Protector (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 5) (5 page)

“No,” Caitlin said, her tone firm. All right, it would be beyond awkward to go and stay with Alex Trujillo, but at least she’d still be here in Tucson. “I don’t want to go to Jerome.”

“Well, then,” Luz said. “I think we should be on our way to Scottsdale.”

A
fter leaving
the house the warlocks had so briefly occupied, Alex and his mother took Caitlin back to the store. Just for a few minutes, enough so he could tell Manuela that family business had come up and that she’d have to keep an eye on things for him, and so he could trade the shirt he wore, the one with Caitlin’s bloody handprints on the sleeve, for the fresh one he kept hanging in the office, just in case he spilled something on himself during the workday.

Manuela nodded and said it was no problem, but he could tell from the inquisitive gleam in her eyes that she really wanted to know what was going on, and would probably be on the phone the second they left, trying to ferret out what she could from the family grapevine.

Good luck with that,
he thought,
because no one else knows anything about all this.
Except Valentina, and she knows how to keep secrets.

His mother had already asked him to drive, so they all got into his shiny black Pathfinder, Caitlin in the passenger seat, and his mother in the back directly behind her. As they pulled out of the parking lot, his mother said, “Caitlin, I can cast a small illusion to hide the stains on your clothing. Or would you rather we stopped at the mall on our way out of town, so you can buy something new?”

In the seat next to him, Caitlin brushed at the bloodstains on her jeans. “Couldn’t you just take me back to the condo? All my luggage is there.”

Luz hesitated, then said, “I suppose that would work as well. But we will need to be on our guard, just in case the warlocks who took your friends have gone there for some reason.”

From the way Caitlin paled, Alex guessed she hadn’t considered that particular angle. But she lifted her chin and replied, “I hope they have. Then we can catch them and put an end to all this.”

“Perhaps,” Luz allowed.

Alex doubted it would be that simple. Still, he cast the spell of protection around the three of them once again as they got out of his SUV and followed Caitlin to her rented condo. It was a nice one, not some cramped studio, but a regular one-bedroom with a full kitchen and a shaded patio. Scattered around the main living space were various bits of luggage; it looked as if the three girls had just dumped their suitcases and gone out looking for a good time, figuring they could always unpack later.

For some reason, looking at that abandoned luggage upset him, since it seemed to bring home the reality of the situation, that two of the girls who’d brought those suitcases here to Tucson might not ever need them again.

You don’t know that,
he told himself.
What those warlocks were doing was terrible, but from what Caitlin said, it didn’t sound as if they intended to kill those girls.

Yet, anyway.

Looking pale and grim, as if a similar thought had crossed her mind, Caitlin gathered up two of the suitcases and disappeared into the bedroom. She shut the door quietly behind her.

Alex glanced over at his mother. “Are you going to tell her about
abuelita
?”

Jaw tight, she shook her head. “She will see for herself soon enough. Perhaps we shouldn’t have kept so quiet about this, but….”

“Grandmother said she didn’t want the news to get out. The situation isn’t the same as it was two years ago, but you know she still doesn’t want to appear weak.”

“I know.” His mother, usually so serene, so calm and in control, now just looked tired. Shadows seemed to have appeared from nowhere to touch the smooth skin under her eyes. “And we’ve all respected her decision. But no secret can remain hidden forever.”

That much was true. And how much more of the burden would his mother have to carry now, with this latest crisis? He didn’t know. She was strong — everyone in his clan was strong — but he knew she’d always believed she wouldn’t have to take the mantle of
prima
from her mother for many years yet to come.

“At least relations between the clans are very good now,” he ventured, but she appeared far from reassured.

“They have been. But once the McAllisters and the Wilcoxes learn of what has happened to their daughters while visiting our territory?” Her shoulders lifted, and he realized then how she had lost weight over the past few months, how those shoulders now seemed much thinner and narrower.

“That was not our fault,” Alex argued. “No one could have foreseen anything like this happening.”

