The Witches of Canyon Road, Books 1-3

by Christine Pope

  To my surprise, I found a dark hooded robe lying on the bed when I went into the room he’d given me for my use. The robe definitely hadn’t been there when I’d left earlier, which meant Simon must have left it on the bed while I was out walking around the grounds. The message seemed clear enough, though; he wanted me to put on that garment after I was done in the bath.

  Fine. But I sure as hell was wearing something under it.

  I got out clean underwear and a T-shirt and some yoga pants, figuring that would be a simple enough ensemble to wear under the loose-fitting robe. It slithered over my hands when I picked it up, telling me the fabric was probably silk. He must have bought it online, or maybe commissioned a local seamstress to make it. Either possibility seemed equally plausible…although its presence told me he must have been plotting this ritual for a while, planning to have me assist him. Goosebumps lifted on my arms, but I told myself I needed to stay calm. Simon’s scheme was crazy, and yet I knew my best chance for survival was to keep it together and pray that this summoning wouldn’t go horribly wrong.

  Carrying my change of clothes draped over one arm and my glass of water in one hand, I went across the hall to the bathroom. After I set everything down, I locked the door, and sent a little of my magic out toward it, telling it that it wasn’t supposed to open for anyone except me. Whether that would really work, I didn’t know, but it felt a little better to know there was more than just a flimsy interior door lock between Simon and me.

  This bathroom was large, with a separate shower stall and sunken jetted tub. The window on the far wall had been redone with stained glass, a stylized rose. It sent an odd, bloody reflection into the room. Not all that reassuring, but at least the patterned glass made an effective visual barrier.

  I turned on the taps, then located the little canister of bath salts Simon had told me to find. When I opened the lid and took a sniff, I found that the contents had a sharp, aromatic scent, not sweet at all. What it was, I couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t smooth and subtle enough for sandalwood, but it had that kind of a feel to it.

  After waiting for a few minutes, I tipped some of the salts into the water, then trailed my hand through it. The temperature was just about right, and nothing about the feel of the water against my skin seemed any different than the times I’d taken a scented bath at home.

  Moment of truth. I hesitated for a long moment before I reluctantly grasped the hem of my sweater and pulled it over my head, then laid it on top of the counter. Next with my boots and socks, then my jeans. I paused again, fingers closed around the front clasp of my bra. Even with the door locked and that extra spell laid on it, I couldn’t keep myself from worrying that Simon had been waiting for precisely this moment to come walking in.

  However, as the seconds passed, I realized I had to do this. Jaw clenched, I unfastened my bra, then stepped out of my panties and got into the tub. The water felt soothing, and the scent of the bath salts Simon had provided was curiously relaxing. If someone had told me I would have felt comfortable taking a bath under the same roof as Simon Escobar, I would have laughed in their face, but I couldn’t deny that this felt better than I’d expected it to.

  All right. Time to meditate.

  I closed my eyes, let the warm water swirl around me. Problem was, all I could really think about was Rafe, about how I prayed with every fiber of my being that he’d somehow find a way to locate me before the clock struck three and Simon forced me to perform this terrible ritual with him. And also, my thoughts kept straying to how good it had felt to be in his arms, to have him make love to me. I would have liked to have him here in the bath, that was for sure.

  None of this was exactly conducive to entering a purified state, but that was Simon’s fault for expecting me to follow all these silly steps. After about ten minutes or so, I basically gave up on the meditation and reached for a washcloth, scrubbing myself down before I at last climbed out of the bath and dried myself off.

  Then it was time to get dressed as quickly as possible. Once I was safely covered up, I went back to the bathtub and drained the water, then gathered my dirty clothes to take them back with me to the bedroom, where I’d spied a hamper just inside the closet door.

  No sign of Simon during any of this. I disposed of the clothing in the hamper, then went and sat on the bed. Was I supposed to be in a lotus position? I didn’t know about that, but I spotted the incense and a burner of carved soapstone sitting on the dresser, and realized I was supposed to be burning some while I meditated.

  This incense had a fresh, clean scent, unlike the cloying stuff Simon had burned in his basement ritual room. It reminded me somewhat of a white sage incense my Great-Aunt Rachel used sometimes, although I couldn’t be sure whether it was the same kind or not.

  I did my best. I really did, because I knew the consequences of this summoning going wrong were even worse than what would happen if Simon actually managed to summon this demon lord and somehow get him under his control. But my thoughts kept skipping and jumping around, refusing to leave me alone. I thought of Rafe, and Cat, and Eduardo, and Rafe’s two sisters in their comas. I thought of my parents, and how I wished I could somehow get a signal out to them that we needed help. So many things, none of which had much to do with the ritual that loomed ever closer.

  While I was in the bath, Simon had put a pitcher of water in my room. From time to time I would refill the glass and drink, and then a while later have to go use the bathroom. During none of these excursions did I see any sign of him, although the door to the master suite stood slightly ajar, as though he kept it open so he could keep tabs on me.

  Outside, dusk eventually fell, then night itself. My stomach began to complain about not getting any dinner, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. I supposed we would eat later…assuming we both survived the summoning we were about to attempt.

