“Absolutely,” she responded immediately. “Like you even have to ask.”
“Thank you,” I told her. Simple words, but I could only hope she’d hear the sincerity in them, know how much this meant to me. “I’ll call PP tomorrow and see when they can fit me in. I feel…weird…about going to my own doctor.”
“I totally get it.” She hesitated, then looked over her shoulder and up the steep street to the corner where the Spirit Room stood. “You going to come back inside?”
I shook my head. “I don’t — I can’t do that right now. Tell Anthony I’m sorry, okay?”
“No worries. He knows you’ve been through a lot. And I won’t say anything else. I mean, no one will know until you’re ready to let them know.”
Thanking her again seemed redundant, so I gave her a quick hug before I made my way back up to Main Street, passing the open door of the bar and hearing the music drift out from within, then heading on up the hill to my house. Sydney’s offer had both touched me and reminded me of something very important.
I might think I was alone in this, but I really wasn’t.
* * *
Two days later we drove to Prescott to the Planned Parenthood office there. Everything was very new, clean, and modern; it seemed clear to me that the facility hadn’t been open for very long. I peed in a cup and had them check my blood and all my other vitals.
“You’re definitely pregnant,” the doctor told me. “Looks like around nine weeks. I’d like to schedule an ultrasound in the next week or so, just to fine-tune things. Do you have a doctor closer to home you’d like to see, or do you want to come back here?”
“I — I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Can I call back in a few days to set that up?”
“Of course,” she replied. “Everything is looking fine, and you’re in perfect health otherwise, so an extra day or two isn’t going to make much of a difference.”
I thanked her, and then she left me to get dressed and go back out to meet Sydney. After giving her a little nod, I went to the medical assistant at the front desk and told her I’d probably be scheduling an ultrasound, but I wasn’t sure when. It seemed she was used to that sort of delay, because she just smiled and handed me a business card, and told me to contact them when I was ready.
“Are you going to call Connor now?” Sydney asked after we left the building and were headed back to Jerome.
For a minute I only watched the road passing by, the pale golden grasses blowing in the brisk breeze. “I will. But there’s something else I have to do first.”
She raised an eyebrow, but when she saw I wasn’t going to volunteer any more information, she just shook her head and leaned forward to turn up the music. I guessed she could tell I wasn’t much in the mood to talk.
Unfortunately, I knew I had a lot of talking ahead of me. It just wouldn’t be with her.
* * *
Expressions quizzical, the three clan elders — Margot Emory, Bryce McAllister, and Allegra Moss — sat at my dining room table, waiting for me to explain why I’d summoned them to the house. Of course, as prima, I had the prerogative to do so…I just hadn’t exercised it before now.
I’d realized as I left the Planned Parenthood facility that it was my responsibility to tell the elders what was going on. Anything that affected me affected the clan as well, and hiding my condition from them wouldn’t do anyone any good, even if making such a confession to that trio was high on my list of extremely embarrassing situations I would rather have avoided.
“I’ve just…discovered something,” I began, wishing I didn’t sound quite so shaky and nervous. Then again, I probably had every right to be. Wishy-washy word choice, too, although I wasn’t sure what the best way to approach this might be. Blurting out “I’m pregnant” didn’t seem all that appealing, either. They were all adults, most of them with at least twenty years on me, although with Margot that number was probably closer to fifteen. I doubted they thought Connor and I had been spending our nights together in Flagstaff telling ghost stories and braiding each other’s hair.
“What is it?” Bryce asked. There was a note of worry in his voice already, and I thought that didn’t seem to be a very good sign. He was a strong warlock, gifted in magical defense, but he also had a quick temper. His reaction was the one I feared the most.
Margot and Allegra remained silent, watching me. Margot’s expression was opaque, face bland and perfect as that of a mannequin, while Allegra’s features seemed to show a somewhat lively curiosity. That didn’t surprise me too much, as Allegra tended to be one of those people who was inquisitive about everything. Goddess knows her own children had never been able to get away with anything without her ferreting out the facts eventually.
