Besides, based on what he’d told her, it didn’t sound as if he had much else to do with his time.
Lacking any further information, it seemed the most logical thing to do would be to talk to the Santiagos. After all, Joaquin Escobar had controlled their clan for months, and it was among the Santiagos that his two oldest children had lived since the time they were very young — basically a babe in arms, in Matías Escobar’s case. Someone had to know something. Even the smallest lead might be the very thing they needed to follow the trail to the thief who’d stolen the books.
Never mind that she and Tony didn’t have permission to enter Santiago territory, or that they might be following a dead end. Cassandra knew they had to try…or at least, she had to try.
Somehow, though, she had a feeling Tony would be up for it as well.
“Road trip!” he said enthusiastically as soon as she mentioned the idea over coffee the next morning. “Sounds like a great idea to me.”
“We aren’t exactly going sightseeing,” she reminded him, although there wasn’t much bite in those words. After all, this had been her idea.
“I know that,” he told her. “But I’ve never been to Southern California. It’s gotta be a lot warmer than here.”
“Well, I suppose so,” Cassandra said. “I’ve never been there, either. But it was in the low seventies back in Tucson, so I have a feeling it’s probably a little cooler than that in Pasadena.”
“It still sounds great.” He was quiet for a minute, though, clearly pondering the plan. “We’re not going to say anything to anyone about this, right?”
She knew they should. Protocol among clans demanded that Miranda, as prima, should call Marisol, the prima of the Santiago clan, to ask permission for Tony to come see her in California, just as Cassandra’s cousin Zoe should do the same for her. But if they did that, then they ran the very real risk of having Marisol say no, and since Marisol’s clan was vital to Cassandra’s fact-finding mission, she knew they didn’t have much of a choice, not if they wanted any real chance at finding the stolen grimoires.
Summoning a shaky smile, she said, “Better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.”
Tony grinned, teeth almost blinding in the bright sunlight that came in through the dining room window. The kitchen wasn’t big enough to have a breakfast area, so they sat at the dining table, an enormous cherrywood piece that looked as if it should be used for state visits rather than a casual cup of coffee. “I like the way you think, Cassandra.”
“‘Cass,’” she said. “That’s what my friends call me.”
If possible, the smile broadened. “Cass, then. This sounds like a great plan.”
“I don’t know how great it is. I’m probably going to get us both in a lot of trouble.” She wasn’t just saying that; she knew they would be taking a big risk merely by going to Southern California without getting permission first. At the very least, they would strain relations between the de la Pazes and the Santiagos. Probably with the Castillos as well, although since their territories didn’t border the Santiago lands, the situation there wasn’t quite as problematic.
“It’s kind of a stupid tradition, though,” Tony remarked after taking a swallow of coffee. “I mean, it’s a free country. We should be able to travel where we want, when we want.”
Privately, Cassandra agreed, but now she only shrugged. “Preaching to the choir. I guess I can see some of the reasons behind the rule — it’s always good to know who’s coming and going in your territory — but in a lot of ways, I think it’s hurt the witching world more than it’s helped. I mean, we all come and go pretty freely among the three Arizona clans now, and the world hasn’t ended.”
“No, it hasn’t.” He tapped his fingers against the side of his coffee mug, expression thoughtful. “Although it’s not really the same thing here in New Mexico, since it’s only Castillos here.”
He sounded almost wistful, as if he wished that his state was home to more than just the one witch clan. Cassandra could see why he might feel that way — she was glad of the way the de la Paz and McAllister and Wilcox families all moved here and there within Arizona’s borders without anyone having to stop and ask for permission. There had been a lot more intermarriages, too, which she supposed the purity police might have issues with. On the other hand, it was an obvious solution to the ongoing problem of a witch clan getting too inbred.
However, she didn’t feel quite comfortable mentioning such a side benefit to Tony. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was making any kind of a hint about such a possibility existing between the two of them. This trip was all business, nothing more.
And if she liked his smile, or the way he had of making her feel as if she was instantly at home, that they’d had been friends for years…well, she could admit those things to herself without agreeing that they meant much. Besides, she had the impression that Tony was like that with pretty much everyone. She certainly shouldn’t ascribe much importance to the way she felt so comfortable with him, except to be glad that he was going to be easy to work with.
Then he leaned forward slightly, his manner becoming more brisk. “Do you know much about Marisol Santiago?”
“Marisol Valdez,” Cassandra corrected him. “But no, not a lot. I mean, I know that Joaquin Escobar was able to control her after he killed the previous prima and her husband, and killed Marisol’s husband, too. Among all Escobar’s talents, that one was probably the worst — the way he was able to control people’s minds. I guess his son Matías had the same gift.”
“So did Simon,” Tony said. “Or at least, he could control some people. Miranda doesn’t like to talk about it, but I know he played some serious head games on my cousin Rafe…and on Miranda, too.”
So much power, so much talent…and all of it used for ill. Had Joaquin been born bad, too? Was there a strain of evil that had somehow been passed down through generations of the Escobar clan? Cassandra really didn’t want to think that, didn’t want to believe a witch family was somehow inherently evil — after all, even the Wilcoxes had proved themselves to be much better than their reputation might have indicated — but the evidence against the Escobars did seem to be pretty damning.