“You can say that, and in our case, it is partially true. We have no seers among us right now. Even so, there was a time when
mamita
could have sensed a strange witch or warlock entering our territory and given the alert. The
prima
of the McAllisters and the
primus
of the Wilcoxes both know she had this ability once upon a time, and so they will want to know how such a thing could have occurred now.”

It still sounded strange to think of Angela and Connor in such a way, but he knew his mother referred to them by their formal titles as a sign of respect. Alex couldn’t claim to know Angela well. However, he’d interacted with her enough to believe she’d listen to what the de la Pazes had to say for themselves and wouldn’t immediately think the worst. Connor he didn’t know at all, but the reports seemed to indicate he was fairly level-headed as well, and more or less the polar opposite of his brother, who’d always been quick to take offense and never met a scheme he didn’t like.

The door to the bedroom opened then, and Caitlin emerged, looking far more in control than the disheveled girl who had left them five minutes earlier. She’d changed into a fresh pair of jeans and another one of those peasant-style tops, this one a fresh yellow with turquoise embroidery, and she’d brushed her hair and put on a little makeup, some lip gloss and maybe mascara. Gold hoops gleamed in her ears.

She was stunning.

Alex realized he was staring and said, his tone probably too casual, “You ready?”

If she’d noticed the way he was looking at her, she didn’t give any indication of it. “Yes, thank you. I feel — well, not all the way better, but better.”

“Good,” Luz said in approval. “Then we should be on our way.”

Caitlin made a strange abortive step toward the coffee table, then stopped and shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just — I was about to grab my purse, and then I realized I left it back at the warlocks’ house when I ran. So now those bastards have my phone and my wallet, my debit card….” She trailed off, looking so worried that Alex had to fight the impulse to go and give her a hug, to tell her it was all right.

Instead, he stayed where he was and asked his mother, “Shouldn’t Caitlin call that in? They could be using her credit cards.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Luz said, so emphatically that a little of the worry seemed to leave Caitlin’s face. “If they use any of her credit cards, then they will give away their position. And what they have in their favor right now is that we don’t know where they are.”

“I should still call, though….”

“Later.” Luz appeared to hesitate, then went on, “My dear, I would be more worried about any personal items you had in your purse. With the dark magic these warlocks are using, it’s possible they could use something as innocent as a strand of hair from a brush, or a family photo, to attempt to do you harm.”

The color seemed to drain from Caitlin’s cheeks, making the bit of blush she must have applied while freshening her makeup stand out against her white skin. But her voice was firm enough as she said, “I did have a hairbrush in there. I’d just changed out my wallet, though, and hadn’t transferred over a lot of the personal stuff. So they won’t find too much, unless they want to abuse my Walgreens reward card or something.”

Hearing this, Alex wanted to smile. Yes, she was scared, and worried, but he could tell she wasn’t going to lie down and give up. Those McAllister witches were tougher than they looked.

“That’s good to hear,” Luz said. “But let’s gather up your things and bring them with us. That way, when we are done at Maya’s house, you can go directly to Alex’s place. Do we need to wait for you to pack anything?”

“No,” Caitlin said. “I put everything back as I used it. Just give me a sec to go get my bags — I left them sitting on the bed.” She headed back into the other room.

Alex gave his mother a sharp look, and she smiled. “Worried, my son?”

“Worried” probably wasn’t the exact word. Disturbed…on edge…unsure of himself. Was he ready to have a beauty like Caitlin McAllister camped out in his house for the indefinite future?

“I’m fine,” he said shortly.

Right after that, she came back in, a hard-sided suitcase in one hand and a smaller weekender-style bag in the other. She lifted her chin, and her shining hair fell over her shoulders as she announced, “I’m ready.”

Once again Alex wondered what it would feel like, those rivers of molten copper slipping through his fingers, and a not entirely unpleasant shiver went over him. This wasn’t good. He shouldn’t be attracted to her. He couldn’t, not with his mother inviting her to come stay with him so she would be safe.

All right, maybe she’d be safe from those unknown warlocks if she was staying at his house.

The question was, would she be safe from him?

