Oh, it was beautiful here, too, if in a different way, but….
I knew I could go home. My time here in New Mexico had been chaotic enough that there hadn’t been much time for me to feel homesick, but I knew the longing for Jerome and northern Arizona still lived deep within me, waiting to awaken. Really, there was nothing to hold me here, not now. A few more days of work with Simon, and then…well, I supposed I’d figure it out when the time came. Either way, there really wasn’t any reason for the melancholy that had swept over me out of nowhere, especially considering my triumphs of that morning. I was making great progress. I had no reason to be downcast.
And yet….
Don’t you dare make this about Rafe, I thought, resolutely staring out the window as the highway began to climb away from the river bottom, taking us up its steep path into Los Alamos. I’d say he was pretty clear about what he thought of you. Obviously, every kiss you shared with him was a lie, or he would never have said those things.
“You okay?” Simon’s voice interrupted my thoughts, his tone gentle but also slightly worried.
“I’m fine.” I shifted in my seat so I looked forward. “Just thinking, I guess.”
I left it there, and although I could detect a faint furrowing of Simon’s brow out of the corner of my eye, he seemed to understand that I didn’t really want to talk. We drove in silence the rest of the way into Los Alamos, and I was glad of having new scenery to occupy me — the small airport on the very edge of town, the houses and apartment buildings that so obviously must have been built to house the people who worked here during World War II, or maybe right afterward. Then we came to the downtown section, which was clearly much newer, clean and bright and modern.
As was the Smith’s, which seemed enormous to me, especially for a town whose population couldn’t be all that large. Still, it was fun to shop with Simon, to choose items to make easy, homey meals — steaks and spaghetti and salad, and the fixings for chili and stroganoff and enchiladas. Good thing my Great-Aunt Rachel had taught me how to cook, because I knew I wouldn’t have any problem putting any of these dinners together. Also, I had a feeling Simon would be fine being put on “chopping duty,” which was always my least favorite part about meal prep.
Once we were done with our grocery shopping, we went across the street to a small restaurant/brew pub, had burgers and local beer. It was crowded in there, so we didn’t have much of a chance to discuss my magical practice from earlier that morning…which was fine by me. Magic made me think about Rafe, about why I’d been sent here. It was much more comfortable to pretend that Simon and I were just friends going out to lunch, and he seemed to pick up the hint, talking about which meal we wanted to make first, and whether we’d have time to go on a hike up Tesuque Canyon, which he said was a popular spot and might still have some fall foliage to check out.
And even when we were alone in his car and driving back down the mountain, he didn’t push me to talk about magic. Maybe he understood that everything I’d done so far had begun to overwhelm me, that I needed to get a little distance from it in order to give myself some breathing room.
Whatever the reason, I was feeling much more relaxed as we pulled onto the private lane that led to the house. I even smiled when I saw the tall roof of the main house come into view, the few fall flowers that still bloomed in the garden off the dining room. Even though I’d been here only a few days, it felt like I was coming home.
And if this borrowed house felt like home, what about the man who quietly guided the SUV into the garage, who took the lion’s share of the grocery bags to carry into the kitchen? He was beginning to feel comfortable now, too, in a way that made me think wild, unbridled passion was highly overrated. The two of us got along extremely well. He seemed to understand me. What else did I really need?
I didn’t know whether I could answer that question…didn’t know whether I wanted to.
Maybe that realization should have frightened me. The fact that it didn’t…I wasn’t quite sure what I should do about that.
12
Discoveries
Rafe
He and Cat sat in his living room, looking at each other, none of them sure what they should say. She’d wept on the way over here, but now she seemed to have more control over herself, although her eyes were still suspiciously bright.
“What did Mom say?” she asked.
Rafe had just put down his phone. The call to his mother was the first thing he’d done after he and Cat watched Sophia go in to sit with her dead son. They’d waited at the hospital until Genoveva arrived. It was her place as prima to take control of the situation, and after she’d gone to be with Marco’s grieving mother, Rafe and his sister had left to come here. Neither of them really knew what else they should be doing. Of course the Castillo clan had seen its share of deaths, but no one as young as Marco, at least not as far as Rafe could remember.
Genoveva called only about fifteen minutes after he and Cat had arrived at his place. She was brisk, calm, letting Rafe know that Sophia would be staying at the house with Genoveva and Eduardo, since she couldn’t very well be left alone right now. He told his sister what their mother had said, and she sighed.
“It makes sense — I know it would be terrible for Sophia to have to go home to Taos all by herself, but….” Cat stopped there and pulled in a breath. “I hate even thinking it, because it’s so selfish, but it’s going to be rough having Sophia at the house.”
“No, I get it,” Rafe said, and he thought he did. His sister was already on edge because of Miranda’s disappearance. Now they had to deal with the tragedy of Marco’s death, and Cat far more than he because of having Sophia basically in her lap until the funeral. All the Castillos were buried here in Santa Fe, even those who lived in Taos and Albuquerque and other parts of the state.
Buried. He ran a hand through his hair and then dropped it back to his knee. Marco, buried. What the hell was going on?
