The Witches of Canyon Road, Books 1-3 Read online

  “Sure,” he replied. “That sounds good.”

  We were both quiet for a moment. I got out all the items that looked particularly tasty, while he pulled out a cookie sheet and started the oven preheating. Then he went over to the wine fridge that dominated one wall.

  “Something to drink?”

  I hesitated. God knows I could’ve used a drink, but maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to be drinking here with Simon. Then I told myself not to be silly. He hadn’t made a single move on me, had been friendly and sympathetic, but nothing else. After all, just because Rafe had turned out to be such a jerk, it didn’t mean the entire male half of the population would be the same way.

  Still, I couldn’t help making a token protest. “Won’t the owner of the house mind if you drink his wine?”

  Grinning, Simon opened the door to the wine refrigerator and extracted a bottle of what I thought might be pinot grigio. “This is TJ’s wine — a whopping $7.99 a bottle. So you don’t need to worry about drinking the owner’s Beaujolais and Chateau Rothschild or whatever.”

  Maybe it was silly, but I did feel better now that I knew we wouldn’t be dipping into the good stuff. “TJ’s wine sounds great.”

  He nodded and got a couple of glasses out of the cupboard. Those glasses did look expensive — thin crystal, fragile as soap bubbles — but I decided I’d better not comment on them. I’d just have to be careful.

  For a moment, he busied himself with hunting for a corkscrew, while I opened the packages of hors d’oeuvres and started placing them on cookie sheets. I was done with my task just as the oven beeped, apparently letting me know that it had reached the desired temperature.

  “Should I go ahead and put these in?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Simon replied, even as he extracted the cork from the wine. “I think there are some potholders in that top drawer by the stove.”

  The potholders were exactly where he’d said they would be. I wondered how much time he’d spent here, familiarizing himself with the house and its contents, because he seemed pretty comfortable. But then, he hadn’t said much about the length of time he’d been in Santa Fe before I arrived. For all I knew, he’d lived here for a week or two, maybe more.

  I slipped the cookie sheets with their assorted goodies in the oven, spent a few seconds fiddling with the control panel before I figured out the timer, then turned back around toward Simon. “You seem to know this house pretty well,” I commented, hoping the words didn’t sound too accusatory. I really wasn’t accusing him of anything — I just wanted to know the story of how he’d ended up in this place.

  He was in the middle of pouring some wine into the two glasses he’d gotten from the cupboard. When he was done, he came over toward me with both of them in hand, then extended one to me. “I picked up the keys about a week ago.”

  Well, that answered that question. “You knew I was going to be on that particular train to Albuquerque.”

  A lift of his shoulders as he raised the glass of wine to his mouth. “Yes.”

  Not sure how to respond, I took a sip of my own wine. Decent, but nothing to write home about. Which was fine. I still felt jagged from the way Rafe had rejected me at the chapel. I didn’t really need any mind-blowing wine right then. “How did you know?”

  To my surprise, Simon actually chuckled. “Miranda, it wasn’t exactly a state secret that you were going to be leaving for Santa Fe on your twenty-first birthday.”

  I frowned. “No, but it wasn’t like my parents hired a skywriter to advertise it to everyone, either.”

  His smile faded, a thoughtful expression on his face. For a second I worried he might step toward me, but he remained a respectful distance away. Thank the Goddess. I knew I couldn’t deal with any forced intimacies right then. “True, your family didn’t talk about it much. But still — your cousin Caitlin is married to my cousin Alex. There was some talk, although most people in the de la Paz clan probably don’t know the whole story, except that you were going to marry someone from the Castillo clan. Still, it was easy enough for me to figure out exactly when you were leaving.”

  And there he was, waiting for me in Albuquerque like a spider sitting in its web. No, that wasn’t fair. I did my best to brush the uncharitable thought aside. Maybe Simon had done a lot of plotting behind the scenes, but only because he believed he could help me. I couldn’t exactly applaud his methods, and yet I hoped with all my heart that he was right and that he would be able to bring forth my hidden talents.

