A Canyon Road Christmas Page 5

  “That was my first suggestion, but Sophia had several reservations, all of which were valid enough. It’s probably better if we sit on them for now.”

  I could feel a frown of my own pulling at my brows. Hanging on to the grimoires didn’t seem like a very good idea to me, but if Rafe had discussed the problem with Sophia and they’d both agreed that the books should stay for now, I wasn’t about to argue with them. “Okay,” I said. “It sounds as if you have the problem handled.”

  “Maybe,” Rafe allowed. “All the same, we both thought it would be a good idea to have you cast a protection spell on the books and on Sophia’s house…just to be safe.”

  “Sure,” I said. Those protection spells had worked well enough to keep Simon Escobar away from most of the Castillo clan, so I had no reason to believe they wouldn’t be equally effective now. It was definitely wise to employ some sort of safeguard, because while I wouldn’t have touched any of those books with a ten-foot pole, I knew there were unscrupulous witches and warlocks in the world who would be all too eager to get their hands on even one of them. “Did Sophia say when?”

  “No time like the present.” His expression lightened a bit, and he said, “I figured I could take you out to dinner after we were done, maybe up at Ten Thousand Waves?”

  “What’s that?” I was beginning to get more familiar with Santa Fe as time wore on, but there was still so much about it that I knew nothing about.

  “It’s a resort up in the Hyde Park area. The restaurant there is pretty amazing. I’ve been meaning to take you anyway, but since Sophia’s house is only about five minutes away — ”

  “This is the perfect opportunity to go,” I finished for him. “Sounds like fun. Just give me a few minutes to get freshened up, and then we can head over to your cousin’s place.”

  “I’ll call her and let her know we’ll be over soon.”

  I nodded, then went upstairs to change out of my slouchy sweater and into a jacket with a simple camisole underneath. Since I was already wearing slim jeans and high boots, I figured the ensemble should pass muster in just about anything except Santa Fe’s snootiest restaurants. A few passes with a hairbrush, a refresh of my lip gloss, and I figured I was good to go.

  Rafe had slipped a leather jacket over his long-sleeved T-shirt, about as far as he was willing to go in the “dressing up” department unless he was attending a wedding or a funeral. Still, he looked so handsome that I had to go over and squeeze his hand. At first I’d meant to give him a quick kiss, but I realized I would only end up getting lip gloss all over him.

  “Sophia’s waiting for us,” he said, pressing my fingers briefly before he let go.

  “Okay.”

  We went out to the garage and got in his Jeep. By this point, I’d been around so many Castillos that meeting another one didn’t send the same kind of butterflies to my stomach as this sort of encounter might have only a few weeks earlier. Despite my lack of apprehension, I found myself wondering about this cousin Sophia — whether her son Tony resembled her, whether they were at all alike in terms of personality…what her specific magical talent might be.

  Hers hadn’t been one of the households given faulty magical protection by Rafe’s sister Malena, and so I’d never been out this way before. I looked around with some interest as we climbed out of Santa Fe’s downtown area and up toward the foothills.

  “If you keep going on this road, you’ll get to the ski resort, but we’ll be pulling off before then,” Rafe told me.

  “Do you ski?” I asked. The topic really hadn’t come up before this, although I knew I’d read somewhere that the Sangre de Cristos usually got enough snow to offer some decent skiing.

  He shook his head. “No. I snowboarded some when I was in high school. Tony and I used to come up here together when we had the time. But I broke my leg my senior year, and even though Yesenia fixed me right up, my mother wasn’t too keen on me doing any more snowboarding after that.” A grin, and he added, “Actually, I wasn’t that keen, either, or I would have kept it up just to spite her. It’s great to have a clan healer and everything, but a broken leg still hurts like hell no matter how you heal up afterward.”