E
verything was happening so fast
, moving so quickly. Now they were back in Alex’s SUV, heading north toward Scottsdale and a meeting with Maya de la Paz. Somehow that felt wrong, as if she should be calling her parents to tell them what had happened, or at least Roslyn’s parents — belatedly, Caitlin realized she didn’t even have a number where she could reach Danica’s mother and father, now that her cell phone with all its stored contact information was gone — but when she’d tried to suggest doing so, Luz Trujillo had only shaken her head and told her that it was Maya’s duty to inform the
prima
of the McAllisters and the Wilcox
primus
that something terrible had happened to two of their witches while visiting in de la Paz territory.

That had made a little sense, but Caitlin still thought it was wrong that her Aunt Lysette and Uncle Marcus didn’t know anything of what had happened to their daughter, and neither did Olivia and Joseph Wilcox. But there wasn’t much she could do about it now. If she’d wanted to call anyone, she should have done it while she was back at the condo and had access to a landline.

And maybe those warlocks had looked up Lysette’s and Marcus’ number where it was stored in her contacts, and had already called. Maybe they’d made a ransom demand or something. No, that didn’t feel right. Those warlocks hadn’t been after money. They’d wanted Roslyn and Danica…and Caitlin herself, only she’d somehow been lucky enough or crazy enough or whatever to get away. Something about the blood…she didn’t know what it was for sure. A whisper of a whisper, the sort of subject that was always carefully avoided whenever impressionable ears were around. Blood magic was the darkest kind, one that had been forbidden for generations. What were those three warlocks trying to do?

She stared out at the unfamiliar landscape passing by outside the SUV’s windows. How dry and dusty it was here, how inhospitable-looking. No, that wasn’t exactly fair. At this time of year, there were wildflowers blooming along the edges of the highway, in shades of bright coral and pale, pale lavender and purest white. Even the desert had its blooms, although sometimes you had to look harder to find them.

On the way out of town, Alex had stopped at a drive-through and gotten iced teas for everyone. Luz had asked if Caitlin wanted anything to eat, and she’d shaken her head. It had been a long time since the burger she’d eaten on her way into Phoenix, when Danica had pulled over at an In-N-Out on the outskirts of the suburban sprawl, but at the moment, the thought of trying to force some food down her throat only made her feel vaguely nauseated. At some point Caitlin knew she’d have to eat, but not now. Right now, she just had to get through this interview with Maya de la Paz.

That notion was almost as frightening as the thought of confronting those three warlocks again. Caitlin had never met Maya, or even seen her, but she’d heard stories about what a tough woman the de la Paz
prima
was, how no witch or warlock with a healthy sense of self-preservation would ever think about going up against her. She was sure to ask questions, hard questions, and Caitlin had no idea how she would ever begin to answer them.

She sipped some of her iced tea and then closed her eyes, once again willing the strange ability that slept within her to wake up and tell her where her friends were. But she saw nothing, only the glare of the bright afternoon sun coming in through the car’s windows, a glare that somehow managed to penetrate her closed eyelids, burning down out of a hard, bright blue sky with not even a single cloud in it. You couldn’t hide under a sky like that. It exposed everything.

Trying not to sigh, she opened her eyes just in time to see Alex pull off the freeway and head slightly northeast, along wide boulevards planted with cactus and palm trees in the center dividers. It looked very unlike Jerome. Well, to be fair, so did Flagstaff, but Flag had a certain wild woolliness in common with Jerome, whereas Scottsdale might as well have been on another planet, with its expensive homes and upscale-looking shopping centers, and equally upscale and expensive cars on either side.

Maya’s house was intimidating as well, a handsome Santa Fe–style compound with an actual courtyard with a fountain in it. Everything about the place made Caitlin feel small and shabby, like a poor relation coming to visit some rich great-aunt in the city or something. Which was silly, because it certainly didn’t matter how rich Maya de la Paz was or wasn’t, or how homespun the McAllister witches might seem in contrast to all this splendor. The important thing was whether Maya could help her or not.