I pulled in a breath, let it out, and said, “I’ve just found out that I’m pregnant.”
Silence. Deep, hideous silence. Margot’s face went even more still, if that were possible, and Bryce settled heavily against the back of his chair, as if someone had just struck him. Allegra tilted her head to one side and watched me, her mouth pursing slightly.
She was the one to break the silence. “And you need help getting rid of it?”
In a horrible way, it made sense that she’d been the one to ask the question. Her skill was with herbs and potions, and I’d heard rumors that she’d helped out a McAllister girl or two who’d found herself in my situation. Safer and quicker than the civilian equivalent of the procedure, but of course that wasn’t why I’d asked to speak with the three of them. If I had made such a decision, I would have approached her quietly, and alone.
Shaking my head, I replied, “No. I’m going to keep it.”
Bryce set his hands flat on the tabletop. They were strong and weathered, tanned by the harsh Arizona sun. “You’re not serious.”
“I am.” I sounded calm and in control, the antithesis of how I felt inside. Oh, well, in this case, I figured presentation was everything.
Allegra blinked. “But — ”
“But bearing a child to the Wilcox primus will kill me. I know.” The words came out flat, without inflection, just as I’d meant them to. I couldn’t let them hear the fear growing within me, growing just as surely as the baby inside my body.
“You can’t really be that selfish,” Margot said, tone harsh.
I glanced at her and raised my eyebrows. “‘Selfish’?” I repeated. “How is that selfish?”
“Your responsibility is to your clan, not to Connor Wilcox.” Her dark eyes seemed to bore into mine, and I had to force myself not to flinch under her stare. “It seems he’s made it abundantly clear that he wants nothing to do with you. So why deprive the McAllisters of their prima just to bear a child that will bring nothing but death?”
“It’s an innocent baby,” I protested. “It’s not as if it’s going to come out twirling a mustache and plotting to take over the world. It’s the curse that’s the problem, not the baby.”
“The child and the curse are linked,” Bryce said. “You can’t have one and not the other — not with the offspring of a Wilcox primus.”
That was no more than simple fact, I supposed, and in that moment I truly understood for the first time why Damon Wilcox had fought so hard against the dark destiny to which he’d been born, through no fault of his own. “Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to break the curse.”
Margot let out a cold little laugh. “And that’s worked out so well so far, hasn’t it?”
“Not for the Wilcoxes, no,” I admitted. Then my brain started to churn away as it pondered those words. True, no Wilcox had ever succeeded in undoing the curse cast so many years earlier, but technically, I wasn’t a Wilcox. And, as Connor’s cousin Marie had once pointed out, I wasn’t just any witch. I was prima of the McAllisters. “So maybe it’s time to apply a little McAllister ingenuity to the problem.”
Bryce said, not blinking, “That’s a shot in a million. You should really have Allegra help you.”
Help you. There was a nice euphemism for
an abortion. Not that they were probably thinking of it in those terms. All they could see was their prima in jeopardy, with no clear successor in sight. True, in my clan the power wasn’t passed from mother to daughter, but its vessel still appeared only once in a generation, and any girl who might be the next inheritor was barely toddling at this point, far too young for her abilities to have begun to manifest themselves.
I hesitated, trying to find words to shoot him down that didn’t include “fuck you, Bryce.” At the same time, Allegra twisted nervous fingers around one another and said plaintively, “How did this even happen?”
Margot shot her a disbelieving look. “I’m fairly certain we all know how this happened, Allegra.”
Color rose to the other woman’s cheekbones. “That’s not what I meant. Surely Rachel taught you to be careful, Angela?”
“Of course she did,” I replied with some irritation. “And I was. But somehow…it just didn’t work, that last time.”
“‘That last time,’” Margot repeated, brows drawing together, as if she’d had a sudden thought. “When was the last time you and Connor were intimate?”