“Why don’t you crash here with me for a few days?” he asked. “You can tell Genoveva that you thought it would be better for Sophia not to have so many people around.”
Cat brightened for a moment at this suggestion but then shook her head. “No, that won’t work. I know Mom will just say that I’m running away — and she’d be right — and then she’d give me a guilt trip for not wanting to stay and be there for Sophia. Which I should do. So…it’ll be all right.”
Rafe wasn’t so sure about that, but he knew better than to argue. His sister’s sense of family duty had always been a lot stronger than his own. “Okay, but if you need me to steal you away for a few hours here and there, just let me know. I’m sure we can manufacture some excuse.”
The expression on Cat’s face told him she wasn’t so sure about their ability to fool their mother. She didn’t protest, however, only reached for the glass of water she’d left sitting in front of her on the coffee table. No doubt she was wishing the glass held something a little stronger than water — a sentiment Rafe definitely shared — but both of them knew that drinking right now wasn’t a good idea. There was a very strong chance that Genoveva might call again and need them to run an errand for her, do something to prepare for Sophia’s stay at the house. Rafe couldn’t really think what that might be, since the place was always immaculate and the freezer and refrigerator fully stocked, but he knew his mother well enough to believe she would think of something.
His phone buzzed again. Here it comes, he thought as he bent to pick it up, but then Rafe saw that the number displayed on the screen was Daniel’s, not his mother’s.
Had he found something? That would be the one bright spot in this otherwise miserable day.
“Hey, Daniel,” Rafe said, watching as Cat sat up straighter on the couch, her gaze suddenly sharp. “You heard the news?”
“I did,” Daniel replied in properly subdued tones. “My mother called me at the office. That’s…rough.”
“Yeah, it is. We’re all kind of in shock right now.”
“No,” Rafe cut in. That was the last thing he wanted. He needed to make some progress in finding his missing fiancée, because even a few hopeful signs in that direction might help to restore his faith in the universe. Right now, he wasn’t feeling too great about the state of the world, or at least his small corner of it. “We need to keep going, even — even though this has happened.”
“Got it. Well, I don’t have much news for you, unfortunately. All the traces I put on Miranda’s bank accounts have turned up nothing. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t touched her checking or her savings account since she left Arizona.”
But what did that mean, precisely? That whoever had taken her wasn’t interested in her money? Or, Rafe thought, his blood going cold, that she was as dead as Marco, and therefore had no reason to touch any of her accounts?
Something of the worry in his frozen silence must have communicated itself to his cousin, because Daniel said quickly, “Which doesn’t necessarily mean anything. If she’d had sufficient cash on her, she could be using that to get by.”
“She couldn’t have had any money on her, Daniel,” Rafe replied in biting tones. “She disappeared in her goddamn wedding gown.”
Something about that comment appeared to pique Cat’s interest for some reason, because she frowned slightly, then got up from the couch and disappeared down the hallway. What the hell was that about?
“Oh, right,” Daniel said, sounding apologetic. “I forgot about that little detail. Well, in a way this is good news, because at least it shows she wasn’t taken by someone who was after her money.”
No, just her beauty, just her enticing body. Rafe had to shove that thought aside with an almost physical effort. He couldn’t allow himself to think of someone using her, violating her, because then he thought he really would go crazy over his current impotence. Because he could pretend to be proactive, have his private detective cousin on the case, but, Rafe thought glumly, when you got right down to it, what he was doing right now was basically the intellectual equivalent of jerking off.
Cat came back into the living room, frowning. Clearly, whatever she’d gone to check on, she hadn’t found what she was looking for. Well, that would have to wait until he was off the phone.
“Hey,” Rafe went on, “I know you didn’t know Marco that well, but stuff still gets around the family grapevine.”
“That’s for sure.”
Daniel’s tone was grim, and Rafe thought he knew why. His cousin’s divorce had been unmercifully picked apart by a large portion of the Castillo clan, probably because divorce was so rare in their Catholic witch family. However, he knew better than to say anything on the topic, even in commiseration, since he understood that Daniel wanted to leave that whole mess behind him. “Did you hear anything about Marco dating someone named Tess?”
“Tess? I don’t think so, but I’ll admit I don’t pay much attention to that kind of thing.”
“You’re sure?” Rafe asked. It had been a long shot, but he couldn’t help feeling a wave of disappointment at his cousin’s reply.
“Pretty sure. Why? Is she someone who needs to be notified about his death?”
That consideration was something Rafe hadn’t even thought of. “No. I mean, I don’t know. Cat and I were at the hospital this afternoon, right before…well, right before. And even though Marco was in a coma and shouldn’t have been able to speak, he had some kind of a fit or seizure, kept saying, ‘Tess…Tess.’ Cat and I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say, and then he was just…gone.”
“Hmm.” Daniel was silent for a moment, clearly pondering this new piece of information. “I don’t know what that could mean. You should probably ask Sophia.”
That was the most logical thing to do, and yet Rafe quailed at the thought of attempting to ask Marco’s grieving mother if she knew anything about her late son’s love life. “I guess I will,” he said cautiously, “when the time feels right. It’s just frustrating me, because it seems as though Marco was trying really hard to tell us something, and the message didn’t quite get through. And now it never will.”
