Darknight (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 2)

by Christine Pope

  “Oh, thank the Goddess,” she said, moving forward and folding me in her arms. “When the word came down that you were home, I couldn’t quite believe it. Since I hadn’t heard back from you, I didn’t know — ”

  Her words broke off as she noticed Connor standing a few paces away in the foyer, his figure shadowed, since the light from the narrow leaded-glass windows framing the door didn’t reach that far. She let go of me slowly, then took a step backward.

  Again, no easy way to do this. I lifted my chin and said, “Aunt Rachel. This is Connor. Connor Wilcox.”

  She didn’t quite gasp, but I still heard her breath go in. “But — ”

  “He’s my consort.” Half-turning from her, I gestured for Connor to step forward. He did so, but I could see the reluctance in every tense line of his body. Despite that, he reached out and took my hand in his, held it tightly.

  “That’s not possible.” Like Margot and Boyd and Henry, she wouldn’t look at Connor, instead kept her gaze fixed squarely on my face.

  “It is. He is.”

  She remained silent, staring at me in a sort of numb horror, as if her brain had frozen and she couldn’t get it working to process what I was telling her.

  Wanting to fill that horrible, empty pause, I said quickly, “Well, at least now you know why none of the candidates worked out. We just weren’t looking in the right place.”

  The joke fell flat, as I realized it would the second it left my lips. Nothing for it, though. I floundered for something else to say — anything, as my aunt was staring at me as if I’d been diagnosed with some sort of horrible, infectious, and ultimately fatal disease.

  To my surprise, Connor said gently, even as he took my hand, “We know this sounds crazy. We’re still trying to figure it out ourselves. But Angela wanted her family to know the truth. So we’re here. And I want you to know that I do love her. Very much.”

  At last my aunt found her voice. Not that I wanted to hear what she said next. Her brows pulled together, and I saw the same loathing she’d shown when we encountered Damon Wilcox in Phoenix a month earlier. “Love? That’s something you Wilcoxes know nothing about.”

  She turned on her heel then, marching down the porch stairs and along the path that cut through the postage-stamp lawn, now yellow and dead with winter’s frosts. I took a step after her, then felt Connor’s hand gripping mine, holding me back.

  “Let her go,” he said quietly. “She has to figure this out in her own time, in her own way. You can’t erase a lifetime of hate in just one afternoon.”

  True words. I knew that, but still I felt a little piece of my heart break as I watched my aunt turn her back on me, on the man I loved. Maybe she’d work through it eventually, but it was going to be a rough road until then.

  “Okay,” I said at last. “But you know what? I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to show you around town. I can’t take another confrontation like that. Not right now, anyway.”

  “That’s fine. Whatever you want to do.” He hesitated, then asked, “So what do you want to do?”

  “Something normal people would do,” I replied, the plan resolving in my mind even as I spoke. “I’m going to call Syd, and we’re going to go down to Cottonwood, and we’re going to go out and eat and drink and talk about anything except our crazy families. I don’t care what. Movies. Politics. Baseball.”

  “It’s football season,” Connor pointed out gently.

  “Whatever. Let’s just go.”

  “Okay, sweetheart.” He bent down and kissed me. “Whatever you want.”

  10

  Normal

  We didn’t make our escape quite as quickly as I’d hoped, mostly because when I called Sydney, it turned out she was working until five. “But Anthony has the night off, so that’s something,” she told me. “How about we meet you at Bocce at about a quarter to six? It’s going to be crazy-busy, but maybe you can get there a little early and get our names on the waiting list.”

  I said that was fine, and hung up. Since she was at work, she didn’t have a chance to really talk, but I could tell she was bursting with questions as to why we were here in Jerome rather than up in Flagstaff. Good question. I’d begun to wonder the same thing myself.

  Unfortunately, she’d have to wait a while to get any actual answers, because no way was I going to talk about any of this stuff in front of Anthony. He seemed like a nice guy, but even so, I wasn’t going to start blabbing about McAllisters and Wilcoxes and witch clans in front of him. Maybe if this thing with Sydney turned out to be really serious, and it looked like they were going to make it permanent — well, maybe then I’d feel safe confiding in him. Until then, Connor and I would just have to pretend to be another normal couple.