Oh, Goddess. But I knew it was a legitimate question, and one I’d already answered on the questionnaire I filled out at Planned Parenthood. Anyway, the date was burned permanently in my brain, considering the events that had taken place the next day. “March nineteenth. It was — it was the night before we…confronted Damon.”
“Ah,” Margot responded, giving the faintest of nods. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?” I demanded with some asperity. Not that I didn’t want to hear her theory on the failure of the contraceptive spell, but I found it annoying that she seemed to be one step ahead of me in solving the mystery.
Her expression softened somewhat, despite my harsh tone. “The charm most likely was working just as it should, but when Damon died — when his powers passed to Connor, the only viable successor, the last of Jeremiah’s line — that small charm was not strong enough to withstand the need for there to be a new Wilcox heir. It was probably that very moment when you became pregnant.”
Good thing I was sitting down, because otherwise my legs probably would have given way beneath me. I’d never stopped to think about how the Wilcox line had never failed, not even with all the tragedy and untimely death that hovered around the family the way storm clouds seemed to ring Humphreys Peak as it towered over the town where the Wilcoxes lived. And even I remembered enough from biology class to know that pregnancy didn’t happen at the exact moment of intercourse. No, that tricky Wilcox sperm had just been hanging out, waiting for the right opportunity to come along.
Proving…what? That I couldn’t fight fate? That even though I might be the McAllister prima, I was no match for the manifest destiny of the Wilcox clan?
No, I refused to believe that. It wasn’t fate, precisely, but I did believe that everything happened for a reason. Connor and me. Damon’s death. This child. All of it.
After a long pause, I said, “That does make sense, Margot.”
She seemed vaguely surprised that I hadn’t argued with her, but then inclined her head, as if acknowledging my acceptance.
“Anyway,” I went on, “I wanted you all to know. I’ll speak to Rachel, and I suppose the word will get out from there. It’s very early — I’m not quite three months along — so we have plenty of time to plan contingencies. But there won’t be any more talk of my getting rid of the baby. Understood?”
With some reluctance, Bryce nodded, and a few seconds later, Allegra did the same. Margot’s lips compressed, and then she said, “That is your decision, Angela. Just remember that it will affect everyone in this clan, and not only you.”
“I know that,” I said wearily. And maybe if I were as cold-blooded as you, I would get rid of it. But I can’t. Not wanting to hear any more comments about my “selfishness,” I went on, “But now I’m a little tired, so — ”
“We’ll go,” Allegra said at once. At least she’d had three children, so she could sympathize with the symptoms of early pregnancy, even if Margot and Bryce couldn’t. “Thank you for feeling you could confide in us.”
After that the other two had to murmur their thanks as well, even if they didn’t truly believe them, and then all three of them left, leaving me alone in the house, which felt very big and empty. I knew I could call Sydney and ask her to come up, but I told myself if I were really going to be a mother — if even for a short time — then I needed to put on my big-girl panties and learn how to handle things on my own. I couldn’t keep calling Syd every time I had the blues.
So I got some rocky road ice cream out of the freezer, went to the family room, and switched on the TV. I could do this. I could.
Unfortunately, I knew a far worse confrontation than the one I’d just survived still lay ahead of me.
3
By the Banks of Oak Creek
Aunt Rachel had reacted in horror when I told her the news, pretty much as I’d expected. Luckily, though, Tobias had been there when I went over to tell her what was going on. I didn’t see his presence as an intrusion, but rather a welcome buffer. He at least seemed hopeful when I said I’d do whatever I could to bring this curse to an end, even as Rachel shook her head and said that no one had ever been able to break the Wilcox curse.
Which was true. But, as they say, there’s a first time for everything.
With that unwelcome task out of the way, I went home, then sat upstairs on my bed for the longest time as I stared at the phone I held and wondered what on earth I could possibly say. Would Connor hear the fear and the nerves in my voice and demand to know what was wrong? Or would he see my number on the caller I.D. and not even bother to pick up?
