Darknight (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 2) (13 page)

In a few hours, I’d be going home.

“
S
o you’re leaving
?” Mary Mullen asked in resigned tones as I folded the last of my sweaters and put it in the duffle bag.

I hadn’t seen her for a few days, and had wondered if she disapproved of the change in my relationship with Connor. Maybe now I was just another one of “those girls.” What they used to refer to back in the day as “loose women.”

But I didn’t see anything particularly condemnatory in Mary’s doll-like features, only a slight worry that she was going to be left to haunt an apartment with no one in it.

“Not permanently,” I told her. “At least, I don’t think so. We haven’t quite figured out how this is all going to shake out.”

Her head tilted to one side. I reflected that her hairstyle was just another reason why I was glad I hadn’t been born back in the day. No way could I have ever managed those perfect finger waves. She asked, “Are you getting married?”

Wow. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about it. Everything with Connor was still so new. We’d only been together a few days. Going from that to marriage seemed like a big leap…or at least it would have been a huge jump under normal circumstances. It was different with a
prima
and her consort, though. Marriage in that situation was pretty much a foregone conclusion.

“Um…eventually,” I hedged. “We haven’t really discussed it yet.”

“You should marry him,” she said. “You’re a nice girl. He deserves a nice girl.”

I was oddly relieved that she still thought of me as nice, even if I did happen to be a fallen woman. “Right now I’m just taking him to meet my family.”

“Oh, that’s nice. That’s a good step.”

I sure hope so.

“Who’re you talking to?” Connor asked, sticking his head in the doorway. Immediately Mary Mullen disappeared.

“The ghost,” I replied. “She was worried that we were leaving permanently.”

“Are we?”

“Of course not.” I zipped the duffle and turned to look at him. “I’m going back so I can let everyone know what’s going on, have them meet you. That’s all. It’s important for them to know that I’m with my consort.”

“Even if that consort is a Wilcox.”

“Yes, even that.
Especially
that. We’re all going to have to learn to live with the situation. Better to start now.”

He came to me then and kissed me, long and thoroughly, igniting the slow fire in my veins. I cuddled against him, wanting him. For a second or two, I thought he might press things further, push me down on the bed so we could follow the heat of the moment to its logical conclusion. I wouldn’t have minded, except for the delay and the fact that I really wanted our next time together to be in Jerome. But he pulled away, and smiled down at me. “I love you,” he said quietly.

I took his hand, pressed it against my cheek. “I love you. And it’s going to be fine.”

No reply to that, save a soft squeeze of my fingers before he stepped away and picked up the duffle bag. “Let’s get going.”

D
espite Connor’s
assurances that Damon wasn’t completely all-knowing and all-seeing, I couldn’t help casting furtive glances over my shoulder as we exited the building and threw our meager luggage — my duffle bag, a beat-up athletic carry-all with the Northern Pines University logo on the side — in the back of the FJ. There were a few people around, going from the parking lot behind the building to the shops and restaurants in a sort of outdoor mall off to one side, but none of them were paying us the slightest bit of attention.

“It’s fine, Angela,” Connor said, opening the passenger door for me. “I don’t recognize any of my brother’s spies.”

I waited until he had climbed inside and started up the engine before asking, “He has
spies?
”

“Well, okay, any of my relatives.” He fastened his seatbelt, and I did the same. “Even if they did see us, what are they going to do? We could just be going shopping or something.”

“With luggage?”

“Our ‘luggage’ doesn’t really look that much like luggage. We could just be going for a day trip with those bags.”

“Okay, true.”

He backed out of his parking space and headed down the alley. After turning down a couple of one-way streets, we emerged on Route 66 and headed east. I frowned, because even though I didn’t know the town very well, I did know that I-17 was in the other direction.

Connor must have noticed my worry, because he said, “It feels like we’re going out of our way, but really, it’s easier to get to the freeway from this direction. Otherwise, we have to sit through a ton of lights.”

