An Ill Wind Read online

  “A man?” Cassandra asked. “Do you know who he was?”

  “He was Simón Santiago, the consort of the prima here in Southern California.”

  That piece of information made both Tony and Cassandra sit up a little straighter.

  “He came to you in Tijuana?” she asked, clearly surprised by this revelation. “I thought — or at least, I’d heard that your mother went to him and asked for refuge.”

  “No,” Olivia replied. “That is, I know my mother asked for the Santiagos to take us in, but he came to us. My mother told me later that one of the sisters at the convent was a witch, and so she immediately recognized my mother for who she was. Because it was well known that the Santiago prima had become crippled from a fall, the sister passed on word that a powerful curandera — a healer — had come to them. That was why Simón came to take us away.”

  And possibly why Joaquin Escobar hadn’t tried to take his runaway family back to El Salvador, even if he finally had figured out where they’d ended up. Yes, he’d made his move years later, but that was after his children’s mother was dead and Matías had had his powers stripped from him by Angela and Connor Wilcox. By that point, thoughts of revenge had probably been tempting enough that he’d decided to make his move, regardless of the risks involved.

  Or maybe he’d had completely different motivations for what he’d done. It was hard to guess at the reasons behind the actions of a dead man, especially one as cruel and relentless as Escobar. Tony really didn’t want to put his brain into that kind of head space.

  “Anyway,” Olivia continued. “The convent’s halfway house is where we were given a place to stay. It was a very long time ago now, but possibly the nun who helped my mother is still there. She is the only person I can think of who might know something of where we came from. I remember them talking together in low voices, but I don’t remember anything of what they were saying. It’s possible, though, that my mother confided in her.”

  Talk about your slim leads. That had to have been more than what, forty years ago? Tony supposed the nun might still be there, as long as she’d been fairly young when the little refugee family turned up on the convent’s doorstep. But still, that was pinning a lot of hopes on a very nebulous connection.

  “Do you know the nun’s name?” he asked, and Olivia shook her head.

  “No. I suppose my mother did, but she never told me what it was.”

  This reply made Tony think their chances of success had to be even lower than he’d previously guessed, but Cassandra didn’t look at all fazed by the odds stacked against them. “The convent is still there?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Olivia replied. “They do a lot for the poor people of Tijuana. I try to send them donation checks when I’m able. I can get you the address.”

  “Wait a second,” Tony said, giving Cassandra a sharp look. “Are you suggesting we go to Tijuana next?”

  “Well, yeah,” she replied. “Like Olivia just said, the nun at that convent is probably the only person who would have the information we’re looking for.”

  Maybe he was belaboring the obvious, but Tony couldn’t help pointing out, “Um, you know Tijuana is in a foreign country, right?”

  “So?” Cassandra responded. “I have my passport with me.”

  “You have a passport?” he asked, incredulous. “What does a witch need with a passport? We don’t travel, remember?”

  “Speak for yourself,” she retorted, although she looked more amused than angry. “Tubac’s only twenty miles or so from the Mexican border. I’ve been down into Nogales lots of times.”

  “And the local clan in that part of Mexico doesn’t have a problem with it?”

  “No, because we’re distantly related to them. The de la Paz clan came north from there about three hundred years ago.”

  Tony supposed he should have thought of that. All of the witch clans in the United States had obviously come from somewhere else, as the magic they practiced was very different from the magic used by the continent’s indigenous peoples. But although the Castillos had arrived in Santa Fe nearly five hundred years earlier, coming there with the earliest Spanish settlers eager to exploit their new land grants, they had had no contact with those who’d remained behind in Spain. It was a little unsettling to think that the de la Pazes were still friendly with the Mexican clan they’d split from so long ago.

  “I assume you don’t have a passport?” Olivia asked, a tinge of amusement entering her voice.

  “No,” Tony said. “To be honest, this is the first time I’ve even been out of New Mexico.”

