“Of course I’m not sure,” Cat replied. She rubbed nervous hands over the knees of her jeans, then shook her head. “I wish I did know, because if it had been someone from the McAllisters or the de la Pazes or whatever, then it would have proved that witches and warlocks from outside can get into New Mexico somehow, even if we can’t get out. But I don’t think it was a warlock. He felt…different.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know,” she said irritably. “I’m just going on my gut with this one. But I don’t think it was a warlock, and I know it wasn’t a ghost, so I don’t know who this guy was. About all I can hope is that he wasn’t leading us on a wild goose chase.”
“Well, we were checking out La Cienega anyway. All he did was confirm that our hunch was right.”
“True.”
Cat went silent then, her gaze focused on the still figure lying in the bed. Rafe didn’t think he’d ever seen his sister Louisa so motionless, because she always seemed to be involved in something — chasing after her kids, or helping Genoveva to organize the numerous get-togethers and gatherings that involved the Castillo clan throughout the year. Now, though…she wasn’t dead, but the next thing to do it.
From down the hallway, Rafe heard Oscar call out, “I’m going now — I’ll be back in a few hours,” followed by the bang of the door that led out to the garage. Now the house felt truly empty, even though it really wasn’t.
Cat’s phone buzzed, and she hastily pulled it out of her purse and looked at the screen. “It’s a text from Daniel,” she said. As Rafe waited impatiently, she scanned the contents of the message, then nodded to herself. “He says there aren’t any houses in the La Cienega area that have been up for rent as long-term rentals during the past three months, and also that there haven’t been any listings on the various vacation rental sites. He’s checking property records now to find out what’s been bought and sold there over the past year.”
“Of course it couldn’t be that easy.”
“Is it ever?” Cat returned her attention to the screen, then tapped out a message, probably acknowledging receipt of the information and thanking Daniel for sending it over. When she was done, she didn’t put the phone away, but left it sitting on her knee — presumably so she could get to it immediately in case Daniel got back to her in the near future. If he was going on to do a title search, Rafe doubted they’d have any new information anytime soon. Even with digital record-keeping, digging through that kind of stuff could be tedious and time-consuming, especially if you were hunting for someone who so far had shown a real talent for flying under the radar.
It would make sense that Simon might buy a house rather than renting one, just because if you were paying cash, you wouldn’t have to be quite as much under the microscope as you would if you were applying for a mortgage. And once the house was yours, you might have to deal with nosy neighbors, but there wouldn’t be a property management company to come sniffing around.
In La Cienega, neighbors probably weren’t too much of a problem. The properties there tended to be spaced widely, and if, as he and Cat had speculated, the place where Simon had hidden Miranda had a lot of trees around it, no one would be able to see much, if anything, of what was taking place there.
Rafe really didn’t want to think about that.
He was about to tell Cat that maybe they should have Daniel limit his searches to properties of two or more acres, but he didn’t get much further than opening his mouth when something completely unexpected occurred.
Louisa yawned, stretched, opened her eyes, and said, “What happened?”
14
Daring to Fly
Miranda
I stared at Simon, mind working furiously. “I — I’m sorry,” I stammered, hoping that I sounded frightened and confused and utterly, utterly harmless. “I don’t know exactly. I guess my foot got caught on this stupid robe you made me wear. It’s too long.”
Which it was, although I doubted Simon would gracefully accept that explanation.
My intuition proved correct.
His grip tightened on my arm, and even in the semidarkness I could see the way his eyes glinted with fury — and, I thought with a note of satisfaction, a measure of fear as well, although I doubted he wanted me to know that. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
“I broke the spell?” I asked, all innocence.
“Yes, you broke the spell, and the binding. Now the Lord of Chaos is free on this plane, untethered by any sort of magical control.”
If I hadn’t gotten the strange but distinct impression from the demon in question that havoc wasn’t what he had in mind, Simon’s statement would have been very worrying. As it was, I could only stammer once again, “I’m — I’m sorry, Simon. I didn’t even know something like that could happen. Maybe you should have warned me, told me what the risks were, instead of bringing me down here and using me as your magical battery or whatever without letting me know any of the important stuff.”
His eyes narrowed. “I thought you at least would have enough sense to know how to act during such an important ritual.”
“How exactly would I know that?” I shot back. “The only ‘rituals’ I’ve ever participated in were the ones the McAllisters performed at Samhain and at Beltane, and they weren’t exactly summoning demons, you know? I obviously couldn’t have learned anything on my own, considering I didn’t even have magical powers to work with until a week ago.”
Simon went quiet for a moment, probably because he wanted to continue giving me a dressing-down but had realized some of this might actually be his fault. Finally, he said, “Ignorance doesn’t excuse what you did. But let’s go upstairs. I need to think.”
No doubt he wanted to go over his contingencies…assuming he’d planned for any. But then, it seemed that Simon was the sort of person to consider multiple angles of a situation and determine how they all might go wrong, so surely he must have guessed there was the possibility — however small — that this summoning might not go the way he wanted. Even if that were the case, though, he probably had thought that the worst-case scenario would be the spell not working at all, not that a high-level demon lord was now free to roam around Santa Fe to do as he pleased.
