The Witches of Canyon Road, Books 1-3

by Christine Pope

  Malena quietly excused herself to go over to the person I guessed was her husband, an attractive, athletic man in his early thirties. He was with a little girl, really just a toddler, probably no more than two at the most. She murmured something to her husband, who gave a grim nod.

  Rafe appeared to be looking around for someone, and frowned. Cat sent him an inquiring glance, and he said, “I wanted to see if Daniel was still here.”

  “Daniel?” I asked.

  “Our cousin,” Cat supplied. “He’s a private detective. He was the one who first dug up the dirt on Simon.”

  “Barely in time,” Rafe said. “But it helped. A lot.” His brows pulled together. “I don’t see him, though.”

  “Well, you can talk later.”

  The doorbell rang, and the two of them exchanged a mystified look. I supposed it wasn’t that strange for them to be puzzled; after all, everyone was leaving, not coming.

  Rafe went to the door and opened it. Standing outside was a guy around my age, maybe a little older, in a long-sleeved chambray shirt with his name embroidered on the left breast. Adam.

  “Is this the Castillo residence?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Rafe replied, sounding guarded. I couldn’t really blame him, after everything that had happened today. For all any of us knew, it could be Simon in disguise. I knew firsthand how good he was at illusions, how he was able to block his magical nature so that no others of witch-kind could even recognize him for what he was. I tensed, and wondered if I would have to confront him much sooner than I’d anticipated.

  “I’m with Ortiz Towing,” Adam said. “A Catalina Castillo had her vehicle towed from 342 Griego Hill Road to this address.”

  “Oh, right,” Cat said, sounding relieved. “I’d completely forgotten because…well.” She stopped there, tears glittering in her dark eyes. She swallowed, then told the puzzled-looking tow truck driver, “I’m Cat Castillo.”

  “Can I get some I.D.?”

  “Sure, just a minute. I left my purse in the other room.” She hurried off to get it, then came back a minute later and handed over the card.

  He scanned it into the tablet he held. “There wasn’t a key fob — ”

  “It’s okay,” Rafe said hastily, producing the item in question from his jeans pocket. “I had it. Stupid mix-up.”

  “All right,” said the tow truck driver, looking more confused than ever. I couldn’t really blame him, considering the situation. “You all have a nice day.”

  He nodded at us, then turned and headed down the walk.

  “Nice day,” Cat repeated. “There’s a joke.” She pulled in a breath before adding, “Well, at least I have my car back. Do you mind if I change before we head out? I want to get out of this dress.”

  “No, go ahead,” I told her, since Rafe had been temporarily distracted by an older woman who paused to give him a fierce hug on her way out the door. Cat shot me a grateful smile and fled upstairs, presumably to her bedroom.

  “My Aunt Rosa,” Rafe murmured as the woman squeezed his hand before heading down the front steps. “My father’s oldest sister.”

  I nodded. The Castillos were such a big and complicated family, I hoped that one day I’d be able to keep most of them straight.

  Of course, now they were one fewer.

  We stood in the entryway, arms around each other’s waists, and said goodbye as the last of the group who’d come to the house for Marco’s wake went out to their cars. Finally, Malena and Louisa came up with their husbands and children, and once again awkwardly hugged Rafe and me.

  “Be careful out there,” Louisa said, her tone fierce.

  “We will,” Rafe replied. “You, too.”

  “We’re going to Louisa’s first,” Malena told him. “Then we’ll circle back and start working on the north and east parts of town.”

  About all I could do was nod, since I had no idea where Louisa lived. Or Malena, for that matter. I knew where Rafe’s house was located, because of course I’d been there, and I knew Cat lived at home, and that was about all I knew of Rafe’s sisters. He and I had had so little time to talk, really talk, even get to know one another. Simon’s criminal meddling had ensured our separation, but there was no way I would ever let him get between us again. On that front at least, he’d lost. I knew I loved Rafe, couldn’t deny the fire that had flared between us, whereas I’d be perfectly happy if a pit opened in the ground somewhere and swallowed Simon whole.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t think we’d be that lucky.

  “As soon as I have a replacement phone and get it activated, I’ll call you and let you know,” Rafe said.

  Louisa nodded. “Good. With everything that’s going on, we can’t afford not to be in contact with each other.”

  And then she waved, making her farewell, and she and Malena and the rest of the group went outside, leaving Rafe and me alone in the foyer.

  We looked at each other. “Rafe, I — ” I began, but he shook his head.

  “We can talk later,” he said. “I’m…I don’t know if I’m okay, exactly, but I’m holding it together. I need to, because of them, and because of Cat.”

  “What because of me?” she asked, reappearing at just that moment, looking a bit more at ease in some jeans and a black sweater and boots.

  “Nothing,” Rafe replied. “I’m just glad you have your car back. It would’ve sucked to have to take a Ryde everywhere. You okay to drive?”

  I could see the way she swallowed, but then she nodded. “I’m fine. It’ll be good to get out of here, actually.”

