“I’m so sorry,” Caitlin said, since anything else would have probably sounded like false platitudes. From what Alex had told her, it sounded as if Maya was dying. Not quickly, but in a way that made every day another one where they had to worry about how much more debilitated she would be, how much more she’d have to suffer. And if neither the healers nor the doctors could figure it out, there didn’t seem to be much hope for a cure, either.
“It is what it is,” Alex responded, then scowled. “Actually, I hate that saying. And I hate what’s happening to my grandmother. If it had been something sudden, like a stroke or a heart attack, it would have been terrible, but at least it would have been over.” His mouth pulled into a tight line. “But I guess that sounds terrible, too. It’s not that I want her dead, but — ”
“But you hate seeing her suffering,” Caitlin broke in, hoping he would hear the pity and compassion she felt. Growing up, she’d been very close to her paternal grandmother, who seemed to understand why her granddaughter spent so much time reading and dreaming about the world beyond Jerome, who never gave her pitying looks when it became clear that Caitlin had no defined magical ability — one she would admit to, anyway. Grandma Ellen was still very much alive and well, still making her beloved pottery and selling it in the local shops, and Caitlin didn’t want to contemplate what it would feel like when she finally lost her. More than once she’d been tempted to confide in her grandmother, tell her about her unwanted gift, but Caitlin had always worried that Grandma Ellen would find that a secret too big to keep, and so she’d held her tongue.
Alex shifted in his seat, turning his full attention back toward her, and she had to force herself not to look away. Something in those dark eyes seemed warmer now, approving. Despite the somber tone of their conversation, a thrill went through her. Had anyone else ever looked at her like that? She wasn’t sure. Admiring stares, sure, especially after she’d gotten through her awkward phase in junior high and her freshman year of high school, when she started to grow into her height and had begun to fill out a little. But now, in this moment, it seemed as if Alex was looking at her, not her hair or her eyes or her chest, or any one of the things she was used to having guys look at.
“Yes,” he said after a long pause. “That’s exactly it. And my abuela — she’s a strong person. She doesn’t complain. She doesn’t want people to see that she’s in pain. And…she worries.”
“Worries?”
“It’s one thing if a prima just…dies.” He swallowed, then appeared to gather himself so he could push on. “A clan can deal with that. It’s bad, but…it’s what happens, you know? There’s always someone waiting in the wings, ready to take over.”
Caitlin wondered how he felt about knowing his mother was next in line, that once she took over as leader of the de la Paz family, she wouldn’t exactly belong to him anymore. Yes, she’d always be his mother, but she’d also have to be there for the clan as a whole. And sometimes that could be difficult. Looking at him now, though, at the worry in those fine dark eyes, the tense set of his jaw, she knew she couldn’t ask him that question. Not yet, anyway.
“But this?” he went on. He reached for his wine glass and took another one of those healthy swallows. Another couple like that, and he would end up draining the glass entirely. She couldn’t blame him, now that she knew what he’d been going through with his grandmother. “When a clan’s prima is weak, the clan is weak. We’ve seen that same problem in California.”
“That’s where Maya thinks Matías and his gang have come from,” Caitlin said quietly. She hadn’t had the opportunity to relay that information to Alex prior to this, and she watched as his eyes widened briefly before he nodded in understanding.
“That makes sense. Símon Santiago isn’t the best caretaker of that clan, and things have gotten out of hand. My grandmother’s strength was always enough of a deterrent to keep them away in the past, but now?”
“Now they’re moving in.” Despite the mild, gentle evening air on her skin, the feeling that this lovely patio and the shimmering pool beyond it seemed to exist in a world far from the evil of the magic she’d sensed earlier in the day, something deep within her went cold. How many of those rogue warlocks were there? Did they have any witches working with them? Caitlin hadn’t seen any, but that didn’t mean much. They could have been off someplace else…maybe at the shabby apartment with the ugly couch she’d glimpsed so briefly in that vision before it was torn away.
