Protector (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 5)

by Christine Pope

  It wouldn’t have been so bad if his brother Diego could have shouldered part of the burden here. He was the oldest son, after all, and so he really should have been the one to take over the store, or at least the larger part of managing it. But last year he’d finally gotten around to getting married, to a woman whose family owned a vineyard down in Bisbee, and he’d gone to work there instead, using the excuse that Letty was an only child and that he was needed to help shoulder some of the burden.

  Burden, Alex thought. Yeah, it must be really rough to spend your whole day tasting wine.

  Intellectually, he knew there was more to managing a vineyard than that. And Diego’s new wife was a civilian, which meant Diego had to be on guard all the time. Maria knew about the de la Paz clan, that her husband’s family wasn’t exactly typical, but her own family didn’t have a clue about the de la Pazes. And they needed to be kept in the dark, for obvious reasons.

  “Besides,” Luz Trujillo had pointed out to her son, probably trying to be helpful but in fact just making things worse, “why did you get those degrees in marketing and communications, if not to be more valuable to the store? I’m sure you’ll have all sort of ideas!”

  He’d had ideas once. Unfortunately, none of them really applied to running a neighborhood mercado, even if said mercado had a thriving side business that most of its regular customers didn’t know anything about. Through a side door that most civilians thought led to another stockroom or possibly an office, you went into a second store, smaller, but stocked with the sorts of items the witches and warlocks in the area might need: crystals and other stones of power, herbs and floral essences, candles and saints’ icons and all manner of arcane items. Luz Trujillo, whose gifts included a facility with minor illusions, had cast a spell on that doorway so the civilians never quite noticed the parade of people going in and out during the hours the mercado was open for business.

  “Luis,” Alex said to his cousin, who was lurking in the dry goods aisle, attempting to look busy but really eyeing a pretty girl who was inspecting the spice display, “the rice is on the shelf to your right as you go in the stockroom.” He’d tried to sound mild, but he couldn’t help letting an edge creep into his voice as he added, “The same place it’s always been.”

  The girl giggled, and Luis gave Alex the evil eye. At least he didn’t argue, though, but headed back where he was told, albeit with excruciating slowness.

  And that’s the problem with hiring family, Alex thought. Things would have been so much easier if he could have just gotten some regular help around the place.

  Frowning, he emerged from the dry goods aisle and began walking toward the front of the store. His frown deepened, though, as he heard gasps and murmurs from up near the entrance. In the next moment, he saw the source of the disturbance: a young woman with long red hair was staggering toward him, eyes blank, glazed. For a second or two, he wondered if she might be drunk, or possibly high, and then he saw the stain of bright blood against her pale blue gauzy top, the way that blood had run all the way down her side and onto her jeans. And in that same instant he felt the slight tingle that told him he was in the presence of a witch, even as she reached out with a bloody hand to grasp him, her hoarse voice pleading for help right before she slumped into his arms.

  He couldn’t stop to think. The better place to take her would be the hidden side of the store, the one where the witches shopped, but he wasn’t sure his mother’s spell could hold up, not with so many curious eyes on him. So he lifted the strange young woman, saying to the clerk, “Manuela, call 911!”

  Since Manuela was another witch, she would know he didn’t really want her to call emergency services, but instead their local healer, who lived approximately ten minutes away. She nodded, picked up the phone, and made a show of dialing 911…but instead was putting the call through to the healer. Luckily, this wasn’t the first time the clan had had to indulge in this sort of subterfuge, so the healer would know to come right away, no matter what Manuela might be saying on the phone.

  Without pausing, Alex went on into the stockroom and through it, to the small break room at the back of the building. He laid the wounded witch on the couch there, then hurried to get some towels from the supply closet. After wetting a washcloth, he went back to the sofa before gingerly tugging her shirt upward a few inches so he could wipe away the blood and see where she was hurt.

  And there it was — a small but deep gash in her left side, piercing the smooth, pale skin.