“Don’t say ‘never,’” Daniel told him. “Sometimes you get an insight when you least expect it. Anyway, I have a client coming in at five, so I need to prep for that. I just wanted to let you know what I’d found — or hadn’t found — about Miranda’s accounts. And…I suppose I’ll hear when the funeral will be happening.”
“Yes, Genoveva’s on that,” Rafe said. “Probably on Friday, but we’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Rafe. Hang in there.”
He made a noncommittal sound and ended the call. Almost as soon as he swiped his finger over the screen, Cat said, “Her stuff is gone.”
“What stuff?”
“Miranda’s bags, remember? You were going to check to see if they were still sitting in the entry where I left them, but you never did, I guess because Mom called about Marco being in the hospital and we both sort of rushed out of here.”
Oh, right. With everything that had been going on, he’d barely had a chance to remember to brush his teeth, let alone remind himself to go look for those mythical bags. Now, though, Cat’s remark made him frown. “You’re sure they’re gone?”
She gave him what he always thought of the “Cat” look, head tilted slightly to one side, right eyebrow lifted at a quizzical angle. “Well, unless someone put a spell on them to make them invisible, yes, they’re gone. Your entryway isn’t so big that I would miss a couple of weekender bags sitting on the floor.”
No, it wasn’t. He reached up and rubbed the side of his head, pretty sure he had a headache coming on. Unfortunately, that was the least of his worries right now. “So, what are you saying — that someone broke in here and took Miranda’s stuff?”
“Well, you don’t have them, and I know I left those bags there for her so you guys could make a quick getaway after the reception.” Rafe couldn’t help but wince slightly at the thought of the wedding reception that had never happened, and Cat went on hurriedly, “Which means someone must have taken them. And there wouldn’t have been any sign of a break-in if it was a witch or warlock who did it, right?”
“No, there wouldn’t.” Now his head was really hurting, but he ignored the ache as the import of his sister’s words sank in. He’d already sensed some kind of dark magic in downtown Santa Fe, although he hadn’t been able to pin it to a particular person. But what if that person — Robert Marquez, for lack of a better way to think of the man, although Rafe knew the name was only one the warlock had stolen to hide his identity — what if that person had come along while everyone was in an uproar and had taken Miranda’s things?
Had taken them, in fact, because he was the one who’d kidnapped her. The answer was so obvious that Rafe wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before this. Then again, there hadn’t been any evidence to show that Miranda had been taken by force. She sure as hell had teleported out of the cathedral of her own free will.
Or…had she? Just because she’d pulled that disappearing act in front of Cat previously didn’t mean that the same force was at work here. Maybe the warlock who’d stolen her had only made it look as though she was teleporting the way she had before. It would be a great way to deflect suspicion, because everyone — Rafe included — had just assumed that she’d teleported away under her own power.
Cat sat down on the couch next to him, face drawn with worry. “Rafe, what are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure yet. I get the feeling someone’s taken her…but who? And why?”
“Well, she’s the daughter of two wealthy and powerful people. And she was going to marry the son of the Castillo prima. That might be plenty of incentive for some unscrupulous warlock to swoop in, but if this was all about ransom or something like that, you’d think we would have heard from him. Or her,” Cat added. “I mean, I sup
pose a witch could be behind this as well.”
“I don’t think so,” Rafe said. He wasn’t quite sure why he felt so sure of that point, but some weird sixth sense was telling him that Miranda’s captor had to be male. Once again he had the niggling feeling that he was overlooking something vitally important, but the more he tried to probe at it with his mind, the more it seemed to slip away. “I’m sure it’s connected to Robert Marquez — I mean, the person who was using Robert Marquez’s identity. Maybe we need to go back to that Airbnb.”
“I thought that didn’t go so well last time.”
“No,” Rafe admitted, “but that was because I was basically breaking and entering. Why don’t I try to rent it? Then we’d have free rein to go through the place at our leisure.”
Cat appeared to consider his suggestion for a moment, then nodded. “That sounds like a good idea, actually.”
“All right, then.” He rose from the couch. “Let me go get my laptop and see if the place is available.”
As he headed upstairs to fetch his computer, Rafe wondered if once again they were following a dead end, a lead that really didn’t mean anything. He didn’t think so, though. Or at least, he really hoped not.
He unplugged the laptop from its charger and brought it back down to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table and opening it up so Cat could see what he was doing. It wasn’t too difficult to find the Airbnb unit in question, since he already knew its location. And, thank God, it was currently unoccupied — it wasn’t booked again until Thanksgiving week, which should give them plenty of time.
“How long should I book it for?” he asked, hurriedly setting up an account and getting his credit card information entered. Of course he’d never had any reason to use the service before this; witches and warlocks tended to stay put and not travel very much, and the times he’d gone up to Taos or headed south to visit Carlsbad Caverns, he’d stayed in regular hotels.
Darker Paths (The Witches of Canyon Road Book 2) Page 16
