Darkmoon (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 3)

by Christine Pope

  Connor’s gaze flickered up at me, and his eyes narrowed as he seemed to take in my expression. Then he said, “I don’t recognize him, but I think that’s your father. He’s around the right age, and Marie’s looking pretty friendly with him.”

  That was true — she was leaning into the young man’s shoulder, a flirtatious glint in her eyes. And even though I’d been waiting all my life to know what my father looked like, now that the time had come, it was harder than I had thought it would be to stare down at that photo, make myself really study his face.

  He was handsome, with sooty hair almost as dark as Marie’s, and fine high cheekbones and a nice strong chin. I could see why my mother had fallen for him. But that still didn’t explain why he had left Marie and gone to California, apparently intent on seducing the wayward McAllister daughter who had gone there to escape the heavy expectations of her family.

  “I can see it a little,” Connor said, glancing from the photo to me and back again. “Something in the shape of your face. And your hair color is almost exactly the same.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to dwell on those similarities, because I had a feeling I’d start obsessing about which feature I’d gotten from which parent, and we really didn’t have time for that. Turning to the matter at hand, I asked, “But why would she leave it here?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe for you to find? Obviously the whole thing is still painful to her, or she wouldn’t have treated you the way she did. Does. Whatever.” He began to shrug and then seemed to stop himself, as if he realized that such an off-hand gesture didn’t really fit the seriousness of the situation.

  Even so, I gave him a startled glance. Yes, I’d thought the same thing myself, but I hadn’t really expected Connor to agree with me. He’d always seemed fairly quick to defend Marie’s behavior.

  “I saw it,” he said. “I didn’t like it, and it wasn’t really overt enough for me to call Marie on it. And then when we discovered who your father really was, it made total sense.”

  I nodded, then stared down at the photo once again. It was so odd — for most of my life my father had been a specter, a shadow, someone with no name, no identity. Now I knew his name was Andre Wilcox, and this was what he’d looked like, once upon a time. Better than nothing, but it still didn’t help us get any closer to discovering why he’d gone to California all those years ago and what had happened to him, never mind whether finding any of those answers would get us any nearer to breaking the Wilcox curse.

  “And she left this…why? As a clue?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe she wanted to look at it one last time before she left.”

  “Left for where? I mean, where would Marie even go?”

  “I have no idea,” Connor said grimly. “So I’m going to call the only person who might.”

  * * *

  Sitting in Marie’s living room, Lucas appeared stunned as he glanced from me to Connor, his gaze finally coming to rest on the photo where it sat on the coffee table. Then he reached over and picked up the snapshot, eyes narrowing. “Andre Wilcox. Jesus Christ.”

  “So you knew him?” I asked.

  “Well, he was my cousin — okay, we’re all cousins, in one way or another — so yes, I knew him. Not well, since that branch of the family was a little standoffish, and he was about seven years older than I was. Enough that we weren’t in the same subgroup of kids who hung out together at family parties, that sort of thing.”

  Lucas shifted on the couch, the photo still in his hand. Again I was struck by how he had to be about the least warlock-looking warlock I’d ever met, with his expensive jeans and golf shirt and polished loafers. He’d probably come straight from the country club when we called.

  Now he scrubbed his free hand through his dark hair, disarranging the expensive haircut, and shook his head. “And this thing with Marie? I don’t get it.”

  “So she never said anything to you?” Connor inquired.

  “Well, she’s said lots of things to me over the years, but she certainly never mentioned that she was planning to just up and disappear on us.” His expression clouded as he leaned down to return the snapshot to the coffee table. “She might not be the world’s friendliest person — ”

  No, that would be you, I thought with a mental grin.

  “ — But she’s always been there when we needed her. We just sort of accepted that it was Marie’s way and rolled with it.”

  “Do you have any idea where she might have gone?” I was mentally sifting through the few bits and pieces I did know about Marie Wilcox, trying to figure out the most logical destination for her. “Maybe to the reservation? That’s where her mother is, right?”

  “Was,” Lucas corrected me, dark eyes troubled. “I heard she died a few years ago.”

  Well, damn. “But maybe Marie still could have gone there for some reason? Can’t we, I don’t know, try poking around to see if someone knows something?”

  Both Connor and Lucas had the oddest expressions on their faces, as if they both wanted to call me on my ignorance but at the same time didn’t want to seem rude. After an awkward pause, Connor said gently, “Angela, the Navajo lands are huge — bigger than some states. It would be worse than a needle in a haystack.”

  “Well, I refuse to believe that we’ve hit a complete dead end,” I retorted. “What about my father’s family? Are they still alive? Would they know anything?”

  Connor looked blank, and I had a feeling he wasn’t sure he could even remember who they were. Well, Lucas had said that part of the family wasn’t exactly sociable.

  “Maybe,” Lucas said slowly. “That is, I know Andre’s father — your grandfather — died awhile ago. I can’t remember for sure. Your grandmother was a civilian, actually, and once her husband was gone, she pretty much had nothing to do with any of us. No one pushed it, since it was her choice. Our only concern was that she keep quiet about her husband being a warlock, and as far as we know, she never said anything to anyone, so there was no real reason to disturb her, since she obviously wanted to be left alone.”