  So I took the time to freshen up a little, to change into a long-sleeved white T-shirt and black wool jacket, and fuss with my hair so it wasn’t quite as much of a mess as usual. Connor seemed to guess my mood and went down to the study/library to look at the books on the shelves there.

  I’d just finished slipping a pair of silver hoops in my ears when he came back into the bedroom, a paperback in one hand. “I hope that’s not Valley of the Dolls,” I said. “I don’t want you getting corrupted.”

  “Too late for that.” But he was smiling, so I knew he’d meant it as a joke. “No, hate to disappoint you, but it’s just a copy of The Client.”

  “As if I’m going to give you much time to read,” I teased.

  The smile faded. “We don’t have to stay here, you know. We can go out with your friends and just head back to Flagstaff at the end of the evening.”

  “No,” I said at once. “I’m not going to go running back with my tail between my legs. This is my town and my clan, dammit. Sooner or later they’ll get their heads out of their asses. I was probably being naïve thinking they were going to welcome you with open arms.”

  “It just shows you’re the better person.” He shifted the paperback from one hand to another, then turned it over, as if intending to read the copy on the back. But his gaze remained fixed on my face. “I said I’d do what you want, Angela, and I meant it. But there’s no shame in leaving here and regrouping if you’re not comfortable.”

  I hesitated. Never in my life would I have thought I’d consider Flagstaff a place of refuge. And it wasn’t, really. Connor’s apartment, yes, but I realized that was because it was Connor’s. I had him with me here. It was enough. I could do this.

  “I know that,” I replied. “Let’s just go out tonight and clear our heads, and then tomorrow let’s see if giving them all a night to think about it has helped any.”

  “Deal.” He glanced up at the clock on the mantel. “Still too early to go?”

  It was a little after five. “Close enough. We’ll have to wait anyway, and if we get a table before Syd and Anthony get there, it’s no big deal. They’ll find us. The place isn’t that big.”

  A nod, and then he put the book on one of the nightstands before heading out and down the stairs. I gathered up my purse; my overcoat was hanging in the closet downstairs, so I’d fetch that on the way to the garage. Connor had left his draped over one of the dining room chairs; I assumed he was on his way to get it. Maybe it wasn’t as cold here as in Flagstaff, but I could tell it was going to get below freezing tonight.

  No matter. We’d be inside someplace warm with friends, and that was all I needed.

  * * *

  As predicted, there was already a sizable crowd at Bocce, but Connor and I managed to squeeze in at the bar and order a glass of wine while we waited.

  “I had no idea Cottonwood had this kind of nightlife,” he said, gazing around at the packed restaurant in some amusement.

  “’Cause we’re just a bunch of hicks, right?”

  He gave me a pained look. “That’s not what I meant.”

  I sipped some of my malbec before replying. “No, I was just teasing. Bocce’s gotten written up in some pretty big magazines and newspapers, so a lot of people on vacation make
a special effort to come here. Kind of sucks for us locals, but what do you do?”

  “Go somewhere else?”

  “You’ll retract that statement once you’ve had their mushroom pizza.”

  Green eyes danced at me. I noticed one of the waitresses giving Connor the side-eye as she passed by us, and I refrained from scowling or throwing a random hex in her direction…not that I really knew how to do anything like that. The ogling was something I’d probably have to get used to. After all, he was so very stare-able.

  Connor’s name got called then, so we squeezed through the crowd to the hostess station, then followed the girl on duty to a cozy table off in one corner. It was better than I’d hoped for, considering how crowded the place was. At least here we’d be able to talk without having to shout at one another.

  The two of us settled in on one side of the booth, and I could feel Connor run his hand along my thigh before he reached up to put his napkin in his lap. Heat surged in me, pooling somewhere between my legs, and I gave him a mock-frown.

