Darkmoon (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 3) (24 page)

He went out, and Mason wandered into the kitchen, obviously eyeing the cupboard space. Then she let out a contented little sigh. “I cannot believe I’m lucky enough to get this place.”

“I’m glad it could all work out,” I said sincerely.

“Same for you two,” she said. “I was a little worried for a while there, but it looks like you’re all okay now.” She ended the comment on the slightest of questioning notes, as if she wanted to make sure.

“Definitely okay,” I told her with a smile, then lifted my left hand and flashed the diamond at her. “Actually, more than okay.”

“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed, and emerged from the kitchen so she could give me a hug. “Why haven’t you two announced it?”

“Well, things have been busy with the house and…everything,” I finished, waving one hand vaguely in the air. No one knew about our meetings with Lawrence and Andre, and I wanted to keep it that way. If I succeeded and the curse was broken, well, then we’d tell everyone what we’d been up to. But I didn’t see the point in getting everyone’s hopes up beforehand.

“I’m really happy for you,” Mason said, but then her smile wavered a bit, compelling me to ask,

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing,” she replied. Then she bit her lip, glanced away from me, and added, “I’ve just been getting some flak from my parents. They don’t see the point in me getting my master’s degree when all I’m going to do is end up staying here in Flag and getting married eventually.”

She sounded so unimpressed by the prospect that I had to inquire, “You don’t want to get married someday?” To be honest, she hadn’t talked much about guys, but then again, when she and Carla and I had gotten together for coffee or whatever, the conversation hadn’t really veered in that direction. But maybe she was into girls.

“Oh, someday,” she said. “But Carla just got engaged — ”

“Did she? I didn’t hear about that.”

“Well, you and Connor have had other things going on, so that’s probably why Carla hasn’t said anything. And it’s not that I’m against the idea in principle, it’s just….” She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s one thing if you’re fated for one another or something interesting like that. But in my case it’s marrying some cousin I’ve known my whole life, which isn’t all that romantic, you know? Or finding a civilian I think’ll be open-minded enough to deal with marrying into a witch clan, which isn’t as easy as it sounds. So I figured if I stayed in school and got my master’s, it would put off the evil day for a few more years.”

“There’s no law that says you have to get married,” I said gently. “I mean, it’s not as if the Wilcox clan is going to die out if you decide to stay single.”

She let out a reluctant laugh. “True that. No, I don’t really like the idea of spending my life alone, but I also want to
do
something with it. That’s partly why I’m getting my master’s in education — I’d really like to go on the reservation and make a difference, assist in setting up new programs and things to help improve the situation there.”

“Wow,” I said, impressed. This was a side of Mason I hadn’t seen before. Then again, we’d never really had a chance to talk alone like this. Before, it had always been Carla and Mason and me, and when Carla was around, the conversation tended to be a lot more gossipy. “I think that sounds incredible.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” she responded, voice glum. Then she seemed to shake it off, adding, “At least my parents haven’t said I can’t get my master’s, or take this apartment. Yeah, I’m an adult, but you know how it is in a clan.”

Did I ever. I was still battling the weight of unmet expectations from the McAllisters. Some days it seemed as if I could feel their disapproval radiating all the way from Jerome. But I hadn’t really chosen this path, it had chosen me, and now all I could do was attempt to walk it as best I could.

“Well, if anyone tries to give you crap, just tell them the
primus
supports you fully in what you’re doing,” I said, just as Connor walked back in, carrying two overloaded Sprouts canvas shopping bags.

“What am I supporting?” he asked.

“Your cousin in going to school and getting her master’s and not marrying some random Wilcox cousin just because her parents expect it of her.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding in understanding, “I fully support that. If they give you any crap, tell ’em to come talk to me.”

She grinned, the shadows gone from her face. “I definitely will. Thanks for everything.”

We both murmured words to the effect that it was nothing, but I could tell Mason didn’t think it was nothing. She ducked out after that, telling Connor to be in touch when he was ready to hand over the keys. After she was gone, he said, eyes glinting,

“It’s good to be the king.”

