Dime Store Magic (30 page)
"The Coven doesn't exist to help those who bring trouble on themselves. You took the girl, knowing this demon woman was after her, knowing she was Eve's daughter and therefore didn't belong anywhere near the Coven."
"The Coven exists to help all witches. No one doesn't belong."
"That's where you are mistaken." Victoria looked down the steps at Savannah, then back at me. "You have twenty-four hours to make alternate arrangements for her care. Permanent arrangements. If you do not, you are no longer welcome in the Coven."
I froze. "What did you say?"
"You heard me, Paige. Fix this now or you will be banished."
"You can't banish me. I'm the Coven Leader."
Victoria laughed. "You are not—"
"Victoria," Therese said again. "Please."
"Please what? Please continue this charade? We're too old for these games, Therese. We should have put a stop to them last year. You are not Coven Leader, Paige. Do you really think we'd allow ourselves to be led by a girl so incompetent she manages to turn a simple custody challenge into an all-out witch-hunt?"
Cortez appeared at my shoulder. "Please leave. Now."
"Or you'll do what? Knock me out and put me in the basement with that poor man?"
"He's not the one you should be afraid of," said a soft voice. Savannah climbed the steps and smiled at Victoria. "Would you like to see what my mother really taught me?"
I shushed her with a quick shake of my head. Victoria strode from the kitchen, Therese at her heels. Before reaching the back door, she turned and met my eyes.
"This is not an idle threat, Paige. Find a home for the girl and clean this up—or you aren't welcome in the Coven."
What did I do next? Retreat to my bedroom, have a good cry, and wonder where my life had gone so horribly wrong? While the temptation
was there, I couldn't afford the luxury of self-pity. I had a feeding frenzy on my front lawn, an unconscious paranormal investigator on my stairs, and, somewhere out there, an entire Cabal special projects team devoted to ruining my life. At this point, getting kicked out of the Coven seemed the least of my worries. Deep down, I knew that it was a threat that could destroy my very purpose in life, my mother's dream that I would lead the Coven into a new age, but I couldn't worry about that now. I just couldn't.
I headed for the kitchen and began listening to messages. I made it through two before Cortez slipped behind me, reached over, and hit the Stop button. "You don't need to listen to that," he said. "I do. Robert… or someone…" My voice quavered as badly as my hands. I clenched my hands into fists and tried to steady my voice. "I should listen. It could be important."
"You can check the call display records, Paige." I shook my head. "I need—I need to do something." He hesitated, then nodded. "I'll make you a coffee."
"She likes tea," Savannah said from behind us. "Here, I'll show you."
He followed Savannah to the pantry and I resumed telephone detail.
Caller number six was a familiar and welcome voice.
"Paige? It's Elena. Jeremy read something about you in the paper.
Sounds like you're in a bit of trouble. Give me a shout when you get a chance."
"Can I call?" Savannah asked, bouncing down from her perch on the counter, where she'd been supervising Cortez's tea brewing.
"I'd better," I said. "You can talk to her when I'm done."
I went into my room, phoned Elena, and explained everything that had happened. It felt good to get it off my chest, to talk to someone who'd understand. She offered to come and help, and I can't describe how good it felt to hear that. Unfortunately, I had to refuse.
Leah and Elena knew each other from the compound, having both been captives. Leah had befriended, then betrayed Elena. Later, when we returned for Savannah, Elena's lover, Clayton, had killed Leah's lover, Isaac Katzen. Undoubtedly, Leah still felt she had a score to settle with the werewolves. If Elena showed up here, Leah might very well decide to
take her revenge, and the last thing any of us needed right now was a werewolf/half-demon grudge match unfolding in downtown East Falls.
Elena understood, but promised to stick close to home for a few days.
Should I change my mind, I only needed to call. I don't think she knew how much I appreciated that.
Before I signed off, I put Savannah on and returned to the kitchen.
"Do you take anything in your tea?" Cortez asked.
"No, black's fine." I took the mug from him. "Thank you."
"Perhaps you should call Robert. I'll feel better—"
A moan from the basement cut him off. Morton was awake. Or, I should say, I hoped it was Morton but, considering the events of the last few days, I wouldn't have been surprised to pop open the basement door and find a decomposing zombie tramping up the stairs. Neither of us moved as footsteps sounded. When there was a bang at the door, even Cortez hesitated before responding.
Any hopes that Morton would awake and beat a hasty retreat vanished as he continued to pound and shout. He was in the house and, damn it, he wasn't leaving without a fight. Cortez gave it to him. Not a literal fight, of course. No offense, but I couldn't picture Cortez rolling up his sleeves and cold-cocking anyone. His strength was in words and, after going a few rounds with him, Morton beat that hasty retreat trailing apologies, convinced he really had fallen through the hatch.
