The Witches of Canyon Road, Books 1-3

by Christine Pope

  He didn’t know. Her powers had expanded at an almost frightening pace under Escobar’s tutelage, but Rafe didn’t have much idea what she was and wasn’t capable of.

  “Well, yes, things are pretty bad right now,” she said, finally shifting so she faced toward him again. “But that doesn’t mean they couldn’t get much, much worse.”

  Her words had the effect of a gut punch. Because he’d known deep down that his mother’s murder, horrible as the crime might have been, might only be the first warning shot fired over the Castillo clan’s bow. Someone like Simon Escobar didn’t care about right or wrong, who he hurt, which lives he ruined. As far as Rafe could tell, the dark warlock wanted only two things.

  Power…and Miranda McAllister.

  She seemed to have been thinking much the same thing, since some of the pretty color in her cheeks had faded a bit. “He scares the crap out of me, Rafe,” she said, her voice not much more than a whisper. “I don’t know what he can do, what other hurt and suffering he’s willing to cause. I suppose he’ll do what he can to avoid using any magic that would attract attention from the civilian population, especially civilian authorities, but I’m not sure we can even count on that. Not really.”

  He hated the hopeless tone in her voice. It was far too early to give up, especially since they’d dealt Escobar a painful blow the day before. Yes, he’d retaliated by striking out against Genoveva, but even so, the way Rafe had managed to get into the house where Simon was holed up and help get Miranda away seemed to indicate that the dark warlock wasn’t invincible.

  “Well, he’s had some time to recover, but we’re all still fine, and there don’t seem to be any new attacks,” Rafe said. “That tells me your spells of protection are working, which means it’s very possible that he’s had to rethink some of his strategies. I have a feeling he wasn’t expecting you to step in and provide that kind of help right away.”

  “Maybe.” Her shoulders lifted, and then she came to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her sweater was very soft — cashmere, maybe — and felt good against his bare skin. So did her hair, brushing against his arms. At once a wave of arousal washed through him, but he did what he could to push it away. Not now, he told his body, which didn’t seem inclined to cooperate at first. After a few seconds, though, his burgeoning erection calmed down enough to allow him to focus.

  “Anyway,” he went on, “like I said, we all seem to be safe for now. Let’s order some breakfast, and then I’ll shower and we’ll head over to the house before Cat loses her shit with my Aunt Rosa. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Miranda said, then smiled.

  Watching that expression take over her face was like watching the sun rise over warm desert sands. Rafe could only hope nothing would ever happen to take that smile away from her.

  6

  Undercurrents

  Miranda

  We headed over to the Castillo house after we finished devouring some of the best breakfast burritos I’d ever had. Funny how a decent meal could make you feel so much better about the world.

  Or maybe it was the man sitting in the Jeep next to me, the clear morning sunshine outlining his fine profile. Just looking at him was enough to make my body ache for his touch all over again. I knew he’d wanted to make love this morning but had pushed the impulse aside, since we had so much else we needed to attend to. The Goddess only knew I wanted him just as badly. I’d always hoped I would connect with him on this level, but I hadn’t known for sure until last night. Then I realized that, despite our rocky beginnings, our bond was one that would be just as strong as any shared by a witch and a warlock.

  When we got to the prima’s house, there was a silver Subaru Outback parked on the street next to the driveway. I had to assume it belonged to Uncle José and Aunt Rosa. Had they stayed in the casita, or one of the house’s spare bedrooms? The place definitely seemed big enough to hold at least two or three overnight guests; I knew I’d only been put up in the casita because Genoveva had wanted to create a little space between me and my new family until Rafe and I were married.

  Well, now we’d done the one thing she’d basically forbidden…and on the same day she’d died. Maybe that realization should have made me feel guilty, but it didn’t, not when I knew that it was right for Rafe and me to be together like this. A few words from a priest or a piece of paper from City Hall wouldn’t make any difference. Of course I wanted to get married — really married — at some point, but I couldn’t think about that just yet, not when we needed to figure out our strategy for handling Simon.