  Olivia nodded, apparently not all that surprised by this revelation. “I think I can help you. My husband works in construction, and he hires a lot of Mexican workers. Sometimes it’s easier to get them fake papers than to wait for the government to process their visas. I have a feeling the people who produce the false green cards could also get a passport for you, although we’ve never asked for something like this before.”

  Tony assumed that obtaining a false passport was highly illegal, but did that matter so much? He wasn’t a terrorist or someone looking to cause a little holiday mayhem in one of Baja California’s seaside resorts. However, since even an expedited passport would take weeks through normal channels, he knew they didn’t have much of a choice. He’d never broken the law like this before, but if Cassandra had a passport and so could travel where she wanted, then he wasn’t about to be the one who threw a monkey wrench into things by preventing them from getting out of the country.

  Assuming, of course, they went ahead with this crazy plan.

  “How much?” he asked, glad that his voice sounded steady. Not that the cost was really an issue, but he might as well know what he was getting himself into.

  “I’m not sure,” Olivia said. “Probably around a thousand dollars.”

  Oh, was that all? Of course, he’d have to add that thousand bucks to the cost of traveling to Tijuana, and then whatever plane tickets to El Salvador were going for these days.

  After that thought passed through his head, Tony wondered if he’d gone crazy and just hadn’t noticed until that moment. He couldn’t seriously be considering a trip to El Salvador, could he?

  If the determined set of Cassandra’s chin was any indication, probably.

  First things first, though. “Can you call your people and find out?”

  “Well, I’ll have to call my husband Will, and then he’ll get in contact with them. Just a minute.”

  Once again, she got up from her chair and went upstairs, probably so she could make the phone call in private without them listening in. Tony took advantage of her absence to turn toward Cassandra. “Is getting a fake passport a felony?”

  She tilted her head slightly, thumb rubbing against her chin. “I don’t know. I doubt it, though. Anyway, we’re not going to get caught. It’s just a formality for crossing the border. Half the time when I went down to Nogales, they barely even looked at it.”

  He hoped she was right. It made sense that in busy border-crossing spots like Tijuana, the authorities probably wouldn’t pay a lot of attention to American citizens returning to U.S. soil. And while his family background was Hispanic, his woeful lack of proficiency in Spanish would probably prove to any inquisitive border agent that he was definitely not a Mexican national.

  However, these musings only pointed out another flaw in their plan. “I don’t speak Spanish, you know.”

  Now Cassandra grinned at him. “I love that someone with a last name of Castillo can’t speak Spanish. No te preocupes — tomé español en la escuela secundaria y la universidad.”

  Tony supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. He was starting to wonder whether there was anything Cassandra couldn’t do. “What was that in English?”

  “I’ve got about seven years of Spanish in high school and college under my belt,” she told him. “Not to mention a lot of practice with the de la Pazes who feel more comfortable speaking it. We’ll be fine.”
<
br />   Olivia came back downstairs then, looking much happier than she had when they’d first arrived on the scene. “Will says he’ll talk to his guy, but we’ll need some pictures. There’s a place near downtown that’ll take them and email them for you. Here’s the address.”

  She rattled it off, and Tony hurriedly entered it on his phone. Conveniently, the photo place wasn’t very far from their hotel, so they could probably get the pictures taken and then go check in afterward.

  “Thanks, Olivia,” Cassandra said, her gratitude obvious in the earnest expression she wore.

  But Olivia only shook her head. “I’m glad I could give you the help you were looking for. Only….” She stopped herself there, dark eyes worried.

  “Only what?” Tony asked.

  “Only I’m not sure you understand what you could be walking into if you try to follow the trail all the way to El Salvador. It’s not nearly as dangerous a place as it once was, but….”

  Tony wasn’t all that thrilled about the idea, either, but he tried to sound unconcerned as he said, “Well, up until now, the Escobars have been pretty quiet. If that’s even who we’re dealing with.”