Would he, though? After all, even in a city as diverse and colorful as Santa Fe, an eight-foot-tall winged demon with a long mane of black hair would be pretty hard to miss….
Simon sort of pushed me toward the stairs, and I stumbled for real this time. I hadn’t been lying about that damn robe being too long. Holding back a curse, I gathered it up as best I could and climbed the steps, while behind me Simon snuffed the candles and blew out the incense, then followed me up the stairs. By that point I was almost back up to garage level. The thought flashed through my mind that I could blink myself away now, when I was out of reach. Reluctantly, I pushed the notion aside. Simon was already angry, and if I disappeared on him, I would only invite quick retaliation toward the Castillo clan.
Nice trap I was caught in.
I stood off to one side as Simon lowered the door to the basement. He’d left the light on up here, so now I could clearly see the glower on his face as he turned back toward me. “Come on.”
Without waiting for me to reply, he caught me by the bicep and dragged me inside the house. I wished I could yank my arm from his grasp, but I told myself that I still needed to act meek and scared. The last thing I wanted was to seem like a threat to him.
He didn’t pause in the kitchen, but continued to the staircase and brought me up to my room. “You’ll stay in here,” he said. “Until I figure out what to do next.” And before I could reply, he slammed the door in my face. As I stood there, I could hear his footsteps loud on the polished tile floor.
Well, fine by me. If I had to be stuck here, I’d rather be alone in this room than have to endure Simon Escobar’s company. At the same time, though, I had to wonder what he was going to do now that his prize had flown the coop, so to speak. It was too mu
ch to hope that he would give up his plans for domination of the Castillo clan — and, possibly, the world — but I didn’t know how he thought he could manage task that without some serious supernatural help. The lesser demons he’d been summoning to do his dirty work weren’t nearly powerful enough.
Knowing Simon, he’d come up with something. But since he obviously had no further ritual use for me tonight, I pulled that stupid robe over my head and tossed it onto the room’s single side chair. That felt a bit better.
The clock on the bedside table said it was 3:48. It didn’t feel that late, but clearly more time had passed while we were down in the basement than I’d thought. The sensible thing to do would be to try to sleep, although I didn’t know if I could manage to do so. It would be hard to relax, knowing Simon was downstairs, still seething over my apparent incompetence.
Then again, since I had no idea what the next day might bring, it was probably smarter to get some rest. I was on edge enough that just about any stray sound would be enough to rouse me from slumber, so I wasn’t too afraid of Simon sneaking up on me in my sleep.
That seemed to decide the situation. I was already basically wearing the same things that had been packed in my duffle to sleep in, which meant all I had to do was climb under the covers and close my eyes. Light from the nearly full moon was enough to illuminate the room, and so I didn’t bother to leave on the bedside lamp.
I closed my eyes, and was gone.
When I woke up the next morning, the sun was high in the sky. I looked over at the clock next to the bed, saw it was almost ten, and blinked. I rarely slept in that late. Then again, I usually didn’t stay up until four in the morning, either.
The good part was that it seemed Simon had decided to let me sleep — or possibly he was occupied enough with other matters that he’d left me alone. That thought wasn’t too reassuring, since I could only imagine what Simon might be busy with right now.
I got up from the bed and went to the door, then tried to turn the knob. It wouldn’t budge. Cursing under my breath — I really needed to go to the bathroom — I rattled the knob again, this time using the simple magic that had been mine even before far greater powers had awoken in me.
Still nothing. As far as I could tell, Simon had put some kind of locking spell on the door, one I didn’t seem able to break.
Fine.
“Simon!” I called out. “Let me out of this goddamn room — I need to pee!”
No reply.
Was this his way of torturing me? It was certainly the kind of petty revenge he would take pleasure in, especially after my performance of the night before.
Asshole.
“Simon!”
At last I heard footsteps on the stairs, and then in the hallway outside my door. When it opened, Simon stood there, smirking at me. He was dressed, and looked like he’d showered and shaved, which meant he must have been up for a while. “Nature calls?”
“Yes,” I replied, refusing to be embarrassed. “Can you please let me out?”
“Sure,” he said, and stepped out of the way. “I was wondering when you were going to wake up. Trying to sleep away the guilt from the way you fucked up last night?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I was doing. I just couldn’t bear to face you and be reminded of my incompetence.”
The smirk he’d been wearing disappeared, replaced by the same angry glower I’d seen the night before. “It’s not funny, Miranda,” he said. “Do you have any idea how badly you screwed up?”
“Not really, but I’m sure you’ll keep reminding me about it until I have it figured out.” I lifted an eyebrow at him. “But can we hold off on all that until I go to the bathroom? If you keep me talking here, I’m going to end up peeing on your shoe.”
His mouth pressed down into a flat line. “Funny. Go ahead and do whatever you need to do. Meet me downstairs afterward — there’s still some coffee left.”
I nodded and dashed into the bathroom. From the way the floor in the hallway creaked, I guessed that he had turned and headed back downstairs. Good.
