An Ill Wind

by Christine Pope

  Rather than reply, he pointed the car north on Cerrillos, doing his best not to get too frustrated with the inevitable rush-hour traffic. More than once, the city had tried to recalibrate the lights to improve traffic flow, but it seemed that no matter what the planners did, Santa Fe’s main artery turned into a cloggy, sluggish mess every morning and afternoon — and wasn’t that much better during the hours in between.

  Eventually, though, they reached the Walgreens in question, and Cassandra hopped out to purchase the items she couldn’t get at Macy’s. Once again, she was in and out with surprising alacrity, especially impressive considering how crowded the parking lot was, probably thanks to people picking up prescriptions and other odds and ends on their way home from work.

  “Hungry yet?” he asked as he eased the Fiat back into northbound traffic. “It’s going to take another fifteen minutes or so to get where we’re going, so it’ll be after six by the time we get there.”

  “I could eat something.” She tilted her head to look over at him. “Where are we going?”

  “One of my favorite places downtown,” Tony replied. “It’s mellow, mostly locals. Sandwiches and stuff.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She didn’t say anything after that, but seemed content to watch the streets outside the car window as they passed by various local landmarks, although with the sun now fully down, it wasn’t as easy to see any detail as it had been a few hours earlier. Still, he altered his route slightly so they could pass by the Loretto Chapel and the bulk of the La Fonda hotel, just so Cassandra could catch a glimpse of those impressive buildings on the way to their destination.

  They got lucky, because as they turned down Lincoln Street, someone pulled out from the curb, and Tony was able to snag the spot before anyone else could get it. “We’re here,” he announced.

  She looked around. Shops lined the streets, but there wasn’t much else to see. “Where is here?”

  “You’ll see.”

  A brow lifted, but she seemed to shrug and got out of the car, being careful not to scrape the bottom of the door on the overly high curb. Tony came around the back and led her into the shop on the corner, which specialized in local gourmet items.

  “We’re buying stuff to take back to your place?” she asked, clearly mystified by her surroundings.

  “No,” he said. “Follow me.”

  At the back of the shop was a set of stairs that went down into the basement, and he headed over there, Cassandra right behind him. As soon as they paused at the base of the steps, she glanced around and nodded in approval at the dark wood tables and booths, the nicely lit local art on the exposed brick walls, the large bar off to one side.

  “I like it.”

  “The food’s good, too.”

  He took her over to a corner booth, and they both sat down. Paper menus were provided at each table, so Tony plucked two from their resting place behind the condiments and handed one to Cassandra. “It’s mostly sandwiches, but they have some good soups, too.”

  “A sandwich sounds great. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” Her smoky green eyes scanned the menu. “And another beer. What were we drinking at your place?”

  “Santa Fe Brewing Company nut brown ale,” he replied, inwardly pleased that she’d liked the beer and wanted more. “They have it on tap here.”

  “Some of that, then.”

  The waiter on duty was Ellis, a guy Tony liked to hang out at the bar and shoot the shit with when The Cellar wasn’t too busy. He came up to the table now to take their order, and, judging by the way Ellis glanced at Cassandra, then over at Tony, it was pretty obvious that he’d expect more details the next time Tony came into the restaurant by himself.

  Problem was, he knew he’d need some time to figure out an explanation for her that didn’t involve exposing the whole Castillo clan for the witches and warlocks they were.

  Luckily, Ellis was on his best behavior and took their drink orders without comment, despite the look he’d given Tony a minute earlier. He said he’d be back with their beers in a minute, then headed over to the bar.

  And of course Cassandra knew better than to say anything too sensitive in public, because all she did was remark, “This is a cool place. I can see why you like coming here — and why the tourists have a hard time finding it.”

  “Do you have to do a lot of tourist-dodging in Tucson, too?”

  “Tubac, actually,” she corrected him. “It’s an artsy little town about forty minutes south of Tucson. But yeah, we get a lot of tourists, especially in the winter. I doubt it’s anything like Santa Fe, though.”

  Probably not. Like any other destination city, Santa Fe had its slow times, but they were few and far between. “I’ve never heard of Tubac.”

  Her eyes glinted at him from across the table. “Most people probably haven’t.”

  Ellis came by with their beers then, and asked if they were ready to order. Cassandra nodded and ordered a French dip, while Tony got his favorite Reuben. Belatedly, he realized that dripping sauerkraut all over the place while trying to look suave in front of his guest probably wasn’t the best idea in the world, but it was too late to change his mind.

  Anyway, this wasn’t about impressing Cassandra. It was about trying to figure out who the hell had attacked his mother and stolen those damn books.

  “That was good news about your mother,” she murmured, after stealing a quick glance to make sure Ellis was out of earshot.

  Tony nodded. “Kind of the same thing happened with Louisa and Malena when Si — when he attacked them. They were both in comas for a few days, but their condition was never bad enough that Yesenia thought they needed to go to the hospital. And then they just sort of woke up on their own.”

  “I was wondering if that was why you didn’t seem too worried.”

  Was that a sideways rebuke? He allowed himself to study Cassandra’s expression for a moment before he picked up his beer, but all he saw in her pretty features was a certain thoughtfulness, as if she’d been trying to figure out why he’d reacted to the situation the way he had.