In the end, I took the coward’s way out. I went to my contacts, selected Connor’s number, and then sent a brief text. We need to talk. It’s important. Can you meet me in Sedona?
I hit “send” before I could lose my nerve. A minute ticked by…then another. I set the phone down on the bed and went to the window, staring out at the terraced streets of Jerome and the golden hills beyond. The cottonwoods following the line of the Verde River blazed a brilliant emerald, foliage still fresh and new. Another minute passed. My eyes began to burn, but I wouldn’t let myself cry. If he wanted to ignore me, fine.
But then my phone pinged, and I hurried over to the bed and picked it up with shaking fingers.
Okay. When and where in Sedona?
I still wanted to cry, although this time more from relief…and possibly nerves. Damn hormones. Blinking, I typed, Tomorrow at ten? Down by Oak Creek behind Los Abrigados?
This time the answer came back quickly, as if he’d been waiting for my reply. Maybe he’d just been away from his phone the first time. Okay. See you then.
And that was it. Nothing else, no words of love or reassurance or anything else, but at least he hadn’t said no. That was something. It had to mean something.
Or so I told myself.
* * *
The next morning was bright and beautiful, a typical May day that promised warmth but not real heat. I spent about twenty minutes agonizing over what to wear and finally settled on my favorite pair of jeans and an embroidered peasant top, along with some jeweled flip-flops Sydney had talked me into. They showed off the pedicure I’d gotten the week before — before my entire world had changed. My toes gleamed hot pink, matching the embroidery on the blouse I wore. In the mirror, I looked fresh and relaxed, ready for summer. Connor had never seen me like this, and I wondered if he would appreciate the change in my appearance. But at least he’d always liked me in jeans, and I figured I might as well squeeze myself into them while I still could.
Then I was out the door and heading down the hill, through Clarkdale and Cottonwood and on into Sedona. The resort town was halfway between Jerome and Flagstaff, more or less, and neutral territory, so I figured it was the best place to meet. Finding someplace private had required a bit more thought, as this wasn’t the sor
t of discussion I really wanted to have in a restaurant in front of a bunch of other people. But then I remembered the quiet park-like area between the Los Abrigados resort and the shopping area at Tlaquepaque. Yes, people went down there sometimes to feed the ducks or simply watch the water flow past. Even so, it was far more secluded than anyplace else I could think of, especially on a weekday morning. Or so I hoped.
Since I arrived a little before ten, before the shops were open, there was plenty of parking. I chose a spot close to my destination but one that wasn’t designated for resort guests only. A quick scan of the parking lot told me Connor wasn’t there yet, so I went ahead and walked down toward the creek.
As I’d expected, it was very quiet. There were a couple of bored-looking teenagers poking around the ornamental maze set up between the parking lot and the creek, but they didn’t even give me so much as a second glance as I passed them by and continued on to the water’s edge. Here, the grass was green and fresh, the trees overhead thick, with leaves equally as green. Sunlight glinted off the surface of the water as it moved between its wide banks. The water level was fairly high; snow must still be melting up in Flagstaff and making its way here.
As if thinking of Flagstaff had somehow summoned him, I caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye, then turned to see Connor approaching me. My breath caught in my throat. Yes, I’d been thinking of him, dreaming of him, for the past few months, but none of that could compare to seeing him before me now. I’d forgotten how tall he really was, how broad his shoulders, how strong and fine the bones of his face.
It looked like he hadn’t cut his hair since the last time, just a day before Damon’s funeral. Now a lock of it fell over Connor’s forehead, and he had it pushed back behind his ears. He wore a dark gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing tanned forearms. Apparently he hadn’t been wasting away in his studio, mooning over me. Then again, even in the depths of winter, his skin tone had always been warm, quite a bit darker than mine.
Darkmoon (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 3) Page 4