  A knife wound. Shit.

  He’d never seen her before, but, judging by the warm red hair that flowed over the shabby pillow where her head currently rested, he guessed she must be a McAllister. Most of them tended to be much fairer than the members of the Wilcox clan.

  “Who are you?” he wondered, belatedly realizing he’d spoken the words out loud.

  Her eyelids fluttered, and she stared up at him, face white and taut with pain. Then she seemed to focus on his features, and a spasm of panic went over her. She pushed at his hand and tried to sit up, wriggling away from the washcloth he had pressed against her side.

  “Hey,” Alex said, wondering what in the world had set her off. Yes, she’d been attacked, but even in her wounded state, she had to sense that he was a fellow witch and that he meant her no harm. “Stay still. You’ve already lost enough blood.”

  “You — you’re one of them,” she whispered, her voice cracking with fear.

  “One of who?” he asked. “I’m — my name is Alex Trujillo. I’m Maya de la Paz’s grandson.”

  That declaration seemed to calm her a little, although he noticed that she remained wedged up against the other end of the couch, as far away from him as she could manage. “Maya?” she echoed.

  “That’s right, Maya,” he said, attempting to keep his voice as calm, as soothing, as he could manage. “She’s helped your clan before. You’re a McAllister, right? What’s your name?”

  “C-Caitlin.”

  Her voice shook, and her entire frame was wracked with shivers. Going into shock, probably. There was a blanket folded up at the top of the storage cabinet here in the break room. He should get that and cover her up. The healer would be here soon, but —

  “Do you want a blanket, Caitlin?”

  She nodded, and seemed relieved when he moved away from her to the cabinet. When he came back, he was careful to avoid touching her as he spread the blanket over her. With shaking fingers, she pulled it up to her chin.

  He knew he should really be holding that washcloth up to the wound in her side to slow the bleeding, but he also knew that whatever had happened to her, it was traumatic enough that she seemed to be having difficulty recognizing a friendly gesture. Instead, he moved a foot or so away, then told her, “The healer is on her way. She’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

  The smallest of nods. Her eyes, a clear, mesmerizing blue-green, seemed to be fixed on the window in the wall opposite, and as he watched, he saw tears fall from them and slide down her pale cheeks. “I left them,” she whispered, her voice ragged.

  “Left who?” Alex asked. Something was going on here, that was for sure, but he couldn’t begin to make any sense of it. Maybe once Valentina got here and had this Caitlin McAllister put back together, they could figure out just what the hell had happened.

  Almost as if his thoughts had summoned her, Alex heard a soft knock at the door to the break room. He went to answer it, letting the healer in. She was a tall, slender woman a few years younger than his mother, serenely beautiful.

  “Over there,” he murmured, inclining his head toward the sofa. “Her name is Caitlin.”

  That serenity appeared a little shaken when the healer approached Caitlin and realized the wounded young woman in question was a witch, too. Still, Valentina gathered herself and said softly, “Caitlin, I am Valentina. I will need to lay my hand on your wound. Will you allow me to do that?”

  Silently, Caitlin nodded. Tears still leaked from her eyes, but she didn’t pull aw
ay, didn’t move or flinch as Valentina touched her. And that took some doing, because Alex knew from experience that although Valentina’s healing magic was powerful and effective, it wasn’t pain-free…more like you had to experience all the healing a wound or injury required as she brought her powers to bear. It could be intense.

  Caitlin’s small white teeth clamped down on her lower lip as Valentina continued to press her hands against the wound in her side. Gradually, though, the young witch became less tense, until at last she expelled a breath and nodded.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice still hoarse. She placed her hand against her side, against the flesh that had knitted itself together, and gave a small wince. The spot would probably be tender for a few more days. “That’s…amazing.”

  “You clan doesn’t have a healer, I recall,” Valentina said, straightening so she could move a few paces away from her patient, her work done.