“It sure looks that way.” Alex picked up his neglected tortilla and took a bite, and she forced herself to do the same thing, even though her appetite seemed to have deserted her for the moment. “Which is why it’s so important that we find out where they are. It could be a lot more than just saving your friends — it could mean rooting out a cell of these bastards before it has a chance to take hold.”
Great. As if she wasn’t already feeling enough pressure. She set down her half-eaten tortilla. “I’m doing the best I can, Alex. I know right now that isn’t much, but — ”
At once he shook his head. “Shit, Caitlin, that’s not what I meant. I’m not trying to pressure you. I know you can’t force this kind of stuff. It’s just — ” He seemed to grit his teeth, then reached over and picked up the wine bottle, poured a good measure into his glass and another into hers, even though she hadn’t drunk nearly as much as he had. “I just hate the idea that these guys are over here in my clan’s territory, laughing at us because our prima isn’t strong enough to sense their presence and send them straight back to whatever hole they crawled out of.”
“I hate it, too,” she said. Almost without thinking, she laid her right hand on his left, where it was resting on the glass top of the patio table. He jerked a little at her touch, then relaxed as she squeezed his fingers gently before returning her hand to her lap. “And we will do something about it. The situation isn’t going to stay this way.”
“I know,” he replied, and again those dark eyes latched onto hers, holding her gaze. She saw trust there, a belief in her abilities that she sincerely hoped wasn’t misplaced.
It couldn’t be. Way too much was riding on those inconsistent dreams and visions of hers. All she could do was hope that the years she’d spent pushing them away, denying them, hadn’t weakened them beyond repair.
7
After that, they didn’t talk much, but ate their rapidly cooling food and drank the rest of the bottle of wine. By the end of the meal, Caitlin was feeling — not exactly light-hearted, but probably more relaxed than she should be, given the circumstances. In fact, the false sensation of well-being that came over her was so pronounced that she almost asked Alex to open a second a bottle of wine.
No, that would be a very bad idea. For one thing, she sure didn’t need a hangover getting in the way of her next attempt to summon a vision, and for the other, it was hard enough forcing herself not to react when Alex looked at her, to pretend that the way her blood seemed to run a little hotter in her veins every time she caught a stray glance from him was perfectly normal and nothing she needed to worry about. She couldn’t let herself be attracted to him. That was going to be difficult, considering the way just being around him made her heart feel as if it was in a perpetual state of flutter, but she’d do her best. How could she focus if she allowed herself to be so distracted?
So they finished their dinner, and she helped him clear away the uneaten food and the dirty dishes, and after that it wasn’t quite late enough to go to bed, since it was barely a quarter to nine. Sitting down and attempting to watch TV as if everything was normal and her friends hadn’t been kidnapped by a trio of dark warlocks was completely out of the question.
“Maybe I should try again,” she suggested, as Alex closed up the dishwasher and turned to face her.
“Try for a vision?”
She nodded.
“I thought you couldn’t force the visions.”
“I can’t…I mean, I haven’t been able to in the past. But Maya — your gran
dmother said I just had to open myself to it, to let it flow through me.”
“Like the Force?” Alex asked, an incongruous grin pulling at his mouth.
Caitlin tried hard not to look at that mouth. His lips were just full enough that she thought they would feel very good when pressed up against hers. Okay, and that was exactly the sort of thinking she was trying to avoid, so she pulled in a breath and said severely, “Maybe like the Force, you geek. I don’t know. But I think I should try.” Before he could cut in with another Star Wars reference, she added, “And don’t hand me that line about ‘do, or do not,’ or I’ll have to resort to physical violence.”
“Whoa,” he said, holding up his hands. The grin he shot her, however, told her he wasn’t too worried about her ability to beat his ass.