  That was something, at least. “But do you know where she is? Can you set it up so we can talk to her? She may not even know that she has a grandchild.”

  Lucas’ face was a study in mixed emotions: pity, worry…reluctance. “We haven’t kept in touch, for obvious reasons. I hadn’t heard if she even stayed here in Flagstaff after her husband died, but I’ll do what I can. It might take a few days, though.”

  I chafed at any delay, but with Marie gone, we didn’t have many alternatives. Maybe this would turn out to be nothing more than another wild-goose chase. Then again, even if Andre’s mother could offer no insights, I felt as if I should at least get to meet her. She was the only living grandparent I had left.

  “That’s okay,” I said, sounding heartier than I felt. “We have to go back to Jerome anyway, since the remodel on my house is starting tomorrow.”

  Lucas lifted an eyebrow; clearly he thought working on the house in Jerome was a wasted effort. “But you’re still going to look at the property here on Thursday, right?”

  “Yes, we already said we would,” Connor replied. “We’ll drive up Thursday morning and meet you there. In the meantime, I guess ask around and see if Marie talked to anyone, mentioned anything about going out of town.”

  Being Lucas, he was too polite to point out that Marie really didn’t take anyone into her confidence. Maybe she had, just a little, with Damon, but as he’d moved on to a higher plane of existence, that wasn’t of much use to us.

  “I’ll do what I can,” he said, in a tired-sounding voice that didn’t sound much like the Lucas I knew. Then he got to his feet. “You two have a safe drive down to Jerome. Watch out for all those holiday drivers.”

  We both nodded and said we’d see him in a few days, and he let himself out. A minute later, we did the same, Connor making sure the door was securely locked and warded behind us. After all, even though we’d technically broken into her house, we didn’t want anyone e
lse to do the same.

  Who knows…maybe one day she would return.

  * * *

  The contractors showed up at seven on the dot the next morning. I greeted them with as much enthusiasm as I could muster at that hour, although I knew seven was starting late for them. In Arizona it was common practice to start work as soon as the sun was up, noise pollution be damned. However, since I felt as if I were already on shaky ground with my neighbors, considering I was shacked up with a Wilcox, I’d told the contractors they couldn’t begin to work until after seven, and to hold off on the power tools whenever possible until eight.

  I supposed I’d see how long that lasted.

  They were a professional crew, though, all recommended by the architect. Civilians, just because although the McAllister clan did have some talented carpenters and painters and such among its ranks, I thought it was safer to have a nonmagical group working on the house. Besides, my cousin Adam had been doing a lot of construction and contractor work around town and down in Cottonwood, and the very last thing I needed was him underfoot, shooting daggers with his eyes at Connor while attempting to braze a pipe or something. He’d made himself scarce the past few weeks, probably wanting to avoid seeing me with Connor. Although I still felt a twinge of guilt over the way things had shaken out between us, I couldn’t help but be relieved that he apparently wasn’t going to force a confrontation this time. Things were already complicated enough when it came to interactions with my family members.

  Thank the Goddess that Connor had insisted on coming down with me to Jerome, even though I’d protested feebly that it would be fine and he didn’t really need to subject himself to the noise. He’d only lifted his eyebrow at me — oh, I did love it when he did that — and said, “Of course I’m coming with you. Did you really think I’d let you suffer through all that on your own?”

  And when he said “suffer,” he wasn’t kidding. The first hour or so was quiet enough; it looked like the workmen were taking final measurements, clearing out any last-minute stuff that I’d forgotten about. I’d already packed most of the kitchen, but there were always a few odds and ends that escaped capture. But after that?

  Wham! Wham!

  Connor and I had been sitting in the library upstairs, trying to keep out of the way, when the whole house shook. I would’ve said it was an earthquake, but we didn’t get many of those in northern Arizona. No, it was just the capable wrecking crew from Yavapai Construction Associates.

  After wincing and sharing a look of mutual commiseration, we tried to go back to our respective books…which lasted for a whole ten seconds.

  “You want to get out of here?” Connor said, laying aside the paperback he was holding.

  “Thought you’d never ask,” I replied, and blanked the screen on my iPad before laying it aside. Okay, true, I’d come back to Jerome to be here in case the crew needed me, but after that last bit of clean-up and a final consult with the architect, it seemed I wasn’t much needed.

  So we fled to Sedona, where we caught an early movie, went out to lunch, wandered around a few galleries, saw another movie, and then finally ate dinner, coming home at dusk when we deemed it would be safe.

  And it was, more or less; the crew was packing up as we pulled into the garage. Connor and I headed into the house, where there was a gaping hole in the side of the kitchen, now carefully covered with plastic sheeting. Good thing monsoon season wasn’t due to start for another month and a half.

  “Good first day,” Brad, the foreman, told me. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning at seven.”

  I think I managed a watery thanks, looking at the destruction around me. On paper, a remodel sounds great. Take an outdated, inconvenient space and turn it into something worthy of a magazine spread. The problem is, no one bothers to tell you how much of a godawful mess it’s going to be during that all-important time between the “before” picture and the “after.”