However, she couldn’t really say one way or another, since they knew so very little about Joaquin. Which was why they needed to go talk to Marisol, and hopefully Olivia, Matías’ older sister, as well.
“Right,” Cassandra said. “Marisol never remarried, never had any other children. Her prima-in-waiting is the granddaughter of the former prima, I think. Things have been very quiet for them for the past twenty years.”
“Except for letting Simon run amok,” Tony remarked with a curl of his lip.
“Well, that. Although they really didn’t have any idea what he was up to, so I’m not sure how much you can blame them for his actions.”
For the first time, Cassandra saw a flash of true anger in Tony’s dark eyes. “Based on a few things Miranda has said, I can blame them for a lot. If he hadn’t been treated like a castoff, maybe he wouldn’t have grown up into such a goddamn psychopath.”
Well, he had a point there. Marisol had given Simon to his half-sister Olivia to raise, and he hadn’t even known the Santiago prima was his true mother until he was in his teens. By then, his powers were already out of control, and he’d ended up living with Marisol for a while, until at last they reached a breaking point and he walked out and disappeared. Who knows what would have happened if he’d been able to have a fairly normal childhood, if his mother had tried to love him on his own terms, rather than only seeing him as the result of her rape by Joaquin Escobar?
Problem was, they couldn’t go back and change the past. All they could do was deal with the problem they faced now.
Voice gentler than she’d intended, she said, “Yeah, they screwed up, and your clan had to deal with the consequences. But as much as you might like to say those things to Marisol Valdez’s face, it’s probably better if you don’t.”<
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Surprisingly, Tony smiled again. “I wasn’t planning to. I know when I need to spread the old charm around.”
I’ll bet you do, Cassandra thought. One of those smiles, and maybe Marisol will be willing to tell us whatever we need to know.
Or maybe not. The questions they needed to ask couldn’t help but dig up old, buried pain. Obviously, Marisol wasn’t too good at dealing with the trauma in her past, or she wouldn’t have handed Simon off to his half-sister to raise. But again, that was a painful topic they’d do better to avoid.
“Good to know,” she said lightly. “Now, is anyone going to notice right away if you sort of just…disappear?”
Tony rubbed the dark scruff on his chin, appearing to ponder her question. Clearly, he hadn’t shaved yet this morning. “Normally, I’d say no,” he replied after a moment. “I mean, I’m usually running around town doing something, but it’s not like I go and have dinner at my parents’ house every Thursday or something. But with my mother the way she is, my father and sister are probably going to wonder why I’ve suddenly made myself scarce.”
“Well, maybe you should go visit this morning sometime,” Cassandra suggested. “Then we can slip away after that.”
“Good idea. Except….”
“Except what?”
“Except if Ava is there, she’s going to figure out something is up.”
“Why?”
“Because her talent is reading minds.”
Oof. That could be a problem. “Really?”
“Really. I mean, she has to consciously do it. She doesn’t just pick up thoughts randomly. But if I’m acting at all suspicious, then she might dip in and take a look around…so to speak.”
No, that really wasn’t good. “You’re sure she’ll be at your parents’ house?”
“If she said she was coming to Santa Fe to help out with Mom, then she’s here. Ava does what she says and says what she does. Probably because of her talent, but that doesn’t make it any easier for the rest of us.”
As usual, Tony’s words sounded off-hand, almost amused, but Cassandra had to think it would have been pretty hard to grow up with a little sister who could pull every exaggeration or lie out of your brain without breaking a sweat. No wonder he’d moved into his own house after graduation rather than going back to his childhood home, which was what a lot of witch-kind did before settling down and getting married.
“Can she tell what you’re thinking when you’re on the phone with her?”
Tony shook his head, a certain light dawning in his dark eyes. “No, she has to be in the same room with you.”
Well, that was something. An idea was forming in Cassandra’s mind. Maybe it was wrong to pull Tony away when his mother was still in a coma, but she knew if they hesitated, waited to get permission, they ran the risk of never being able to track down who had attacked Sophia and stolen the grimoires. “Then tell them I decided to go home, since there wasn’t anything I could do here. Say you’re driving me down to the airport. That’ll give us a little lead time.”
To her relief, he didn’t argue. “Okay. But that’s still only going to buy us a couple of hours, tops. Sooner or later, they’re going to figure out I’m not coming back to Santa Fe any time soon.”
“It’s okay,” Cassandra replied, even as she hoped it actually would turn out to be okay. “We just need to make sure we’re far enough away by the time they figure out what’s going on that they can’t try to stop us.”
His dark eyes glinted, and he grinned again. “Sounds like we’ve got a plan.” However, his expression sobered almost immediately. “Um…do you actually know where we’re going?”
She’d been wondering when he was going to ask. “Yes, I do. I mean, Marisol’s address isn’t exactly common knowledge, but I was able to figure it out.”
“How?”
“A lot of time poring over Google street-view maps.” As Tony shot her a disbelieving look, she went on, trying not to sound defensive, “It wasn’t that hard. I knew her house was in an older, upscale part of Pasadena, and I knew it was Spanish style with a turret in front.”
