The Witches of Canyon Road, Books 1-3

by Christine Pope

  Soft organ music was playing as we entered the church. Even though the place wasn’t all that large, the ranks of empty pews were somehow intimidating, as if they served to point out how many Castillos should have been here to honor the passing of their prima. Only the very front pew off to the left was occupied, everyone apparently wishing to cluster together rather than scattering amongst all those open benches.

  There was just enough room for us to squeeze in to one side, next to Oscar, who sat at the end, shoulder touching Louisa’s, while Cat was on her right, sitting beside Eduardo. He turned his head and gave us a small, sad smile before looking forward again, at the lily-draped coffin that stood on the altar.

  That coffin looked far too small to hold someone as formidable as Genoveva Castillo. Still, I remembered that she really hadn’t been all that tall a woman — she just made everyone think she was.

  The priest, a slim man of middle height and middle age, came out then, and walked over to Eduardo and murmured something to him I couldn’t quite hear. Maybe he was only getting confirmation that there would be no other mourners. Whatever the content of their exchange, the priest gave a nod at the end and went back up to the altar, then said, “We have come to honor the memory of Genoveva Anna Lorena Castillo, who was taken from us far too soon.”

  Even though I certainly hadn’t been a fan of Genoveva Castillo when she was alive, I could feel tears begin to burn in my eyes. Because she was taken far too soon, and all because of Simon Escobar’s spite. It wasn’t fair, and neither was Malena lying in a coma several miles from where we now sat, or Nina going into some weird kind of fugue state and destroying one of her canvases.

  Or, come to think of it, Cat experiencing some kind of otherworldly mental pressure so bad that it actually caused her to black out.

  As Rafe had said, the ceremony was long. At certain points, Eduardo and Oscar got up to read passages from the Bible. I hadn’t been raised in that tradition, so the words were unfamiliar to me. However, there was a certain beauty in those passages, in words laid down by men who had long since gone into dust.

  At last, though, the time to say the final prayer had arrived — the Lord’s Prayer, as we all stood there and began to murmur the words, even me, who had picked them up purely through reading and watching television and movies, not because the prayer was anything I’d been taught in my parents’ house. According to Rafe, this part was usually done at the grave site, but they’d decided it would be safer to have the entire ceremony here now, and quietly bury Genoveva the next day.

  “For Thine is the Kingdom,” we said in unison…

  …and then all hell broke loose.

  Cat gave a wailing cry and clutched her head as she sank to the floor, writhing. Eduardo began to bend toward her, even as the rest of us leapt up from the pew to offer our own assistance. In the next moment, though, her wails weren’t the only thing tearing at the still air of the church.

  From nowhere, dark, hideous winged shapes dove toward us. I saw the reddish glare of their eyes, the obsidian gleam of their talons. Nina’s words echoed in my mind…they’re coming…they’re coming…they’re coming…and cold realization swept over me. I knew what these creatures must be, even though of course I’d never seen one, had only heard about the way they’d tried to attack my hometown so many years before.

  Demons.

  They came so quickly, I barely had time to raise my hands in the same protective gesture I’d used only the day before on Simon Escobar. The magic burned through me, moving outward in a shockwave of shimmering power.

  It hit the first group of demons, blowing them backward so they tumbled over and over in the air, yet somehow managed to stay aloft. However, a second wave of the nightmarish creatures roared past them, claws outstretched, screaming toward the pew where we’d all been sitting.

  Not at me, though.

  At Louisa.

  Oscar obviously saw that she was their target, because he pushed her to the ground, covering her with his body. Screeching in frustration, two of the demons dug their claws into his suit jacket and flung him aside like a rag doll. He hit the side of the altar and groaned, but apparently the blow wasn’t strong enough to knock him out, because at once he was on his hands and knees, crawling toward his wife.

  Beside me, Rafe growled. I let myself glance over at him, saw his eyes beginning to glow with red fire.

  Which meant he was probably getting ready to shift into wolf form.

  I didn’t know what a wolf could do against these hellish creatures. Again I sent a shockwave spinning toward the demons, but although it stopped them from moving forward for a moment or two, it obviously wasn’t doing much except making them angrier and more agitated. It certainly didn’t seem to hurt them much, and I had to push back my fear as best I could, even while cold worry flooded through me. What if my magic wasn’t enough to defeat them?

  All this had happened in the space of a second or two. The horrified priest stepped forward, raising both his hands in an unconscious imitation of the same gesture I had used to drive the demons back, although his intent was very different.

  “Stop!” he cried out, and lifted the large cross he wore around his neck. “This is a house of God!”

  They’re not that kind of demons, I thought, but I didn’t have time to warn him. Several of the demons made a screeching noise that might have been laughter, and then the priest was grasped by his cassock and thrown backward, slamming into the wall with a thud that made me wince. For one horrible second, I thought they’d killed him, but then I saw one arm move, painfully beginning to push himself up to a sitting position.