  “I like to hope for the best,” he said, his tone neutral, then took a sip of brown ale.

  “As long as you prepare for the worst,” she remarked before also sipping at her beer.

  “Is that what you do?”

  Her reply was guarded. “I suppose.”

  About all he could do was chuckle. “I’m surprised you didn’t become a cop like your father.”

  “I thought about it,” she said, expression serious. “But he sort of talked me out of it. He said that when you’re — well, when you’re like us, then you have to hide a big part of who and what you are from your partner, and that makes it difficult when you’re faced with life-and-death sorts of decisions. It’s a strain. It makes a tough job that much harder. So I decided not to pursue it.”

  “What do you do now?”

  “Graphic design, a little web stuff.”

  “That’s a switch.”

  “I guess so. I always liked design, though, so it seemed like the natural thing to pursue.” She drank some more of her beer, then asked, “What about you?”

  “I’m not much of anything,” he replied, and she looked at him in some surprise.

  “That’s kind of a crazy thing to say about yourself.”

  “It’s the truth,” he said, and wished he could tell her he was a neurosurgeon or an astrophysicist or a guy who built houses for Habitat for Humanity. Something impressive, something that would make her think of him as something more than a guy who’d inherited a lot of money and therefore didn’t have to do much of anything with himself except go from party to party in an attempt to keep himself amused. “I don’t work.”

  “Really?” Her fingers tapped against the side of her beer glass. “I mean, I know we all have some family money, but in my clan, pretty much everyone has a job so we don’t attract attention.”

  “That’s how it is with the Castillos, too. But my grandfather l
eft me a big chunk of money, so it seemed even more pointless than usual to get a job for protective camouflage.” He flashed a grin at her and added, “It drives my parents crazy.”

  Most women would have reacted to that smile by returning it, or maybe blushing and looking away. That had been his prior experience, anyway. But Cassandra looked back at him, her gaze level, expression thoughtful. “Don’t you get bored?”

  “No,” he told her, but even as the word left his lips, he knew he was lying. It wasn’t a huge lie, because there were large chunks of his existence where he was perfectly content, happy to sort of roll along and occupy his time with whatever seemed amusing at the moment. However, he also knew that there were other instances where he thought if he had to go to the movies by himself one more time, or listen to the excuses of his much busier friends as to why they couldn’t go to a party or a concert or even a gallery opening, he might just have to bash his head against a wall.

  Something about those hazel-green eyes seemed far too piercing. Cassandra regarded him for just a second or two longer, mouth slightly pursed, and then lifted her beer and sipped again. “Well, if it works for you.”

  Tony wasn’t sure if it was working as well as it used to. Then again, his parents’ nagging him to find a suitably distant cousin and settle down didn’t help much, either. It wasn’t as if the world was exactly lacking in Castillo witches and warlocks; he didn’t see much point in contributing to the clan’s population just because he was expected to.

  But maybe that was because he’d never met anyone sufficiently interesting before now.

  To his relief, Ellis came up with their sandwiches then, and that provided enough distraction for Tony to turn his thoughts to far less fraught topics. Cassandra seemed to guess at his mood, or at least she’d decided it wasn’t worth it to push the issue, because she ate quietly, only pausing here and there to ask questions about the restaurant or Santa Fe itself, acting as though she was just a friend visiting from out of town and nothing more.

  And when they were done, and waiting for Ellis to come back with the bill, Tony had to reflect that there was something to be said for a girl who seemed to understand you and was okay with being quiet. If asked, he would have once said he was all for the lively, party-girl types, but now he wasn’t so sure. Cassandra had a quiet steadiness to her that made him think vivacity was highly overrated.

  Was it crazy for him to be thinking these sorts of things about a girl he’d just met, especially one who’d come here to Santa Fe on secret and dangerous business?

  Probably. It would be smart for him to suggest that she’d really be more comfortable checking into a hotel, that he’d help her find a place to stay.

  Tony knew he wouldn’t do that, though. Whatever happened, he wanted to make sure he spent as much time as he could with Cassandra…for as long as he could.

  4

  It was a little strange to be crashing here at Tony’s house, but Cassandra told herself that it was a big place, and the room he occupied was all the way at the end of the upstairs hallway, with two other bedrooms — one used as a sort of office, and the other a workout space, from what she could tell — sandwiched in between. He shouldn’t be able to hear her coming and going from the bathroom across the hall, and she doubted she’d be able to hear anything he was doing, either, unless he turned out to be the world’s biggest snorer.

  This was definitely not how she’d planned to end her day. By now, she should have been back in Phoenix, and the books should have been safely stored in the library Zoe had built onto the back of her big hacienda-style house in Scottsdale. That task done, Cassandra would have gone home to Tucson and gone back to work, glad that she’d been able to be of service to her clan.

  Instead, she was in a bedroom that definitely had more of the ghostly Victoria’s influence in the decorating, from the dark green paint on the wall to the mahogany antiques that furnished the room. The bed was narrow but had a very tall headboard; Cassandra hoped she’d be able to sleep there without worrying about whether it was going to fall over on her.

