Darknight (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 2)

by Christine Pope

  Logical enough, I guessed. It was time to get the eggs started, so I decided to let it go for now. “How do you like them? Scrambled? Over easy?”

  “Scrambled.”

  A boy after my own heart. Runny eggs were one of my irrational dislikes. I cracked half a dozen into a bowl, put in some milk, and beat them to a froth before pouring them into a skillet I’d had preheating.

  “I could get used to this,” he went on, watching me as I worked.

  “To what? Me in the kitchen? I guess next it would be barefoot and pregnant, right?”

  His expression went dark. “No, probably not that.”

  Shit. We’d danced around the issue, left it alone, hadn’t addressed it after I’d assured him that the little charm I mentally uttered every time we had sex would be enough to protect me. And it would — or so I’d been told. Even so, I could still hear Margot Emory’s words echoing in the back of my mind.

  The wives of Jeremiah’s line would never live to see their children grow up.

  “Sorry,” I began, but he shook his head.

  “No, we should have talked about it before this. It’s out there, waiting. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” I said, trying to sound reassuring, but I didn’t believe my own words. The Wilcox curse had been claiming its victims for the last hundred and thirty years or so — who was I to think that Connor and I could possibly come up with some way of circumventing it?

  “Damon hasn’t had much luck with that,” Connor remarked bitterly, and sipped his coffee.

  “I know, but….” A sudden thought occurred to me. “When I was told of the curse, the words were ‘the wives of Jeremiah’s line.’ So what if we just stay, I don’t know, shacked up together and never make it official?”

  “You think that wasn’t tried?”

  “Was it?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He drank some more coffee, while I hurried back to the stove and flipped the bacon, then started pushing the eggs around in the skillet so they wouldn’t get too brown. “Jeremiah’s son, Jacob, he had a child with one of his cousins out of wedlock. She went insane and threw herself out of a second-story window.”

  Although the kitchen was warm, it felt like someone had just dragged an icicle down my back.

  “And that son, Jonah, he thought maybe it was just a coincidence, and convinced his childhood sweetheart — a third cousin — that she should also be with him without the benefit of matrimony. She was knocked down by a runaway horse and killed a week after she moved in. So Jonah got himself a nice biddable second cousin, had a son with her — and then she died of scarlet fever a few months later.”

  “Stop it,” I said. I wanted to put my hands over my ears, but I was busy with the food — and Aunt Rachel had trained me so well that I didn’t even think about not tending to it.

  “I wish I could,” Connor said, eyes glittering. “But you need to know the truth. I love you, and it kills me that something terrible could happen to you. If we don’t ever have a child, maybe — maybe you’ll be safe.”

  I didn’t want to think about that. While I certainly wasn’t eager to have a baby anytime in the near future, I’d always thought one day I would have a family. It’s just what the prima did — married her consort and had children and lived out her days as the matriarch of the clan. Acknowledging that such a future might not be viable for me was not something I wanted to face.

  “Well, maybe it’s just the whole primus thing,” I said. “What about the children of the men who were of Jeremiah’s line but were the younger brothers?”

  “I don’t know,” Connor admitted, and his dark brows pulled together in a frown. “After Jeremiah — he did have family who came with him, three brothers and a sister, and their children — all of the primuses were only children. Until now…until me.”

  “Really?” I asked, startled. I had to turn away from him then, since, as with most meals, everything was ready at once, and I had to get the eggs dished up and the bacon draining and the biscuits out of the oven before they went from golden brown to just plain brown. Once everything was ready, and I’d taken the food over to the kitchen table, I went on, “So what does that mean?”

  He shrugged. “No one knows for sure. I told you everyone thought it was strange that my mother lasted so long after Damon was born. They thought she’d be gone within the year, just like all the other primus wives had. But she seemed to be all right, and time went on, and then…then there was me. The miracle baby.”