  That was true enough. Having a healer around to treat your injuries might keep you out of the hospital, but a broken bone was a broken bone. Luckily, I’d never done anything worse to myself than sprain my ankle one time when I was hiking around Mingus Mountain, but even the sprain had hurt badly enough that I was all too happy to skip experiencing anything more severe.

  “Still,” he went on, “it’s pretty up here after a good snowfall, even if all you want to do is sit in the restaurant at the ski resort and watch everyone else as they ski. We’ll have to come up sometime this winter.”

  “That sounds like fun,” I said, and it did. Something normal and very un-witch-like, which was about my speed these days. While I was glad to have magic at my disposal should I need it, and proud to carry the Castillo prima powers within me, I thought we were all due for a nice, quiet winter.

  He nodded, then said, “Sophia’s talent is being able to read any sort of magical spell or grimoire. That was why she got possession of the books — it seemed wisest to have someone who actually knew what they were guarding take charge of them.”

  His tone was matter-of-fact enough, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit of a chill move down my spine. Neither the McAllisters nor the Wilcoxes had much to do with grimoires, and the thought of all those spells being written down where anyone could access them made me nervous. I’d be glad when they were safely hidden behind a protection spell.

  Rafe turned off onto a road that wound further up into the hills, and paused for a moment to wave his hand at the electronic gate at the entrance to the development. It was the first time I’d seen anything like that in Santa Fe, but I supposed that the residents of the neighborhood wanted to make sure no wayward skiers couldn’t find their way in here by accident. This appeared to be a pretty upscale area, each house on a substantial piece of land, some of them so hilly and steep, I wondered how anyone could have thought they were workable homesites.

  After a few minutes, Rafe turned again, this time onto a short cul-de-sac that was relatively level compared to the places we’d passed so far. At the end of the cul-de-sac was a large Spanish-style home; he pulled into the driveway there and turned off the engine. “Here we are,” he said, somewhat unnecessarily.

  I got out of the Jeep and followed him to the front door. Despite my earlier calm, I couldn’t help experiencing a few butterflies in my stomach as I waited at the front door. After all, this wasn’t purely a social call. Sophia was expecting me to protect her and her family from anyone who might come seeking those terrible books Simon Escobar had left behind, and I had to do my damnedest to ensure I didn’t make any mistakes.

  The door opened, and a woman probably five or so years older than my mother looked out at us. She was very attractive, with sleek dark hair that fell perfectly onto her slender shoulders and the high cheekbones and elegant nose that so many of the Castillos seemed to share, but there was also something too tense about her, as if she spent a lot of time and effort making sure she presented a perfect face to the world.

  “Sophia, this is Miranda,” Rafe said. “Miranda, this is my cousin Sophia.”

  “I’m so glad to meet you,” Sophia said, then opened the door a bit wider. “Please, come in. Miranda, I saw you in passing when I was at the house for Marco’s funeral reception, but you probably don’t remember me.”

  I shook my head and sent her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry — that was such a crazy, terrible day that most of it is still a blur to me.”

  “I understand.” She gestured toward a hallway that opened off the foyer. “Let me take you to where I’ve been keeping the books.”

  Rafe and I followed her past a living room furnished in muted shades of beige and cream, a dining room done in similar tones, and into what was clearly a family space. A large TV was mounted to one wall,
and there were several overstuffed couches upholstered in soft brown linen.

  Sophia went past all that to a door set into one wall. Hand on the knob, she turned slightly back toward us and said, “When we bought the house, the previous owners had left a safe in here. We never really had need of it, but we left it where it was since we didn’t have anything else we needed to do with this space. Now I’m glad we never got rid of it.”

  Looking over her shoulder, I could just make out the dark outlines of a safe about five feet high set up against the back wall of the oversized closet, or whatever it was. Sophia went into the little space and over to the safe, then turned the combination lock set into the door. Clever of them to use the safe; while all witches and warlocks could open standard locks with tumblers — or bypass electronic security like the gate that guarded Sophia’s tract of expensive homes — anything with a combination was just as inaccessible to us as it was to an ordinary civilian. Even if a dark witch or warlock somehow figured out what was being hidden here, they’d have a tough time getting past this particular safe.

