the freezer. All those plans had gone sideways, thanks to Simon Escobar, and in the chaotic days that followed, he hadn’t had much of a chance to go to the store.

  “You can order in breakfast?” Miranda asked, looking genuinely surprised.

  “Sure,” Rafe replied. “I do it all the time. There’s a café not too far away that delivers. Smart, really — they kind of cater to all the government workers downtown. State capital, remember.”

  She nodded. “Right. I guess I hadn’t thought about that.” Her demeanor changed subtly, and she looked almost shy. “Do you want to shower first, or should I?”

  What he wanted to do was take her in the shower and make love to her all over again, with the hot water cascading down on them both, but he knew that would have to wait. They’d made love twice the night before, after all, and even though it seemed as if everything was quiet enough this morning, he guessed it was better for the two of them to be up and dressed and ready to face whatever the world — or Simon Escobar — might throw at them.

  “You go ahead,” Rafe told her. “I’ll go downstairs and make some coffee, have it ready for you when you get out.”

  “That sounds great.” She kissed him on the cheek, as though worried that anything less innocuous might lead into something more, then slid out from under the covers. Damn. He’d known her body was beautiful, but looking at her long, slim legs and the bikini panties that barely covered her firm little ass, Rafe could feel himself start to harden again. Good thing she was focused on getting some underwear from the dresser and wasn’t looking at him.

  Then she was safely in the bathroom. The water started to run a minute or so later, and he let out a relieved breath, even as his erection started to back off. His body needed to get its act together; maybe he’d never been with a woman who had this kind of an effect on him before, but he had to focus, no matter how enticing Miranda had turned out to be.

  He got out of bed as well, dug out a pair of sweat pants from the dresser, and went downstairs. The day was bright and sunny, cheerful despite the bare branches of the trees outside in the yard. Looking at those blue skies as he filled the coffeemaker, Rafe found it difficult to believe that his clan had been visited by such tragedy just the day before.

  Unfortunately, bright blue skies couldn’t erase the reality of his mother’s death.

  It still didn’t feel quite real, though. He’d seen her lying t
here in death, knew she was gone forever, and yet his mind didn’t want to accept the fact, wanted to tell him that if he just drove over to the big house, he’d find her there, probably out in the gardens, since she’d always made it her business to make sure the gardeners kept up with the fallen leaves and other debris.

  But she wouldn’t be there. The only people who now lived in the house where he’d grown up were his father and Cat.

  Poor Cat. He hoped she hadn’t had too tough a time of it last night, with Uncle José and Aunt Rosa over to make sure their father wasn’t alone. Rosa had the world’s biggest heart, but she tended to harp on Cat’s continuing unattached state even worse than their mother ever had. It was very possible that she might have revisited that particular topic in an attempt to keep the conversation away from other, much more difficult subjects.

  The coffee was done. Rafe got out two mugs and set them on the counter, marveling at how natural it felt to be fetching a mug for Miranda. They’d get to wake up next to each other every morning, share their morning coffee, talk about their plans for the day.

  Well, at least he hoped that was how things would go. With Simon Escobar hovering in the background, who knew how all this would turn out? Sure, Miranda’s parents had managed to defeat his father more than two decades ago, but circumstances were different now. That particular piece of history might not repeat itself.

  Scowling, Rafe poured himself some coffee but left Miranda’s mug empty, since he didn’t know how long it would take her to shower and get dressed, and he didn’t want her coffee to get cold. After he’d poured a minute amount of milk and just a sprinkle of sugar into his own mug, he leaned against the counter and took a sip, inwardly thanking God for caffeine. It wasn’t that they’d stayed up particularly late, but yesterday’s events still hung with him, making him feel more tired than he otherwise should.

  Sooner than he’d expected, Miranda appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. Her hair was brushed and in much better shape than it had been a short time ago, and he guessed she hadn’t washed it today. It had been a while since he’d lived under the same roof as his sister, but he remembered how long it used to take her to wash and blow-dry her hair, even if she wasn’t messing around with a curling iron or whatever else she used to beat it into submission.

  Miranda’s face was still mostly bare, although it looked as though she’d put on a bit of lip gloss. Rafe had to hold back a smile at noticing the tint on her lips; it seemed obvious to him that she hadn’t wanted to come downstairs with absolutely no makeup on at all. In her new clothes — dark closely-fitting jeans and a simple V-neck sweater in a deep shade of purple that made her green eyes look that much greener — she appeared relaxed and yet ready to face the day.

  “The coffee smells great,” she said.

  “Let me pour you some.” He set up the mug for her, then handed it over, adding, “There’s milk in the fridge if you want any. And the sugar’s in that orange bowl over there.”

  “Thanks.” She flashed him a quick smile, then went to the refrigerator and got out the milk, adding about twice what he’d used to her mug. A spoonful of sugar, and she was leaning against the counter, the mug clutched in both hands. “Everything still quiet?”

  “Looks that way.” Rafe pointed to his phone, which he’d brought with him and set down on the countertop close to the coffeemaker. “No texts, no phone calls.”

  Rather than looking reassured, Miranda frowned suddenly. “Maybe Simon’s decided to block all our calls and texts.”

