Darktide Read online

  If only all I had to worry about was the various love lives of my fellow clan members. Unfortunately, even if he’d been quiet for the past few weeks, I knew that Joaquin Escobar was still lurking out in California, probably plotting his revenge. Levi had been the one responsible for Matías’ death, after all, which meant there was a greater chance of being struck by lightning than of having Joaquin give up his plans for vengeance.

  Problem was, I just didn’t know what form that vengeance would take.

  My cell phone, which I’d left sitting on the kitchen counter, began to ring. Unwilling as I was to leave the comfort of Connor’s arms, I knew I’d better answer the phone. I slipped away from him, murmuring an apology, and hurried to the kitchen. As I picked up my cell, I saw that the number on the home screen was Luz Trujillo’s.

  That couldn’t be good. We didn’t speak all that often, unless we had to deal with an unpleasant bit of clan business.

  Luckily, I was able to answer before the call went to voicemail. “Luz? What’s up?”

  Her voice was steady enough, but by now I knew her pretty well. I could detect a certain tightness behind her tone, a tension that told me this definitely wasn’t a social call, and my stomach clenched in anticipation of what she might have to tell me. “Bad news.”

  Is there any other kind? I thought wearily. However, all I said was, “What’s happened?”

  “It’s — it’s my cousin Miguel. The private detective. Remember?”

  I wasn’t sure if I did — it was hard enough to keep track of all the Wilcoxes and McAllisters without trying to remember all the de la Paz witches and warlocks as well. Still, I did my best to wrack my brains and pull up some recollection about Miguel from the memory banks. “Um…he helped Alex and Caitlin capture Matías, right?”

  “Right, with Jack Sandoval’s assistance.” A pause, as though Luz had stopped to gather her breath. “The Tucson P.D. just found his body.”

  My reply was instant, and instinctual. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s more than that.” This time her sound of her expelling a breath was clearly audible. “They found him at the apartment where — where Roslyn and Danica were held three years ago.”

  What on earth had Miguel been doing there, of all places? From what I’d heard, the place was being used as a rental again, although I had to admit that I hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to the situation. I couldn’t change the past, so there didn’t seem to be much point in dwelling on it, no matter how tragic it had been. “Do you know why he was there?”

  “It seems there was a disturbance the night before. I guess the girls who were living there ran away, saying something was in the apartment with them.”

  Tiny fingers of dread began to trail their way down my spine, and I shivered. Connor, who’d arrived in the kitchen a minute after I had, stared at me, concern plain on his features. The Goddess only knows what he saw in my expression. “Did they say what it was?”

  “No. My cousin Oscar is with the Tucson P.D., so he was able to access the police report, but they didn’t reveal much. It seems that the place has a bad record of retaining tenants — a lot of people didn’t seem to stay for more than a few months at a time.”

  I hoped the property management company that handled the apartment only offered month-to-month rentals; that was an awful lot of broken leases otherwise. However, I knew that Luz probably didn’t much care about such a minor concern right now. “Did any of them say why they left?”

  “Not formally, no. But Oscar talked to some of the other tenants. The general consensus seems to be that the apartment is haunted, although no one could give any real proof of that. It just seems to be the reputation it has.”

  No big surprise there. It wasn’t as though spirits always remained at the scene of their deaths — and, because Roslyn had in fact briefly communicated with her sister Jenny before passing beyond the veil, I knew that the apartment couldn’t be haunted. Not by Roslyn’s ghost, anyway.

  “Did Oscar pick up anything?”

  A small sigh, and then Luz replied, “No, but that wasn’t his talent. We’re going to have one of our mediums go and look things over once the scene has been cleared. That shouldn’t take too long, because there wasn’t any sign of foul play.”

  I hated to ask for details, but this wasn’t just about sharing Luz’s grief with her — this was a conversation between two primas, both of whom knew all too well that we were dealing with a cunning and vicious enemy. Almost subconsciously, my hand went to touch my belly, an instinctual gesture to protect the child I carried. “Do you know how Miguel died?”

  “Valentina — she’s the clan’s healer down in Tucson — says it seems he had a heart attack.” Another sigh, and I got the distinct impression Luz had shaken her head, even though of course I couldn’t see her. “And who’s to say that isn’t what happened? I love my cousin Miguel, but he was fifty-six years old, about forty pounds overweight, and seemed to live on coffee, Coke, and burgers and tamales.”

  The rueful note in her voice made me think that Luz had probably gotten on her cousin’s case more than once about his physical fitness, to no avail. Well, people were going to do what they were going to do. “Do you think it was just a heart attack?”

  Her response was immediate. “No. It would be easier if it had been. As it is, Oscar is trying to cover things up as best he can. The story he’s giving is that Miguel was hired by the girls to come look at the apartment, and that he suffered a cardiac arrest while inspecting the place. Since there’s no sign of supernatural activity or any kind of foul play, there’s no reason for anyone to think differently.”

  “But….”

  “I know in my heart that something killed him. Something evil.”

  Another shiver worked its way down my spine. I looked over at Connor, who was still watching me, his expression solemn. I hated to ask the next question, but it seemed unavoidable. “Do you want us to come down there?”

