Darkangel (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill) (13 page)

Yes, but I’d thought that when I left this comfortable apartment, I’d be moving to my new home with my consort at my side. I hadn’t thought I’d be camped out there with a bunch of babysitters making sure that dark specters or roving Wilcoxes or whatever peril might be lurking nearby didn’t have a chance of getting close to me.

It hurt to think that Aunt Rachel was siding with the elders against me. “So you — you
want
me to leave?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her face crumpled, and I could tell she was close to tears. “No, of course not. But what I want isn’t a factor in all this. There are…traditions. I can’t let my own feelings get in the way.”

I wanted to say,
Fuck traditions!
That wouldn’t be productive, though, and I knew I had to grow up and face reality…even though I really, really didn’t want to. “All right,” I said wearily. “But it doesn’t have to happen right this minute, does it?”

“No, that was never our intention,” Bryce said. “There’s the funeral the day after tomorrow, and then Lionel and Joseph will have to take out the things Ruby left them. Next week, I think.”

His reply calmed me a little. All right, so I was apparently stuck with that Victorian white elephant, but I would have a week to come to terms with everything, to say goodbye to my lively room and the view that had greeted me every morning since I was too young to remember. Would I be able to change anything in the house I’d inherited, or would I be expected to keep it in its current museum-like state, with all the furniture that dated back to the same time the house was built?

That was a question I knew I’d better leave for another day. In the meantime, there was still a great deal to do.

I
t was only
when we were gathered together like this that I realized how many of us McAllisters there really were, even if we didn’t all share the same last name. We clustered in a corner of the cemetery, more than two hundred of us. A casual passerby might have thought us a strange-looking crew to be attending a grave-side service, for very few of us wore black. It wasn’t our custom to mourn in such a way. Of course we would all miss Ruby, miss her strength and her wisdom and her fierce loyalty to the clan, but we knew she had merely crossed over, not ceased to be. She was still living, only elsewhere. And I had seen for myself the expression of joy cross her face when it was time to walk over that threshold to the next world. I had no doubt that her husband Pat was there to welcome her. How could I be sad, when she had clearly been so happy to go?

As I stood by the grave, and watched the burnished mahogany casket with its beautiful crown of yellow roses — Ruby’s favorite — and spider mums be lowered slowly into the ground, I wondered if I would ever love someone like that.

There were too many of us to fit into anyone’s house, so we’d rented out Spook Hall for the reception afterward. More yellow roses greeted us there, and I thought of how I’d been here only a few days earlier, and danced with Zorro and worried — hoped? — that he might try to kiss me. That opportunity was long gone, and so was he, I supposed, back to Tempe and his master’s program and the real world.

Sydney had called me, eschewing texts in her worry, and I’d explained what happened. Too many things going on for me to be able to talk with her for very long, but she did tell me that Adam had said it was a family emergency, and so she and Anthony had slipped away not too long after that.

“I could tell it was something important,” she’d said, “since so many people began to leave, even though they hadn’t gotten to the costume contest yet. And your Zorro came up and asked about you.”

“He did?” I asked, cheered a little despite everything.

“He sounded worried, and I said it was a family thing, and then he told me you were just about to give him your number but had to leave, so….”

“So?”

“So I gave it to him. I figured it would be okay, since you were about to do it anyway.” She hesitated. “Was it not okay?”

“No,” I said wearily. “It’s fine. I doubt he’ll call. He lives in Tempe, and besides….”

“He’s a civilian?”

“Yes.”

A long pause. Then she said, sounding a little too cheerful, “Well, hey, you never know. I am sorry about your great-aunt.”

I’d thanked her for that and hung up. I could tell that she wanted to talk more, to ask about me being
prima
now and all that, but I just didn’t have the time…or the heart. Maybe after things had settled down somewhat I could have her come up and visit, but it would have to wait for a few days.