  “I guess that makes sense,” I said, my tone noncommittal, and took another sip of my wine.

  “I know it all seems weird. I mean, it seems weird to me, too, but really, I had to be certain before I told you the truth about who I was. But as soon as I sat down next to you on that train, I knew I’d been right. I knew you had powers. They just needed a wake-up call.”

  Well, they’d certainly gotten that, although I wasn’t sure who’d been doing the calling. I couldn’t control them and had no idea when or where they’d manifest, but after talking to a ghost and teleporting a grand total of three times, I knew I could no longer claim to be a witch without any magic.

  The timer binged, letting me know the food was ready. However, Simon was too fast for me, because he quickly set down his wine glass and went to pull the cookie sheets out of the oven before I was able to take more than a few steps in that direction.

  “The plates are in there,” he said, inclining his head toward the cupboard in question.

  I got down the plates — heavy stoneware in a soft biscuit shade, with a raised pattern around the rim — and put them on the counter. Simon fetched a spatula and put a decent assortment of the hors d’oeuvres on both of the plates.

  “Let’s take this into the living room,” he suggested. “It’s not really the kind of food you have to eat at a table.”

  “All right,” I responded, my tone a little dubious. I hadn’t caught more than a glimpse of the living room on my way here to the kitchen, but it seemed like a fairly formal space, not the kind of place where I’d feel comfortable snacking. Then again, Simon had already told me he would have a cleaning crew come out once we were done with the house. And, thank the Goddess, the wine was white. A spill should have minimal repercussions.

  Plate of goodies in one hand and wine glass in the other, I followed him out to the living room. Just like the rest of the house, the room was done in pale, neutral shades, the beiges and grays of the couched accented with soft coral and green tones. A pair of sofas faced one another across a large metal and travertine coffee table, which, I was happy to see, had been supplied with a stack of pale stone coasters. I took two and then set down my food and wine, while Simon did the same.

  He glanced toward the large plaster-framed fireplace, and at once the logs within came to life. True, it looked as though it was a gas setup and not real wood, but still, I was impressed at yet another casual display of the powers he possessed.

  For a moment, we were both silent as we ate and drank. It did feel good to get some food in my stomach, although I’d feared with the way it had been churning ever since I left the church, anything I ate might come right back up again. Now, though, both my stomach and my spirit seemed to be settling down. I couldn’t say I was precisely calm, but at least my hands weren’t shaking anymore. Maybe someday I’d discover the reason why Rafe had been so brutal to me. For the moment, it was enough to know that I’d wrested back some control. I needed to concentrate on myself, on healing the hurt he’d caused.

  “Better?” Simon asked.

  “Much,” I replied. “Thank you.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “For what?”

  “For this,” I said, and gestured toward the living room with the hand that held my wine glass. “There’s something very calming about this place. I do feel better, being away from Santa Fe.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  I shrugged. Probably he could tell how hurt I was, but I didn’t see the point in
wallowing in self-pity. Rafe didn’t want me, and yet…it wasn’t the end of the world. I’d show him.

  I’d show everyone.

  “It’s for the best. I mean, I’d rather get dumped at the altar than get married to someone and have him walk out afterward. Now it’ll be easier to move on.” I swallowed some more wine and added, “Actually, I think I hated it there. So much pressure from everyone. Genoveva especially.”

  “I’ve heard she’s kind of a dragon lady,” Simon remarked as he picked up a cheese-stuffed phyllo pastry.

  “Worse than a dragon. More like a Gorgon.”

  “Well, now you don’t have to worry about her being your mother-in-law.” He paused there and sent me a speculative look, dark head tilted to one side. “Were they all awful?”

  “No, of course not,” I said quickly, feeling compelled to defend the Castillos, although I didn’t know precisely why I should care so much. “Rafe’s sister Cat is awesome. And his cousin Tony is really funny and cute. Rafe’s father was pretty nice, too. It was mostly Genoveva who was a pain in my ass.”

