Darktide

by Christine Pope

  She knew exactly what Brandon was doing — checking to see how preoccupied the people who surrounded them were, trying to gauge what was safe to discuss and what wasn’t. It was the sort of calculation that every witch or warlock had to perform when eating in public, since of course it was vitally important to make sure that no compromising information could be overheard.

  “You really don’t need to keep beating yourself up,” Brandon said, his tone quiet. “It’s okay to take a break every once in a while.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to protest that she wasn’t, but she knew it would be a lie. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I just can’t seem to let go, though.”

  “I know what you mean. I hate feeling like I can’t do anything. It’s like — ” He broke off there, clearly trying to work his way through the thought. “It’s like, I have this talent for fixing things. I could probably put together a jet engine if you gave me the parts in a box. But this — this is something I can’t fix. All I can do is stand by and hope other people can get it sorted out…and hope that Hayley doesn’t get her heart broken.”

  For Brandon to come out and say something like that meant he really was deeply worried. A chill went through her as Lucinda wrapped her fingers around the stem of her wine glass, but she didn’t take a sip. Not yet. “That’s exactly it,” she said quietly. “I feel like I should be doing something, too — to get justice for my parents, if nothing else. But instead I just have to wait, and hope.”

  He reached across the table and touched her free hand. Briefly, barely more than a brush of his fingertip over her knuckles, but still that touch awoke a warmth in her that she wasn’t sure what to do with. Was that desire, or just a wash of reassurance? “I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through,” he said quietly.

  She didn’t need to imagine it, because she’d lived through it. However, the last thing she wanted right then was to revisit any of those terrible memories. This time, she did lift her glass and take a swallow, probably bigger than she should have. Unfortunately, one swallow of wine, no matter how large it might be, wasn’t enough to erase what the Escobars had done to her, to her family.

  “It’s over,” she said, her voice flat. “I mean, it’s over for me personally. You and Levi and Hayley came and saved me. I’m the lucky one — I got away. But my cousin Marisol is still trapped there, and Joaquin is using the rest of my family like his personal army…or servants, I guess. Whichever suits him best at any particular moment, probably.”

  “That’s going to change.” Brandon, who usually seemed sort of off-hand and casual, now looked grimly determined, his mouth set, brows drawn slightly together. The sun glinted in his blue-gray eyes, now flinty and hard. “I know that Angela and Connor are going to come up with some plan to fix things.”

  Lucinda wanted to believe what Brandon was saying. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure how much faith she could put in the prima and primus. Yes, they seemed to be pretty good at running their clans, but just because you were good with people didn’t mean you also had the skills required to face off against a villain like Joaquin Escobar. Then again, they had managed to strip Matías’ powers. Only temporarily, thanks to the dark magic raised by Escobar’s daughter, but still, Lucinda had never heard of anyone else being able to do something like that. She wondered how Joaquin would feel if they did the same thing to him, reduced him to a mere civilian.

  Yes, that would be sweet revenge.

  “I hope so,” she said, then stopped before she said anything more, because one of the girls who had been working behind the counter inside the café was now approaching them, a plate of food in each hand. She set down their sandwiches and asked,

  “Do you need anything else?”

  “We’re fine,” Brandon said. “I mean, I am. You okay, Lucinda?”

  “Yes, great,” she replied, an automatic response. It probably wouldn’t be too long before she wanted another glass of wine, but that could wait.

  The waitress smiled. “Okay, just let us know.”

  Then she disappeared back inside, leaving Brandon and Lucinda with their food. She had to admit that it did look and smell good, awakening a hunger she hadn’t even been aware of until then.

  They both went silent then as they started in on their sandwiches. Brandon seemed to realize that she wanted to be quiet for a while, because he didn’t attempt to say anything else until he saw that she’d eaten almost half of hers.

  “Did I tell you that the episode of Dream Machines they filmed at the shop will be airing next week?”

  A blatant attempt to change the subject of their earlier conversation, but Lucinda didn’t mind. She wanted a chance to talk about something normal, something that didn’t involve her clan being taken over by a dark warlock apparently intent on world domination, or her brooding worry that poor Levi was going to suffer her parents’ fate.

  “No, you didn’t,” she said. “That’s awesome. So you’re going to be a TV star?”

  A self-deprecating grin. “I doubt it. Mostly you’ll see me in the background, because it was George, the shop owner, who ended up doing most of the talking. Still, it’s great publicity, and should get us a lot of new business.”

  “Do you need that much more?” Lucinda inquired. “I mean, it seems like you’re pretty busy most of the time.” So busy, in fact, that she’d been surprised he’d taken the day off to be with her. Even with everything that had been going on, he’d still kept going into work each day — not staying as late as Hayley said he used to, but it wasn’t as though he’d taken an indefinite leave of absence until this Escobar mess was cleaned up.

  “Well, we’ve had a lot of work lately, but it can be feast or famine in this business. It never hurts to get a healthy waiting list going. Also, there’s a sort of cachet to saying your car was restored by a shop that was on TV. People will wait for that kind of chance, instead of just moving on to the next place if the first one on their list is too busy.”