  This last was said in such dry tones that I knew he thought the exact opposite, that he wasn’t such a miracle after all. I would beg to differ, but I wasn’t about to get into that argument right now.

  “Well, then,” I said, “maybe the curse doesn’t apply to you. After all, you’re of Jeremiah’s line, but you’re not the primus. It could be okay.”

  “Do you want to risk it?”

  The question hung, heavy in the air. I swallowed. “Not right away. No, of course not. But I think it means there might be some hope.”

  “Hope.” He was quiet for a moment, considering. “That would be nice. But my family history doesn’t have too much hope in it.”

  No, I thought, not much hope at all. Suicide and madness and untimely death. Not a very good basis for family planning.

  I didn’t say any of that, of course. Instead, I reached out and touched his hand, squeezing his fingers gently, so he’d know I wasn’t about to give up, that I wanted to be with him, no matter what.

  Even if it kills you? I wondered.

  I refused to answer the question.

  * * *

  We ate in silence after that, neither one of us wanting to pursue the subject any further. Maybe it was better to let it go for now. After all, even though we shared the consort bond, knew this thing between us was serious and not some fling to be put aside in a few days or weeks or even months, we still had plenty of time. I had just turned twenty-two, after all, and I’d always wanted to wait until I was closer to thirty before I started a family. That was a lot of years to figure out how to stave off the Wilcox curse.

  After we were done with breakfast, and Connor had washed the plates and silverware, and put them in the dish drain— he insisted on doing that, even though I said it was no big deal — I said, “Can I ask you another question?”

  His expression told me that he really didn’t want me to, but he replied, evenly enough, “Sure.”

  The image of the young woman with the honey-blonde hair, the one I’d seen Damon put his arm around, flickered in my mind. “Why do the women in your clan even allow themselves to be with the primus? I mean, at the first hint that he might be interested, you’d think they’d head for the hills.”

  He finished wiping his hands on the dish towel and then hung it back from the hook where he’d found it. “Why do women in some off-shoot religions right here in America allow themselves to be married off to a man who already has five wives? Why did people drink the Kool-Aid at Jonestown? You can call it cultural conditioning or brainwashing or whatever you want — in my clan, it’s considered an honor to be the wife of the primus, to bear his child, even though you won’t be around to see that son grow up. And while you’re in that position, even if it only lasts for six months or a year or two, you’re the queen of the world.”

  “That’s — sick,” I replied, staring at him in disbelief. Something in the cold mask that had settled over his features as he gave his reply reminded me a little too much of his brother, and I shook my head to rid it of that image.

  “You think so, and I think so, but….” He lifted his shoulders. “It’s just the way it is.”

  I had to ask. “And your mother thought the same way?”

  “I don’t know. I was only three when she died, remember? We didn’t exactly have a lot of mother-son heart-to-heart talks. And if she ever said anything to Damon, he never shared it with me.”

  No, he probably wouldn’t. I could tell from the tight set of Con
nor’s mouth and the shuttered look in his eyes that he really didn’t want to discuss the topic any further. Fine, I’d let it go for now. I’d heard enough, actually — enough to be very glad that we McAllisters had a way for me to sidestep the curse for now. No baby, no untimely death. Simple math.

  “Okay,” I said. “You want to get out of here for a while? It looks like it’s shaping up to be a nice day.”

  * * *

  It was, too. When we left the house about ten minutes later, Connor still looking grim and preoccupied, I was glad of the bright sun overhead, the deep clear blue of the sky, the white puffs of clouds that moved with winds aloft, sending racing shadows over the hillsides. He didn’t exactly smile, but as we walked, with the crisp, cold breeze pulling at our hair and the scarves wound around our necks, I could see the set of his shoulders begin to relax a little, even though he was walking through what was, for him, enemy territory.