That seemed reasonable. I nodded, and sure enough, a few minutes later we were on I-40 going west, heading to the interchange that would take us south and toward Jerome. As soon as we were past the Flagstaff city limits, I could feel my spirits start to rise. No one had stopped us.

Great snowy pine forests crowded the landscape to either side of the highway. The highway had been plowed, but Connor kept our speeds down well below the posted seventy-five miles an hour. Although I understood his caution, part of me chafed at the delay. I wanted to be home.

We didn’t talk much on that drive. He seemed calm enough, but I could feel the tension practically radiating off him. I understood it, of course; I’d been in a similar situation just the day before. Well, except that the McAllisters generally tended to be a far less dangerous bunch than the Wilcoxes. Their outward normality hadn’t soothed my misgivings all that much. Yes, Lucas and some of the others seemed pleasant enough, but there were those weird vibes I sensed coming from Marie, and Damon…well, enough said on that topic.

“The 260, right?” Connor inquired, and I startled. I’d been watching the changing landscape outside the window, watching as the ponderosa forests dwindled to familiar juniper, the snow fading as well until all that was left were patches in the shadows behind rocks or under trees.

“Right,” I said, then asked, “But you’ve been to Jerome before. Don’t you remember the way?”

“Actually, my friend Darren was driving. Everyone I came with that night was a civilian. They didn’t think we were doing anything except going out and having a good time. Damon wanted to send some family members with me, but I didn’t think that was a good idea since it was his first time using that masking spell, and I didn’t know how many people he could really handle.”

I supposed that made sense. So those had been some of Connor’s civilian friends. I wondered what their reaction would be if they ever discovered the truth about his family…or the real reason why he’d come to the Jerome Halloween dance.

That was between them, though. For now I was content to guide Connor up the highway that led us into the heart of Cottonwood, to go through streets that were almost as familiar to me as those of my own little hillside town. After we swung our way through the last roundabout and began heading up twisty 89A to Jerome, I could feel tears beginning to sting at the back of my eyes. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this place until I saw it again.

By then it was a little past three in the afternoon. Snow still gleamed on the north face of Mingus Mountain, but the roads were clear enough. And in the town itself, everything seemed normal, serene. The usual gaggle of tourists, maybe a little thicker today because it was the holidays and so many people were off from work and school.

I saw Connor wince a little as we passed the town limits and reached out to lay my hand on his leg. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” he said, although his voice sounded tight. “I think we must have just passed one of your wards. I didn’t feel it back in October, when Damon cast that one spell. It had to have protected me somehow.”

“Are you all right?” I asked immediately.

“I’m fine. It was just a twinge. Maybe being with you eased it a little, or maybe it’s not intended to actually hurt too much, just warn someone off.”

That sounded about right. The McAllister way was not to bring suffering to others. However, if Connor had felt the ward, that meant the alarm had probably been sounded. We might not have a lot of time before the welcoming committee showed up.

“Where are we going, anyway?” he inquired. “We’re about to run out of town.”

“Turn left up there,” I said. “At the sign that says ‘residents only.’”

He followed my directions, and soon we were twisting up the back alleyway that led to my house. It was icy and treacherous, and he slowed to let the four-wheel drive take over. I’d actually only come in this way once or twice, since I didn’t have my own car yet and therefore hadn’t needed to park in the garage. But I figured it was probably safer, since Paradise Lane was narrow, and the FJ would stick out like a sore thumb if we parked it in front of the house.

Not that it probably mattered, since the people who monitored the wards already knew a Wilcox was in McAllister territory.

We’d just pulled into the garage and were climbing out of the Cruiser when I heard Boyd Willis’s voice. “Hold it right there, Wilcox.”

At once I stepped forward. “Boyd, it’s me.”

The look of astonishment that passed over Boyd’s craggy features would have been amusing under different circumstances. He wasn’t exactly the most expressive of men. “Angela?”

From around the corner of the garage stepped Margot Emory and Henry Lynch. The welcoming committee — in other words, the clan’s strongest witch and warlock. Both of them stopped dead when they saw me, although I noticed Margot’s eyes tracking toward Connor and then back toward me.