  Simon. My mind wanted to shudder away from the way he’d forced me down on the couch, from what I knew he’d wanted to do to me, and yet I knew I needed to face the reality of that horrible experience as squarely as I could. If anything, I needed to take strength from the encounter. He’d been so sure he would prevail, but Rafe and I had managed to overpower him long enough to get away. Then again, we’d escaped because we’d gotten the drop on him, not because we’d won some kind of magical duel. I couldn’t really expect to catch Simon off guard a second time.

  And some part of me hoped that he wouldn’t want me anymore, now that I’d been with Rafe, now that I was no longer “pure.” Maybe it was crazy to think in such terms — after all, this was the twenty-first century — but I had to try to think like Simon would. He’d had a crazy upbringing, and yet I guessed he’d still been raised Catholic, was still probably old-fashioned about certain things.

  Or maybe I was just trying to fool myself into hoping he wouldn’t want me now, because that would make me a little less afraid of him.

  Rafe took my hand as we walked up to the front door of the house. His fingers were warm, reassuringly strong. Still, I didn’t know whether he’d reached out to offer me comfort…or whether he was seeking the same thing from me. It couldn’t be easy to walk back into the house where his mother died.

  Possibly out of respect for what had happened here — or maybe because he knew his father and Cat had guests — Rafe rang the doorbell, rather than walk right in. Cat opened the door so quickly, I wondered whether she’d been lurking in the foyer, waiting for us to arrive.

  “Thank God,” she said in an undertone, then much louder and falsely cheery, “Hi, Rafe, Miranda.”

  “That good?” Rafe commented as we came inside and she shut the door behind us.

  “You have no idea.” Except for some redness to her eyelids, indicating she’d probably cried sometime during the night, Cat looked astonishingly put together, makeup done, wearing a slim black skirt and a black sweater, very different from her usual casual attire. I had a feeling the clothes and the makeup were an effort to mollify her Aunt Rosa.

  “Well, we’re here now.” Rafe glanced past her into the living room, which appeared unoccupied. “Where is everyone?”

  “Dad and Uncle José and Aunt Rosa went over to Our Lady of Guadalupe. I think they’re going to have the service there. I said I’d wait here until you two showed up.”

  “I thought we agreed Mom’s service would be small and quiet,” Rafe said, a warning note in his voice.

  “It will be,” Cat replied. She reached up to rub her temple; possibly, she had a headache. Not all that surprising, considering everything she’d been through during the past twenty-four hours. “It’s just that obviously Uncle José has to know the details, since they have to make arrangements with his funeral home to bring — well, to bring the casket over.”

  “Right.”

  This time, I was the one who reached for Rafe’s hand, twining my fingers with his. I couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult all this must be for him, especially when he obviously wouldn’t allow himself the time to truly grieve. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this. I feel like it’s partly my fault.”

  “No, it’s not,” both Cat and Rafe said, almost in unison. Then she shook her head and went on, “It’s not your fault that some nutcase decided to be obsessed with you. This is all on Simon Escobar’s head.”
r />   “Exactly,” Rafe said. “And we need to bring the fight to him before he tries anything else.”

  I looked at Rafe in some alarm. We hadn’t discussed anything of the sort, so I didn’t know why he thought it a good idea to suddenly be so aggressive. “I’m not so sure that will work — ” I began, even as Cat broke in.

  “Rafe, this isn’t an action movie. This guy is dangerous. We’ve already lost Mom. I’d rather not lose my brother, too.”

  His jaw set, but I could tell that Cat’s words had helped to check him, if only a little. “Well, I’m not suggesting doing anything impulsive, but I also don’t think we can afford to sit on our hands forever.”

  Probably not. The thing was, there didn’t seem to be much middle ground between charging in after Simon, or waiting here in Santa Fe for him to make his next move.