  Why the hell hadn’t I cast a spell of protection as Rafe and I entered the church? We’d been in a hurry, the last to arrive, but still —

  After that thought flitted though my mind, I didn’t have any more time to spare, because the demons circled back, heading again for Louisa, although one of them split off and grabbed Oscar again, this time hurling him with such force that when he hit the ground, he remained still and unmoving. I wasn’t sure why the demons had made Louisa their target, since clearly I was more of a threat to them; her powers as prima weren’t necessarily the kind that could help her here.

  Cursing, I once again sent a shockwave toward the demons. It seemed the most I could do — I didn’t know how to dispel demons, and it wasn’t as though I had a sword I could use to chop off their heads…not that I would have known what to do with a sword even if I’d been holding one. Rafe seemed to realize the same thing, because he hurried toward his sister, then crouched down next to her prone body, teeth bared in a snarl, although he still held to his human form for now.

  And then it was as though an invisible hand slammed into my chest, knocking me backward so I fell into the center aisle of the church. The demons made that screeching laugh again, a sound that tore at my ears. As I struggled to push myself upright, a tall form materialized on the altar, standing in front of the lectern.

  Simon Escobar, although he looked subtly different now, his usual T-shirt and jeans traded for a black shirt and black pants. Maybe he thought it was time to start dressing like a dark warlock, since we all knew now what he was.

  He smiled at me, a mocking smile. His eyes shifted toward the left, over to where Rafe knelt next to his sister’s limp form. One hand lifted.

  I didn’t know what he intended to do, but it couldn’t be good. “Simon, stop!” I cried.

  His gaze traveled back toward me, and one eyebrow lifted slightly. “You want me to stop, Miranda?”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice trembling. Sharp little pains from hitting the floor with so much force had begun to spring up all over my body, but I did my best to ignore them as I staggered to my feet. “Please, Simon. None of these people have done anything to you.”

  For a moment, he didn’t reply. Then he descended the stairs from the altar, each step slow, deliberate. The entire time, his eyes remained fixed on me. Off to one side, Rafe made one of those rumbling growli
ng noises in his throat again, but I didn’t know if he still intended to shift into animal form or whether he was waiting to see what Simon would do.

  “They are Castillos,” he said, his voice careless, although the angry glint in his black eyes gave the lie to his casual tone. “That means they have done plenty to me. Are you their spokesperson? Going to bargain for their lives?”

  “This is my family,” Eduardo said, stepping forward. During the fray, he seemed to have escaped the demons’ attention, possibly because of the magical gift that always sent him the best possible fortune. “I will speak for them.”

  Simon gave him a contemptuous look. “I don’t care what you have to say, old man. Be quiet, or you’ll suffer the same fate as your wife.” He glanced over at the coffin with its covering of lilies and roses, which miraculously seemed to have survived the fray unscathed.

  I ignored the rude words. Rudeness was the least of our problems right now. “What do you want, Simon?”

  Again he smiled. I hated that smile…as well as the glance that accompanied it, one which seemed to travel up and down my form, taking in the slim-fitting black dress and thin sweater, the kitten heels I wore. “I think you know exactly what I want, Miranda. Since you seem to care so much about these people, I’ll offer you a bargain. I’ll leave them alone…if you come with me.”

  “No!” Rafe pushed himself to his feet, then took a step toward us. “Miranda, you can’t agree to that.”

  “Shut up, wolf boy.” A casual swipe of his hand, and Rafe was flung backward, landing several feet from where Louisa lay. “This is Miranda’s decision to make.”

  I saw the murderous glitter in Rafe’s eyes as he began to push himself up from the floor, but unfortunately, I knew it meant little. His power might have been a strong one in most cases. Now, though, when faced with an enemy as powerful as Simon Escobar, he didn’t stand a chance.

  And there was Louisa lying still and quiet on the floor, her husband a few yards away. Cat, too, although now that the demons had gone quiescent, standing off while their master traded words with me, she had begun to stir, to painfully push herself up to a sitting position.

  They were my family now…and I couldn’t bear to let Simon hurt them anymore. The pain of what I knew I must do burned inside me, but I pushed it aside, just as I blinked away the tears that had begun to form in my eyes.

  I stepped closer to him. “Swear,” I said. “Swear that you’ll leave them alone, that you won’t touch anyone in the Castillo clan again. Swear it, and I’ll come with you.”

  Triumph flashed in Simon’s black eyes. “I do swear it, Miranda. As long as you’re with me, I won’t hurt a hair on their precious heads.”

  The ache I felt now wasn’t from the demons’ assault, but from the knowledge of everything I was giving up, Rafe’s love most of all. How could I live without him, when I now knew what it was like to be with someone I cared for so passionately?

  That didn’t matter, though. My feelings weren’t worth all the pain Simon was willing to cause Rafe and his family. I had to agree with this, or I could never live with myself.

  “All right,” I said, every syllable an agony, “I’ll come.”

  Another step forward, and Simon’s arm snaked around me, tightening on my waist. In a flash we were gone.

  But Rafe’s despairing cry echoed in my ears even as we disappeared.

  “Miranda, no!”

  9

  Left Behind

  Rafe

  He staggered toward the spot where Miranda and Simon Escobar had stood only a moment earlier, but it was too late. They were gone, vanished into the air itself; obviously, Escobar commanded the same powers of teleportation that Miranda did.