He had stilled as well, standing quiet, waiting, his hands at his sides. Obviously he didn’t want to do anything that would provoke a response. I could tell he was waiting for me to take the lead here. After all, we were now in my territory.

I shut the car door. “I think we should all go inside,” I said.

A
lthough I’d only been gone
a few days, the house felt alien to me. Maybe that was just because I hadn’t had a lot of time to get used to it before I was taken to Flagstaff, but somehow I thought it was more than that. Being out of Jerome, living with Connor, had shown me just how circumscribed my life was before this past week.

No one said much of anything as I opened the door and led everyone inside. The dining room, with its large table, seemed the logical place to go. Besides, there I could sit at the head of the table, act like the
prima
, even though inwardly I could feel myself jittery and nervous, wondering whether they would listen to me, wondering what I would do if they didn’t.

I shot Connor as reassuring a glance as I could and nodded toward the chair to my right as I sat down. The slightest head tilt in return as he acknowledged my silent request. He pulled out the chair and took his seat. After a hesitation, during which Margot, Henry, and Boyd exchanged their own silent and unreadable looks, they all sat down in the empty chairs on my left, facing Connor but not looking at him.

After a long, heavy pause in which I was sure everyone could hear my heart battering away in my breast, I said, “This must look a little…strange.”

Margot was the first to reply. She folded her pale, slender hands on the tabletop, glanced at Connor for the briefest of seconds, then tilted her elegant head back toward me. “That’s something of an understatement, but yes, it does seem rather odd that you’d bring a Wilcox here.”

“He’s here with me because” —I drew in a deep breath— “it turns out he’s my consort.”

“Impossible!” Boyd burst out.

A quelling look from Margot, and he subsided somewhat. He was here because of his strength in spells of protection, of defense, but still she was the only one of the clan elders present, and he had to defer to her authority. Where the other two elders were, I didn’t know. Gathering the clan against the possible Wilcox threat?

She shifted in her chair, the first time I could recall ever seeing her make a movement that was anything less than completely self-assured. “You’ll forgive us for being…disbelieving.”

“Well, I didn’t want to believe it at first, either.”

Beside me, Connor’s mouth twitched in what might have been the beginnings of a grin, as if he were thinking that had to be the understatement of the year. Luckily, he got it under control before anyone else noticed. Boyd’s, Margot’s, and Henry’s attention was focused all on me. Maybe they were hoping that if they didn’t acknowledge Connor’s presence, he’d just disappear or something.

It didn’t work that way, though. I leaned forward, saying, “He’s the one I’ve been dreaming of all these years. I don’t understand exactly what’s going on, either, why my consort would turn out to be a Wilcox, but it’s something you’re all just going to have to deal with.” The three of them gazed at me, stony-faced, and I added impatiently, “Just look at his eyes. You all know I’ve been dreaming of a man with green eyes. None of the candidates you found for me had eyes like that. But Connor does.”

Reluctantly, they turned and regarded Connor for a long moment. I was proud of the way he sat there in silence, returning their stares coolly but with no sign of hostility. How handsome he was, with the sunlight coming through the windows on the west side of the room and warming his raven hair, showing all those translucent layers of sage and slate and moss in his remarkable eyes.

At last Margot let out a long sigh. “I don’t know what to make of this. Perhaps the other elders will have some insights. In the meantime, I think you should stay here in the house.”

I placed my hands flat on the tabletop. “No.”

The winged black eyebrows lifted. “I beg your pardon?”

“
No
,” I said. Where the strength to defy her was coming from, I didn’t know. Maybe simply from having Connor near me, feeling his reassuring presence, even when surrounded by those who should have been his enemies. Something told me, though, that I needed to make a stand, to assert myself. I was the
prima
now, and although she was a clan elder and worthy of my respect, still, mine was the final word. “I’ve had enough of house arrest. I brought Connor here to meet my family, to see where I grew up. It is not your place, Margot Emory, to tell the
prima
what she can and can’t do.”