  More time passed, and I found myself fighting sleep, my eyelids drooping now that my stomach had apparently realized it wasn’t going to get fed that evening. Several times my whole body would jerk as another wave of weariness passed over me. I wondered whether it really mattered if I slept or not, but some stubbornness forced me to stay awake. Possibly I did sleep for a few fitful periods, although I couldn’t really recall whether I’d done so or not.

  At last, though, Simon was at my door, a tall, looming figure in the black robe he wore. In fact, I could see very little of his face except the gleam of his eyes, thanks to the hood he’d pulled up to cover his head.

  “Are you ready?” he asked quietly.

  Of course I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway and got down off the bed. My muscles were cramped from sitting crosslegged for so many hours, although I hoped the kinks would work themselves out once I’d been moving around for a while.

  “Come along,” he said.

  I followed him downstairs, then out to the garage, where I stood, trying not to shiver in the dead of night cold, as he lifted the trapdoor to the basement. At least he turned on the light, which allowed me to descend the stairs without tripping over the long robe I wore. When I got to the bottom, I moved to one side, giving the chalked symbols on the floor a wide berth.

  Simon came down after me, then paused to wave his hand at the candles, bringing forth their flame once again. After he had done that, he moved to the wall next to the bottom step and touched his hand to the light switch, shutting off the overhead fixture.

  I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a gasp.

  “It’s all right,” he said, even though I knew this was far from all right. “We can’t have any artificial light during — well, during.”

  Dark deeds done in the dark, I thought, but I kept those words to myself. “I understand.”

  He seemed pleased that I hadn’t protested. “Good. Come here.”

  I really didn’t want to close up the small distance between us, but I knew I didn’t have much of a choice. And while I was so scared of being down in that room, of what was going to happen next, I made myse
lf think of everyone once again — Rafe and Cat and Eduardo and all the others — and how I needed to do whatever I must to make sure they were safe.

  If that was the case, though, what was I doing here? Shouldn’t I be doing anything I could to prevent Simon from carrying out his terrible plan, even if it meant sacrificing myself? I had to admit the idea wasn’t very appealing, but sometimes you had to consider the greater good. Death wasn’t really anything to fear, or so I’d been taught. It was only a portal to the next world. Still, I didn’t think I was ready to step through that portal, not when I had so many reasons to live.

  As I went to stand next to Simon, as he shifted our positions so we stood at the “north pole” of the terrible compass he’d drawn on the floor, a plan began to form in my head, one so audacious, I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to carry it out.

  But I’d have to try. For all their sakes, I’d have to make the attempt.

  “You’ll need to stand very still,” Simon said quietly in my ear. “Don’t move or speak, no matter what happens. I’ll be drawing on your energy. You’re powerful enough that you probably won’t notice, but if you do, all you should feel is a faint dizziness at the very most. Okay?”

  I only nodded, since I didn’t quite trust myself to speak. The last thing I wanted was to dwell on that “should” in his instructions. What if he was wrong, and I fainted, or worse? Beyond that, would this plan I’d begun to devise be successful if I were having some of my energy taken from me? I had no idea, but I guessed I was about to find out.

  Simon’s hands settled on my shoulders, heavy, warm even through the silk fabric of the hooded robe and the T-shirt I wore underneath. I experienced a small tingle, followed by a shiver running down my back, but I honestly didn’t know whether that was only a reaction to his touch, or whether he’d begun to tap into my powers already.

  Then he began to speak. The words weren’t English; I didn’t think they were Latin, either, but something utterly foreign, harsh-sounding and yet somehow flowing as well. Whatever the language was, it made more of those shivers work their way down my spine. More than anything, I wished I could pull away from Simon and run, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to stand there and wait for what was about to happen next.

  Into the stillness of the underground room came a wild breeze that caused our robes to flap and the flames atop the black tapers to flicker wildly. With it there was also a strange, creeping cold, one that seemed to seep up out of the ground, freezing my feet in the flats they wore. I could smell a harsh, acrid odor like spent gunpowder, although I supposed that could have come from the candles, which smoked as their flames were bent this way and that.

  And out of the center of the diagram drawn on the ground arose an enormous shadowy figure, one with great leathery bat-like wings and long black hair that fluttered in the unnatural wind of his arrival. The being was so tall that he had to bend down, or risk hitting his head against the ceiling eight feet above us.

  I knew I wasn’t supposed to move or speak, but I couldn’t quite hold back the gasp that slipped past my lips.

  Red eyes opened, and glared at us. “Why have you summoned me, mortal?”

  English. Perfectly good English. I didn’t know why I was so surprised, only that I’d thought maybe this being would have spoken to Simon in the same language he’d used for the summoning.

  “Lord of Chaos.” There was a triumphant note in Simon’s voice, one that frightened me almost more than the inhuman figure which stood before us. His ambition was something I knew all too well, and rightly feared, while this demon lord was still an unknown.

  “Some have called me that. What is it you want?”

  Despite the cold terror pulsing through me, I felt my mouth quirk slightly. The demon sounded almost annoyed, like someone who’d interrupted their dinner to answer a phone call that turned out to be from a telemarketer.

