Darker Paths (The Witches of Canyon Road Book 2)

by Christine Pope

  As for me…as I’d told Simon, I needed to move on. Rafe was in my past. Now I needed to focus on my future, a future that, I hoped, would include me claiming my own powers.

  Maybe Simon would be part of that future. I knew he wanted to be, but I could tell he was holding back, doing his best to be a friend right now and nothing more. His decision to sleep in the caretaker’s house proved to me he was serious about giving me whatever space I might need. It still felt strange to be in this enormous house all by myself, but after we’d finished our impromptu dinner, he’d walked me over to the house where he’d be staying, just so I’d be familiar with the route — and also so I’d know he was really only a minute or so away, if anything went wrong.

  Nothing would go wrong, though. We were safe and sheltered here. No one knew where I was, and I liked it that way. My parents only knew I was safe, but that would have to be enough for now. The next day, after we’d gotten a replacement phone for me, then I’d see about having a real conversation with them.

  But I still wouldn’t tell them where I was. I didn’t want them to interfere. I needed this time alone with Simon. And when it was over, then I could start on the next stage of my life.

  4

  Empty Spaces

  Rafe

  He’d set his phone to vibrate and left it on the mantel downstairs, knowing that his mother would keep calling until he answered. When he’d gotten home the night before, he saw that he’d missed two messages from her while he was out prowling around in coyote form. That was when he turned off the damn ringer, knowing it would be hard enough to fall asleep without having to worry about Genoveva pinging his goddamn phone every ten minutes.

  However, ignoring his phone couldn’t prevent her from showing up on his doorstep at nine o’clock the next morning. Fearing exactly this sort of stratagem, he’d showered and shaved as soon as he rolled out of bed at a little past eight, but he’d barely had a few sips of coffee before the knock came at his front door. Rafe knew if he ignored it, she’d simply lay her hand on the doorknob and let herself in, so he went to answer her knock. At least that way he could pretend he had some control over the situation, even though he knew that was a lie.

  “Morning, Mother,” he said as she breezed in, perfectly coiffed and made up as usual, not a strand of dark hair out of place, expertly minimal cosmetics highlighting the elegant bones of her face. “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” she replied, giving his bare feet and untucked T-shirt a disapproving glance. “We need to talk.”

  “I assumed as much, or you wouldn’t have shown up at such an ungodly hour of the morning.”

  “Don’t be rude.” Without waiting to see if he would follow, she marched past him and went into the living room, where she touched the controls to deactivate the room-darkening film on the windows. Rafe blinked in discomfort as bright morning sunlight flooded into the space. When he’d gotten home the night before, he’d had another two shots of tequila in an attempt to calm his jangled nerves.

  Maybe that hadn’t been such a great idea.

  “I didn’t know I was being rude.” He sauntered past her and sat down on the couch, then propped his bare feet up on the coffee table. Genoveva winced, and he smiled.

  However, it seemed clear enough that she had more important matters on her mind than his apparent bad manners. “We need to come up with a plan,” she said. “Thank God that the members of our clan don’t have any real contact with the Wilcoxes or the McAllisters, or the story would already be spreading like wildfire. However, we still need to do some damage control.”

  Scowling, Rafe swallowed some of his coffee, then sat up straight and put his feet on the floor so he could set the mug down on the table in front of him. “‘Damage control’?” he echoed. “That’s what you’re worried about? Shouldn’t we be focused on trying to find Miranda?”

  “I assume we can all walk and chew gum at the same time,” she snapped, her tone acid. “Of course we will do our best to locate your fiancée, but we also need to be able to work without any interference.”

  “Maybe we need that interference,” Rafe replied. “I mean, anything could be happening to Miranda right now. The sooner we find her, the better…no matter who ends up helping us.”

  Arms crossed, Genoveva said, “If your fiancée is so talented a witch that she can teleport away from all of us in the blink of an eye, then I have no doubt she can handle whatever situation she’s found herself in. I am sure that she has simply gotten herself a hotel room somewhere so she can have a quiet place to think about what she wants to do next. In fact, your father is already making discreet inquiries to that effect. If she’s in town, we will find her. In the meantime, we have to do whatever we can to keep Angela McAllister and Connor Wilcox out of our business.”

  Rafe wanted to tell his mother that her cavalier attitude wasn’t helping, but she did have a point. The last time Miranda had pulled a disappearing act, she hadn’t gone very far. And God only knew that hotels and motels and vacation rentals were thick on the ground in Santa Fe. It would take a while to search them all. “I didn’t think Miranda’s parents were an issue, considering you’ve practically banned them from Castillo territory.”

  Genoveva’s mouth pressed into a flat line. “It isn’t a ban. It’s only that I had wanted you and Miranda to get a fresh start without any outside influence.”

  Of course, Rafe thought. Inside influence, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter. He scratched the back of his neck before responding, “Still, you made it pretty clear that they weren’t welcome here, and it seems as though they got the message. I’m not sure why you think we need to worry about them butting in.”

  “Because they’ll be expecting news about the wedding. Photographs. Luckily, Cat took some pictures of Miranda before the ceremony, so we’ll just have to see what we can do with those.”