The Original Cabal
AFTER MORTON WAS GONE, I HEARD SAVANNAH SAY
GOOD-BYE to Elena. She wasn't even out of the bedroom when the phone rang again. It rang once, then Savannah's animated voice floated down the hallway. Hearing only the lilt in her tone, and none of the conversation, I knew who was calling.
"No way," she said as she walked into the kitchen, phone to her ear.
"Yeah, right. Like we'd need you." She snorted. "Oh, sure. You can, like, incinerate them. Dream on."
She paused, listening, then stifled a giggle. There was only one person Savannah giggled for, though she'd sooner die than admit it—and would probably kill anyone who had the nerve to mention it.
"It's for you," she said, holding out the phone. "Adam. He thinks he's going to help us. As if."
"Hello," I said.
"It's about time. Do you know how many times I've called there since this afternoon? Dad gave up hours ago. Either it's busy or we get your machine. Where have you been?"
"You don't want to know."
"I bet I can guess. My mom was watching the satellite news earlier, some show from out there, and guess whose picture she saw?"
"Mine. Lemme guess. It said I was a Satanist, right?"
"Hell, no. It said you were a witch. You're a Satanist now, too? Cool. If you see the big guy, can you ask him to pass along a message for my father? Tell him he's way behind in his child support payments."
"Ha-ha."
"So what's going—" Adam stopped and sighed. "You'll have to tell me later. Dad's here, tapping his foot and making faces. You'd better talk to him. Then get back to me, okay?"
The phone crackled as Adam passed it to Robert.
"Paige." Robert's warm voice rushed down the line. "You should have tracked me down at the conference. This sounds absolutely horrible."
"You don't know the half of it," I said, heading back into my room.
"Tell me then."
I did.
"How can I help?" he asked when I finished.
I could have cried. I feel foolish admitting it, but those four words meant so much.
"The stuff on Leah is great," I said. "But I also need some information on Cabals." I hesitated, almost afraid to go on. "Have you heard of the Cortez Cabal?"
"Certainly." He paused. "Is that who's after Savannah?"
"No."
"I'm glad to hear that. The Cortezes are the most dangerous of a dangerous lot. The original Cabal."
"The first one, you mean?"
"Yes. Hold on. I'm in my study. Let me pull up the file." A stream of keystroke clicks followed, then, "Here it is. The Cortez Cabal was founded during the Spanish Inquisition. They precipitated the Break."
My breath caught. "The break between witches and sorcerers. They were the ones who handed us over."
"Exactly. After doing so, the Cortez family formed a group originally based on the witch concept of a coven, though it quickly took on an entirely different focus. The name 'cabal' came later, after they relocated to the New World. It's a play on words, a mingling of truth and irony. You know what the word means, I assume."
"A secret society formed to conspire against something, usually the government."
"That's the joke, of course. A joke at the expense of the Illuminati myth. The only thing a sorcerer Cabal conspires to do is make money.
The name also derives from 'cabala,' linking it to sorcery and mysticism.
Finally, there's the allusion to 'caballero,' meaning a Spanish gentleman, which, of course, they were."
"About the Cortez Cabal…"
"Oh, yes. I'm sorry." He chuckled. "I suppose etymology doesn't help you much, does it? Was there anything in particular you wanted to know about them? If they aren't behind the attack on Savannah—"
"It's related. I need to know about the family. The main family."
"The Cortez Cabal is headed by Benicio Cortez and his sons. I believe there's a brother or two, plus assorted nephews and cousins."
"The sons… Do you know their names?"
"Let me see. There's Hector, then… I'm not certain of the middle two brothers, but the youngest, of course, is Lucas."
"Of course?"
"Outside the Cabals, Lucas Cortez is the best known of the four brothers. He has quite a reputation—" Robert stopped, then laughed. "I think I see where this is leading. Dare I presume you've met young Cortez?"
"You could say that."
"Let me guess. He wants to help you protect Savannah from this other Cabal."
"I'm guessing he does this kind of thing a lot, huh? What's your take on this… crusade of his?"
"Well, let's see. The most unflattering view of the situation is that it is nothing more than youthful hell-raising. A spoiled delinquent protected by a blindly doting father. The middle ground, and the view most widely subscribed to, is that this is simply a developmental stage. The prodigal son rebelling against his family, a moral revolt that will last only until he realizes poverty isn't much fun, whereupon he'll return to the fold. The most optimistic view, of course, is that he truly is committed to what he's doing."