  An echo of the same worry he’d had just a few minutes earlier. Still, it was an easy enough hypothesis to test. “I’ll text Cat. It’s pretty early, but she should be up.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  As Miranda took her first cautious sip of coffee, Rafe typed out a quick text to his sister. I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re all okay. I hope Rosa didn’t bug you too much. Then he touched the little arrow to send the message before putting the phone back down on the counter so he could retrieve his coffee.

  He’d barely taken a sip before the phone pinged at him. With one hand, he reached out to retrieve it, then looked down at the screen. Sure enough, there was Cat’s reply.

  I’m okay. Dad’s holding up. But Rosa’s driving me nuts. Please tell me you’ll be over soon.

  Holding back a smile, Rafe replied, I still have to get in the shower and we need to eat, but we should be there around 9:30.

  Make it 9:00, came the response, and again Rafe had to smother a smile.

  That should be doable. See you soon.

  He put the phone down. “Communications seem to be fine. I guess it really was just quiet.”

  Miranda nodded, her expression considering. “Maybe. Yesterday I was thinking about whether the kind of magic Simon used to — well, what he used on your mother — whether it’s a lot more taxing than when witches and warlocks use their regular powers. My dad didn’t talk much about his brother and the dark stuff he was dabbling in, but I remember one time he said that using those sorts of magic could really take a toll, like there’s a spiritual and physical cost for all of it.”

  “So even though Simon wanted to do more harm to my clan, he really didn’t have enough juice left to do much about it?” Rafe hated to sound so cool and impersonal when discussing the magic that had killed his mother, but there was no point in getting emotional, not when they had to look at the situation logically and decide on their next course of action.

  “Something like that.” She sipped her coffee, still obviously pondering the matter. “I honestly don’t know that much about it, because it’s not exactly a field of study that’s encouraged in my clan…or anyone else’s that I know of.”

  “But it’s safe to say that it’s not a matter of if Simon does something else, but when.” Rafe ran a hand through his hair — no doubt making it stick out everywhere, if the sudden look of amusement he noticed on Miranda’s face was any indication. “And what.” As much as it pained him to have to ask the question, he knew this wasn’t the time to dance around the issue. “You were with him for a week — what do you think he’s going to do next?”

  Her lips pursed, and she stared down into her half-drunk mug of coffee. “I can’t say for sure, because he spent the whole time being all friendly and helpful, just trying to help me access my magic and work with it. I had absolutely no idea he wasn’t what he said he was, except at the very last there, right before you showed up to rescue me. Then he let his true colors show, but it still wasn’t enough to give me any real idea of what he might be capable of.” Her eyes closed briefly, then opened again to meet Rafe’s, worried and full of concern for his pain. “I couldn’t have begun to guess that he would kill a woman in cold blood.”

  “I doubt that he cared whether Genoveva was a woman or not. She was an obstacle, or possibly a tool for stirring up chaos in the clan. Because no matter how smoothly the transition might be from prima to prima-in-waiting, it’s still something that shakes up the dynamic in a witch family. It’s the best thing he could do to make us all off-balance.”

  “You’re right, of course.” Miranda was silent for a moment, turning the coffee mug around in her hands, even though she didn’t seem inclined to drink from it. When she glanced up at Rafe again, that worried look was back in her eyes. “Rafe, how strong is your sister Louisa? I mean, I know she was the prima-in-waiting, but….”

  This was something that had worried him ever since he was old enough to fully analyze the situation. Did he dare tell Miranda about his concerns, though? It felt disloyal — not just to his sister, but to the clan as a whole.

  Miranda is part of the Castillos now, he told himself. No, there wasn’t a big wedding in the cathedral, but we’re now just as bonded together as though there had been. She needs to know the truth.

  “She’s a strong witch,” Rafe said slowly. “Her ability to track magic has always been powerful — and it began to manifest early, according to my parents. Usually you
don’t start to see our powers develop until we’re around ten or eleven, but Louisa’s showed up when she was around nine, I guess. But….”

  “But?” Miranda asked, her tone very gentle.

  “But I don’t know if she’s the strongest witch in our clan,” he said. “I always got the feeling that my mother wanted Louisa to be the prima-in-waiting because that’s just how she thought it should work.”

  “Power doesn’t always pass from mother to daughter,” Miranda pointed out.

  “I know. I mean, my grandmother became prima after her aunt passed away, because Great-Aunt Teresa only had boys. But my mother wanted her daughter to follow her. And since it’s the prima who determines who the prima-in-waiting is….” Rafe let the sentence trail off there. From the way she nodded, her mouth tightening slightly, Miranda knew exactly what he meant; he didn’t have to go into excruciating detail. And while he didn’t want to make excuses for his mother, he still found himself adding, “She must have thought that Louisa’s powers would be strong enough for her to manage the clan. After all, with Joaquin Escobar gone, there weren’t any enemies to worry about. The witch world was at peace.”

  “So she made her daughter the prima-in-waiting, even though there were probably better candidates out there.”

  Still feeling intensely disloyal, Rafe simply replied, “Yes.”

  Miranda set down her coffee cup, then turned toward the window over the sink, her hands resting on the edge of the countertop. Gaze fixed on the bare trees and the blue skies beyond that window, she said, “Which means we could be in some serious shit, Rafe.”

  “I thought we already were.”

  She let out a breath that wasn’t exactly a sigh and continued to stare out the window. With an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Rafe realized that the window faced northeast, roughly in the direction where Simon’s hideout was located. Was Miranda reaching out toward him, doing her best to see what he might be doing at this very moment?