  After dinner, they’d come back and watched TV for a while, neither of them really sure what they should do next. Tony’s father had called and the two of them had talked for a bit — Sophia seemed to be all right, more in a very deep sleep than a medical coma, although she showed no signs of waking up. And Cassandra had called her parents as well, even though she knew Zoe must have already been in touch to let them know what was going on. Her mother wanted her to come back to Arizona as soon as she could, but Cassandra’s father was a bit more measured.

  “If you’re determined to see this through, then we can’t do much to stop you,” he said. “But you need to be careful, Cass, especially if we’re dealing with a branch of the Escobars here, or at least someone who practices the same kind of magic.”

  “I’ll be careful,” she promised him, right before she ended the call. “Honestly, I don’t even know what my next step is right now. But I’m the best person to secure the books, because of my talent, so the Castillos need me.” Or at least, that was what she’d told herself. It felt better to think of herself as indispensable, rather than a very minor cousin in the huge de la Paz family.

  A half-civilian one at that.

  Cassandra realized she’d forgotten to mention to Tony that her mother wasn’t a witch. He didn’t seem like the sort of person who’d really care one way or another, but then, she’d heard that the Castillos tended to be snooty about that kind of thing, and that the former prima really frowned on mixed marriages. Miranda wasn’t anything like that, of course, but who knew what sorts of prejudices lingered among the rest of the family?

  She told herself that it shouldn’t matter, that she was just here to do a job and leave, but….

  But nothing. Tony was friendly and attractive and one of the more easy-going guys she’d ever met, and in the end, that didn’t mean anything. Cassandra had never been one to lie to herself, so she wasn’t going to start now. It had been a while since she’d felt this comfortable with a member of the opposite sex. She thought she might like him, or at least, she liked spending time with him, despite the circumstances that had brought her to Santa Fe. Even though she’d started out being her usual prickly self — probably part of the reason she’d sparred with Louisa was that their personalities were maybe a little too similar — Tony had still been nothing but friendly and easygoing. She’d already started to relax around him, which was a bad idea. This wasn’t the reason why she’d come here.

  She had a job to do.

  Despite the tall headboard, the bed itself was very comfortable, the mattress new and obviously barely used. But why would it be? In a town where you were surrounded by family, it wasn’t often that you had overnight guests…and any other “guests” Tony might have brought home would have slept in his room down the hall. She wondered what the ghostly Victoria had thought about that kind of activity.

  No, better not to dwell on that too much.

  Okay, then focus on the problem at hand. Her father had always told her to go back to the bare facts of a case, and that was what Cassandra needed to do now. The fact was that someone had been able to get past the defenses Miranda had set up and take what they wanted. Louisa’s impressions were of someone using magic similar to that practiced by the Escobars. Those impressions might or might not be correct, but they were pretty much all Cassandra had to work with. Whoever it was, they’d taken the books and left Sophia Castillo lying there in a magically induced coma.

  Why didn’t they kill her?

  The thought had crossed Cassandra’s mind earlier, although she hadn’t voiced it aloud, knowing that kind of speculation would only upset Tony. But still, if they were talking about some type of Escobar involvement here — or even someone who was using an analogue of the Escobars’ magic — then why had they left the only witness to the crime alive? From the way Sophia had been lying there, it seemed clear that she must have heard something, must have come to try to stop t
he intruder. Otherwise, she would have remained in the kitchen, putting together a snack for her son and their visitor, oblivious to what was going on in the next room.

  Which begged the question…had Sophia seen the thieves?

  If she had, then it was strange that they’d left her alive. It was kind of terrible to think such a thing about the mother of a man she liked, but Cassandra knew she needed to be coldblooded and logical about all this. After all, it wasn’t as though the Escobars had ever scrupled at killing people before now. More than twenty years ago, they’d left a trail of bodies through California and Arizona, and the late prima’s powers were probably the only reason they hadn’t done the same thing here in New Mexico.

  Except….

  Maybe the thief had planned to kill Sophia, but had heard Cassandra and Tony arriving and had fled the scene before he could get caught. It was frightening to think they might have been that close to the perpetrator, and yet the theory made sense. Better to get away with the precious books than risk running up against two more witnesses and possible adversaries.

  Tony had said his mother seemed to be getting better, at least according to his father’s report. With any luck, she’d wake up soon, and then maybe she’d have a description of the person who’d assaulted her. Armed with that information, she and Tony could try to track him down.

  Lying there in bed, Cassandra had to shake her head at herself. Even if Sophia woke up and provided a description, there was little to no chance that she and Tony would be tasked with such a dangerous undertaking. The Castillo clan must have people whose talents were better suited to that sort of thing, although she had to admit she didn’t even know what Tony’s magical talent was. He hadn’t mentioned it, even though he probably could have slipped the subject into their conversation on the drive to Santa Fe, when she’d told him about her peculiar “shield” gift. Maybe his talent was something awesome and powerful, and that was why he’d been the one to pick her up at the airport. A more likely scenario, though, was that he’d been given that task because it was his mother who’d been watching over the books all this time, and her house they were going to, and he was one of the few people who’d been let in on the secret.