  There was an understatement. I’d always found this house oppressive, something about its atmosphere like an actual weight, but now, knowing that Genoveva had died within these walls — well, I’d be happy if I never had to come back here.

  “I know the feeling,” Rafe said. “Then let’s go. We have work to do.”

  3

  Protection

  Rafe Castillo

  Even though Cat had said she was okay to drive, Rafe couldn’t keep himself from watching her closely as she pulled away from the curb and engaged the auto-drive function, instructing her Mercedes SUV to head south toward the mall. But she seemed calm enough…maybe too calm, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He knew he was imposing the same sort of rigid control on himself, just because he feared he’d lose it otherwise.

  My mother is dead.

  Those words kept clanging around inside his head, reverberating like some sort of ghastly, tolling bell. He still didn’t know how he was supposed to deal with that. Genoveva should have been around for at least another twenty-five or thirty years. God knows there were times when such a prospect would have only depressed him, considering the way they fought all the time, but now he could only think of how he’d do anything to have her back. Despite the way she’d treated him, she sure as hell hadn’t deserved what Escobar had done to her. About the only comfort Rafe could take from the entire horrible situation was that at least Genoveva had passed away while surrounded by her family, hadn’t seemed to have suffered at all. Cold comfort, sure, but better that than nothing.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror, saw Miranda sitting quietly in the back seat. Her hands were folded in her lap, as though she didn’t know quite what to do with them. Well, he couldn’t blame her for that. She’d gotten away from Simon Escobar, only to be dropped into another ungodly mess. Her face was pale but composed, and he couldn’t quite tell what she was thinking. Then again, why would he? Despite the kisses they’d shared, despite the way they’d acknowledged their feelings for one another back at his house, they still barely knew each other.

  That would all come in time, he supposed…if they were given that time.

  And even though Rafe knew they’d all agreed that these errands needed to be run, and that the four or five Castillo families who lived in this part of town needed to be protected, he couldn’t quite avoid the wave of guilt that went over him at how they’d all left their father behind to maint
ain a lonely vigil next to Genoveva’s body. True, he wasn’t completely alone, because José would stay with him until the hearse arrived to take her to the funeral home, but still.

  Rafe didn’t know exactly how this sort of thing was supposed to be handled, because he’d only been a little boy when his grandmother Isabel died in California, fighting Joaquin Escobar. Everyone had been very solemn, and the house had been filled with people coming and going, all of them murmuring things he couldn’t quite understand. And then he and Louisa and Malena and their parents had had to leave their cheerful house in the hills, so close to so many trails for hiking and exploring, and come to live in the gloomy hacienda near the center of town. But because Isabel had died so many miles away, they’d taken her straight to the funeral home. He’d never seen her body, except later at the funeral, where her overly painted face as she lay in the casket had only frightened him. That hadn’t been his grandmother.

  But Genoveva still looked like his mother. Whatever dark spell Escobar had sent to kill her, it had killed from within. There was no mark on her. She truly had looked as though she was simply asleep.

  She wasn’t sleeping, though. Simon Escobar had murdered her, and for that he was going to pay…and for what he’d tried to do to Miranda. Not today, because protecting the family came first, but soon.

  Very soon.

  Cat’s Mercedes SUV brought them to a shopping center filled with national chain stores, the kind of place that didn’t really fit Santa Fe’s public image, and so was banished to the south side of town, safely away from the picturesque plaza and the historic buildings at the city’s center. They parked and went into the electronics store, where all three of them bought new phones, enrolled in plans, and were out the door in less than fifteen minutes, despite the salesman’s best efforts to upsell them all kinds of accessories and extra minutes.

  From there they went to the mall itself, where Cat took Miranda by the arm, saying, “I’ll help you with all this, since I doubt you want Rafe haunting the lingerie department.”

  Miranda had laughed at the comment, although she had sounded a little forced, as if she wanted this all to be normal even though she knew it was anything but. Still, as much as he hated to be parted from her — and as much as he feared Simon might pounce from some lurking place in the dressing rooms — Rafe couldn’t help being a little relieved that he wouldn’t have to be included in the selection of every item in her new wardrobe.

  He loitered in the center of the department store, near enough a display case filled with men’s watches that no one would think it odd that he’d be lingering in that particular spot, although he did have to fend off a few over-zealous salesclerks. Eventually, though, Cat and Miranda reappeared, burdened with enough shopping bags that he guessed they’d given the lie to his comment to Louisa that they’d only be getting a few essentials.

  Still, it was done, and had actually taken less time than he’d feared, especially considering how much Miranda had bought. Once they had piled all the shopping bags in the back of the SUV, Cat started the engine and asked, “Where first?”

  “Probably Arthur and Casey’s house,” he replied. “I think they’re closest.”

  She nodded, then gave the voice command to have the car take them to that address.

  “Arthur and Casey?” Miranda asked from the back seat.

  Rafe didn’t like how she had to sit in the back by herself, but it also wouldn’t have been fair to expect Cat to sit up front alone and play chauffeur. He half-turned so he could at least see part of Miranda’s face, then said, “They’re cousins of ours. I mean, Arthur is our cousin. Casey is his wife. She’s a civilian.”