  The safe’s door slowly swung open, revealing a collection of some twenty or thirty leather-bound books sitting on the shelves inside the safe. Although from this distance they appeared innocuous enough, I fancied I could feel the evil drifting out from them, like some sort of foul perfume floating on the air.

  “Did you take an inventory of them?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Sophia said. “I wrote it all down — I thought it was probably better not to store that information on my computer.” She went up to the safe and lifted a single sheet of lined paper from the safe’s top shelf, then came over and handed it to me.

  I glanced at the paper briefly, cold trickling down my spine. Some of the titles were Latin, others Spanish, a few of them in a language I didn’t even recognize. Only one was in English: The Lore and Summoning of Demons.

  How Sophia had been able to record all those titles accurately, I wasn’t sure…until I realized that her own particular talent had probably guided her, providing her with the knowledge she needed.

  “Thanks,” I said, and gave her back the note. “You might as well keep the list in the safe, too. It’s probably, well, safer.”

  Despite the grimness of the situation, Rafe smiled slightly. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  Sophia nodded and replaced the piece of paper on the shelf, then closed the door of the safe and spun the combination lock a few times before giving me an expectant look. “How do you want to handle this?” she asked.

  I paused, considering what would be the best plan of attack. “Mmm…obviously, a spell of protection for the house, but I think I’ll place another one here on this closet, just to be sure, and then I’ll also cast a spell of illusion so this door blends into the wall. Only you and your family will know it’s here.”

  “You can do all that?” she asked. From her expression, I could tell she was doing her best to be polite even though I was straining — for her, anyway — the bounds of credibility.

  I did my best to smother a smile. After all, even though I’d taken over the prima position and defeated Simon Escobar, Sophia hadn’t seen me in action. She didn’t know what I was capable of.

  “All that and more,” Rafe said, stepping in for me. He’d probably guessed, and rightly, that I didn’t want to defend myself too vigorously in case it sounded as though I was boasting. “Miranda’s range of talents is far beyond what any of us have ever seen.”

  “Well, then,” Sophia said, sounding resigned. She extended a hand toward the closet and the safe within. “Go ahead.”

  “Okay.” I shut my eyes for a moment, envisioning a bubble of protection encasing this house and everyone and everything within it. Although no one could see that magical shield, I knew it was there, providing a sure defense for Sophia and her family — however many of them might still live here. I knew Tony had his own place, but he’d mentioned a sister that night we’d met at the Halloween party. Did she still live at home, or was she married already and off somewhere with her own family?

  In the end, it didn’t really matter all that much. As soon as anyone came into this house, they would be protected by the spell, too. Well, as long as they came here with good intentions. Someone intent on causing harm would never get past the front door.

  Now that the house was protected, I shifted my focus to the closet behind that innocuous-looking door. Another magical shield, this one smaller, providing an extra layer of protection beyond the one offered by the first spell I’d cast. This one I fine-tuned slightly so that it would only allow Sophia or myself to pass it; there really wasn’t any reason for anyone else in her family to go in there, anyway.

  And finally, the spell of illusion. That was easy enough, because all I had to do was make it look like a plain expanse of drywall painted the same biscuit-y beige as the rest of the room. A final intention that all these spells should last until I removed the enchantment, and it was done.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw Sophia standing by the spot in question along the far wall. Her hand moved along the space where the door should be, and she shook her head. “I can’t even feel it.”

  “That’s the point,” I said. “You want to make sure that no one can detect the door by touch or by sight. I’ve set it up so you can get in, though.” I went over to her and stretched out my hand to the place where I knew the doorknob was located. “If you reach for the doorknob, it’ll open for you. Only you, though — there’s no point in showing this to anyone in your family, because I’ve locked down the spell so you and I are the only ones who have access. I thought that was probably best.”