  She supposed that made sense. Since she’d never worked a day in her life, she didn’t know very much about the ins and outs of running a business. Well, some might say that looking after her invalid mother and keeping up with the demands of her autocratic father was a job in itself, but Lucinda wasn’t so sure about that. She’d just done what she had to. Back in the day, she’d gotten a healthy allowance from her parents, money that allowed her to indulge her whims when it came to jewelry or shoes or books, even though a lot of the time she felt as though she hadn’t done much to earn it.

  That allowance had been cut off abruptly once her father discovered her affair with Matías, though. And even after Matías was banished from Santiago territory, Lucinda had never gotten her stipend back. Just another form of punishment, another way of showing who was really in charge in their household.

  As if I ever was allowed to forget it, she thought then, her mouth twisting.

  Across the table from her, Brandon frowned slightly, as though he’d guessed that her thoughts had taken a dark turn. However, since she didn’t feel inclined to comment right then, he shrugged and went on, “George is also waiting to see how much extra demand we get. If there’s enough, then he’ll probably end up hiring a couple more people. It’s not like I’m going to end up having to work until midnight all the time.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Lucinda replied. And she realized it was. She wanted Brandon around…wanted to spend those hours with him, even if all they were doing was sitting on his couch and binge-watching Netflix. Something completely, relentlessly normal.

  He seemed to pick up something of her thoughts, because a slow, warm smile spread over his lips. That smile made her feel warm, too. Or maybe it was just the bright May sun shining down on them, but somehow she didn’t think so.

  They finished the rest of their sandwiches, then left a tip for the counter girl/waitress. After waiting for an opening in traffic, they darted across the highway and followed the path that led down to the water’s edge.

&n
bsp; The creek was much louder here, rushing over smooth, dark stones. Farther down the bank was a group that looked like the same family who’d been eating lunch on the patio earlier, but enough distance separated them from her and Brandon that Lucinda wasn’t too worried about being overheard.

  “I wasn’t really expecting creeks in Arizona,” she said as they paused at the water’s edge. It was about five yards wide here, the water moving quickly. “What feeds it?”

  “We actually have a lot of creeks and streams,” Brandon told her. “And rivers, although in some spots the Verde River over near Cottonwood isn’t much wider than this. Oak Creek gets fed by springs up in the mountains, and also by snow melt from the San Francisco Peaks in Flagstaff. It flows all year long, never dries up.”

  “Does it freeze?” Of course she knew that Flagstaff got a lot of snow, and Rachel had made an off-hand comment about it snowing in Jerome sometimes, too, although it didn’t sound as if it stuck around for very long.

  “I don’t know. Maybe farther up the creek. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t down in Sedona. They get snow in the winter, but it’s not much. Definitely not cold enough for a creek to freeze over.” He shrugged, turning so he faced northward, as if he could tell just by looking in that direction whether the water might freeze over when closer to its icy source.

  For some reason, his reply reassured her. So much about this place still felt alien, even though she’d been living in Jerome for a few weeks now and had begun to get used to its rhythms. But at least it wasn’t so alien that the rivers and creeks turned to ice in the winter. A little bit of snow — Lucinda thought she could handle that. It might even be fun.

  Then she realized she was thinking ahead to months and months from now. Anything could happen. What if Angela and Connor did manage to defeat Joaquin Escobar? Lucinda knew everyone would expect her to go home, to return to the clan that had been stolen from her.

  Only….

  She really didn’t want that. She wanted to be here, in a place of red rocks and blue skies, of free-flowing creeks and majestic cottonwood trees. A place where you could take a breath all the way down to the bottom of your lungs because there wasn’t any smog, weren’t millions of cars choking the streets and freeways.

  Most of all, she realized she wanted to be with the man who stood quietly a few paces away from her, his gaze now fixed on her, rather than the water rushing only a foot from where they stood.

  She didn’t know which of them took the first step toward one another. It probably didn’t really matter. What mattered was that their fingers entwined, and they moved even closer, and then he was bending down to kiss her — tentatively, as if he wasn’t entirely sure of how she would respond. They’d spent time together, had held hands a couple of times as they walked the streets of Jerome, but she’d kept telling herself she wasn’t ready, that she needed time to recover from the shock of her parents’ deaths, her renewed enslavement by Matías Escobar.

  Well, it looked as if enough time had passed.

  She opened her mouth to his, letting him know that she wanted this, that it was all right. His arms went around her, and he pulled her close, his body strong and lean against hers. He smelled good, something light and clean. Soap? Probably; Brandon didn’t really strike her as an aftershave sort of guy.

  This felt right. He was only the second person she’d ever kissed, and she couldn’t really count Matías, not when everything about their supposed relationship had been a sham and a lie. But this — this was what it felt like to be held by someone who truly cared about you. Brandon felt steady and strong, everything Matías hadn’t been.

  In that moment, she understood how much she cared, how she’d tried so hard not to. Her heart had a mind of its own, though. Their world might be falling apart, but Lucinda somehow knew that Brandon would stand beside her and keep her safe.