  “Could you?” Luz asked, the relief in her voice so palpable, I could practically reach out and touch it. “We’re going to have our own medium visit the apartment, but your talent is speaking with the dead, and also, you’ve had recent experience with — well, with demonic presences.”

  In point of fact, I really hadn’t. It was Levi and Hayley who’d had to face down the demons Joaquin Escobar sent against us. Still, because I was prima, and therefore could sense when the town’s hidden barriers had been breached, I knew a little of what it was like to have the stink of demons around a place. Actually, that was almost exactly what it was — a lingering trace of sulfur, of spent gunpowder, although their residue was psychic, and not something you could actually smell.

  “Yes, we’ll come,” I said, trying not to betray my reluctance. Not that I had anything against Tucson, but the weather was already heating up in Jerome, which meant it must be downright brutal in the southern part of the state. However, I knew I couldn’t use such a flimsy excuse to stay away. Luz needed me, and that was that. We all had to stick together, to present a unified front to our common enemy. “Is tomorrow all right?”

  “It should be. Oscar said the apartment should be accessible by the end of the day.”

  “Good.” I hesitated, and wondered whether I should even mention the strange niggling fear that had begun to pluck at the back of my mind, like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch. “But Luz — ”

  “Yes?”

  “Have your medium wait until Connor and I get there. I think it’s better if we all go in together.”

  A long pause, and then she said, “Of course. Do you need the address?”

  “Yes. I had it once, but I didn’t think I’d ever need it again. You can text it to me.”

  “I will. And — thank you, Angela.”

  You can thank me when this is over, I thought, but I only replied, “It’s no problem. You’d do the same for us. I’ll call you when we’re in Tucson.”

  “I’ll wait to hear from you.”


  I ended the call and set my phone down on the granite kitchen counter. Connor was still watching me, those cloudy green eyes I loved so well now narrowed slightly in concern.

  “It must be bad if we’re going to Tucson.”

  About all I could do was shrug. “I’m not completely sure yet. Luz’s cousin was found dead in the apartment where Roslyn and Danica were held, but it sounds like he had a heart attack. No rampaging demons or anything like that.”

  Connor’s expression didn’t change. “That you know of.”

  “True. But Luz seems to think we can help.”

  “Can we?” He reached up to pass a hand through his hair, which he’d cut back to shoulder-length this past winter. I was still getting used to the change — he’d let his hair grow to almost the center of his back before he cut it — but he still looked as handsome as ever, just…different. Without waiting for me to reply, he said, “Do you think we should bring Hayley and Levi along, just in case?”

  “No.” The word escaped my lips before I had time to even think about Connor’s question. Just an instinctual, gut reaction…and I’d learned to trust those. “It’s bad enough that we’re having to leave Jerome without their prima and primus. I’ll feel much better knowing that those two are here to help the elders if — well, if anything strange happens.”

  “And Ian and Emily?”

  Usually I’d simply ask Victoria Lynch, who lived on our street, to watch the twins. Her two children were grown and married but hadn’t started families yet, and so Victoria got a chance to get her grandma wiggles out by playing with Ian and Emily. Now, though, something was telling me it might be better if the kids were safely out of Jerome altogether.

  “Let’s see if Lucas and Margot can take them for a few days. Lord knows they’ve got enough space in their house, and the twins love playing with Mia.”

  This suggestion earned me a lifted eyebrow, as if Connor had guessed I wasn’t proposing this plan entirely for the twins’ sake. No, it was mainly because — so far, anyway — all the “action” involving Joaquin Escobar and his associates had taken place either down in the Phoenix area or up here in Jerome. Flagstaff just seemed safer, far away from the fray.

  However, Connor didn’t make any arguments, but only fished his iPhone out of his jeans pocket. “I’ll call them.”

  “And I’ll start getting the twins’ things together.” I knew the call was only a formality, that Lucas and Margot would agree to watch Ian and Emily for as long as was necessary. At least it was still early enough in the afternoon that we could get them up to Flagstaff and safely settled before night fell.

  For some reason, I didn’t much relish the thought of driving Arizona’s highways after dark.

  Despite my misgivings, we made it down to Tucson the next day without incident. I wished I could pretend that Connor and I were just taking a road trip for old times’ sake — getting away alone with him reminded me of the drive we’d taken to Southern California all those years ago, although even then our trip had its own dark and compelling purpose — but I knew this was no joyride, that I couldn’t be certain of what I might find at the end of this journey.

  Well, except I’d known we’d end up here, at the rundown apartment building that Matías Escobar had once used as his hideout and private supernatural torture chamber. I’d been here once, right after Roslyn’s murder, and at the time had prayed I’d never see the place again.

  The heat hit me like a wall as soon as I opened the door of our Toyota SUV. I blinked, glad that my eyes were protected from the scorching sun by the Ray-Bans Connor had bought me for Christmas. And I’d thought ahead, had put on a sleeveless top and a knee-length skirt and sandals. Even so, I felt like I was suffocating.

