Darkangel (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill) (18 page)

His tone sharpened a little. “Everything okay?”

Not really, I thought
. “It’s sort of a family thing.” I didn’t trust myself to say anything more than that.

A pause, maybe while he tried to decide what would be appropriate to ask and what wouldn’t. “I’m sorry to hear that. Things are busy right now, since all my projects are due at the end of this week.”

“No finals?” I asked.

“Not in the studio art program. Just projects. Lots and lots of projects.”

There was such a rueful note in his voice that I had to chuckle a little, even though I was not all that happy about missing this one chance to see him. I had a feeling there wouldn’t be any more.

“Well, maybe we can try again once you’re out for the semester.”

The slightest of hesitations, one I probably wouldn’t have even noticed in person but which seemed more obvious over the phone. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll give you a call when I unearth myself from these piles of paint and canvas.”

“Sounds great,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“’Bye.”

The call ended, and I frowned as I shoved my phone back in my purse. I might not have been the most experienced girl around, but even I knew what “I’ll give you a call” meant, i.e, “it might have been fun, but you’re not really worth the effort.”

I stared out the window at the endless succession of cookie-cutter housing tracts and shopping malls and industrial parks that flashed by as we cruised down the freeway. Maybe once I would have been fascinated, or wondered what it was like to live in such a vast sprawl, to have everything you needed right at your fingertips instead of having to drive miles to get it or order it by mail.

Right then, though, I just wanted to get home. Back to Jerome, where it was more or less safe.

Back home, where my Aunt Rachel and I had some unfinished business.

S
he seemed
to sense that I wanted to talk to her…and was trying to do whatever she could to put off the confrontation for as long as possible.

“Tobias and I had discussed going to the Vaquero Grill for dinner, since I don’t really have time to put anything together,” she said as she got out of the van. “Do you want to come?”

Obviously I was not going to start a blowout in a restaurant, especially in front of Tobias. I shook my head. “I’m kind of tired. I think I’ll stop in at Grapes and get a pizza, then go on home.” I said this last bit with my voice slightly raised, so the bodyguards could know what I was planning.

They all looked worn-out and like they wanted nothing more to go home and crash. Amazing how tiring driving could be when all you did was sit for hours. “I’ll send word to tonight’s watchers and let them know,” Allegra said.

Well, at least the day crew was getting a break. “Thanks,” I told her, then waved to everyone and headed across the street to Grapes, which was busy but not heinously so. I waited at the bar until my pizza was ready, then went on up the hill to the house, juggling the pizza box in one hand and my shopping bags in the other.
My house
, I reminded myself, although it still didn’t feel exactly like mine.

I shoved the bags under one arm and put my hand on the knob, sending out the little feelers with my mind to have the tumblers fall where they needed to. The lock clicked, and I began to open the door.

“Hey, Angela.”

Adam’s voice. I half turned to see him standing on the garden path, in front of the bottom step. Pushing back my irritation — I really just wanted to sit down and eat my pizza in peace — I said, “Hi, Adam.”

“I heard about what happened today.”

Great. So this wasn’t merely a social call. Still balancing the pizza box in one hand, I told him, “You’d better come on inside. Have you eaten yet?”

He shook his head. There went my plan for leftovers tomorrow night. But since it would be rude to do anything else, I added, “Then you can help me with this pizza.”

Face brightening, he hurried up the steps and then finished opening the door for me. I was happy to be inside; a cold wind was blowing, and I still had on only a light top and no jacket.

I went into the dining room and set the pizza down on the table, then dropped my shopping bags on one of the chairs. The house was mostly dark, with only a light on in the hall, so I hoped Adam couldn’t really see where the bags were from. I wanted his present to be a surprise.

It seemed a little silly to be eating pizza in that grand space, with seating for ten and the heavy wrought-iron chandelier I’d picked out hanging overhead, so I turned to him and asked, “Do you mind if we go into the family room instead? It’s a little cozier.”

“Sure,” he said, and came over and picked up the pizza before I could retrieve it. He didn’t appear to notice the shopping bags at all, and I let out a little mental sigh of relief.