Now I stood off to the side and watched the clan members moving through the hall, or standing and talking in small groups. Toward the front was a table decked with flowers, and a large reproduction of a photo of Ruby when she was close to my age, her mouth painted with red lipstick, hair in perfect Rita Hayworth waves to her shoulders. She was smiling, but not directly at the camera. Maybe Pat had been standing behind the photographer, and she’d been smiling for him.

She really had been strikingly beautiful. I could see why there would’ve been plenty of young men vying for her attentions, and not just because she was the next McAllister
prima
. I wondered if her looks had factored into the Wilcoxes’ desperate attempt to steal her for themselves, or whether her beauty was just a nice bonus.

A shiver went over me then. I didn’t want to think about the Wilcoxes, or what they might be plotting…if anything. Ever since that long-ago kidnap attempt, they’d stayed on their turf, just as we’d stayed on ours, and they’d been quiescent enough for the most part. Even so, they weren’t to be trusted.

“Are you okay?” came Adam’s voice from over my shoulder.

I turned toward him. “Sure. Why?”

“You were frowning.”

“Oh, just thinking.”

“About nothing pleasant, I guess.”

“The Wilcoxes.”

“Definitely
not
pleasant, then.”

Despite everything, I grinned. “Not really, no. I’m just borrowing trouble, I think. By the way, I never got a chance to thank you for letting Sydney know what was going on so she wouldn’t think I’d totally bailed on her.”

“No problem.” He shifted from one foot to the other, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

Maybe it was the button-up shirt and loafers he was wearing, instead of his usual T-shirts and Converse high-tops. No, we weren’t required to wear black dresses and black suits and all that, but it was a sign of respect to dress nicely at the funeral of a clan member. I had on a vaguely retro full-skirted dress I’d bought at one of the shops here in town, and had borrowed Aunt Rachel’s pumps again. We all looked pretty respectable — probably more respectable than an outsider would’ve expected a gathering of witches to be. Just more of that whole staying inconspicuous thing. You tend to attract more attention when everyone in your group looks like a refugee from a Stevie Nicks concert.

“So,” he went on, drawing out the syllable as if pondering what exactly to say next. “I guess you really are moving into Aunt Ruby’s house.”

“Yes,” I said shortly. “Next Monday, I guess.” A day I was really not looking forward to.

“Oh.” Then he brightened a little. “You know, Saturday is that Day of the Dead thing over in Sedona. I was thinking it might be, I don’t know, good to go to that. Say another goodbye to Great-Aunt Ruby.”

I’d completely forgotten about the festival. Halloween was two days before that, although I knew this year there wouldn’t be too much revelry amongst the McAllister clan. Of course there would be our usual Samhain observances on Halloween itself, another way of connecting with the dead, when the veil between the worlds was at its thinnest.

Now that I thought about it, though, going to the Day of the Dead celebration seemed like a good way to make my final farewells and honor my aunt before my life went through its own change. “We’ll have to take the bodyguards,” I warned Adam. “No way are they going to let me go to Sedona with just you.”

“Oh, I figured that. Maybe your aunt and Tobias, too, if they’re interested.”

The offer touched me. Clearly he was doing this because he thought it would help me, and not to seize some opportunity, however artificial, to get me alone. I didn’t know if Aunt Rachel would really be up to it, as the double shock of losing Ruby and me at roughly the same time had shaken her a good deal. There was still a sign on the front door of the shop that said “closed due to a death in the family.” I hadn’t yet gathered the courage to ask her if she intended to open up on Halloween, which tended to be a busy day even when it fell in the middle of the week.

“I’ll ask,” I said. “But Rachel’s taking the whole thing pretty hard. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay.” He reached out then and gave my hand a quick squeeze before heading off toward the refreshment table.

I wouldn’t let myself sigh. I had to look as if I were in control, no matter what. But it was hard not to wish, just a little, that things had been different, that Adam was my one. No, he didn’t set my heart on fire or anything, but he’d been supportive and friendly the past few days, and I knew I could trust him. It would have been a lot easier if he’d turned out to be the consort.