  “I have bound you in the circle of air, of fire, of earth, of water. I have — ”

  “Yes, I can see that. Very pretty artwork. What is it you want?”

  I couldn’t help it. The tiniest of giggles escaped my lips, and at once the demon’s red eyes fixed on me. It was hard to make out much of his face in the darkness, because his skin was black as night, but I thought I saw harsh, nightmarish features, a mouth full of jagged teeth.

  As I stared at him, I heard his voice in my mind. You find me amusing, mortal woman?

  No, not you, I replied hastily. The way you were treating Simon.

  Ah. He is the one who drew the diagram, yes?

  Yes.

  A pause, and the Lord of Chaos said, I sense that you are not a willing accomplice in this endeavor.

  No, not at all. He’s brought you here to make you his servant, to help give him control of the Castillo clan.

  This is not an outcome you wish for?

  No, I said firmly. He has no right to rule this clan, no right to be here in Santa Fe at all. And he has no right to summon you.

  Ah. Another of those pauses. Then the demon went on, It was very unwise of him to bring me here. He is a child meddling with things he cannot comprehend. But you — you, young witch, I think I can help you.

  You can? I asked, not daring to hope that the creature’s offer might be sincere. Was this demon really offering his assistance?

  Yes. You see, this Simon did the summoning, but he performed the ritual using your energy to strengthen it enough that it would actually work. This means you are as bound up in its success as he. You can break the charm that binds me here, set me free.

  And you’ll go back to — well, to wherever you came from?

  That is my hope.

  It wasn’t a definite yes, but it was better than nothing. But maybe he was lying. He was known as the Lord of Chaos, after all. Maybe he was trying to trick me into setting him free from the binding so he could go out and commit whatever mayhem he chose.

  And I have your word that you will go back, that you won’t hurt anyone here?

  Why on earth would I do that?

  Well, you are a demon, I pointed out.

  A demon lord, he corrected me. I have no use for the kind of petty vengeance you fear. But yes, I give you my word that I will cause no harm to anyone on this plane.

  That seemed about as good as I was going to get. What do I need to do?

  It is simple enough. You only need to destroy part of the pattern that binds me here. Then its power will be broken, and I will be free. A pause, and then he went on, amusement clear in the deep voice that had somehow managed to penetrate my very thoughts, A simple stumble to blur a few of the markings will suffice.

  That did seem easy…almost too easy. What if he reached out to grab my arm as I broke the circle? But I realized then that I couldn’t keep dithering over possibilities. Our mental conversation had taken less than a second, since it had traveled at the speed of thought, but very soon Simon would start to realize something was off, and right then I was a lot more frightened of him than I was of the Lord of Chaos.

  I understand, I responded.

  Then I took a breath, acted as though I was shifting my weight and had gotten my foot caught on the hem of the robe I wore. I stumbled forward, foot scuffing the line that formed the outer perimeter of the chalked circle.

  “No!” Simon cried out.

  The Lord of Chaos’ great wings beat at the air, and he smiled, showing several rows of sharp teeth. Thank you, mortal.

  Can you do something to get rid of Simon? I asked desperately. Even if he fails in this attempt, he’s going to try something else.

  I fear I cannot help you in such a way. You yourself just made me swear an oath not to hurt anyone on this plane.

  Well, damn, I had. Who would’ve thought a demon would be so law-abiding? But you’re the Lord of Chaos! I pleaded.

  I am. But that only means I will do what you least expect. He stopped there, terrible head lifted, like a dog catching a strange scent on the wind. I sense…someone.

  Someone wh
at? I asked.

  Someone who can hear me as you do. Perhaps they can help guide me back whence I came, for the way seems blocked. A good night to you, mortal.

  Then he was gone, blinking out of existence right in front of our eyes.

  Simon rounded on me. “What,” he ground out, “the hell did you just do?”

  13

  Whispers in the Dark

  Rafe

  He started awake, realizing a dark figure stood next to his bed. Visions of demons danced in his head for a moment…until he realized the figure was only his sister. “Jesus Christ, Cat,” he snapped. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  She hesitated, looking over her shoulder at the hallway. Faint illumination from a nightlight plugged into one of the outlets in the hall cast a halo over her long dark hair, and it was hard to see her expression clearly. Even so, he could tell she was shaken.

  “What is it?” he asked, his irritation melting away. “Has there been another attack?”

  That question only elicited a shake of the head. “No. I mean, everything seems to be quiet. No one’s called. Only….”

  “Only what?”

  Without replying, she went and sat at the foot of the bed, her back to one of the large pillars that made up the bed frame. This had been his room once, but his mother had picked out the furniture, heavy pieces that were intended to work with the Spanish Colonial architecture of the house but had only made Rafe feel as though he slept in a high-end hotel room rather than his own bedroom.

  “I heard something,” Cat said at last. Once again her gaze shifted to the hallway.

  “Here in the house?” Rafe demanded, adrenaline already beginning to pump into his veins. Damn it, if that bastard Simon Escobar was trying to break in somehow —

  “No, not in the house.” She stopped herself there, then pointed at her temple. “In here.”