Which, she had to admit, was severely lacking. She’d never roughhoused that much with her brother, so the finer points of getting in a good punch were not exactly in her wheelhouse, so to speak. Deciding it was better to let the subject drop, she announced, “I’m going to sit down now,” and went over to the couch in the living room. It was soft bone-colored leather, and seemed to envelop her as she sank down onto it.
Alex followed, still wearing an amused expression. She was actually glad to see it, as that half-smile seemed to tell her he’d put his worries about his grandmother aside for now at least. A matching love seat was positioned a few feet away from the couch, and he lowered himself onto it, pushing an accent pillow made out of what looked like a miniature Navajo rug over to one side.
“So…how does this work?” he asked.
Good question. Maya had said Caitlin had to open herself to her gift, but the exact mechanism for doing so seemed to elude her. “Well, for one thing, it would probably help if you weren’t sitting there and staring at me as if you expected me to turn into a toad or something.”
“God forbid. I kind of prefer you the way you are.”
Embarrassed blood rose to her cheeks. This seemed like a really good time to close her eyes and try opening herself up to her gifts. At least that way she wouldn’t have to figure out the best approach when it came to dealing with Alex’s intent gaze.
So she did just that — shut her eyes, took a deep breath, followed by another, and tried to will herself to a stillness she certainly didn’t feel. In fact, it seemed as if the harder she tried to make her mind go quiet, the more her thoughts churned one after the other…fear for Roslyn and Danica, the hell she was probably going to catch when all this settled down and her parents had the leisure to read her the riot act about hiding her gifts, worry that the warlocks might decide to snag a few more unsuspecting witches and she’d have to track them down as well. And, above it all, and the last thing she should be thinking about, the young man who sat a few feet away from her, the way she thought she could hear him breathing, could practically hear the beating of his heart in his chest…and how much she wished she could go to him and lay her cheek on that chest, feel it strong and sturdy and reassuring against her skin.
Her eyelids snapped open, and she saw Alex still sitting there, his gaze seemingly fixed on something outside the window. She guessed, however, that he had been watching her right up until the moment she opened her eyes.
“Anything?” he asked.
“No,” she replied, not bothering to keep the irritation out of her voice. “I know I’m supposed to relax, to let myself be a conduit for the visions, but the harder I try not to think about anything, the more I think about everything. Now I wish I’d taken that yoga class Danica tried to get me into. Maybe that would’ve helped with my focus.”
Alex made a sound that might have been a chuckle, but which morphed into a throat-clearing as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, you’ve had a rough day. It’s early, but maybe you should try to sleep. Try again tomorrow when you’re better rested.”
That sounded like good, practical advice. She knew she should take it. She just wished she didn’t feel like such a failure for doing so. “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “You’re probably right.”
When she got up from the couch, she could feel the heaviness in her limbs, the ache of weariness all through her. The wine had erased it for a little bit, but now it was returning, worse than ever. Why had she thought she could accomplish anything useful tonight? Her body was clearly telling her that it needed to rest.
Alex stood as well, but she noticed that he kept a careful distance from her. If she stumbled, would he put out a hand to steady her?
Probably, and no way was she going to attempt such a transparent ploy. Acting the helpless female was just not her thing. Chin raised, she walked out of the living room and down the hall to the guest room where Alex had dropped off her luggage earlier.
He stopped on the other side of the door, then asked, “Is there anything else you need? Toothpaste, whatever?”
“No, I’m good. I packed all that stuff.”
“Okay. Well…good night, then.”
A quick smile, probably meant to reassure her, and then he was moving away from her, going to his bedroom. He let himself in, and she got a quick glimpse of a room decorated in soothing shades of brown and blue before he closed the door. That was probably for her benefit, as she’d have to go across the hall to use the bathroom, and it seemed like he wanted to give her as much privacy as he could.