  “Oh.” A pause, and then Miranda inquired, “Do a lot of civilians marry into the Castillo clan?”

  “Not as many as in most,” he said. “Genoveva didn’t really approve of it, even though she knew it was necessary.”

  There, he thought. I said my mother’s name out loud, and it almost sounded normal.

  Miranda nodded. “It gets tough, I suppose. I always wondered why more clans didn’t intermarry, why they kept themselves so separate from each other. I mean, we see a lot of it now in Arizona, but it wasn’t like that before I was born.”

  “Mom told me it was about maintaining clan identity,” Cat remarked. She was facing forward, keeping an eye on the controls even though the vehicle was handling the driving duties, so Rafe couldn’t get a good read on her expression. “It was one thing to marry civilians to keep a clan from inbreeding, but when that happened, the civilians always became part of the clan. They left a lot of their identity behind. But when you have people from two separate witch clans marrying, then you run into the problem of trying to figure out which clan you identify with, where you place your loyalty.”

  That sounded like something Genoveva would have said. God knows her whole identity was wrapped up in being a Castillo, in being part of a witch family that could trace its roots back for more than four hundred years. Even the clans in New England couldn’t quite claim that sort of lineage.

  “I guess I can understand that,” Miranda said, her tone musing. “I know my parents were always careful to make it clear that Ian and Emily and I were equally Wilcox and McAllister, even though Emily was the prima-in-waiting of the McAllisters, and it was pretty clear that everyone expected Ian to be my father’s heir.”

  “What about you?” Rafe asked, genuinely curious. “Did you identify with one clan over another, despite what your parents said?”

  Her mouth curved in a smile. God, she was gorgeous, with those dark green eyes, ever so slightly tilted at the outer corners, and those lusciously full lips. “Well, don’t you dare ever tell them this, but I suppose I always thought of myself more as a McAllister. Not because I didn’t love my Wilcox relatives, or like being in Flagstaff during the part of the year when we lived there, but because something about Jerome always felt more like home to me, like I could really feel my roots more there.”

  There was a wistfulness in her voice that awakened new misgivings in Rafe. Yes, Miranda had told him she loved him, and she’d given no sign that she wanted anything except to stay here in Santa Fe and make a life here together, but he could tell she loved that crazy little mountain town where she’d spent half her life. Was it too much to expect that she might someday love Santa Fe the same way?

  Rafe pushed that worry aside as best he could. They had enough to trouble them as it was. He didn’t need to make the situation worse.

  “I wish I could see it,” Cat said.

  “You should go for a visit sometime,” Miranda told her. “Maybe we can all go…after.”

  The sentence sort of hung there in the air, but Rafe knew exactly what she meant. There was no point in making any plans for the future until they dealt with Simon Escobar. And while Rafe guessed that his mother wouldn’t have looked too favorably on a trip to Jerome, he realized that didn’t matter anymore. Genoveva was gone, and could no longer attempt to control her children with her ridiculous demands and outrageous expectations.

  An odd sort of relief stole over him, even though he wished he could ignore it. He shouldn’t be feeling that way, not when his mother had died only a few hours earlier. But the thought wouldn’t quite go away.

  Now I am free.

  They all fell into an uneasy silence as the SUV turned into the neighborhood where Arthur and Casey’s home was located. Rafe had never even been here before; his cousins were too numerous for him to have personally visited all their houses, and besides, all his relatives flocked to his mother’s house when they came there for the Castillo picnic that was held every July. That had always been more than enough family togetherness for him.

  This part of Santa Fe was much, much newer than the area downtown, the houses no more than five years old. It was a neat, tidy neighborhood of Spanish-style homes on modest lots, just the sort of place where someone with a civilian wife would want to settle, since it looked like just about any other tract of stucco homes in
the Southwest. Then again, there was something almost reassuring about the samey-ness of the houses here. It certainly looked like the last place where a dark warlock would attempt to coordinate an attack.

  The SUV turned a corner into a cul-de-sac, and Cat took over the controls so she could pull up into the driveway of the house at the center of the little curved street. The place looked well cared for, the front yard a xeriscape with cacti and other native plants, although most of them seemed to have already gone dormant for the winter.

  The three of them got out of the SUV. Miranda looked a little wary, but Rafe guessed that her expression was simply shyness at having to meet yet more Castillos. He went to her and took her hand. “It’s going to be fine,” he said in what he hoped were reassuring tones. “Arthur and Casey are around my age, and pretty laid-back. I know they’re going to like you.”

  “I’m not worried about that,” she responded. “I just hate being the bearer of bad news.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Cat said, coming up behind them as they went down the front walk. “The word’s already gone out to everyone. Our cousin Ned set up a text alert that goes to everyone’s phone with important clan news. I know it sounds sort of impersonal, but there are so many of us that calling everyone directly would take hours.”

  And clearly the bad news had already circulated amongst the clan, because Arthur was opening the front door before Rafe even had a chance to ring the bell. Dark eyes sorrowful, he said, “Rafe…Cat…I’m so sorry.”