But of course nothing can ever be that easy.

A
full moon drifted overhead
, surrounded by clouds that reflected its light, only more diffuse, cloudy and yellow. The wind was from the northeast, cold and biting. I tried not to think about where it was coming from, blowing down the passes from Flagstaff.

An ill wind….

I shook my head and made myself concentrate on the group around me. We always held our Samhain observance late, almost at midnight, long after all the shops and and restaurants had closed. Yes, there were still some late-night partiers at the Spirit Room, but they would be otherwise occupied, and hopefully not noticing what we all were up to.

Well, not all. The McAllister contingent in Jerome numbered a little more than two hundred these days, and two hundred people gathering anywhere in a town that small was bound to get noticed. So a little more than half of us met in small groups in people’s homes, sharing their own versions of the rituals, celebrating the Goddess as Crone and the Horned Hunter.

But because November was the dead time, a month and more of darkness before Yule arrived and the world began to tilt once again toward the light, we always had the strongest witches and warlocks come together in one place to invoke the spirits of our ancestors, to ask for their guidance and their strength in helping to protect us against the forces of the dark. We met on the grounds of the building that had been the miner’s dormitory, once upon a time, mainly because it was enough out of the way that any tourists lingering at the Spirit Room wouldn’t be able to stumble upon us. They might see the lights of our candles and torches as they made their way back to their cars, but they wouldn’t be able to get to us. No visible barrier blocked the road that led to the dormitory, but anyone going that way would find their car’s engine suddenly sputtering and dying, or would suddenly be overwhelmed by the feeling that they needed to get out of there
right now
.

That north wind cut bitterly through the thin cotton of my robes, even though I wore a long-sleeved T-shirt and long skirt underneath. In the spring and summer, some of the more abandoned among us went naked under their robes, but I’d never done that even in warm weather and certainly wasn’t going to start now. Difficult enough to know that I was the one who would have to lead the coven in the ritual. The
prima
always presided at the great celebrations.

My throat was dry. I coughed, a dry little scratch that didn’t do much to help relieve the tickle I felt, and stepped forward. “Let it be known that the Circle is about to be cast. All who enter the Circle may do so in perfect love and perfect trust.”

The watching crowd nodded, and waited as I made my way around the huge circle, invoking the deities of the four quarters and lighting the ritual candles in their prescribed shades of green and yellow and red and blue. I had been to enough of these ceremonies over the years that the words came as naturally to me as if I’d written them myself. Each coven had its own liturgy, if you wanted to call it that, something codified through many, many years of use, and ours was no different.

There were far too many of us to have every individual come to me and affirm his or her ritual entry to the circle, and so I asked the question of all of them as a group: “How do you enter the circle?”

“In perfect love and perfect trust,” they all responded, a low murmur, powerful as the mountain upon which we stood.

They all took up the circle, and the ceremony of Samhain began. Great-Aunt Ruby had varied it from year to year, sometimes focusing on the harvest, sometimes concentrating on invoking the spirits of our ancestors. Because we had so recently lost her, I’d thought that was what I had better do here tonight as well.

Rosemary is for remembrance,

and tonight we remember those who have

lived and died before us…

It was a longish ritual, or at least it had always seemed that way to me as a semi-bored teenager repeating the words, shivering and wishing I could be off at the Halloween dance at the high school (even though in general I wasn’t much for socializing), or over at Sydney’s house, eating popcorn and watching scary movies. Anything that a normal teenager was supposed to do on Halloween. But I guess I’d never really been normal, even when I pretended to be.

Now, though, the words seemed to spin out of me with strength and sureness, as if it really were Great-Aunt Ruby reaching from beyond the veil to lend me some of her wisdom. I didn’t falter, and the flames of the candles burned bright and true, even with the wind blowing all around us.