“‘King’?” I inquired, lifting an eyebrow. “Getting a little full of yourself, aren’t you, Mr.
Primus?
”

“Nah. I didn’t want to be
primus
, and, despite what Lawrence might say, I don’t really know how good I am at it, but if putting my stamp of approval on Mason’s college plans will get her parents to back off, I’m okay with swinging my dick around a little bit.”

“Hmm,” I said, and pursed my lips. “I say we go home so you can show me how this whole dick-swinging thing works.”

“Deal,” he replied immediately. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Oh, so now we’re in a hurry?”

“Damn straight. Too bad teleportation isn’t in my
primus
bag of tricks.”

“Nor mine,” I said with some regret. “So I guess we’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way and drive.”

“Good thing the house is only fifteen minutes away.”

Laughing, we went out, Connor locking the door behind us. As he did so, I couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit sad. Yes, we had a new home to share, and I loved it already. But the apartment had felt like home for a while, too, and now we were handing it over to someone else.

I’d just have to hope she would be as happy there as Connor and I had been.

T
he days slipped by
, seeming to move more quickly of their own accord, although I would have been more than happy to have them slow down, give me more time. I practiced my meditations at home, Connor at my side. He would hold my hand, and for some reason his touch would make it easier for me to use that strange power to lift myself out and away from my body.

I experienced the thrill of rising above myself, looking down at the dark pine trees from high above, seeing the smooth, narrow roads that twisted through the development, the sparkle of the manmade lakes at the country club. Each time it got a little easier, and I felt a little less drained as I returned to my body. Just three days before the solstice, we drove back out to the shabby little compound in Navajo territory, this time so Lawrence could show me the next step — how to cast my consciousness, now free from my body, into the world of the spirits.

“You know there is nothing to fear,” he told me, every line and hollow in his face etched by the flickering candles inside the house. This time we’d come at night, as he’d instructed, telling us that this sort of work was easier in the quiet, cool hours of the evening.

Well, “cool” being a relative term. Yes, the sun had gone down and the temperature dropped a bit, but it still had to be hovering around ninety outside.

“You have spoken with spirits, and know they mean no harm, even the ones who linger here out of fear or anger or resentment,” he went on. “So you may walk amongst them without doubt or worry. But it is easy to get lost there, and so you must always remember your body, waiting here for you. Remember as well that those who love you also wait for you here, and so do not linger.”

So much for not worrying. But since I certainly couldn’t turn back now, I only nodded, Connor’s hand lying on top of mine, just a gentle pressure to show that he was there. His presence wasn’t enough to distract me, but it was a solid reminder that I was not a being of spirit and shadow, but a young woman who needed to return to her body before too much time had elapsed.

When Lawrence spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “It is time.”

I breathed in deeply — not a gasp, but a full, rich breath that seemed to fill my lungs all the way down to the very bottom of my ribcage. Again I was lifting away, leaving the house and its occupants behind, but this time I had a destination. I floated over the dark landscape, the only points of light the highway and the trading post, coming ever closer. Lawrence had suggested that I go there, as it was more than a hundred years old and had its own attendant spirits.

Moving silently as a ghost myself, I drifted toward the cluster of buildings. The parking lot was empty, save for a few cars belonging to people staying at the motel there; it was now a little after ten o’clock, and everything else was closed up for the night. Not that it mattered. I hadn’t come here in pursuit of the living.

There was a garden behind one of the buildings, a little oasis shadowed under the half-light of a waning crescent moon. I knew in a few days there would be no moon at all, and although I had no real body, still I shivered.

Dark shapes moved in the garden, then paused on one of the paths, staring up at me. Again a chill went through me, but I forced myself to keep going, to meet them. This felt very different from chatting up Maisie, with her blonde curls and big blue eyes.

But as I drew closer, I could see the shapes were those of a man and woman. Probably a mother and son, as she was much older than he. They watched me with hostile dark eyes as I drifted along the pathway to meet them.