  “No, we all have to get patched up at the Verde Valley Medical Center,” Caitlin replied. Her gaze moved from the healer and came to rest on Alex. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. You’re Alex — the Alex who tried to be our prima’s consort. I should have recognized your name.”

  “It’s all right,” he said, vaguely wishing she’d heard of him some other way. Not that there was anything shameful in not being a consort, if it wasn’t your fate. But still…. He shook himself. That wasn’t important right now. “You’ve had a shock. Can you tell us what happened?”

  Her entire body seemed to tense, and she winced again. That involuntary reaction had probably hurt a good deal. “I-I’m not completely sure. I mean, I know what happened, but I still can’t explain it.”

  Alex flicked a glance at Valentina, and she gave the tiniest lift of her shoulders. She’d healed Caitlin’s wound, but that didn’t mean she had any more idea of who had inflicted it — and why — than he himself did. He offered Caitlin what he hoped was an encouraging smile, saying, “Well, just tell us as best you can, and we’ll go from there.”

  She hesitated for a few seconds. “Can I — could I have some water first, please?”

  “Of course,” Valentina replied. She went to the break room’s refrigerator, where they kept some bottled water for the store’s employees. After pulling out one of the bottles, she took it to Caitlin, who accepted it with a grateful nod.

  She drank deeply, almost a quarter of the bottle. “That’s better. It’s getting the rest of that…whatever it was…out of my throat.”

  Alex could feel his eyebrows lift at that remark. What exactly had happened to her?

  Now looking a little more composed, Caitlin shifted slightly on the couch so she was sitting more upright. That must have hurt as well, but she gave no sign of being in any pain, save for a quick tightening of her fingers around the water bottle she held. “There were three of them,” she said at last. “I was here with my friends. Roslyn McAllister and Danica Wilcox.” She pronounced the names carefully, as if wanting to drive home that her companions had been fellow witches. “We went out for drinks. Spring break, you know?”

  Alex nodded. Of course, he’d never been able to cut too loose during his own vacations, mostly because his getaways in the greater Phoenix area had been made under the watchful eye of his grandmother, and so news of any debauchery he’d indulged in would have reached her ears soon enough. Not that Alex had much taste for debauchery. That had been more Diego’s thing.

  The McAllister witch continued, “There were these guys at the bar. They came up to us. Sort of flirting, you know?”

  That didn’t seem terribly strange. Even pale and drawn as she was now, he could see that Caitlin was extremely pretty. And that head of gorgeous red hair was sure to attract attention pretty much anywhere she went. He opened his mouth to reply in the affirmative, but she kept talking.

  “Only…I knew there was something wrong about them. I knew, and yet I let Danica and Roslyn go with them anyway.”

  “‘Knew’?” Valentina repeated. “How is it that you knew?”

  Caitlin’s face seemed to crumple as fresh tears sprang to her eyes. Her fingers clutched the blanket, knuckles showing white against her already fair skin. “I could tell they were warlocks, you know, the way we can always tell when we’re around witch-kind. But it wasn’t just that. They felt off. Bad. Wrong. Whichever word you want to choose.” Her gaze fastened on Alex, and there seemed to be something both pleading and ashamed in those blue-green eyes of hers, too bright now because of the tears that still shimmered in them. “And I’m sorry about the way I reacted to you. It’s just that they were about your age, and also — ” She broke off, staring down at her fingers where they were knotted in the blanket.

  He had a pretty good idea of what she’d been about to say. “Mexican?” he suggested.

  A nod. “Well, I was going to say Hispanic, but yeah. Yes. I didn’t know if you were one of them, too.”

  “Can you describe them?” Valentina asked, her tone troubled.

  “There were three of them.” Caitlin drew in a hitching little breath, as if even attempting to recall the faces of the young men who had assaulted her was physically painful. “The leader, his name was Matías, and the other two were Jorge and Tomas. They said they were brothers, but I don’t know if that was true or not.”