  He let go of her after a moment, but kept one hand in hers. Preventing her from fleeing? Maybe. Part of her did want to run away, didn’t want to acknowledge what she was feeling now. But the other part — oh, it knew that it needed to stay here. Needed to look up into Brandon’s eyes, that clear, forthright blue-gray, and let him see everything she’d been holding in her heart.

  A smile touched his lips. “Yes,” was all he said, but it was enough. She went into his arms again, felt his strength, and somehow knew it would be all right.

  It had to be.

  11

  Angela

  “Well, how did you think they were going to respond?” Connor asked, his tone all reasonableness. He probably knew he needed to stay calm, because right then I felt like punching a wall.

  “I don’t know!” I flared, twitching the living room draperies shut so I wouldn’t have to see the retreating forms of the McAllister clan’s three elders disappearing down the sidewalk. “I guess I thought they’d see reason.”

  After stepping over to a light switch and flicking it so the fixture overhead came to life, he said, “I’m pretty sure they think they are being reasonable.”

  “No, they’re being hidebound and over-cautious.”

  He reached out a hand. For a second I hesitated, since I knew that he probably planned to sit me on the couch and get me calmed down. Right then, I didn’t feel much like being calm.

  However, I also knew that being this agitated probably wasn’t good for the baby. So I let him take me by the hand and lead me over to the couch, then sat down as he seated himself next to me. Before he could speak, however, I said, “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  “I know that,” he said, voice still calm. “And you know that. But you have to look at it from their perspective. Levi is a valuable part of this clan, but the elders have to balance his rescue against the cost of losing the two of us. What would happen if Escobar managed to beat us? The clan would be left almost undefended…and our children would be orphans.”

  A pang of guilt went through me. As much as I wanted to argue with Connor, I knew I really couldn’t. The elders were strong, but they couldn’t prevail against Joaquin Escobar’s magic, not when he could nullify their gifts as soon as he got within twenty feet of them — or however close he had to be for his dubious power to operate effectively. Worse, although the clan basically already viewed Ian and Emily as the heirs apparent, we hadn’t yet made any formal announcement as to who our prima- and primus-in-waiting would be. The twins were too young for their powers to even have begun to manifest, the little flickers I caught from Emily notwithstanding.

  The McAllisters had been in much the same predicament when my mother died. Everyone guessed that I would be the prima-in-waiting, even though I was only a baby, but they didn’t know for sure, not until I was ten years old and started talking to people who weren’t there, who turned out to be ghosts. At least then they’d had Great-Aunt Ruby to hold the family together until it was clear who her heir would be. But if something happened to me, or to Connor…or both of us…then the McAllisters and Wilcoxes would be in a world of hurt. I had a sort of unspoken agreement with Margot that it would fall to her to lead if something terrible happened to me; she might have married a Wilcox and renounced her position as elder, but she was still the clan’s most powerful witch after me. I could trust Margot to keep a cool head in a crisis.

  Problem was, I knew deep down that even Margot’s level head and her amazing abilities with illusions wouldn’t be enough to keep this clan safe.

  I twisted the turquoise ring I wore on my right hand, a nervous gesture that I knew Connor would immediately recognize for what it was. Being him, though, he didn’t attempt to stop my fidgeting, or try to say anything else on the subject. He’d made his argument, and so was waiting for me to respond.

  Which I did, albeit with more questions. “And what happens if we let Escobar keep Levi? What if his powers end up being used against us? There are crappy outcomes on both sides, Connor.”

  “I know.” He moved closer and I snuggled up against him, glad of the chance to lean my head on his sh
oulder. When I did that, it felt as if he was taking half my worry away from me. All right, not really, but I could pretend. “And it ultimately comes down to what you and I choose, and not what the elders say. All they can do is advise us.”

  “Better not let Boyd hear you say that,” I remarked, grinning despite myself. My cousin Boyd did cherish his position as elder, and the clout it gave him. When I’d suggested to him a while back that maybe we should have the elders only serve for five years or so, and then switch out so no one found the duty too onerous, you would have thought I’d said I thought it would be a good idea to take out a full-page ad in the New York Times announcing that witches and magic were real. I doubted he could have been any more horrified.

  “Oh, I know.” With his free hand, Connor pushed his hair away from his face, tucking it back behind one ear. “I’m sure I’d get read the riot act. Even after all these years, I suspect that he still doesn’t entirely trust me.”

  Probably not. Boyd had spent most of his life thinking that the only good Wilcox was a dead Wilcox, and so it had been quite an adjustment for him to accept Connor’s place in my life. However, I didn’t bother to point out the obvious, and instead returned to the matter at hand. “I guess it comes down to how much of a risk we’re willing to take for Levi’s sake.”

  “I think we both already know the answer to that.”

  Yes, we did. Levi had rescued Lucinda, had saved our town from demon attack, had made sure Hayley stayed out of Joaquin Escobar’s clutches. We couldn’t abandon him, no matter the risk. It simply wasn’t the McAllister way.