After facing the four quarters and once again invoking the deities of each direction, I went to the altar Tobias and a few others had erected in the center of the circle. I picked up the black candle and called forth the flame with my mind, saying, “
The Wheel of the Year turns once more, and we cycle into darkness.”

As I did so, I halfway expected that black specter to appear once more, hand outstretched, cold whisper echoing in my mind. But nothing happened, and I hitched in a little breath and went on to light the white candle, signifying the light that would return after the solstice. From there I invoked the spirits of our ancestors, all the McAllisters who had gone before us, asking them to bless us with their strength and their love.

Although the night was cold, somehow it seemed to turn warm then, as if we were all surrounded by the good wishes of the loved ones we had lost. I almost thought I felt Great-Aunt Ruby’s quick caress of my cheek, and a quick, “Well done, child.”

Most people would say it was their imagination…but I knew better.

After that I closed the circle by dismissing the deities who had watched over us, and thanking them for their service. Once that was done, everyone broke off in little groups, heading back to their cars or, for the hardier ones, to the paths that would lead them up to their homes.

There hadn’t been any question of my walking; I’d ridden down in Tobias’s truck with him and Rachel. In the moonlight, I thought I saw the glitter of tears on my aunt’s cheeks, but she smiled and hugged me when I approached her.

“That was beautiful, Angela,” she told me. “Ruby would be so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” I said awkwardly. I knew Ruby was proud, or at least I had a good notion that she was. I didn’t mention what I had heard, though, as everyone had a different experience in the circle, and I didn’t want to say anything that might change hers.

We were silent then as Tobias went and got the altar, and he and Lionel brought it over and wrapped it in the blankets that had been waiting in the bed of Tobias’s pickup. After that we drove back up to the shop, where he led us inside, wished Aunt Rachel and me goodnight, and kissed her quickly on the cheek. Just in time, too, as that night’s “bodyguards” showed up then, and we all trooped upstairs to the apartment.

They wouldn’t sleep, of course, but instead settled themselves down on the sofa and easy chair in the living room. One would think that the ritual I’d just performed would be enough to ensure some protection for this night at least. Obviously not, though; they weren’t about to take any chances. So I bade them goodnight, and went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth while I was still dressed. Even after a few weeks of this, I hadn’t gotten to the point where I was willing to let them see me wandering around in my bathrobe.

After all that, though, I slipped back into my bedroom and closed the door behind me. I’d left a white candle burning on my own little altar there, one of those saints’ candles you can buy at the supermarket, although this one had a guardian angel on it, not a saint. That kind of candle was safe to leave unattended, and I wanted that white light to fill my room so no evil could enter there.

And all the gods and goddesses knew that I could use a guardian angel about now.

I pulled off my robe and hung it from the hook on the back of my door, then kicked off my shoes and took off my long skirt and T-shirt as well. After shaking my hair loose from the rubber band I’d used to hold it out of the way while I washed my face and brushed my teeth, I went to the window and pushed the curtain aside slightly so I could look out on the sleeping town.

There was no sign that a large group had gathered earlier out on the promontory where the old dormitory was located. Neither could you tell just by looking that we’d invoked the spirits of the dead and cast yet another spell of protection around Cleopatra Hill and the town built on it. But I knew. I could still feel the power thrumming through my bones. No one who wished us any ill could come near here. I felt it.

The moon shone down on me, naked of clouds now. I gazed up at it, drinking in the white light. I had survived my first ritual, and hadn’t botched anything or opened up the clan to dark influences.

Maybe this
prima
thing wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

T
o my surprise
, Aunt Rachel did open the store the next day. “Can’t stay closed forever…and it’s the weekend,” she told me.

Or maybe she was just trying to take her mind off the reality of my moving out in a few days. When I’d gotten up that morning, I started packing some of my less essential items — summer clothes and flip-flops, books I knew I wouldn’t be reading any time soon — but I hated doing even that much. It felt so…final.

She’d declined going to the Day of the Dead festivities but didn’t forbid my going. That is, she really didn’t have the option of telling me what to do anymore, and instead said, “Well, you’ll need to discuss that with the elders.”