“And how did you know all that?”
“I listened when people were talking.” That sounded simplistic, but it was only the truth. All right, maybe it was easier to pick up that kind of privileged information when your cousin was the clan’s prima and your father a former detective who just happened to be the prima’s uncle, but really, people dropped all sorts of interesting tidbits when talking around children. Cassandra had always liked listening to the adults talk at family parties, mostly because she never really knew what she might overhear. She’d filed the info about the Santiago prima’s house away for future reference, thinking it might come in handy one day. “Anyway, I had an idea about the neighborhood and the architecture of the house, and so I just started poking around online. Eventually, I was able to figure it out, so I looked up the parcel information on the L.A. County assessor’s website and saw that it had been in the Santiago family since the 1940s. Easy.”
Tony shook his head, expression bemused. “Sounds to me like you should have gone into police work after all. Or maybe been a private detective.”
Maybe she should have, despite her father’s warnings. Now wasn’t the time to worry about her career choices, though. They had a job they needed to do. “No, this was just a little pastime of mine. And it seems like it’s finally going to pay off. Anyway, you don’t need to worry about us running off with no clear destination. I know exactly where we’re going.”
“Good,” Tony said, now looking rather grim. “I guess that makes one of us.”
Cassandra didn’t bother to offer him any reassurances…even if she’d had any to give. They were taking a huge risk without any idea of whether it would pay off or not. About all they could do was go ahead with their plan and hope for the best…
…and, like she’d told him the day before, plan for the worst.
5
Luckily, it was his father who answered the phone, not Ava. Even though Tony had told Cassandra that his sister couldn’t read the thoughts of anyone who wasn’t in the same room with her, he still didn’t like lying to Ava, as if all the years of knowing she could pick out the truth from his mind had made him gun-shy no matter what the situation.
“I can understand why Cassandra would decide to go home,” Henry said. He sounded more relaxed this morning, possibly because Ava was there to trade shifts keeping an eye on Sophia. “There isn’t much she can do here, unfortunately. But it was nice of her to stay over, just in case the situation changed, rather than turn around and go straight back to Arizona.”
“Yeah, she wanted to be sure,” Tony replied. “But she talked to her prima, and they decided there wasn’t any point in her staying.”
“Was Zoe very angry?”
“Um, no,” Tony said, thinking fast. That last lie had slipped out before he’d stopped to think about the ramifications of dragging the de la Paz prima into all this. “I mean, she was worried, and upset, but I don’t think she thought any of this was at all our fault. I guess they’re going to try to figure out what they should do next.”
“Just as we are over here,” Henry said. “At least your mom seems to be improving. She squeezed my hand again, and I could have sworn I saw her eyelids flutter. So I really think it’s just a matter of time.”
“That’s great news, Dad,” Tony replied. And it was. He hadn’t been quite able to free himself from a sense of nagging guilt at the thought of disappearing with Cassandra while his mother was in such a state, but if she was going to emerge from her coma at any moment, it meant the situation wasn’t as dire as it could have been, and therefore he didn’t have any real reason to stay here in Santa Fe.
Rationalization was a wonderful thing, wasn’t it?
“Thanks for letting me know about Cassandra,” his father went on. “Have a safe drive down to Albuquerque.”
“I will. Gotta go — I don’t want her to miss her flight.”<
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They said their goodbyes, and Tony ended the call and allowed himself a small sigh of relief. It hadn’t been a complete lie, anyway — he and Cassandra would sort of pass by the Sunport as they headed west on I-40.
“Are we good to go?” she asked. She’d been standing by the kitchen door as he made his call, one of the nylon overnight bags she’d had folded up in her purse sitting on the floor by her feet. The stuff she’d bought yesterday had somehow magically all fit in there, although he wasn’t sure how she’d managed it.
“Sounds like it,” he replied, then bent down to pick up his own bag. He’d packed enough for about three or four days, give or take. It was sort of hard to know what you’d need when heading off into the unknown, but he figured he could always buy more underwear and socks in California if necessary. “My mother seems to be doing even better, so they really don’t need me here.”
Cassandra looked a little relieved at that statement. “That’s good news. I was starting to think whether we were doing the right thing, but….”
“We are,” Tony said firmly. He didn’t pretend to be psychic or anything like that, but something told him that he and Cass had made the right decision. Maybe Miranda was consulting with Louisa, trying to figure out what they should do next. However, if that were the case, he sure as hell hadn’t heard anything about it. He supposed it was possible they didn’t need to keep him in the loop, because although it was his mother who’d been attacked, he really didn’t have the right skill set to help out in this particular situation.
Which begged the question of why he was running off into the blue with Cassandra. She’d convinced him that they could do this, but deep down, he knew he had agreed to this expedition more because he wanted to spend time with her than because he had any particular hope for a good outcome. In the back of his mind, he considered those damn books well and truly gone. About all they could hope for was that whoever had stolen them would be using the grimoires to make life miserable for those immediately around them, and not any of the Arizona or New Mexico witch clans.
An Ill Wind Page 6