  How could she have gone with him? Did she really think that a fiend like Simon Escobar would keep his word and leave the Castillos alone?

  Apparently, she had. Rafe had seen the despair on her face, but also the sudden resolve, the way her lips had pressed together and her gaze had gone steady, unwavering. She’d made that pact with Escobar because she knew they were outnumbered and outmatched. The Castillos had strong witches and warlocks among their ranks, but they couldn’t hope to fend off the dark warlock’s powers, or the evil army of demons he’d summoned to assist him with his dirty work.

  Cat laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Rafe,” she said quietly. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll find her. But right now, Oscar and Louisa need us.”

  His hands clenched into fists, but Rafe made himself nod. Cat was right. They had no way of immediately following Simon and Miranda, and both Oscar and Louisa were hurt. And that didn’t count Father Francis, who was still lying at the rear of the altar, moaning faintly, although Rafe didn’t know for sure whether those sighs of pain he made were due to physical injury or because he’d just seen demons with his own eyes, and had had his personal reality turned on its head.

  Eduardo was already kneeling next to Louisa and had his phone out — probably to summon Yesenia. Rafe glanced down at Cat.

  “I’ll go check Father Francis,” she said. “You see if Oscar’s okay.”

  He nodded, then went over to where his brother-in-law lay and knelt down next to him. Oscar still hadn’t moved, and Rafe was almost afraid to reach out and feel for a pulse. However, when he laid his fingers against Oscar’s throat, he was able to detect a heartbeat — thready and too fast, but at least it was there.

  Up on the altar, Cat was bending down and asking the priest if he was okay, if he thought he’d suffered any serious injuries. Still looking nearly as pale as the white plaster walls of the church, Father Francis shook his head.

  “Bumps and bruises, nothing more,” he told her. “But what — what were those things?”

  Cat sent a panicked look in Rafe’s direction. Right then, he wished he had one of those pen-shaped gizmos from those old Men in Black movies, those devices that would erase troublesome memories of an otherworldly incident in the blink of an eye. But Rafe certainly didn’t possess that power, and he didn’t know anyone who did.

  He gave the faintest shake of his head, and Cat said, all wide-eyed confusion, “What things?”

  “Those — those creatures,” the priest replied. With a groan, he got to his feet. “Winged demons.”

  She looked at him as if she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Rafe had to admire her acting skill, especially her ability to summon it so soon after having another one of those fainting spells or attacks or whatever you wanted to call them. “I didn’t see anything like that. My sister fainted, but that’s not so strange, considering the strain she’s been under. You did stumble and fall, but I thought you must have tripped on the microphone wire.”

  Father Francis looked down at the innocent black cord near his feet and frowned. “I — I don’t think that’s what happened. And what about your brother-in-law?”

  Right — her story hadn’t included the reason for Oscar lying on the floor, clearly as out cold as his wife. Luckily, though, he moved right then, one hand going to his head. “What happened?” he asked.

  “Forgot his insulin,” Rafe said loudly enough for the priest to hear. “Like Cat said, we’ve all been under a lot of strain. But it looks as though he’s going to be okay.”

  Despite his recent injury, Oscar was staring at him as though he’d lost his mind. Rafe bent down toward him, pitching his voice low.

  “You’re going to be okay,” he murmured. “We’re just waiting for Yesenia to come.”

  “Why don’t you go along home?” Cat asked, putting a hand under the priest’s elbow and helping him to his feet. “The people from the funeral home will be here shortly, and we can lock up the church for you.”

  “I — ” From the way Father Francis frowned, clearly he found some issues with this suggestion. However, it seemed that he was still fuzzy-headed enough to nod absently and say, “If you’re sure.”

  “We are,” Cat said firmly. “You took quite a spill there. It’s probably best if you go home
and put your feet up.”

  “All right.” The priest took one last glance at the survivors, brow puckering slightly. “Wasn’t there one more of you?”

  “She went to the ladies’ room to get a damp paper towel for Louisa’s forehead,” Cat replied. “That usually helps snap her out of these spells.”

  Once again Father Francis looked down at Louisa. It seemed that he had run out of protests, though, because next he said, “It does seem as though you have the situation under control — ”

  “We do.” Still with her hand on the priest’s elbow, she guided him down off the altar and toward the exit closest to them, the one on the east side of the church, which opened on a side street rather than the parking lot. “You take care, Father Francis.”

  His frown didn’t disappear, but at least he did go out through the exit as she’d suggested. Once he was gone, she let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

  “That was close.”

  Despite his overwhelming worry for Miranda, Rafe couldn’t help but smile at his sister. “Pretty good acting there, Meryl Streep.”

  Cat shrugged. “Well, I couldn’t tell him the truth.” She came over and knelt down next to him. “How are you, Oscar?”

  “Okay,” Oscar replied. “I think that bastard broke a couple of ribs, though.”

  “Well, try not to move,” Rafe said. “Yesenia’ll get those ribs fixed as soon as she gets here.”

  Oscar’s gaze moved toward his wife, who still lay without moving a few feet away, Eduardo next to her, smoothing her hair back from her brow. “Louisa?”

  “She’s breathing,” Eduardo said. “But other than that….”