  “What do you mean by ‘do’?”

  “I mean, Rafe, that we need to make Angela McAllister and Connor Wilcox think that your wedding went off as planned. It’s a good thing they knew you would be going to Taos for your honeymoon, and so they won’t be expecting to hear from their daughter for the next week. Even so, we need to do our best to reassure them that everything’s fine.” Genoveva turned away from the window and gave him an appraising glance. “You’ve shaved. Good. I assume you have your tailcoat and the rest of your wedding outfit here?”

  “Yes,” he replied warily, beginning to see where this was going and not liking it very much.

  “Good,” she said again. “I’ll need you to change into those clothes so I can get some photos. Your cousin Yvonne already got pictures of the chapel and the reception room, and Cat has given her the images she took yesterday of Miranda. Yvonne is fairly confident that she’ll be able to composite them all together to create some images that should satisfy Miranda’s parents…for now, anyway.”

  Rafe wanted to tell his mother that she was crazy. Unfortunately, he knew she wasn’t. Ruthless, yes. She was determined to keep Connor Wilcox and Angela McAllister far away, satisfied that their daughter’s marriage had gone smoothly and that she was now off enjoying wedded bliss in Taos. “They’re going to find out eventually,” he said. “Whether or not we track down Miranda. What then?”

  “Then we will simply explain why we felt compelled to stall for time,” Genoveva responded without hesitation. “And that is all we are doing. We need the opportunity to find your fiancée without outside interference.”

  “You don’t think Connor and Angela would be able to help? They’re powerful enough individually, but working together — ”

  “No,” his mother cut in, her tone telling him that she had no intention of entertaining such a suggestion. “This is a Castillo problem, and we Castillos will solve it. And that means getting these pictures taken care of. Now go upstairs and change.”

  Rafe knew he could refuse. He could put his foot down and say there was no way he would ever go along with such a hare-brained scheme
. However, he knew he wouldn’t do that. For one thing, he didn’t feel like getting into a shouting match with his mother. That would just waste energy better spent on other things — like finding Miranda.

  For a moment, he wondered whether he should tell Genoveva about what he had found last night. But no, he didn’t want her insinuating herself into his private search. She could do whatever she wanted with the resources of the rest of the clan, but he wanted to keep working with Daniel. Although he was close by, Genoveva probably wouldn’t reach out to him for help. She could pull all the family togetherness and blood-is-thicker-than-water crap she wanted, but at the end of the day, Daniel’s mother was a civilian, and so was his ex-wife. The Castillo prima might understand why it was important to bring outside blood into the family, but she sure as hell didn’t have to like it.

  As for the stench of black magic Rafe had detected, well, his older sister Louisa had already said as much when she informed him that she’d detected the dregs of a dark spell lingering around his person. Although he hated to think he’d been the target of a forbidden spell, better that than to think he’d intentionally turned on Miranda. At any rate, he’d only be confirming something Genoveva already knew, so he didn’t bother to say anything.

  Instead, he shrugged and said, “All right. I’ll put the damn monkey suit back on. Give me a minute.”

  She nodded and sat down on the couch, and Rafe went upstairs to his bedroom. At least he hadn’t been so drunk last night that he’d tossed the tails on the floor, but instead had draped them across the bench at the foot of the bed. They were still a little wrinkled, but if his cousin Yvonne had the technical skills to combine separate photos of the chapel, Miranda in her wedding gown, and himself standing in his living room, and make them look realistic, then she could probably erase a few minor wrinkles.

  He tried not to look himself in the eye as he struggled to get his bow tie in a proper knot. Even though he knew he’d been the victim of a spell, he still hated himself for what he’d said to Miranda. Now she would always hear those ugly words coming from his mouth, and he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do to fix that.

  But maybe telling her he loved her a few hundred times might start to erase the sting.

  Did he love her, though? He’d shied away from that notion, even as he’d been forced to acknowledge the physical attraction they seemed to share. Instant love was something for primas and their consorts, although ordinary witches and warlocks tended to fall for each other pretty quickly, too. But Rafe didn’t know for sure that he loved Miranda. Knowing she was gone was almost like a physical ache, and he thought of things about her that he didn’t even remember noticing the first time — the way her deep green eyes lit up when she smiled, the lopsided dimple that showed in one corner of her mouth and not the other. The sweet music of her laugh, and the slightly throaty quality to her voice, something he’d always found sexy in other women and had never expected to be lucky enough to have in his fiancée.

  The way she’d stood up to his mother, chin held high. And the way she’d kissed him, pure and passionate, as though every fiber of her being was invested in that embrace.

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand on end, then grimaced and smoothed it out as best he could.

  Shit, maybe he really did love her.

  And in that moment he knew he would do whatever it took to find her.

  Still trying to pat down his unruly hair, he descended the stairs. Genoveva remained where he had left her sitting on the couch, which he supposed was a good thing. He knew she wasn’t above snooping around while he was otherwise occupied, although she wouldn’t have found too much incriminating evidence of his bender the night before. The bottle of Avíon Silver was safely back in the cupboard, the shot glasses he and Cat had used to drink the tequila stowed in the top shelf of the dishwasher.