  “If the magic felt like theirs, then they are probably the ones you seek.” She was silent for a moment before continuing. “My father might have been defeated twenty years ago, but simply because we haven’t heard anything from his clan, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t just as dangerous in their own way. He wouldn’t have come here to Santiago territory if he hadn’t left someone behind to manage things for him, and that person might be just as bad as he ever was.”

  “Or maybe that’s not the story at all,” Cassandra said, although Tony could tell from her thoughtful tone that she wasn’t trying to be combative, only exploring other possibilities. “Maybe Joaquin was driven out because the Escobars didn’t want to deal with him anymore, and that’s why he tried to take over the Santiago clan.”

  The corners of Olivia’s mouth lifted slightly, but there wasn’t much humor in her expression. “Possibly. I’m not sure whether that would be worse. After all, would you want to face a warlock who’s even more powerful than my father?”

  And for once, Cassandra didn’t seem to have an answer.

  They said their goodbyes to Olivia, then went out to the car and programmed the address for the photo place into the Fiat’s nav system. After they pulled away from the curb, Tony made himself ask, “Do you think she was right? About there possibly being witches and warlocks down there in El Salvador who are even stronger than Joaquin Escobar was?”

  For a moment, Cassandra was silent, her fingers playing with the strap of her purse. At last she said, “Maybe. I mean, anything is possible. Whether it’s probable or not is an entirely different matter. The problem is that we really don’t know what’s been going on down there all these years. If the Escobars committed the theft, then what changed to have them make such a targeted strike after so much time has passed?”

  Good question. Tony had no real idea, but he ventured, “They must have heard about the grimoires somehow. For all we know, that warlock over in New Orleans — Nicholas Toulouse — was blabbing about it in some chat room or something.”

  That remarked earned him a rueful little smile. “I somehow doubt he’d be that careless, but you’re right. Or maybe someone in my clan said the wrong thing to someone, and they put two and two together. I don’t know. It’s not like we’re working for some secret government installation. We all know we’re not supposed to talk about clan business to outsiders, but it’s impossible to completely police everyone.”

  And in the end, Tony supposed it really didn’t matter one way or another. If the information was already out there, they couldn’t exactly take it back. About all they could do was make sure nobody else got sucked into this mess.

  The car took them to Temecula’s downtown area, which was comprised of several streets with shops and restaurants and a bunch of wine tasting rooms. Most of the architecture had a vaguely frontier, Wild West theme to it, although Temecula wasn’t exactly the kind of place Tony tended to think of when someone mentioned the old west and cowboys and all that.

  But he wasn’t here to comment on the architecture, only to get some business handled. The two of them got out of the convertible and went to a two-story structure that had shops on both levels, most of them clothing or jewelry stores. However, one of the stores on the ground floor sold postcards and trinkets and sunglasses and phone batteries…and also advertised its passport photo business.

  They went inside, and the burly man behind the counter — who looked like he might have been a nightclub bouncer in a former life — called out, “Help you with something?”

  “A friend recommended you for passport photos,” Tony replied.

  “Right.” The man paused, giving Tony a searching look with his pale blue eyes. “You need them emailed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Gotcha. Come over here.”

  Tony followed him to a little alcove toward the back of the shop that had been fitted as a photo backdrop, the walls a blank white.

  “Stand there,” the man instructed him.

  He did as he was asked, and stood in the designated spot with his toes touching the piece of blue masking tape on the floor. A few flashes from the camera, and it appeared they were done. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have a goofy expression on his face, but it probably didn’t matter all that much. This wasn’t for a real passport, after all.

  “How much?” he asked when they were done, reaching for the wallet in his pocket.

  “Forty bucks. Write down the email address where you need them sent.” The man pushed a pad of paper and a pen across the counter toward him, then took the two twenty-dollar bills Tony handed over.

