Darker Paths (The Witches of Canyon Road Book 2)

by Christine Pope

  I clinked my glass against his. That was a sentiment I could get behind, mostly because I could tell he wasn’t only referring to my dogged attempt to finish all the food on my plate. I could have given up. I could have gone home and washed my hands of New Mexico…and of magic. But I hadn’t, and now I knew I could summon a wall of fire, could change my appearance, could teleport from place to place at a mere thought. If I’d given up, I would never have been able to do any of that.

  “Thanks for this,” I said, and he tilted his head toward me.

  “For what?”

  “Just…this.” I gestured with my glass toward the restaurant. “Going out. Feeling normal. Doing something regular people do. I definitely did not feel normal in Santa Fe.”

  “I can’t blame you for that. They’re not exactly a normal group of people. I mean, I don’t know all that much about the family, but it seems clear that the woman in charge is a little unhinged.”

  Once again I noted how he avoided mentioning any names. As for “unhinged”? I wasn’t sure if I would go that far. Controlling, yes. Domineering, definitely. But it was pretty obvious that Genoveva Castillo was fully in control of her faculties, even if you didn’t much care for how she used them.

  “Well, let’s just say I’m very relieved she isn’t going to be my mother-in-law after all.”

  Simon’s eyes met mine. So dark, with that fringe of black lashes all around. “I’m relieved, too.”

  Uh-oh. I really hadn’t meant it that way, but clearly he was just as pleased that I was now unattached.

  Well, I’d worry about his remark later. Even with all the food I’d consumed, I could tell that the second glass of wine was starting to get to me. Not exactly in a bad way, but I knew I was a little tipsy. I’d have to watch it.

  “So,” I said quickly, knowing I needed to change the subject, “what do you do for hobbies, Simon?”

  He stared at me blankly for a moment. “Hobbies?”

  “You know, the stuff normal people do to occupy themselves when they aren’t at work or school or watching TV or whatever.”

  “I know what hobbies are.”

  “Well, then.”

  “Photography, mostly. That was the reason I could convince my parents I was going on that night photography workshop/expedition. I’ve been pretty serious about it since my sophomore year of high school.”

  Photography. Yes, that was a nice, normal hobby to have.

  “What about you?” he asked, his tone faintly challenging.

  “Rocks.”

  “Rocks?”

  “You know, those hard things that you walk on, or that make up mountains.”

  This time, he didn’t bother to reply, only sat there across from me, fingers wrapped around the stem of his wine glass.

  I relented, saying, “I guess it made sense, since I grew up someplace that was kind of geologically unique. But I always found rocks fascinating. I collected lots of them, had them all labeled on shelves.” A pang went through me as I thought of those shelves of rocks left behind in Arizona. My parents would make sure they remained dusted and looked after, but the collection would now remain forever static, its final addition a gorgeous piece of rough tourmaline I’d found on the dirt road between Jerome and Williams.

  “That’s pretty cool,” Simon said. His tone wasn’t derisive or anything; he sounded genuinely interested. “Did you study geology at school?”

  “I took some classes, but my major was European history.”

  “Why? I mean, why that and not geology?”

  “Because….” I let the word trail off as I tried to think of a way to explain my decision. Both my parents had been surprised by my choice of major, considering all the hours I’d spent collecting specimens and looking them up and labeling them. “This is going to sound weird.”

  “Try me.”

  I took a fortifying sip of wine before I said, “Because I knew the history major would be interesting, but I wasn’t exactly attached to it, you know? Whereas I really did love geology, and I knew I could get a degree and not be able to do a damn thing with it because I had to come here to marry Ra — well, to get married. So what would be the point? I could already tell that his mother wasn’t the type who’d let her daughter-in-law go tromping around digging up specimens on the weekend. It was better to major in something I didn’t care about so much.”

  For a long moment, Simon didn’t say anything, only sat there and watched me, brows pulled together slightly, thin, mobile lips compressed. At last he leaned forward a bit, although he didn’t try to reach out toward me. “I’m sorry.”

  I didn’t ask him what he was sorry about. “It’s okay. It’s not as though you had anything to do with any of it. But that’s my hobby. I liked going on hikes, looking at the formations, gathering new stones for my collection. It was something I could do that didn’t have any connection to mag — well, to the things I was expected to do and couldn’t.”

  “I get it.” He drank more wine, emptying his glass.

  Taking that as a signal that he wanted the meal to end, I finished the last sip in my glass as well.

  “Did you want anything else? Dessert?”

  “Oh, no,” I replied at once. “I’m so full, you’re probably going to have to roll me to the car.”

  He smiled at my comment, and I could practically feel the tension dissipate. I’d told him some truths, and he didn’t seem to mind, in fact appeared glad that he now knew a little more about me. This was how it was supposed to work, wasn’t it? We’d each become more and more familiar with one another, and then….

  And then…what?

  I still didn’t know for sure.

  However, I didn’t really need to worry about contemplating my immediate future, because the waiter came back, and Simon gave him a bunch of twenties and told him to keep the change. I was a little surprised by this, just because I knew so few people who carried any cash with them these days. It was so much easier to just wave your phone or your watch over a waiter’s tablet.