We needed napkins and plates, so I went in the kitchen and fetched some. Then my gaze fell on the wine rack sitting on the chipped tile counter. It had been a hell of a day. Maybe sitting down and drinking with Adam wasn’t the greatest idea, but he was seeming more and more…inevitable. It might be time to stop fighting the whole idea.

“Wine?” I asked, and moved toward the wine rack. “I think I’ve got some chianti in here.”

“Sure,” he said, trying to act nonchalant, but I could see how he perked up at the suggestion.

Nothing for it, then. I extracted the bottle of chianti and fetched some glasses from the cabinet, then got out the corkscrew.

“Can you manage this?” I asked. “I never was very good at it.”

“Some witch you are,” he returned with a grin, then came over to pick up the bottle and the corkscrew.

“I did unlock the door without a key, you know.”

“I guess that’s handy, too.”

He struggled a little with the wine as well, but I didn’t offer to help. I had a feeling he spent more time opening beer bottles than wine bottles. At least he got the cork out, though, and I took the plates and napkins and pizza box while he brought the wine and our glasses to the family room.

It had been the sitting room when this was Ruby’s house, but a family room seemed a lot more practical. There was another fireplace here, on the wall opposite the flat-screen TV. Logs had already been piled there, awaiting a cold evening.

Well, it was cold now. Adam must have noticed my glance toward the hearth as I set the pizza and plates down on the heavy coffee table, which was one large piece of polished juniper with glass on top. “Want a fire?” he asked.

“That would be great.”

He grinned. “Watch this — I’ve been practicing.” And he turned and focused his attention on the pile of logs, muttering something I couldn’t quite catch under his breath.

Almost at once, I saw a lick of flame start at the end of one log, and then quickly spread along its length. Soon the whole pile was crackling away happily, warming the room.

“Hey, Angela!” I heard Kirby’s voice echo down the hall. “The night crew is here.”

“We’re in the sitting room,” I called back.

A minute later, Kirby’s tousled brown head was peering around the doorframe. His eyebrows lifted a little when he saw me sitting there with Adam. “Oh, hey, didn’t know you had company.”

“Just grabbing some dinner,” I told him, although between the bottle of wine and the fire and the low light from the sconces on the walls, it probably looked like more than simply dinner.

“Got it,” he replied. “Well, we’ll be over in the living room if you need anything.”

“Okay,” I said, not sure whether I should be relieved or annoyed by my built-in chaperones.

During that exchange with Kirby, Adam had been busying himself with setting out the plates and napkins, and pouring a healthy measure of chianti into each glass. He’d kept the pizza box closed, though, probably to make sure it didn’t get cold before we even had a chance to eat it.

He handed a full wine glass to me. “Here’s to surviving an encounter with Damon Wilcox.”

I wouldn’t let myself shudder. No point in asking how he knew; news like that traveled fast in the McAllister clan. I just took the glass from him and said, “Cheers.”

We clanked glasses, and both drank. It hadn’t been that long since lunch, but even so I could feel the warmth of the wine as it traced its way down my throat, relieving some of the tension in my neck and back. In silence we helped ourselves to some pizza. Adam had eaten most of his piece before he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Because….” I let the word trail off, then shook my head. “Nothing really happened. The de la Pazes made sure of that. And I just….” Another swallow of wine heartened me somewhat. “Because I’m home now. I’m safe here. And I don’t want to bring something that dark under this roof, I guess.”

Expression sober, Adam nodded. Energy was something we all understood, since magic was energy. Invoking the name of something was giving it a chance to worm its way into your life. I wanted the energy in this house to be pure and strong.

“Okay,” he said. He lifted his glass again. “Here’s to the de la Paz clan, then.”

I definitely could drink to that, and swallowed some more chianti. With each drink of wine and bite of pizza I was beginning to feel more relaxed. I was home, and the bodyguards were out in the living room, and the space where I sat now was warm and cozy, with the fire crackling away in its simple hearth of travertine and dark-stained oak, and the walls in a deep parchment shade reflecting the glow from the wrought iron and alabaster sconces.