  “It’s not fair, getting me all hot and bothered when we’re out in public like this.”

  “Just making sure you’ll still be up for it when the time comes.”

  “Oh, I’ll be up for it…as long as you are.”

  He shot a dazzling smile at me, then bent close to my ear and whispered, “Angela, I’m already up for it.”

  The heat in my core threatened to rage hotter than the wood-fired ovens in the kitchens just a few yards away. “Now you’re playing dirty.”

  “Always.”

  I heard my name called then, and looked away from Connor to see Sydney and Anthony weaving their way through the tables to our booth. Although of course they’d both met Connor before, if briefly, that wasn’t stopping Sydney from giving him a fast appraisal before she mouthed oh, my God at me. Good thing she was facing away from Anthony so he couldn’t see what she’d just done.

  As they got to the table, Connor stood up and extended a hand. “Hi — we sort of met at the Halloween dance, but I don’t think we actually introduced ourselves. I’m Connor Wilcox.”

  He said it casually, as if it really wasn’t a big deal, but of course it was. Cottonwood was still McAllister territory. I scanned the restaurant briefly to see if any clan members were there, but I hadn’t noticed any on the way in, nor when I gave the place a second look now.

  But Anthony certainly didn’t know anything about that. He shook Connor’s hand briefly. “Anthony Rocha. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “And I’m Sydney, but you already knew that.” She spied the two half-empty wine glasses on the table and said, “Looks like you guys got a head start. We’ll have to play catch-up.”

  “That’s my Syd, all business,” I said, and she plopped down in her chair, grinning.

  “Hey, if you’d had to deal with the people I did today, you’d need a drink, too.”

  Somehow I doubted that managing cranky after-Christmas shoppers was quite as bad as facing down the three strongest witches in the McAllister clan, or seeing the disappointment — scratch that, dismay — on my aunt’s face when she realized who had been standing behind me in the foyer of my home. Again, though, it wasn’t something I could really discuss in front of Anthony. I’d have to wait until Sydney and I had a chance to talk in private.

  “Do you want me to shoot up a flare to get the waitress over here?” I asked.

  She shot me an irritated look, but luckily a flare or other signal wasn’t necessary, as the waitress came over soon afterward. We decided to get a bottle of the malbec — “for starters,” Sydney put in — and then ordered some caprese to get the meal going.

  We sort of lapsed into silence after that, the guys shooting furtive looks at one another, as if they weren’t sure if they should be the ones to get things started. After a few seconds, though, Sydney seemed to spy the lay of the land, because she said, “So, wow. I was not expecting to see you two down here. I thought Anthony and I were going to come up to Flagstaff.”

  “Change of plans,” I said.

  “I wanted to see Jerome in daylight,” Connor said easily, as if the whole thing had been his idea. “I didn’t get to see much when I came for the dance. And since we’d already spent a few days in Flagstaff….”

  “We decided to come here,” I finished for him. “But we’re not going to stay in Jerome for more than a few days, probably, so it’s not like you won’t have your chance to come to Flagstaff.”

  “You get a lot of snow up there with this last storm?” Anthony asked.

  “A good bit,” Connor responded. “But I don’t think it’s going to last long. They’re predicting warmer weather over the weekend.”

  The comments about the weather seemed to break the ice, and the guys started talking about cross-country skiing and the hiking trails up and around Flagstaff, while Sydney kept darting her gaze between Connor and me as if she wasn’t quite sure she believed the evidence of her eyes. I couldn’t really fault her for that; it seemed slightly surreal to have him next to me, his warm jean-clad thigh pressed against mine, to hear his warm baritone as he and Anthony kept chatting. What Sydney had told Anthony, I had no idea, but he seemed to be taking the sudden development of a relationship between Connor and me in stride. Thank the Goddess that they hadn’t actually exchanged introductions at the dance, or Anthony would probably be trying to figure out the reason behind Connor’s name change.

  The appetizers came, and we ordered a couple of pizzas and another bottle of wine, since we were already a good bit into the first one. Then Connor said, “Do you two have any big plans for New Year’s?”