Luz didn’t seem inclined to stand on ceremony, but only led Caitlin and Alex through the courtyard with its bright-blooming flowers and on past a massive front door of aged timbers banded in black iron. As they entered the foyer, fully two stories tall, Luz called out, “
Mamita!
We’re here.”

“In the living room,” a soft voice replied, so whispery and dry that Caitlin could barely hear it.

The three of them entered the living room, where a tiny woman sat on one of the leather couches there. A knitted afghan covered her legs, and a glass of water was sitting on a lap tray on top of that, as if she didn’t have the strength to even reach as far as the coffee table to get her refreshment.

It took everything Caitlin had in her not to stare. This —
this
was the fabled Maya de la Paz?

For the woman before her looked as dry and shriveled as if she’d been left out in the Sonoran Desert for fifteen years, her hair white, her olive skin cut through with deep furrows, as if rain had pressed it into the sorts of gullies Caitlin had seen in the washes and canyons near her home. Her hands, where they rested on the tray, were covered in raised veins and age spots, and seemed to tremble.

Somehow Caitlin found her voice, managed to say, “Hello, Mrs. de la Paz.”

“Maya,” the woman said in that soft, whispery voice, which sounded like a rustle of brittle leaves. “You seem surprised.”

“No, I — ”

A lift of her hand. “You should be. This is not how I should be…or how I would choose to be. My clan has not spoken of it to anyone.”

For the first time, Caitlin tore her gaze away from Maya’s withered form, saw the naked worry in Luz Trujillo’s face, the sadness in Alex’s dark eyes. Whatever had happened to their
prima
, it seemed to be something more than merely old age or illness or infirmity. No wonder the de la Paz family had done its best to conceal the condition of their matriarch.

“But this is not why you are here,” Maya went on. “I wish to speak with you of what happened to your friends. Come, sit here on the sofa.”

Not daring to protest, Caitlin moved away from Luz and Alex, and took a seat on the couch, sitting down carefully so as not to jostle the fragile old woman. Seen up close like this, she appeared even more brittle, as if she might snap in two if Caitlin made too sudden a move.

For all that they were framed in wrinkles and bags, and so deeply shadowed they looked almost sunken, Maya’s black eyes were very bright. They glinted now as she looked at her daughter and grandson. “You two — there is some fresh lemonade in the kitchen. Go and get yourselves some. I wish to speak to Caitlin alone.”

That was the last thing Caitlin wanted, but she knew she didn’t dare protest. Neither, it seemed, did Luz or Alex, because they nodded and headed out of the room, Alex giving Caitlin a single backward glance as he did so. Something in that gaze felt very warm and friendly, and somehow, meeting his eyes, she didn’t feel quite as nervous about being left alone with Maya as she might otherwise have.

The
prima
didn’t miss that look, either, it seemed; her mouth, surrounded by deep lines, seemed to purse in apparent amusement, and possibly approval. “My Alex, he is a very good boy.”

Not sure how exactly she should respond to that remark, Caitlin ventured, “He’s been very nice.”

“Nice?” Maya chuckled, but the laugh turned into a cough, and she had to drink some of the water from the glass on her tray before she could continue. “Well, I suppose we can leave it at that for now. Valentina has related the basics to me, but I want to hear from you what happened.”

Again?
Caitlin thought, but she took a breath and then dutifully recounted everything that had occurred after she and Danica and Roslyn walked into that Mexican restaurant. Well, almost everything. If she could get away with not revealing anything of her own strange visions and feelings, she would. None of that was Maya’s business.

When she was done, Caitlin shifted on the couch, her mouth dry. She wished she could have some of the lemonade Alex and his mother were currently off drinking in the kitchen. Why Maya hadn’t offered her some, or at least a glass of water, Caitlin wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d intended the apparent oversight as a subtle show of power. If that were the case, Caitlin knew she wouldn’t allow herself to show any signs of discomfort. At least she was reasonably hydrated, considering the iced tea she’d finished off right before Alex parked his SUV in front of Maya’s house.

“Ah,” Maya said, after a protracted pause. That could have meant anything…or nothing. The old woman lifted the glass of water from her lap tray and drank slowly before setting the glass back down. “Tell me, Caitlin McAllister…do you truly intend to keep hiding your gifts from everyone?”