In this light Adam’s mid-brown hair looked darker, and I couldn’t see his eye color at all. No, he wasn’t exactly a Chris Wilson, or even an Adam Trujillo, but he was nice-looking. I’d spent a lot of time trying to ignore that fact since he wasn’t my consort and therefore not someone I should be thinking of like that.

You’d better start thinking that way now,
I thought with some resignation.
Sure, maybe there’s the slightest chance of a Hail Mary pass this late in the game, but I wouldn’t put any money on it.

“You’re looking very serious,” Adam said, setting down his wine glass. After being raised by Aunt Rachel, I had the instinctive impulse to reach for a coaster, but then I realized that was silly. I’d put a glass-topped table in here precisely so I wouldn’t have to worry about that sort of thing while I was trying to relax.

“Am I? Long day.” That wasn’t even a lie. I just didn’t know if I was ready to admit to him what I’d really been thinking about.

Silently he reached in the pizza box and set another slice on my plate, then poured me some more wine. I wondered if he were trying to get me tipsy. Actually, that didn’t sound like a bad idea. I was safe here, after all, and I thought after the confrontation with Damon Wilcox and the disappointment at not getting to see Chris Wilson, a slight wine buzz might be just what I needed.

So I ate some more pizza and drank some more wine, and watched the flames dancing in the hearth. Adam seemed to understand that I didn’t feel like talking, and ate and drank along with me.

This wasn’t so bad. Maybe it didn’t have to all be blazing sunsets and grand passions and shooting stars. I’d dreamed of someone, but he’d never materialized, and I could tell the whole Chris Wilson thing was a total dead end. It was probably foolish to have thought otherwise.

And after what Margot Emory had told me about any warlock being enough to ensure my safety, even if it meant sacrificing the true strength of my powers….

I figured I could live with that.

A large drink of chianti, to give me courage. Then I set down my glass and looked across the table at Adam. I was sitting on the couch, and he on one of the two armchairs that faced it. “I want you to kiss me.”

He’d been in the middle of lifting his own glass to his mouth. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Instead of setting down the glass, he drained it — which sounds worse than it was, since he only had a few swallows left in it anyway. Once it was empty, he did place it carefully on the tabletop. “What’s this about, Ange?”

“What do you think it’s about? You’re the one who said we should be together if my consort continues to be a no-show.” I crossed my arms and met his gaze straight on…or as straight on as I could manage after two large glasses of wine. A heavyweight with alcohol I was not.

“Right, I did, but….”

“But nothing. All these years you’ve been on my case about this, and now when I’m actually inviting you to kiss me, you’re going to act all weird about it?”

Something crossed his face then. Annoyance? Worry? In the dim light it was hard for me to tell. I could see him clench his fist on his knee, as if fighting some inner conflict. Then he got up from his chair and came over to me. Standing above me like that, he seemed very tall.

“Stand up,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because if this is the decision you’re making, if by asking me to kiss you, you’re saying we’re going to be together, then I want you to stand up and kiss me like the
prima
of the McAllisters. I don’t want to be a couple of kids making out on a couch.”

He meant it, I could tell. There was a note of authority in his voice that I’d never heard before, as if somehow this kiss would push us past a threshold, carry us from the last edges of childhood into our adult lives. Did I want to take that step? I’d asked him to kiss me, but….

It would have happened anyway, if your consort had come to you. But he hasn’t, and you need to kiss Adam, to get used to the idea. It’s not as if you haven’t kissed a bunch of random guys over the past year anyway.

That seemed to clinch it. I looked up at him steadily, at the firm chin and friendly mouth, at the brown hair that had just enough of a wave that he couldn’t get it to do much of anything.

I reached out and took his hands in mine. To my surprise, they were cold, despite the warmth of the room. So he was more nervous than he wanted to let on.

“Yes, Adam,” I said. “I want you to kiss me.”

The briefest moment of hesitation, and then he bent down and placed his mouth on mine. I hadn’t been expecting a shower of sparks, and I didn’t get one, but once I got past that I realized that his lips were warm and strong, and he tasted of wine as I opened my mouth a little and let him taste me as well. This wasn’t so bad. I could get used to it, even if it wasn’t thunder and lightning and choirs of angels singing.