  “Guess we know who Rafe took after.” Simon was frowning slightly now, straight black brows drawing together.

  I wanted to tell him that wasn’t really fair, but then I realized I didn’t need to stick up for my former fiancé. We’d had a few good moments — and a few scorching-hot kisses — but Simon was right. Rafe had treated me like utter shit. There was no other word for it, and no excuse, either. I hadn’t deserved any of it, had done my very best to be honest with him, to be someone he’d want to spend his life with.

  Still, I didn’t feel like talking about Rafe. “Maybe,” I said, then took another sip of wine. “Anyway, he’s ancient history. He can drop dead, frankly. What’s next for me?”

  Simon’s mouth curved in a smile. “Well, I hope you’ll get a good night’s sleep. Then tomorrow after breakfast, we’ll go into Española to buy you a phone. When we get back, we’ll…start.”

  He didn’t elaborate, but I knew he meant we’d get started working on my magic. A little thrill went down my back at the thought. I really had no idea what that kind of magical training would even entail, because that wasn’t how it generally worked with witches and warlocks — everyone had a specific talent they were born with, and they didn’t need a lot of help learning how to use it. But Simon had told me earlier that he’d been studying old, old records from the de la Paz clan, stories about how they’d used magic long ago. He must have a plan. After all, he’d been able to detect my buried magic when no one else could.

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  His eyes met mine, dark, penetrating. “Oh, I think you’ll find it very…enlightening.”

  That night I had a hard time falling asleep. I knew part of it was simply being in strange surroundings, even if those strange surroundings involved a huge, comfortable king bed and impossibly high thread count sheets.

  But even though I’d resolved to push him out of my mind, I couldn’t keep myself from thinking of Rafe, of how this was supposed to have been our wedding night. My hand touched the empty space in the bed next to me, the space that he should have occupied in another bed, in the room reserved for us at the resort in Taos. Tears stung my eyes at the thought of that empty suite, of our canceled reservations.

  Or maybe he hadn’t canceled them at all. Maybe, once he knew he was blessedly free of me, he’d called one of his former girlfriends and taken her with him up to Taos. Maybe even now they were in that very bed, limbs entwined.

  No. I quashed that thought with the same force I might use to crush a cockroach under my booted foot. Whatever Rafe had done to me, I couldn’t believe he would be so callous as to go to another woman right after he’d dumped me at the altar. He might be an asshole, but he wasn’t that big an asshole.

  I hoped.

  And I also hoped he was suffering agonies of conscience over what he’d done to me. Genoveva might have been a raving bitch, but she was also uniquely suited to give her son the maximum amount of grief about ruining her plans for a picture-perfect wedding between her only son and the daughter of northern Arizona’s two clan leaders. It was definitely much more satisfying to imagine her chewing him out than it was to brood over him trying to rekindle past relationships.

  As for me…as I’d told Simon, I needed to move on. Rafe was in my past. Now I needed to focus on my future, a future that, I hoped, would include me claiming my own powers.

  Maybe Simon would be part of that future. I knew he wanted to be, but I could tell he was holding back, doing his best to be a friend right now and nothing more. His decision to sleep in the caretaker’s house proved to me he was serious about giving me whatever space I might need. It still felt strange to be in this enormous house all by myself, but after we’d finished our impromptu dinner, he’d walked me over to the house where he’d be staying, just so I’d be familiar with the route — and also so I’d know he was really only a minute or so away, if anything went wrong.

  Nothing would go wrong, though. We were safe and sheltered here. No one knew where I was, and I liked it that way. My parents only knew I was safe, but that would have to be enough for now. The next day, after we’d gotten a replacement phone for me, then I’d see about having a real conversation with them.

  But I still wouldn’t tell them where I was. I didn’t want them to interfere. I needed this time alone with Simon. And when it was over, then I could start on the next stage of my life.