  Something occurred to me, though. “Maybe we can check with the property management company to see if he’s even still at the estate in Tesuque. For all we know, things have been quiet because he changed his base of operations, thinking we were sure to come after him.”

  Relief shone in Cat’s dark eyes. It was fairly obvious that she’d feared she wouldn’t be able to stop her brother if he really did decide to go rushing after Simon Escobar. “You know which company handles that property?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “I was there when they called the house one time. Casas del Sol was the name.”

  Rafe nodded. “They’re one of the biggest management companies here in Santa Fe. Makes sense that the owner of a place that high-end would be working with them. Let me call and see what I can find out.”

  As Cat and I watched, he got his cell phone out of his pocket and surfed around a bit to locate the number, then made the call. A brief pause, and then he said, “Hi — I was calling about the property in Tesuque, on Griego Hill Road. A friend of mine, Simon Gutierrez, was overseeing it for you. I haven’t been able to reach him and was wondering — ” A pause, during which Rafe was clearly listening to the person on the other end. Then, “You’re sure? No, that’s fine. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Rafe returned the phone to his pocket. “Just like we thought. He bailed yesterday afternoon. Told the management company that he’d had a family emergency come up and that he couldn’t stay through the end of his contract. The woman at Casas del Sol didn’t sound too happy with him.”

  “She can get in line,” Cat remarked, and I couldn’t help but smile a little.

  “True,” Rafe said. “Mr. Escobar has a lot of people pretty pissed off at him. So now we know he’s not still in Tesuque, but he can’t have gone too far. He still needs to be close enough to make our lives difficult.”

  “But how close?” Cat asked. “I mean, he can’t be right in Santa Fe, can he? Louisa would be able to tell if he was around.”

  “Not necessarily,” I told her. “Simon can block his powers so other witches and warlocks can’t tell what he really is. I’m not saying he could move in next door to her, because at least then she’d recognize him — well, unless he cast an illusion to change his appearance — but he still can pretty much move around inside the city limits without anyone knowing.”

  “Well, that’s just great.” Off in the depths of the house, a phone rang, and Cat startled slightly. “I’d better go get that,” she said before hurrying toward the kitchen.

  “You have a landline?” I asked, a little surprised.

  “It’s a very old house,” Rafe replied, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. I gave him a pained look, and he added, “And I have some very old relatives. We’ve had the same number here longer than I’ve been alive, so it just made sense to keep it all going. Maybe Louisa will get rid of it, although I doubt it. Anyway, if someone’s calling that number, it’s one of the relatives. Dad would call Cat’s cell. But let’s go see.”

  He led me out of the foyer, then down the open hallway that divided the bottom floor of the house, passing the living room and dining room, and a smaller, more intimate space that I guessed was some kind of sitting room. The phone in question hung from one wall in the kitchen; Cat stood there now, wrapping the overstretched cord around her fingers as she spoke.

  “No, we haven’t decided yet,” she said. “It was all so sudden — no, I don’t think so. I really don’t know much, Aunt Lucilla. I’m waiting to hear what my father has to say, and Louisa. It’s really their decision.” A long pause, during which she clearly was doing her best to hold back her mounting impatience. “No, not yet. I think he’s talking to the bishop. Maybe you should call him directly. Mm-hmm. Okay. Right. I’ll let him know as soon as he gets home.”

  She hung up then, and Rafe said, “I’m surprised you could get through that conversation without having your eyes roll out of your head.”

  Cat gave both of us a weary grin. “Believe me, I had to fight the temptation.” Obviously, I must have looked puzzled, because she went on to explain, “Aunt Lucilla is really a cousin, but everyone just calls her ‘aunt.’ Anyway, she’s eighty-five and a sweet old lady, but she feels left out if she’s not in the center of everything. I know she didn’t like hearing that nothing’s been decided about Mom’s funeral.”

  “She’s going to like it even less when she finds out no one was invited, but we’ll deal with that later.” Rafe looked over at me, then asked, abruptly changing the subject, “Do you have any idea where Simon could have gone?”