  But since he was trying to keep us off the Castillos’ radar, I could see why Simon would use cash. No need to wonder where he got it; even witches and warlocks in their early twenties received a decent-sized stipend from their clans, enough money to live independently without ever having to get a job.

  We went out to the car and drove back to the compound. The night before, I hadn’t really paid all that much attention to how truly dark and isolated the place we were staying actually was, since I was safely inside and hadn’t ventured out. True, solar lights guided us to the garage, and Simon clearly knew where he was going, but even so, I could almost feel the darkness of the woods that surrounded the property, feel the emptiness pressing in on me. The moon should have only been a day or so past full, and yet it wasn’t visible. Probably it hadn’t risen yet, or maybe we’d had a “day moon” and I just hadn’t noticed it.

  Either way, I was relieved when we pulled into the garage, and even more relieved once we were in the house. I suppose there wasn’t any real need for Simon to accompany me there, since he was staying in the caretaker’s place, and yet I was glad. I wasn’t quite ready to call it an evening, although the house had satellite and I could’ve had my pick of shows to watch on TV.

  I set my purse down on the kitchen table. “I need a glass of water. You want some, too?”

  “Sure.”

  Good. Fetching water for the two of us would take up a little time. I got some glasses down from the cupboard and filled them up with water through the refrigerator door. “Here you go.”

  He took the glass from me, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “The green chile still getting to you? Water doesn’t really help, you know. You need chips or bread or something like that.”

  “Oh, I know.” I took a sip, then said, “I’m mostly over it. There’s just always that point you get to where you feel like your mouth is on fire, but I muscled past it.”

  “Good.”

  Anot
her one of those silences fell, the kind I desperately wanted to fill with something but didn’t quite know what I should say. Had he come in the house with me because he wanted a good night kiss? And if that was the case, what should I do about it? Part of me wasn’t exactly put off by the thought of kissing Simon, although I knew it was far too soon to be doing anything like that. I couldn’t stand on an altar with the man I’d thought I was going to marry on one day, then kiss someone else the next. It didn’t work that way. Or at least, I didn’t work that way.

  “Thanks for dinner,” I said. “It was really good.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. We don’t have a ton of choices if we’re trying to avoid Santa Fe, but there are some restaurants at the Buffalo Thunder resort in Pojoaque, and I’ve heard there are good places in Española, too…if you don’t mind slumming.”

  I made a face at him. “Slumming? That’s kind of harsh.”

  He chuckled, one eyebrow lifted at an ironic angle. “Oh, please. I saw the look on your face when I suggested you buy some things at Walmart. It’s okay — you’re the daughter of a prima, and your father is a Wilcox. I doubt you’ve ever had to look to see whether something was on sale before you bought it.”

  At first I wasn’t sure how to reply, because really, if I put my indignation aside for a moment, what he’d said was only the truth. Money had never been an issue in my household. At the same time, I didn’t want him to think I was a snob. And besides…. “Well, you’re a de la Paz. Last time I checked, your clan wasn’t exactly hurting for cash, either.”

  A strange expression crossed over Simon’s face, one that came and went so quickly, I couldn’t even tell exactly what it was. Annoyance? Impatience? “Well, true, but it’s still not the same as being part of the prima’s immediate family.”

  A half-hearted excuse at best, but I decided to let it slide. The matter certainly wasn’t worth quarreling over…if that was even what we were doing. “Maybe, but I’m fine with going to Española to eat one night. Or up to Buffalo Thunder.”

  “Okay.” He drained the rest of the water in his glass, then set it down. “Well, have a good night, Miranda. Don’t stay up too late — we’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “I won’t,” I said. Then I added, “But you’re going to meet me here for breakfast, right?”

  “Of course. That’s what we agreed on.” He smiled at me, but that smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  Then he let himself out through the kitchen door, and I stood there, wondering, glass of water still in my hands. Was he angry with me? Had he envisioned a different end to the evening?

  Well, there wasn’t much I could do about it now, even if I’d wanted to. And I wasn’t sure whether I did. Things had moved fast with Rafe — partly because I didn’t have much of a choice — and look what had happened there. Simon and I weren’t under any kind of outside time pressure, so I sure as hell wasn’t about to inflict some on myself for no reason. Things would happen, or they wouldn’t, but it would be according to my own schedule, not Simon’s expectations.

  That sounded very sensible. About all I could do was hope I had the sense to follow my own advice.

  10

  Whisperings

  Rafe

  The whole time they were in the air and even after the plane set down on the tarmac in Albuquerque, Rafe had been tense, fully expecting that his phone would ring and Genoveva would be on the line, chewing him out for going to San Antonio on such a wild goose chase. But apparently Lupita Montoya wasn’t the type to go telling tales out of school, because his phone remained blissfully silent.

  After they got Cat’s SUV out of the parking garage at Albuquerque’s Sunport, Rafe called Daniel to let him know the San Antonio lead — and Robert Marquez — had been a bust.

  “Sorry about that,” Daniel said. “I knew it was probably a long shot.”

  “It’s all right,” Rafe told him. “But it means we’ll need to keep digging.”