  4

  Empty Spaces

  Rafe

  He’d set his phone to vibrate and left it on the mantel downstairs, knowing that his mother would keep calling until he answered. When he’d gotten home the night before, he saw that he’d missed two messages from her while he was out prowling around in coyote form. That was when he turned off the damn ringer, knowing it would be hard enough to fall asleep without having to worry about Genoveva pinging his goddamn phone every ten minutes.

  However, ignoring his phone couldn’t prevent her from showing up on his doorstep at nine o’clock the next morning. Fearing exactly this sort of stratagem, he’d showered and shaved as soon as he rolled out of bed at a little past eight, but he’d barely had a few sips of coffee before the knock came at his front door. Rafe knew if he ignored it, she’d simply lay her hand on the doorknob and let herself in, so he went to answer her knock. At least that way he could pretend he had some control over the situation, even though he knew that was a lie.

  “Morning, Mother,” he said as she breezed in, perfectly coiffed and made up as usual, not a strand of dark hair out of place, expertly minimal cosmetics highlighting the elegant bones of her face. “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” she replied, giving his bare feet and untucked T-shirt a disapproving glance. “We need to talk.”

  “I assumed as much, or you wouldn’t have shown up at such an ungodly hour of the morning.”

  “Don’t be rude.” Without waiting to see if he would follow, she marched past him and went into the living room, where she touched the controls to deactivate the room-darkening film on the windows. Rafe blinked in discomfort as bright morning sunlight flooded into the space. When he’d gotten home the night before, he’d had another two shots of tequila in an attempt to calm his jangled nerves.

  Maybe that hadn’t been such a great idea.

  “I didn’t know I was being rude.” He sauntered past her and sat down on the couch, then propped his bare feet up on the coffee table. Genoveva winced, and he smiled.

  However, it seemed clear enough that she had more important matters on her mind than his apparent bad manners. “We need to come up with a plan,” she said. “Thank God that the members of our clan don’t have any real contact with the Wilcoxes or the McAllisters, or the story would already be spreading like wildfire. However, we still need to do some damage control.”

  Scowling, Rafe swallowed some of his coffee, then sat up straight and put his feet on the floor so he could set the mug down on the table in front of him. �
�‘Damage control’?” he echoed. “That’s what you’re worried about? Shouldn’t we be focused on trying to find Miranda?”

  “I assume we can all walk and chew gum at the same time,” she snapped, her tone acid. “Of course we will do our best to locate your fiancée, but we also need to be able to work without any interference.”

  “Maybe we need that interference,” Rafe replied. “I mean, anything could be happening to Miranda right now. The sooner we find her, the better…no matter who ends up helping us.”

  Arms crossed, Genoveva said, “If your fiancée is so talented a witch that she can teleport away from all of us in the blink of an eye, then I have no doubt she can handle whatever situation she’s found herself in. I am sure that she has simply gotten herself a hotel room somewhere so she can have a quiet place to think about what she wants to do next. In fact, your father is already making discreet inquiries to that effect. If she’s in town, we will find her. In the meantime, we have to do whatever we can to keep Angela McAllister and Connor Wilcox out of our business.”

  Rafe wanted to tell his mother that her cavalier attitude wasn’t helping, but she did have a point. The last time Miranda had pulled a disappearing act, she hadn’t gone very far. And God only knew that hotels and motels and vacation rentals were thick on the ground in Santa Fe. It would take a while to search them all. “I didn’t think Miranda’s parents were an issue, considering you’ve practically banned them from Castillo territory.”

  Genoveva’s mouth pressed into a flat line. “It isn’t a ban. It’s only that I had wanted you and Miranda to get a fresh start without any outside influence.”

  Of course, Rafe thought. Inside influence, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter. He scratched the back of his neck before responding, “Still, you made it pretty clear that they weren’t welcome here, and it seems as though they got the message. I’m not sure why you think we need to worry about them butting in.”