Her mouth was dry, and Caitlin wondered if she’d been too hasty in thinking she’d be above asking for a glass of water of her own to quench her thirst. Maya’s black eyes were fixed on her, far too penetrating, too keen.

“What gifts?” Caitlin managed.

A pair of sparse salt-and-pepper eyebrows drew together, and Maya responded, “You can lie to your family, and you can lie to yourself, but I will not allow you to lie to me.”

Crap. Since she didn’t have a glass she could fiddle with, or a purse strap or anything else along those lines, Caitlin had to settle for knotting her fingers together and slipping them over one knee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

The sharpness of Maya’s dark gaze disconcerted Caitlin. It could have been the contrast between their all-too-knowing gleam and her overall decrepit appearance. Once again Caitlin found herself wondering what had happened to Maya to cause such a degeneration. Surely no one in the McAllister or the Wilcox clans seemed to have an inkling of the sea change the de la Paz
prima
had undergone. Unfortunately, Caitlin knew she could sit here and speculate all she wanted, but in the end it wouldn’t matter — Maya wanted answers, and apparently seemed content to sit here and wait for as long as it took to get them.

“I — ” Caitlin floundered, wishing she had a plausible lie to cover up the very obvious holes in the story she’d told Maya. None of it made sense if you didn’t factor in the seer abilities she’d tried so desperately to hide. And the
prima
, weak as she might be, was certainly no fool.

“You what?”

Desperation clear in her voice, despite her best attempts to hide it, Caitlin said, “I don’t know what gifts you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do,” Maya replied calmly. Again she drank from her glass of water, although this time the palsy in her hand was far too evident as she set the glass back down on its tray. “No ordinary witch could have sensed the evil in those young men — certainly your friends did not. And no ordinary witch would have had the ability to see past the spell this Matías cast and strike out at him so she could get away.” The elderly witch’s gaze sharpened, and Caitlin wondered if those gleaming black eyes might actually bore holes right through her, so piercing they seemed. “You do not have to tell your family, if that is your wish. But you need to tell me.”

No way out. Oh, she could keep on lying…and Maya would only continue to stare at her, every tightening of her lips and lift of her eyebrows handing those lies right back to her. Caitlin broke the eye contact and looked out the large triptych of windows on the opposite wall, which showed a view of the courtyard. The sun was beginning to drop toward the west, glinting and glittering in the falling water of the fountain outside.

“They started about six years ago,” Caitlin said at last, not looking at Maya, but keeping her gaze focused on the way the water splashed and danced in the fountain, the way it caught glints of gold and copper and bronze from the westering sun. “I’d see things, and they’d come true. Or sometimes they’d be coming true at the same time I saw them. It’s not always consistent. But I do see things. I guess that makes me the McAllister’s next seer. But I don’t want to be that. I don’t want people always asking me for advice and wanting to know what their futures will be. Why would anyone want to know that? The future is scary.”

She broke off then, hands still knotted where they rested on her knee. She didn’t want to look at Maya, see the disapproval on her face. No witch was supposed to deny the gifts that were her birthright, that ran as deeply in her blood as the genetic markers which dictated her hair color or the shape of her nose. No, those with witch blood were supposed to embrace those gifts, no matter what they might be. But Caitlin didn’t want to know the future, especially Maya’s, which was all but written in the weary lines of her face.

Silence then, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the mantel. If Alex and his mother were talking where they waited in the kitchen, they must have been speaking in low tones, or were far enough away that their voices couldn’t carry all the way to the living room.

At last Maya said, her own voice soft, “When they came to me and told me I would be the next
prima,
I didn’t want to believe it. My own mother, she was a strong witch — a
curandera
, a healer — but nowhere near strong enough to be
prima
. No, the title came to me from my cousin Luisa, and, like your own
prima
Angela, I was young when I had to take up that role, for although Luisa was my cousin, she was some thirty years my senior. I didn’t want it. I wanted to live my own life, choose my own man, and not have to take the consort fate decreed should be mine.”