  After pulling up the information on his phone, Tony wrote the email down on the paper and gave it back. The man didn’t even look down at the notepad; Tony had a feeling the guy already knew the email address where the photos needed to be sent.

  That seemed to be that. They went to the car and drove it over to the hotel, even though it was an easy walk. But since it made much more sense to leave the vehicle in the parking lot and roam around on foot, Tony left it parked in a convenient space while he and Cassandra headed into the lobby. It wasn’t quite two o’clock yet, a little early to be checking in, but he hoped they might still be able to slip in anyway.

  Luck was with them, because the room turned out to be ready. They dropped off their luggage, and Cassandra turned toward him, hands on her hips. “So…what now? Olivia made it sound like the passport won’t be ready until tomorrow sometime.”

  “Not a problem,” Tony said with a grin. He’d scoped out the downtown area while they were conducting their business, and so he already had a game plan in place. “I think we should go wine tasting.”

  8

  She’d never been much of a wine drinker, had always preferred beer or the occasional hard cider. And Cassandra knew how silly that sounded, considering she’d just turned twenty-one eight months ago and didn’t exactly have years of drinking under her belt. So even though the place where they’d ended up — a cute bistro that offered food along with its drinks — served beer in addition to wine, she decided to go with the flow and have a glass of something called Black Dog from one of the local wineries.

  It was actually really good. So were the truffle fries they’d ordered to go along with their wine, since by that time they were both feeling a little hungry.

  “This is great,” Tony remarked after taking another sip of his petite sirah. “I guess it’s not exactly wine tasting, but I’m okay with that.”

  They’d walked into the bistro because they’d both decided that an actual wine tasting would require more mental energy than either one of them had to spare right then. Even though the meeting with Olivia had gone well, at the same time, it had opened up a possibility both tantalizing and troubling.

  Maybe, just maybe, they really would be able to find their way to the
Escobars’ hidden territory in El Salvador.

  Which in itself was crazy, as Tony had pointed out. Cassandra’s power was a strong and unusual one, but it wasn’t the sort of thing you could exactly use to mount an all-out attack. The winds that Tony commanded might be able to do something along those lines, true, and yet she knew that probably wouldn’t be enough when push came to shove. After all, they were quite possibly going to be taking on an entire village of Escobars, not a single warlock.

  The smartest thing to do would be to go to Tijuana, see if the nun who had helped Olivia’s family all those years ago was still ministering to the poor at her convent and had any recollection of where the refugees had come from, and then take that information back to their clans. Unfortunately, Miranda was out of commission until her baby came, but there had to be other Castillos who could offer their assistance. And if not, well, there were plenty of de la Paz witches and warlocks who would be invested in reclaiming their stolen property.

  But…what if they all decided such a mission was too dangerous? What if her prima Zoe expressly forbade her to pursue the books?

  That would be terrible. The Escobars were powerful enough on their own; the last thing they needed was a bunch of grimoires filled with dark and deadly magic. God only knew what they were doing with the books now that they had them in their possession.

  Well, as she’d remarked to Tony the day before, it was usually easier to get forgiveness than permission.

  “Hey, Earth to Cassandra,” he said, and she blinked.

  “Sorry. I guess I was pondering worst-case scenarios.”

  “Don’t.” They’d sat at a bar-height table near the window, rather than at the bar itself, just because they’d both figured they would have more privacy that way. “I know we’re already starting to go off the rails, but for right now, can’t we just pretend we’re on vacation and enjoying a drink?”

  That would be nice. Sitting here by the window did sort of feel like being on vacation, since they were both someplace they’d never been before, and this little downtown area was clearly a tourist destination. A large group of four who didn’t look that much older than her and Tony occupied the conversation area in the center of the room, and they were all chatting and laughing as they drank their wine. Cassandra couldn’t help feeling a small stab of jealousy as she glanced over at them. It would be great to enjoy herself like that, to look as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Unfortunately, it was rarely that easy when you were a member of a witch clan.