  Sydney and Anthony exchanged a glance. “Well, we’ve been invited to a couple of parties,” Sydney replied. Her blue eyes took on a glint I knew all too well. “Why, do you have something better in mind?”

  The corner of Connor’s mouth twitched a little. “I don’t know about better, but up in Flag they do this pinecone drop at midnight, and it’s basically a street party — all the bars are open, of course, and there’s a lot of live music.”

  “A pinecone drop?” Sydney repeated.

  “Sort of our version of Times Square,” Connor replied.

  It was the first I’d heard of it, but then, I’d never bothered researching Flagstaff’s various events and nightlife, since I hadn’t exactly thought I’d ever get a chance to participate in any of them. “That sounds like fun,” I said.

  “It does,” Anthony put in, “but the drive back could be tough, depending on the weather.”

  “Then stay up in town.”

  “Ooh, that would be fun. A hotel on New Year’s Eve instead of just going back to your apartment,” Sydney said. Then her expression fell somewhat. “They’re probably all booked up, though, right? At least anyplace worth staying?”

  I’d thought of that, too, but Connor shook his head. “It’s pretty busy, but I know the people who run the Weatherford Hotel, where the event takes place. I’m sure I can get something lined up for you, if you want to come.”

  “That would be fab!” Sydney turned to Anthony. “Wouldn’t it?”

  “It sounds great,” he agreed. “But I don’t want you to put yourself out or anything, getting a room together for us — ”

  “It’s no problem. Really.” Connor shifted in his seat so he could look down at me. His gaze was questioning, as if he wanted to know if it sounded okay to me, if I was all right with not being in Jerome on New Year’s.

  Considering the frosty reception we’d gotten so far, I was fairly certain that Connor and I wouldn’t be partying with the McAllisters anytime soon. The pinecone drop sounded like fun — and it also sounded like the sort of thing the Wilcoxes would stay far, far away from. I couldn’t imagine them rubbing elbows with a bunch of civilian hoi polloi on the streets of Flagstaff. No, it could be simply a fun evening out for the four of us, with no one having to worry about driving home.

  “It does sound perfect,” I said, and I felt rather than saw Connor rela
x at my words.

  Sydney grinned. “Great! Then we’re doing it — if you can get the hotel room sitch worked out.”

  “I’ll make a few calls. It’ll be fine.”

  I had to wonder if he was going to call in a few Wilcox favors to have someone hexed into stomach flu or what-have-you to make sure a room was available. Did I want to know? Probably not, but I was going to ask anyway, once Connor and I were back at the house.

  Then the pizza came, and we ate and chatted some more about the various bars and clubs in downtown Flagstaff, and which ones were the best. Or rather, Connor and Sydney and Anthony participated in that particular conversation, since I didn’t have much to contribute on the topic yet.

  After we were done eating, it was still not that late, so, rather than ending the evening, we headed for a bar on the opposite end of the old town section of Cottonwood. It was more or less packed, too, especially since the cold weather prevented people from using the patio outside, but we grabbed a booth as another group was leaving, and put in our order while the table was being bussed.

  Even as crowded as the place was, we were able to manage the noise level a little better. I’d mentioned to Connor that Anthony worked at the Fire Mountain wine-tasting room, and so he asked about that. Anthony, who was fairly quiet — especially compared to Sydney — really opened up on the subject, talking about how he was taking the viticulture course at Yavapai College and wanted to work at a winery one day as a winemaker, and maybe someday in the future have his own vineyards.

  As he talked, his dark eyes glowed, and Sydney seemed to glow, watching him. I could already tell Anthony was different from all the other guys she’d dated, partly because they’d made it past the two-month mark and seemed to still be going strong, but it was more than that. Some of her past boyfriends I’d liked and some I hadn’t, but none of them had had Anthony’s drive, his passion for something beyond watching sports or playing video games or even working on their cars. And I had to shake my head at Sydney’s father for not liking Anthony just because he wasn’t some white-bread kid who went to high school with us, or whatever.