“You are not supposed to be here,” the woman said, her English halting but clear enough. “Your world is that of the living.”

“True,” I said, glad I could agree with her on that point. “But it’s necessary that I come here to the world of the spirits. I’m looking for a woman named Nizhoni.”

At that remark, the man and woman looked at one another, and I thought I heard the man chuckle. However, his face was sober enough as he replied, “That is a common name among the Diné. But I know of no one with that name who lingers here with us.”

Damn. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. Anyway, Lawrence had said Nizhoni was not an ordinary spirit, tied to one place. Her energy was more powerful, and yet more diffuse, than that. Anyway, if I recalled my history correctly, this place had been built about forty years after she laid down her curse and died. I’d never found out where she was buried, but I assumed it was somewhere in Flagstaff.

“She would not be here,” I said slowly. “Her people might have come from around here, but I know she passed from this world down in Flagstaff. I’d just hoped that maybe you would have heard of her. She was taken away from here, married to a man named Jeremiah Wilcox.”

The man and woman exchanged an unreadable look, although something in their stance seemed to indicate fear, mixed with disgust. “Ah,” the woman said at last. “Her people did come from farther up the river, beyond the trading post. But she is not here, and we would not want her.”

Can’t say as I blame you,
I thought. “But if she is not here, do you know where she might be?”

The woman didn’t reply, but the man lifted his head, looking southward. “Sometimes an ill will blows with the south wind,” he said, somewhat cryptically.

“So she’s down toward Flagstaff?”

Again they shared an inscrutable glance. “You should not be here. This is not your place,” the woman said, and although she made no movement, it was as if I felt an invisible hand shoving against my chest, pushing me backward.

I gasped, not stumbling exactly, but somehow I was now yards away from them, moving faster and faster, the trading post dropping away beneath me. I felt the pull of my body like the weight of a dead star, sucking me downward, and the next thing I knew, I was blinking my eyes open, clutching at Connor’s hand.

“What’s the matter?” he said at once. “Are you okay?”

After pulling in a ragged breath, I made myself nod. “Yes, I’m fine. I guess I just didn’t expect to meet resistance like that.”

“Resistance?” he asked, his tone sharp. “What kind of resistance?”

I glanced across the room to where Lawrence sat, watching me carefully. Next to him, my father looked on, his expression tense even in the dim flickering light of the candles, but he didn’t say anything.

“You met the two at the trading post,” Lawrence commented finally. It wasn’t a question.

“I did. They weren’t exactly what you’d call friendly.”

“Why should they be? You cannot go into the world of the spirits and expect them all to welcome you, or help you. Did they do anything to hurt you?” His voice was mild, almost uninterested.

“No, they didn’t hurt me,” I replied. “But they made it pretty clear they didn’t like my question.”

“And what was that?”

“Where to find Nizhoni.”

He laughed a little, perhaps at my naïveté. “Ah, that is something I doubt they would tell you, even if they knew the answer. But they died many years after she did, when her name had become only an echo of malice.”

“Well, they did tell me one thing,” I said, a little rankled by his amusement. “They made it pretty clear that she wasn’t to be found anywhere around here.”

“Indeed? Because I’ve already said she’s not to be found anywhere at all.”

“Maybe. But the man did tell me that an ill wind sometimes blows from the south, by which I assume he must mean Flagstaff. When…when the time comes, it seems logical to try there first.”

“It is possible. Perhaps we should start from there, then, rather than here.”

My father looked alarmed. “You mean…go to Flagstaff?”

“You must face your past sometime,” Lawrence told him. “The time for hiding will soon be over.”

I could tell my father didn’t like the sound of that at all, but he only nodded, face tight and still. What he was expecting from returning to his hometown, I wasn’t sure. After all, the person who had the most reason to tell him off was gone. Lucas had just texted Connor the day before to say he’d gone by to water her garden, and still no sign of Marie.

Connor, on the other hand, appeared distinctly relieved that my perilous journey would at least have its starting point on his home turf. “From the house?” he asked.