  I shook my head. “None at all. Your guess is as good as mine — probably better, because you’d know more than me which areas might appeal to him the most. If the Tesuque estate is any indication of the sort of property he wants, then I’d say it would be something on a big plot of land, kind of isolated. Not in the center of town, that’s for sure.”

  Cat and Rafe exchanged a glance. She shrugged, while he said, “That describes a lot of properties in Santa Fe County. Once you get outside the city itself, it’s normal to have houses on three, four, even five or more acres.”

  Great. “Well, another thing about the estate was that it felt private because of all the trees around the house and on the property line. I haven’t gotten out much, but I noticed when I was taking the Railrunner up from Albuquerque that most of the land around here is pretty open.”

  “That’s for sure.” Rafe went quiet for a moment, clearly pondering the problem at hand. Right then he looked very dark and brooding, and handsomer than ever. Or was I just watching him with sex-afterglow goggles on?

  Not that it mattered. Despite everything, I had to fight the overwhelming urge to tell Cat we had important business to attend to so I could drag him back to the house and into bed once more.

  “What about La Cienega?” Cat asked.

  Rafe considered that suggestion for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Maybe. There’s a spur of the Rio Grande down there — Cienega Creek. That means it’s a lot greener than the land around it, lots of trees. There are properties down there that are pretty isolated, so one of them could work as Simon’s backup hideout…especially since there aren’t many Castillos in that part of Santa Fe County.”

  That sounded promising. At this time of year, the cottonwood and sycamore trees would be mostly bare, but Santa Fe and its environs had lots of evergreens, too, mostly juniper and piñon pine. If there were enough of them down in La Cienega, then they’d still provide plenty of shelter. “How far is that from Santa Fe proper?”

  “Not too far,” Rafe replied. “About fifteen, twenty minutes from the center of town.”

  “If that’s even where he went,” Cat said. “He could have gone up into Pojoaque, or out to Glorieta or Pecos.”

  Rafe looked dubious. “Those are all a lot farther out, though. I don’t care how powerful Simon is — if he’s suddenly having to send his spells fifteen or twenty miles, they’re going to be weaker. I don’t think he’d compromise himself that way.”

  I had a feeling Rafe was probably right. It seemed clear enough that Simon wanted to in
flict whatever damage he could on the Castillo clan, and intentionally weakening the effectiveness of his spells didn’t line up with his plans for vengeance. This La Cienega place sounded promising, but we couldn’t count on that, especially since it wasn’t as though we could go out and conduct a house-to-house search for him. With the powers he had at his command, he could make us walk right past the place where he was holed up, and we’d never even know.

  Then Cat winced, and put her hand to her temple again. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling that weird pressure off and on all morning. It was okay last night, but….”

  Damn. The last thing I wanted to believe was that Simon might be hurting her in some way. I glanced over at Rafe, who frowned. “Do you think you might somehow be feeling Simon working his magic?”

  “I don’t know.” She shot a nervous glance at both of us and added, “I kind of hope not. That would be creepy.”

  “It’s possible, though.”

  “I guess.”

  Why Cat would be able to feel that kind of a manifestation when I couldn’t, I had no idea. Magic was such a slippery thing in so many ways. No two people’s experience of it were exactly alike; we all had to come to it in our own ways, with our own sets of beliefs and prejudices. However, an idea was beginning to form in my mind. “What if it’s more that you can tell he’s doing something, but it’s mostly blocked because of the protective spell on the house?”

  Rafe said, “That would make a lot of sense.”

  A bit of hope showed in Cat’s face, but then she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it, though. The first time I felt this pressure, we were at the hospital, visiting Marco. There was no spell of protection there, that’s for sure.”

  Damn. And there I’d thought I was on to something. Still, it wasn’t as though these weird sensations Cat was experiencing could be explained away as simply migraines or something with a purely physical cause. Deep in my gut, I knew they had to be connected to Simon’s magic, even if I couldn’t trace that connection at the moment.