  “But you’re certain they were warlocks,” Alex cut in. None of this made sense. He didn’t know anyone in Tucson, or in his extended family in Phoenix, named Matías. Jorge and Tomas were more common names, but again, among his cousins, he didn’t have any brothers who shared those names. He might have said one or two of his wilder cousins were capable of messing with some gringa witches who’d come down to Tucson to party, just to show them whose territory they were in…but certainly not to the extent of physically assaulting them.

  “Yes, they were definitely warlocks,” Caitlin replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She drank some more of her water. It seemed to revive her, because she sounded stronger as she continued, “They took us to their house, which is in that residential area just past the traffic light, the one where there’s the closed-down gas station on the corner. You know, that way?”

  She made a vague gesture toward the wall with the window in it, which was in completely the opposite direction from the neighborhood he thought she was talking about. But that was all right; Alex knew which one she meant. And he also knew that none of the de la Paz witches or their extended families lived there. So who the hell were these strange young men she was talking about?

  Caitlin continued, “Matías was the tallest. He was probably about your height.” Then she hesitated and seemed to study Alex a bit more closely. “Well, maybe a little shorter. He was good-looking, I guess. Black hair and brown eyes. He had a snake tattooed around his neck.”

  “There’s no one in our clan with a tattoo like that,” Valentina said, her tone troubled. She shot a significant glance in Alex’s direction, one that he knew most likely meant she wanted to call his mother now, before this went any further. He supposed it made sense, since his mother was Maya’s daughter and the prima-in-waiting, and Maya was in Scottsdale, more than an hour away.

  Without taking his focus from Caitlin, he nodded slightly at Valentina. Murmuring that she needed to make a call, she headed out the back door, no doubt so she could get her cell phone out of her purse and make that necessary call.

  After she’d gone, Alex said, “What about the others?”

  “Jorge and Tomas? I guess you could say they were good-looking, too. Not as tall as Matías. They had tats, too — a bunch of symbols I’d never seen before. And Tomas had what looked like a ring of roses and barbed wire around one of his biceps.” For some reason, the recollection seemed to upset her; Alex saw her hand begin to shake again as she lifted the bottle of water to her lips.

  All good details — and he was sort of surprised she’d been able to remember that much, considering how shaken up she was, how much blood she’d lost. Even so, he could tell there was something else she
didn’t want to talk about. Yes, she’d recognized that the young men who’d approached her and her friends were also witch-folk, but that didn’t explain how she’d sensed they were bad…and it sure didn’t explain the knife wound in her side.

  Maybe with Valentina gone, Caitlin would feel more like opening up, now that it was only the two of them in the room. He guessed she had to be a few years younger than he was, maybe as much as five, but they were still a lot closer in age than Valentina, who was old enough to be Caitlin’s mother.

  “And so…you said they felt wrong. How did you know that?”

  A blank expression seemed to settle on her pretty features. Her gaze shifted to the wall, to the calendar from one of their produce supply companies and the overly bright still life of pears it was showing for the month of March. “I just knew. I sensed it.”

  He got the feeling she didn’t want to say anything more than that, and he wasn’t going to push it. After all, he didn’t know her. He’d leave the poking and prodding to his mother, who was all too skilled at extracting information from her children and pretty much anyone else she set her focus on.

  “So you went to their house….”

  “Yes. The guys said they were going to make margaritas. Danica and Roslyn really wanted to go, and I could tell I wouldn’t be able to talk them out of it. Also, they were acting strange.”

  “Strange how?”

  With a nervous gesture, she reached up to push some of the heavy hair that hung over her shoulder back a little, so it wouldn’t be lying against her neck. Alex had a sudden flash of what it might feel like to have those silky dark copper strands running through his fingers, brushing against his face, and then frowned. Where the hell had that come from? Sure, she was pretty — beautiful, really, or would be, once she wasn’t so shaken and pale — but they had far more important things to focus on right now.