  “I’m not sure there’s that much to dig, but I’ll do my best. Bank records, probably.”

  Rafe didn’t bother to ask his cousin how he could access that kind of privileged data. Even regular private detectives could ferret out information barred to the general public, and a private investigator who also happened to be a warlock could do far more than that. He realized he’d never learned what Daniel’s particular talent was. It would be rude to ask, so he decided to set the matter aside for now.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. We’ll be in Santa Fe unless something else comes up, so you know where to find me.”

  “Got it.”

  That was the end of the call. Rafe stuck his phone in his pocket and gazed moodily out the Mercedes’ windows. By that point, the sun had already gone down, and whatever warmth it might have given the world had disappeared with it. He couldn’t exactly shiver, not in the comfortable confines of his sister’s SUV, but he still felt a chill.

  “What now?” Cat asked.

  “Not much,” he replied. “More waiting, I guess. Heard anything from Genoveva?”

  “She texted me during the flight, said that the results of Marco’s MRI were inconclusive…whatever that means.” Cat glanced over at Rafe, then just as quickly looked back at the road. “She wanted to know if I could sit with him for a few hours tomorrow afternoon. I said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Which it wouldn’t. Unlike him, Cat didn’t have a “real” job — not that she needed one. She was, however, an accomplished textile artist, sold some of her hand-loomed pieces in the shops on Canyon Road and elsewhere around the city. Even so, she had plenty of spare time at the moment, since she didn’t have any art shows coming up until closer to the holidays.

  “Maybe I should come along,” he suggested.

  “You hate hospitals.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Probably us witches and warlocks more than anyone, since we spend less time there. If one of our own is in the hospital, it usually means whatever is wrong is bad enough that a healer couldn’t help.” Another of those quick sideways glances — all she could really spare, since northbound traffic was still thick enough with people heading home from their jobs in Albuquerque that you really needed to pay attention. “But thanks. It would make it easier for me if you came along. And who knows — hearing the two of us talking might be better for Marco than me just sitting there playing with my phone.”

  “It probably would be. People in comas can still hear, or at least, that’s what I’ve read.” Rafe reflected that until Marco had been hit by this stroke — or whatever it was — he’d never known anyone who’d actually been in a coma. The condition had always been something he’d read about in a book, or seen in a movie or television show. “And it’s not like I have anything else I could do with my time. I mean, I suppose I could contact my client and tell him I got back from my honeymoon early, but then I’m stuck with deadlines again, and if something happens with the search for Miranda — ”

  “Then you’d have to explain why you couldn’t work. I get it.”

  Of course, if one of his clients dropped him, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It wasn’t as though he needed the money. But his pride was involved. Rafe knew he was good at what he did, could pick and choose his projects. All it would take, though, was one failure to meet a deadline, and word would start to go out that Rafael Castillo was kind of a flake. When game launches involving millions of dollars of R&D were involved, flakiness was not tolerated.

  Which meant he’d better hope this all got wrapped up in the next four or five days, because less than a week from now, he was expected to be back at work.

  It’s always a party, he thought.

  “Well,” Cat said, clearly picking up on his current mood, “we’ll have to hope this doesn’t take that long. True, San Antonio didn’t work out, but….” She trailed off there, as if she’d just realized they didn’t have any other le
ads to follow, and so whatever cheery pep talk she’d intended to give him would have fallen woefully flat.

  However, he had to appreciate her attempt to keep him from wallowing in misery, even if there really wasn’t much she could say to make him feel better. Miranda was gone, as gone as though she’d been sucked up into a passing UFO. Actually, that scenario would have given him some hope, since at least aliens tended to return their abductees.

  If you believed in that sort of thing, of course.

  “Maybe Daniel will find something else,” Rafe said, since the silence that followed her aborted attempt to cheer him up was getting a little too drawn out.

  “I’m sure he will,” Cat said briskly. “He’s really good at what he does.”

  Had he detected a particular note of admiration in his sister’s tone? “He must be, or he wouldn’t be able to afford that office and a couple of full-time employees.” Rafe shifted in his seat so he could look at his sister a little more closely. “Are you interested in him?”

  “Am I what?” They were right where the northbound I-25 intersected with Highway 550, and so she couldn’t take her eyes off the road, thanks to all the people who decided to cut across the freeway at the last minute so they could exit in Rio Rancho. However, Rafe could still hear the incredulity in her voice.

  “Interested in Daniel. I mean, he’s a Castillo, but the connection is pretty distant. And he’s successful.”

  Her mouth quirked, lit up by the glow from the Mercedes’ instrument panel. “Rafe, are you trying to play matchmaker with me?”

  “No, I — ” He broke off there, since he realized that was pretty much exactly what he was doing. Had the impulse truly come from a desire to see his sister settled, or was it more that he was looking for something — anything — to take his mind off Miranda? “All right, maybe I am.”

  “It’s okay.” Cat paused for a moment, apparently trying to gather her thoughts on the subject of Daniel Castillo. “I mean, I see what you’re driving at. He’s a few years older than I am, but that’s no big deal. On the surface, it seems like we might be good together. But he’s not really my type.”