  Since it was the Friday of a holiday week, and so many people had the days between Christmas and New Year’s off, Jerome was packed with tourists. I used to hate days like this, since everywhere I went was overrun, but now I was glad of the crowds, glad of the protective coloration they provided. They made it so much easier for Connor and me to blend in with them. I couldn’t know for sure that members of my clan weren’t watching us, but I didn’t see anyone, and I took care to guide Connor toward the shops owned by civilians, and not McAllisters.

  I began to relax. Big mistake.

  The two of us were just leaving a shop that specialized in rocks and minerals and various Arizona-themed tchotkes when I heard Adam’s voice.

  “So it is true.”

  Connor and I halted, and then we both seemed to realize at the same time that we were blocking the doorway. Although I wished I could run back in the shop and hide in the storeroom, I knew that wasn’t a very practical option. So we moved outside and paused a few steps away from the door, in front of one of the shop windows.

  “Hi, Adam,” I said, trying to sound casual and probably failing utterly. Beside me, Connor had gone tense, but he was silent, waiting for me to take the lead here. I didn’t like it, but it made sense. This wasn’t his fight.

  I could tell Adam wanted to make it his, though. Scowling, he glanced from me to Connor, where his angry blue-gray stare lingered. “I didn’t want to believe it,” he said. “I couldn’t believe that you’d actually stoop so low as to be with a Wilcox.”

  Connor’s jaw clenched at that, but he said nothing.

  “Adam, he’s my consort,” I replied.

  “Right, like I’m supposed to believe that.”

  “Believe whatever you want. I know what the truth is.”

  That was definitely not what he wanted to hear. I could see the way his chest rose and fell under his sweatshirt, the way his cheekbones were flushed with anger. A family passed us, two kids in tow, and I could almost feel the woman’s curious gaze settle on our tense little group. It was pretty clear that the three of us weren’t exactly having a friendly conversation.

  “Look,” Connor put in, “this has been hard for everyone. We’re just trying to figure it out as we go along, okay?”

  “Hard?” Adam repeated. He looked like he wanted to push Connor over the nearest cliff — not that I thought he’d probably win any kind of physical contest between the two of them. Connor had about two inches on Adam, and was much more muscular.

  As for a magical contest, well, I still didn’t know the extent of Connor’s talents, but unless Adam could use his weather magic to summon a storm cloud to throw a few lightning bolts Connor’s way, I had a feeling he wouldn’t prevail in a confrontation like that, either.

  “You don’t know what ‘hard’ is, Wilcox,” Adam continued. “Hard is seeing the woman you love stolen out right from under you — only to find out she’s gone over to the enemy side!”

  “Whoa,” I cut in. “I’m not on their side.”

  “Whose side are you on, then?”

  “Mine.” I reached out and took Connor’s hand, wrapping my fingers around his gloved ones. “His. The rest of you — McAllisters and Wilcoxes and whoever else tries to interfere with that — can just fuck off. Let’s go, Connor.”

  I pushed past Adam, and although I could tell he wanted to reach out and grab my arm, keep me from leaving, something in the warning glare I shot at him must have told him that he needed to back off, and now. Connor wisely kept silent, following me as I threaded my way through the crowds, marching back up the hill toward the house. Any desire I might have had to spend some time showing him around my hometown had been effectively killed by that encounter.

  It wasn’t until we were back inside the big Victorian at the top of the hill that Connor said anything. “You can’t really blame him,” he told me gently as I slammed the front door behind us.

  “Yes, I can, and I am,” I snapped, unwrapping the scarf from around my neck and unbuttoning my coat. “He wouldn’t have acted that way if my consort had turned out to be Alex Trujillo or someone like that.”

  “Alex Trujillo, huh? Any reason you should mention him out of all the possible candidates you kissed?”

  My face felt flushed, and it probably didn’t have much to do with the cool and breezy air outside. “No, I’m just saying that if my consort had been one of the ‘approved’ candidates, then Adam wouldn’t have had a problem with it.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Connor took off his own scarf and coat, then hung them in the downstairs closet next to mine. “I don’t know him, but it’s pretty clear that Adam’s in love with you. It can’t be easy to see the person you love with someone else — even if that person isn’t a big bad Wilcox. But since I am, that makes it that much worse.”