Which she appreciated. She closed the door to her own room, picked up the smaller bag, the one that held all her toiletries, and got out the cosmetic case that contained her toothbrush and toothpaste and the glycerin bar she used to wash her face. After setting those aside, she went into the other suitcase, pulled out the tank top and yoga pants she’d brought to sleep in, and got into them quickly. The jeans she’d been wearing could be folded and set on top of the chair in the corner, while she hung up her top. In a pinch she could wear it again, since she’d only had it on for half the day.
Then she darted across the hall to the bathroom and closed and locked the door, then performed her usual going-to-bed rituals. In the past she’d found following the routine to be vaguely reassuring, but now she could only keep thinking of Danica and Roslyn, of where they were, of what those warlocks were doing to them. Would they be allowed to sleep, to eventually wash their faces and brush their teeth? Or did Matías and his two buddies plan to only use them for a day or two, and so didn’t care whether the girls would have a chance to take care of themselves?
Those thoughts tumbled around in her head, and when she looked into the mirror after she’d washed her face, Caitlin saw how bleak and frightened her eyes were, how drained of color her skin. Well, who cared? She wasn’t here to win any beauty contests.
Even so, she put on some moisturizer and lip balm, then returned the products to the cosmetic bag when she was done. Afterward, she found a sponge under the sink and wiped down the granite counter. Everything here was so clean, so new and shiny and perfect, that she didn’t want to leave even a water spot behind.
And then it was time to go back into the guest room, to quietly shut the door behind her and pull back the daybed’s quilted coverlet, then fold it neatly at the foot of the bed. Something in her was loath to go to the light switch and flick it downward, although she knew she was perfectly safe here. No one except her parents and Luz knew she’d decided to stay at Alex’s house, so even if the three warlocks who’d taken her friends were actively hunting for her, there was no way they’d be able to track her current whereabouts.
Well, unless they had a seer of their own.
Caitlin shut down that line of thought right away, then turned off the light before she could lose her nerve. To her relief, the room wasn’t completely dark even then, as it had a flat sort of nightlight plugged into one of the outlets on the opposite wall. It helped her make her way back over to the bed and then slip under the cool sheets.
The mattress had to be that memory foam type, from the way it seemed to cradle every inch of her aching body. Right then she realized how much she did hurt. Valentina had
healed the wound in her side, but a deep, throbbing pain still lingered, now that Caitlin had a chance to focus on it. A good night’s sleep should do a lot to take care of that, though.
Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply, letting the stillness of the house surround her. She was safe. Alex was just down the hallway, and this place was so new that nothing bad could have ever happened here to leave a lingering psychic stain. She could relax and give her body the time it needed to heal itself, and then tomorrow she would be rested and ready to allow her gift to guide her wherever she needed to go.
Sleep came quietly, stealing over her like a dark fog. She let it surround her, gentle and soft, her consciousness slipping farther and farther away from this room, away from the pale greenish glow of the nightlight and the luxurious mattress cushioning her body.
Deeper, deeper….
Until she wasn’t in that bed at all, but someplace else, in a room she didn’t recognize. In bed, yes, that much was the same, although it was bigger than the daybed on which she’d gone to sleep, and not nearly as comfortable. Something acrid and sickly sweet tickled her nose, and as she shifted, she realized the scent came from a joint burning in an ashtray on the nightstand next to the bed.
“You want some, chica?” a half-familiar voice asked.
To her horror, Caitlin realized it was Matías’ voice, and that she was lying in bed next to him. Half her body was covered by the sheet, but even so she knew she was naked. Dark hair slipped over her shoulder, and she realized that wasn’t herself in bed with the warlock, but Danica.
“Mmm,” Danica said, and Matías reached over and picked up the joint, then slipped it between her lips. He, too, seemed to be naked, and Caitlin could now see that the snake tattoo which encircled his neck continued over one shoulder and then looped around a pectoral muscle, the rattle centered squarely in his muscular chest. It seemed to move with a life of its own as he shifted so he was closer to Danica — Danica, who’d never done drugs in her life, but who was now taking a long pull on the joint as if she’d been smoking weed for years.
Protector (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 5) Page 9