  He hadn’t been expecting any praise for his appearance or his promptness, so he wasn’t surprised when he received none. His mother rose from the sofa, phone in one hand.

  “A neutral background would be best,” she said. “Go stand over by the wall, in between the paintings.”

  No point in protesting. It was better to get this over with. He was itching to hear what Daniel had to say about “Robert Marquez.” True, his cousin had said he’d get back to him by the end of the day, but there was always the chance he’d come up with something before then.

  Expression as impassive as he could make it, Rafe went to the spot his mother had indicated and paused there.

  “Smile, for God’s sake,” she admonished him. “You look like you’re attending your own funeral.”

  He didn’t want to think about funerals. That only led him to wonder what was happening to Miranda right now. Yes, her unruly magic had made her disappear in front of hundreds of witnesses, but that didn’t mean she possessed the means to defend herself if she got into trouble. What if she hadn’t actually gone to a hotel, but had reappeared in a rough part of town, wedding dress and all? She’d be easy prey. Santa Fe was a picturesque tourist city, a food and art destination, but that didn’t mean it didn’t have its darker side. Someone like Miranda, beautiful but sheltered, would attract predators like a gazelle with a broken leg.

  “Now you’re frowning even worse,” Genoveva snapped.

  Rafe did his best to shake those dark images out of his mind, plastering a false smile on his lips. It felt grotesque to him, but apparently his mother didn’t find anything wrong about his appearance, because she lifted the phone and took a couple of quick pictures.

  “Now turn slightly to your right.”

  Again he did as she commanded. He wondered where Cat was. Did she even know what their mother was up to, or had she slept in and so remained blissfully unaware? That wasn’t like his sister, who tended to be an early riser. More likely, she’d put her foot down and said she didn’t want any part of such a charade.

  After an excruciating few minutes, Genoveva put her phone away. “This should be sufficient,” she told him. “I’ll get the images to Yvonne and see what she has to say. In case she needs more photos, make sure you hang that suit up.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Rafe replied with a smirk. No need to return the tails to the rental place; the son of the Castillo prima would only get married in his own bespoke suit. It had been ordered and fitted months earlier.

  Genoveva narrowed her eyes at him, but because she had gotten her way so far this morning, it seemed she didn’t want to bother with any arguments. “Your father and I are going to meet with your cousin Marco,” she informed him crisply. “We’re hoping he can help us get to the bottom of this.”

  “He couldn’t find her before,” Rafe replied, then wanted to kick himself. He and Cat had worked very hard to hide that first disappearance of Miranda’s from their mother, including Marco’s failed attempt to locate the missing young woman.

  From the way Genoveva’s lips pressed together, she knew the story all too well. “Yes, so Marco informed me when I went to him to ask for his assistance. Regardless, I told him he needed to try again. Perhaps circumstances have changed. He was down for the wedding anyway, and I’ve told him we’ll put him up at the La Fonda for as long as necessary, so he was agreeable to give things another try.”

  Of course Marco would agree to such an arrangement, especially if Genoveva threw room service and a bar tab into the bargain. And who knows? Maybe it would work this time. Magic didn’t necessarily have to be consistent, even though when he’d failed in his first attempt at locating Miranda, Marco had been adamant that his talent for finding people and objects had never let him down before.

  “All right,” Rafe said. “I hope it works. In the meantime, I’m going to do my own digging.”

  “What kind of digging?” his mother asked, her tone telling him she didn’t have much confidence in the outcome of said digging.

  “A lead I’m following up on. Daniel’s helping me out.”

  A sniff. “Well, I wouldn’t put
too much weight on his ‘help.’ A private detective who didn’t know his own wife was cheating on him?”

  Oh, for God’s sake…. Rafe pulled in a breath and told himself that letting his mother know what a goddamn harpy she was wouldn’t improve the situation at all. Anyway, making the affair sound as if it was Daniel’s fault was a low blow. From what Rafe was able to tell, Daniel had a very successful agency, with two civilians working for him and a plush office in a high-rise in downtown Albuquerque. If he was guilty of anything, it was of being too busy to realize that his ex-wife’s Pilates and yoga and Zumba classes were just a cover for her extracurricular activities.

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Rafe said, his tone mild. Actually, anyone who knew him well would realize it was far too mild, but it seemed that Genoveva hadn’t noticed…or just didn’t care.

  “Go ahead and work with him, if you want,” she said. “In the meantime, I expect we’ll get better results with Marco.”

  “That’s for the best anyway,” Rafe told her. “If we’re both working this from opposite sides, there’s a better chance we might come up with something useful.”

  “Possibly.” She picked up her Chanel handbag and slipped her phone into it. “In the meantime, we should have enough to keep Miranda’s parents at bay, and that’s the most important thing.”

  “Does Dad know what you’re doing? About Miranda’s parents, I mean.”

  “I told him I would take care of it.” Genoveva drew herself up to her full height and leveled a narrow-eyed look at her son. “He is very busy with his restaurants on top of contacting hotels about Miranda, and doesn’t need to be drawn into our problem with her parents. It is the prima’s business.”