  I didn’t want to acknowledge the truth in his words, but deep down, I knew he was right. Yes, Adam would’ve dealt with it if I’d ended up with Alex or someone else like him, but he wouldn’t have been happy. What he’d wanted was for me to never meet my true consort, so I could end up with him instead.

  “Is it too early for a drink?” I inquired. “Because I could really use one.”

  “Hey, it’s always five o’clock somewhere,” Connor replied lightly. “But I don’t think that’s really going to solve your problem.”

  “I don’t think anything is.”

  His eyes, watching me, were sympathetic. It really had been stupid for me to come here, but I just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge how deep the prejudice against the Wilcoxes ran. For whatever reason, it was more important to my family that my consort was one of the enemy than I was one of them. That I was their prima.

  And that hurt worst of all, because the prima was supposed to be everything — clan leader and touchstone, the person they looked up to, the one who provided strength and protection and guidance. Or that was how it had seemed to me when Great-Aunt Ruby was the head of our clan. But she wasn’t some untried and untested girl, and her consort had been someone universally liked and respected.

  The hurt and betrayal must have been clear in my face, because suddenly I was in Connor’s arms, and he was holding me close, my face against his chest so I could hear his strong, slow heartbeat and feel the slight scratch of his wool sweater against my cheek. There, encircled in that embrace, I knew I was safe and loved and wanted — the complete opposite of how my family had made me feel.

  A knock came at the door, and I let out a sigh. “Let’s ignore it.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe it’s Adam, coming to apologize.”

  “I doubt that. He’s just as stiff-necked and stubborn as I am.”

  Connor chuckled, and brushed a kiss against the top of my head. “Hey, it’s your house. I’ll ignore it if you want me to do.”

  The knock sounded again, louder this time. I waited, hoping whoever it was would go away. Then I heard Tobias’s voice. “Angela? Are you home?”

  Damn. Adam I could have ignored, because I was angry with him, and probably ditto for my aunt, because that wound was even more raw. But Tob
ias?

  “I’d better go see what he wants,” I said, and disentangled myself from Connor’s arms.

  He nodded, and followed me out to the foyer, then took a quick peek through one of the side windows. “Oh, great — it’s the guy who looks like he could rip my arms and legs off.”

  “Shh. I told you he’s a big teddy bear.” Trying to adjust my expression so my recent angst wouldn’t be too obvious, I opened the door.

  Tobias gave me a diffident smile. “Hi, Angela. Are you busy?”

  “No. I mean — we were just sort of hanging out. Come on in.”

  I stepped out of the way so he could enter, and I noticed Connor backing off a pace or two. Despite everything that was going on, I couldn’t help smiling a little. Figuring I might as well get it over with, I said, “Tobias, this is Connor Wilcox. Connor, this is Tobias Mills. He’s my aunt’s — ” I broke off and tilted my head to the side. “How do you two refer to yourselves, anyway?”

  “‘Very good friends’ will do,” he replied, dark eyes twinkling at me. “I’d say it was nice to meet you, Connor, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t believe me.”

  Connor’s eyebrows went up. “Well, I — ”

  “Never mind,” Tobias cut in. “Angela, do you mind if we talk a little?” His gaze shifted to Connor and then back to me. “Alone?”

  “No problem,” Connor said at once. “I can go upstairs to the library. I left a book up there anyway. Nice to meet you, Tobias.” He approached me, squeezed my hand, and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’ll be fine,” he whispered, and headed up the steps to the second floor.

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I made myself turn to Tobias and said, “Let’s go back to the family room. Can I get you a cup of coffee or anything?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  So much for that delaying tactic. I led him toward the rear of the house, toward the cozy space that was now the TV room and my preferred hangout, since the living room still felt a little too grand and formal, even after all the redecorating I’d done.