  Wisely, Connor held his tongue, and only went with me into the family room, where we watched a little TV before going to bed. And as much as I enjoyed making love in the big king-size bed in my bedroom, I wasn’t feeling it that night. Maybe it was hormones, maybe it was frustration over trying to figure out where Marie had gone, maybe it was worry about how the days were slowly ticking away, and eventually these babies — plural — would show up, and then my own clock would start winding down. It might not happen right away, or even within a few months, but eventually, something would happen to take me out of the picture. I definitely would not be around to fret over them getting into a good college.

  Or maybe it was none of those things, and I was only worrying about what sort of mayhem the contracting crew would wreak the next day.

  It also didn’t help that the room felt horrendously warm to me. True, it had been warm verging on hot that day, but the house should have started to cool down by now. We always got a pleasant night breeze in Jerome.

  After I adjusted my position for what felt like the tenth time, I heard Connor’s voice in the darkness.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m hot,” I said irritably.

  “It is a little warm. I’m surprised you don’t have air conditioning.”

  “It’s on the list,” I snapped. “I just thought the kitchen was more important. Anyway, the heat’s never bothered me before.”

  “You’ve never been pregnant before.”

  Well, that was true. “I’m barely three months pregnant,” I said. “I thought the heat issues didn’t kick in until you were actually, you know, showing.”

  A soft little sound that might have been a chuckle, quickly repressed. “Okay, maybe, but different things affect people differently.” I felt the bed rock slightly as he adjusted his position. Now, as my eyes were adjusting to the darkness, I could see he had turned on his side so he could face me. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

  “Of course that’s not all it is. It’s just the most recent thing.” I took a breath. “I think I may have taken on more than I can handle with this remodel.” And Marie’s disappeared…and it turns out I’m half Wilcox…and every day I have a little less time to unravel this curse thing so I don’t die before I’m twenty-five.

  I didn’t say any of that, though. I had a feeling Connor already knew what I was thinking.

  “Well, I doubt even your relatives will give you too much crap for not staying here while half the house is getting ripped apart. That’s asking a bit much, don’t you think?”

  Under normal circumstances, maybe. But since I was prima, different rules applied to me. Even the short jaunts I’d been making to Flagstaff with Connor had upset them, I could tell. It just drove home that my consort was the last person they’d ever wanted or expected for me. Well, okay, second to last. I had a feeling that, if pressed, they would admit Connor was the lesser evil when compared to his brother.

  “So you think we should go back to Flagstaff?”

  “Well, considering no one’s tearing up my apartment and it tends to be about ten degrees cooler there most of the time, I’d say yeah, that might be a better place to spend the summer.” He grinned then, his teeth flashing in the near-darkness of the bedroom. “Of course, I’ll admit that I might be a bit biased.”

  Maybe he was biased, but he was also making a lot of sense. Sure, there were places here in Jerome I could’ve crashed for the summer, such as my old bedroom back at Rachel’s apartment. However, Connor would be excluded from such an arrangement, and I refused to be separated from him again. We’d already lost almost two months. I wouldn’t give up any more.

  “No, you’re right,” I said. “At least, I think you’re right. It all makes so much sense when I’m alone with you, and then I get the elders giving me the hairy eyeball whenever I so much as mention your name, or Flagstaff, and I have to remind myself to stand my ground.”

  He didn’t reply at first, only reached out and pulled me against him, held me close so I could hear the reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat. “Well, m
aybe you don’t need to make any huge decisions right now. Just say the noise and the heat were getting to you, and that you needed to get away for a couple of days. Besides,” he added, “we’re looking at that house on Thursday. Maybe it’ll be perfect, and that’ll be the sign you need to tell you it’s okay to spend part of your time in Flagstaff. I have a feeling they might not protest so much if their prima is shacked up in a million-dollar house rather than a walk-up over an art gallery.”

  “You might be surprised,” I said. “The McAllisters aren’t all that into external signs of wealth.”

  “That much is obvious. I’ve seen the cars most of you drive.”

  That remark left me no alternative but to give him a mock punch in the arm, to which he gave an equally false wince before pulling me even closer to him, his mouth hot on my neck, tracing a line of kisses down to my breast. In short order my tank top had been flung away to land somewhere on the floor in the darkness, and my fingers were pulling at the waistband of his boxer briefs, and soon after that we had joined once again in an embrace that erased all doubt and worry and clan politics.

  …if only for a little while.

  10

  Habitat

  “Holy crap, Lucas,” I said. “Is this for real?”

  “Of course it is,” he said, pushing a button on the fob he carried. His bright red Porsche beeped once.

  Connor stood in front of the FJ Cruiser we’d driven here, craning his neck to take in the property in its entirety. “And he’s only asking nine-fifty?”

  “You should’ve seen him salivating when I told him you could pay cash. Apparently the soon-to-be ex has him over a barrel, and he needs to liquidate as soon as he can. Avoiding a lengthy escrow is worth taking a mild hit on the price. The market is sort of stagnant right now anyhow, which doesn’t help. No one else has come to look at it.” Lucas shoved his car key in his pocket. “Anyway, let’s go inside, and see what you think.”