  “You okay?” Connor asked as he met me on the sidewalk. About all he’d done to prepare for the trip was put on a T-shirt instead of the long-sleeved henleys he tended to live in most of the time, but he still looked cool and collected enough.

  “Fine,” I replied.

  A shiny silver Lexus pulled up and parked behind our Toyota FJ, and Luz Trujillo got out. A moment later, the passenger door opened, and man about her age — in his early fifties — emerged. His black hair gleamed in the sun, and he wore immaculately pressed chinos and a loose white cotton shirt. Looking at him, I could only hope he wouldn’t be able to tell that everything I was wearing was at least three years old.

  “Connor, Angela,” Luz said as she approached us, the crisply dressed man just a pace behind her, “this is my cousin, Domingo Velasquez. Domingo, this is Connor Wilcox and Angela McAllister.”

  I’d been using a hyphenate for my last name ever since Connor and I got married, but I didn’t bother to point that out. Instead, I summoned my best smile and extended a hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Domingo.”

  “It is unfortunate that we had to meet under these circumstances,” he replied. “But I am happy to meet the prima of the McAllisters…and the primus of the Wilcox clan.”

  “You’re the medium?” Connor asked.

  I wanted to shoot him a sideways glance at his abrupt tone but decided it was better to refrain. From the way his mouth had tightened briefly as I shook hands with Domingo, I got the feeling my husband wasn’t exactly thrilled that the de la Paz clan’s medium had turned out to be so, well, suave. True, he was nearly old enough to be my father, but….

  “Yes,” Domingo replied, looking completely unruffled. “I am hopeful that with all of us working together, we will be able to solve this mystery so my cousin’s soul may be at peace.”

  I hoped so, too. I’d only met Miguel very briefly, when he and Jack Sandoval had delivered Matías and his partners-in-crime to Connor and me so we might strip their powers from them, but even so, I’d never encountered the ghost of someone I’d known as a living person, and I really didn’t want to start now. What could I possibly say to Miguel if his ghost really was haunting this place?

  “Let’s go up and see what we can find,” Luz said. Her expression appeared calm enough, and as usual she looked as though she should be off to the country club, in an immaculate linen dress in sherbet green and nude sling-back sandals. However, I thought I detected some carefully applied concealer around her eyes, as if she’d spent at least part of the previous night crying and was now doing her best to hide the evidence of her grief.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Connor replied. “I assume the coast is clear?”

  “Yes, the police released the site yesterday afternoon, and Oscar made it known that some relatives might be coming by to check on the things the girls left behind. No one should pay any attention to us.”

  That sounded like a plausible enough cover story. However, I figured it was better to keep quiet until we were safely inside the apartment, just in case anyone was around to overhear our conversation. Good thing, too, because we did pass a man in his late thirties who was coming down the stairs with a basket of dirty clothes and an annoyed expression on his thin features. Well, I supposed I’d be annoyed, too, if I had to maneuver around a bunch of strangers while on my way downstairs to do my laundry.

  Luckily, though, he seemed to be the only person around, and we made it inside the apartment without being seen by anyone else. The place was full of typical college-girl clutter and looked very different from the one and only time I’d been here, when I’d attempted to see if Roslyn’s spirit lingered anywhere on the premises. Back then, the walls had been bare, the furniture even more mismatched and far shabbier, and there had been a suspicious stain in the middle of the beige shag carpet, a stain that I hadn’t wanted to look at too closely. The carpet had been replaced by more beige, but at least now it was a halfway decent-looking berber.

  However, I knew I shouldn’t be paying attention to the decor, but the feel of the place. Privately, I thought that most of the claims about the apartment being haunted had been based mostly on reputation and nothing else. After all, I’d once stood just about where I was standing now and had done more or less the sa
me thing — that is, reaching out with the best of my innate abilities to see if any presence lingered here.

  And right now I was having about the same result. I couldn’t feel a damn thing. Not sure whether I should be relieved or annoyed, I lifted my shoulders and looked over at Domingo. “I’m not getting anything. Are you having better luck?”

  The de la Paz medium’s expression was almost preternaturally calm. “Not yet. But then, sometimes it takes me a while to settle into the energy of a place. Perhaps if I sat down.”

  He went over to the couch, which was dark brown chenille with a few worn spots, and passed a hand over one of the cushions, as if making sure to dispose of any crumbs or other dirt before he placed his immaculate trousers on the upholstery. Behind me, I felt rather than saw Connor’s mouth twitch, and told myself not to get distracted. Who cared if Domingo was overly fastidious, as long as he was talented enough to detect whether anything was truly wrong here?

  Luz appeared used to this behavior, because she didn’t seem to be paying much attention to her cousin, was instead surveying the apartment, arms crossed and mouth tight. While I knew she had sensitivities of her own, they were skewed more toward detecting if and when magic spells had been cast, and I wasn’t sure whether that was what we were dealing with here.

  “Do you feel anything?” I murmured to her, and she shook her head.

  “No. That is,” she added, “only sadness at all the death this place has seen. It is too bad it’s an apartment and not a house, because otherwise, I’d say the best thing to do with it would be to raze it to the ground and start over. But I suppose that’s not really feasible here.”