  “Yes, neither Leo nor Noel has any reason to get in there.” Sophia turned away from the door and gave me a relieved smile, some of that taut impression gone from her face now. “Thank you, Miranda.”

  I didn’t say it was nothing, because I knew it wasn’t. Those books needed to be kept safe, and now they were as unreachable as if they’d been locked up at Fort Knox. Just another part of being prima, although I hoped there wouldn’t be any more crises until after the wedding. It wasn’t so much that doing this kind of magic tired me out, only that it could be mentally exhausting to have to keep wondering what might come down the pike next.

  Instead, I smiled at Sophia and told her I was happy to help, and after that Rafe and I made our goodbyes and headed out to the Jeep. By that point, December’s early dusk had already fallen, so I couldn’t see a lot of detail as we left the tract where Sophia’s home was located and drove back down the hill a little ways. Not too far, because I could tell we’d gone barely a mile before Rafe turned onto a small road that wound through carefully manicured grounds with low landscape lighting.

  “The restaurant here does sort of a Japanese version of tapas,” he explained as we got out of the Wrangler. “Small plates that we’re supposed to share. But not really sushi,” he added quickly.

  “Was I that obvious?” I asked.

  A grin. “Sort of. Or maybe I just heard you thinking really loudly.”

  Well, Arizona wasn’t exactly a hotbed for gourmet sushi, so I’d never had it. With the right recommendation, I probably would have given it a try, but it didn’t seem as if that was going to be an issue here.

  The restaurant was beautiful, done in a spare, elegant Japanese style with carefully cloistered booths. I doubted we had a reservation, but that didn’t seem to matter, as the hostess whisked us away to a booth in a corner, and almost immediately a waiter appeared to take our drink orders.

  Still smiling a little, Rafe asked for a bottle of priorat, which I’d never even heard of. The waiter nodded and disappeared, and Rafe said, “I figured you probably would rather have wine than sake.”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “I’ve never had sake.”

  “We’ll come up and try a flight sometime,” he said. “But after what you just had to do at Sophia’s house, I thought you might want something a little more familiar.”

  �
��Except that I don’t know what a priorat even is,” I pointed out.

  “Spanish wine. A blend of cariñena and grenache. I think you’ll like it.”

  I had no doubt that I would. Nodding, I looked down at the menu, and for a few minutes we went back and forth on all the options and combinations, finally deciding to start with the house-made gyoza and some miso-glazed chicken drumsticks, and then move on to steak and fries and smoked pork ribs.

  It sounded like a lot of food, even though Rafe had warned me the plates would be small. After the waiter had returned with the wine and taken our orders, I took a sip of the priorat — which was amazing — and said, “Do you have any other surprises like that lurking in the wings?”

  Rafe didn’t ask me what I meant by “other surprises.” “No,” he replied. “Or at least, I hope not. I know we haven’t talked much about him — and I completely understand why — but I think the books were the only thing that was difficult to dispose of. Louisa handled most of it…his clothing was burned, the ritual knife and candlesticks destroyed. The only things that were left were those books, and I know we would have gotten rid of them if we could. But technically, they’re the property of the de la Pazes, so our hands are tied.”

  For a moment, I sipped my wine and didn’t say anything. I supposed I should have been glad that Louisa had stepped up and managed the disposal of Simon’s effects, but I wish someone had talked to me about it. Not that I had an issue with anything they’d done, but because I was the prima and it was my responsibility to know these things.

  Well, done was done. The books were as protected as they could be, and there hadn’t been even a whisper of any other dark witches or warlocks out there — or anyone not from the Castillo clan trying to come into New Mexico — so I figured we were safe enough for now. Still, once things had settled down, I’d need to talk to Zoe, the de la Paz prima, and also reach out somehow to Marisol Gutierrez, the head witch of the Santiago clan. She might have disowned Simon years before, but she still deserved to know that her son was dead.