None of them had been exactly thrilled at the prospect. Margot Emory had frowned and shared what sounded like a heated convo with the other two elders, and then Allegra Moss shrugged and said, “If you take five of our strongest with you, then I think it should be all right.” Since she had some of the strongest precognition in the clan, generally when she said something like that, you were good to go.

Apparently Bryce had thought the same thing, because he didn’t offer any other argument. “I’ll choose them,” he remarked, but that was about it.

Not that I really wanted five witches and warlocks trailing me the whole time. Still, it was better than being under house arrest, and it had been months since I’d gone into Sedona. It was neutral territory, an agreement having been made more than a hundred years earlier that the resort town had too much power on its own, what with the energy vortexes that surged up through the rocks there. Any clan living within its boundaries would have an unfair advantage. I was sort of surprised that the agreement was still honored to this day, considering you couldn’t trust a Wilcox any farther than you could throw him (or her…although they skewed heavily toward warlocks and not witches). I’d asked Rachel about it once, and although her expression turned dark, the way it always did when the subject of the Wilcoxes came up, she said that the other clans, especially the de la Pazes, would have come up here and assisted us if the Wilcox clan had ever attempted such a thing. They were powerful, but even they weren’t strong enough to face down all the other Arizona clans at the same time.

Anyway, we were all allowed to go into Sedona to eat and shop and go to the movies, as long as we didn’t stay overnight and didn’t attempt to cast any spells or perform any rituals there. The McAllisters probably went far more often than the Wilcoxes, simply because we were closer, only about fifteen miles away, and up in Flagstaff there was at least a movie theater and a mall, whereas we had to drive all the way to Prescott for those amenities.

I helped out in the shop part of the day that Saturday, but I couldn’t stay until closing, since we’d be leaving a little after three. One of the warlocks in the bodyguard contingent was Lester Phillips, partly because he excelled at defensive spells, and partly because he had a big van that all of us could pile into. Adam met me at the shop, the van pulled up about five minutes later, and then we were off.

It was a clear, bright day, with just a few thin clouds overhead. The air was cold, though; the north wind had decided to hang around for a few days. I wore one of Rachel’s wool shawls over my black sweater and spangly skirt, since somehow it hadn’t felt respectful to go to a Day of the Dead festival in jeans and cowboy boots. Adam had traded his T-shirt for a hoodie, but otherwise his attire didn’t look much different from what I saw him wear every other day of the year.

His eyes had lit up when he saw me, and I hoped I hadn’t done the wrong thing by agreeing to come. No, he knew how things stood between us. I told myself he was probably just glad that I hadn’t called everything off at the last minute.

He didn’t seem that inclined to talk during the drive. I was glad of that, since it meant I could stare silently out the window and watch the golden fields pass by outside. We’d greened up with the monsoon rains during the summer, but things had dried out again and would stay that way through the winter.

The trip took a little more than a half hour. Sedona was crowded, as it generally was on the weekends. Cars had backed up onto the highway while trying to get into the parking lot at Tlaquepaque Village, where the Day of the Dead festivities were being held, but Lester had a handicapped placard because of his bad back, so once we actually got in, we were still able to find a place to park without too much trouble. Yes, I know a warlock with a bad back sounds incongruous, but we hadn’t had a good healer among us since Dottie McAllister, my second cousin once removed (or something like that), passed away a few years ago. And, as Lester liked to point out, having that handicapped placard came in, well, handy.

As soon as I got out of the van I could hear the rippling sounds of flamenco music coming from one of the courtyards. The place was mobbed with people, and I experienced a small thrill of apprehension. I wasn’t used to being out among that many people, especially strangers, on territory that wasn’t mine.

Everyone else got out of the van, and Adam and I stood there, unsure as to which way we should go. The five bodyguards waited patiently; clearly they were just here to keep watch, and it was up to me to decide where we would go and what we would see.