Since I’d taken that “ritual” bath late the night before, I didn’t bother with a shower. I took care of business, washed my face, put on some mascara and lip gloss, brushed my hair. Then it was back across the hallway to get on some real clothes. Not that I was terribly eager to go down to the kitchen and be subjected to more haranguing, but I knew I needed some coffee — and food, too, for exactly the same reason I’d done my best to get a good night’s sleep. I had to be prepared to face whatever Simon planned to dish out.
Thus prepped for the day, I went downstairs. As I’d thought, Simon was loitering in the kitchen, staring moodily out at the bare yard through the large picture window over the sink. As soon as I entered the room, however, he turned toward me and said shortly, “The coffee mugs are in the cabinet above the coffeemaker.”
I nodded, then went over and got a mug from the indicated cupboard and poured myself some coffee. Since it had been sitting around for a while, it wasn’t exactly at its peak of freshness, but I didn’t care. Even though I’d gotten nearly six hours of sleep, I still felt far more tired than I should.
Probably just the influence of Simon’s scintillating presence.
Neither of us spoke for a moment, which was fine by me. I kept concentrating on sipping my coffee and doing my best to avoid his gaze, which felt like a pair of lasers trying to bore their way into the side of my head.
At last he said, “I’m going to try again.”
This statement made me look up from the coffee mug I held. “Try what again?”
He gave me a pained look. Clearly, he was getting tired of my deliberate obtuseness. “Getting the Lord of Chaos back here. He’s already on this plane, which means the summoning shouldn’t be as difficult.”
“You sure that’s such a good idea?” I asked. I was about to add that it sounded as though his lordship had business of his own he wanted to conduct, but then I recalled how our conversation had been entirely telepathic. Simon hadn’t heard any of what the two of us had said to each other, and so he didn’t know that the demon he’d summoned might not be too keen on getting called back here to be his lackey. I wondered why Simon hadn’t been able to hear any of my exchange with the Lord of Chaos. The best explanation seemed to be that the demon lord had wanted it that way, and who was I to argue?
“It will work,” he said, deliberately ignoring my question. “And because he’s on this plane, the spell will not require as much energy…which means I won’t have to rely on your questionable help.”
“I said I was sorry.”
His eyes narrowed for a second, sooty lashes nearly obscuring his coal-black eyes. Funny how once I’d thought Simon was fairly good-looking, although not as model-handsome as Rafe. Now, though, all I could see was the evil behind those eyes, the ruthless determination overlaid on his sharp features. “Not good enough,” he replied. “Maybe I’ll forgive you…if I can get the spell to work a second time.”
I wanted to tell him that I didn’t give a crap about his forgiveness, but again, I managed to hold my tongue before any ill-considered words slipped out. Although I highly doubted that he thought I would fall into his arms anytime soon, I guessed he still had plans for me, still wanted me at his side — if for no other reason than I was the most powerful witch he’d ever met. To his twisted way of thinking, that was enough to indicate that we should be together. Never mind love or affection or caring. For Simon Escobar, those concerns only betrayed weakness.
After taking another sip of coffee, I smiled sweetly at him and said, “Then I hope the spell works. When are you going to try? Tonight again?”
“No,” he replied after a slight pause, as though trying to gauge whether my comment required a pithy response. “I’ll do it at three this afternoon. It’s not as strong a time as three in the morning, but the number has a power of its own, one that should help with the summoning.”
“Okay.” I hesitated for a moment, then as
ked, “And what am I going to do during all this? Are you going to lock me up in my room to make sure I don’t screw up your summoning again?”
“The thought had crossed my mind, but it’s probably better to keep you where I can see you. That said, I’m going to tie you to a chair so you can’t possibly interfere with what I’m doing.”
“Seriously…a chair?” Not that I would put that sort of act past Simon — he’d done far worse already — but it seemed almost amusingly old school, the sort of thing a villain in an old black and white movie might have done to the heroine.
“Yes, a chair. You won’t try to fight me on this, will you, Miranda?”
The threat was clear in his voice — I’d better cooperate, or he’d surely find a way to take out his anger on the Castillo family. “No, I won’t fight you.”
To tell the truth, I wanted to make sure I was an audience to that summoning. I had a feeling the Lord of Chaos wasn’t going to appreciate being called back to this house like he was Simon’s errand boy or something.
“Good.” But even though Simon sounded satisfied enough with my response, from the way he continued to watch me narrowly, I could tell he had guessed there was something motivating me beyond fear of retaliation against the Castillos.
However, all I did was stand there with my coffee, staring back at him with as bland an expression as I could manage. After a moment, he gave the tiniest lift of his shoulders, then said, “What do you want for breakfast?”
And I knew he wasn’t going to question me further.
It was a long and strange day. Simon disappeared into the garage, saying he needed to prepare for the ritual. However, he’d fixed me with a flat stare as he made that announcement, clearly letting me know that just because he wasn’t within eyeshot didn’t mean he wasn’t still keeping tabs on my presence. For all I knew, the house had a video surveillance setup, even if I didn’t see much evidence of one. Cameras these days could be smaller than my pinkie fingernail, and hidden inside a light fixture or an air conditioning vent.
The Witches of Canyon Road, Books 1-3 Page 69