Darknight (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 2) (17 page)

“Yes, what about Rachel?” I demanded. “Because yesterday she was looking at me like something she wanted to scrape off her shoe.”

“She’s sorry about that, Angela. She said as much to me. She said she was shocked and scared and didn’t know what to think. She’s already regretting how she behaved toward you.”

“So why couldn’t she come and tell me that herself?”

He gave me a calm, level look. “Now, Angela, you know your aunt isn’t very good at apologies.”

That was true. It took a lot to get her to lose her temper, but when she did, it was well and truly lost…and afterward she generally wanted to act as if the explosion had never happened. “Does she know you’re here?”

“No, and she’ll probably kick my ass when she finds out. But that’s not important. What’s important is that you just give us a little time. Everything will work out in the end.”

I wanted to believe that. I really did. But my relatives weren’t the only ones who needed some space. “I’ll give you as much time as you need,” I replied, “because I’m going back to Flagstaff.”

A frown, one he quickly erased. “Do you really think you’ll be safe there?”

“I’m safe with Connor.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“What do you want me to say, Tobias?” I crossed my arms and met his worried gaze. “I’m not going to deny that Damon Wilcox is a slippery bastard, and I don’t trust him at all and never will, but I also know he won’t do anything to me. I’ve bonded to his brother, and there’s nothing he can do about that. And staying here….” The words disappeared somewhere between Tobias and myself, erasing themselves before I could finish the thought. “It’s not going to work. Not right now, anyway. You tell Aunt Rachel what you need to tell her, and the whole clan, if you want. I’m not going away forever. But it hurts to be here right now, hurts to have people looking at me like I’m some kind of leper. So, as you said, let time heal things for a bit. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, actually, I don’t.”

“Then call. I have my phone now. But I want — I just want to be with Connor for a while.”

My words didn’t seem to have reassured him very much, but he gave a reluctant nod. “All right. You’re the
prima
, and you’ll do what you feel is necessary. But don’t — don’t be away so long that you forget who you are.”

He left after that, murmuring a quiet goodbye, and I saw him to the door, then shut it behind him.

Forget who I was? How could I do that, when every resentful glance told me that a McAllister
prima
shouldn’t have betrayed her clan the way I had?

Taking a breath, I went upstairs to tell Connor I wanted to head back to Flagstaff.

C
louds had begun
to gather while we drove north, and as we pulled into the parking space behind Connor’s building, a few fat white flakes started to fall. Good. I loved being in his apartment with the fire going and the weather closing in outside. It could be just the two of us in our own little bubble of warmth and solitude.

Nice illusion. It wasn’t really true, though.

We’d been in the place maybe ten minutes before a harsh knocking came at the door. I’d heard that pounding before.

I looked over at Connor. He was standing by the fireplace, ready to set it alight, while I’d just come down from returning some things to the upstairs bathroom.

“I suppose it’s no good to ignore him, is it?” I asked. “I mean, he’ll just blast the door open.”

“Probably,” he agreed. His expression showed more resignation than anything else. “I’ll get it, though.”

No arguments here. I nodded and stepped out of the way, back toward the living room, as Connor opened the door.

“Hey, Damon,” he said, as Damon brushed past him and stood glowering in the tiny entryway.

“‘Hey, Damon’ my ass,” was his reply as he scowled first at Connor, then at me.

In that moment, I was very glad I’d removed myself to a safe distance. Although I didn’t think Damon would really do anything to either one of us, he was still pretty fearsome when he was in a mood — which seemed to be most of the time.

He continued, “What, did you think I wouldn’t notice your little jaunt to Jerome?”

“No,” Connor replied wearily. “I figured you’d be spying on us one way or another. But we’re back now, so what difference does it make?”

“Yes, you’re back.” That black-eyed stare transferred itself to me. “Back fairly quickly, too, I might add. What, did you not get the open-armed welcome you were expecting?”

Although I willed myself not to react, I must have flinched.

A cruel smile touched his mouth. “Ah, so they did reject you and your consort. What did you expect?”

I found my voice. “I didn’t expect anything,” I lied. “I only wanted them to know I was okay. Now they know, so I didn’t see the point hanging around when there was so much more here in Flagstaff that I wanted to have Connor to show me.”

That sounded plausible, although I wasn’t sure Damon would buy it. But Connor added, “Yeah, I want to take her up to the Snow Bowl, and maybe out to Winslow to the Turquoise Room. And some of her friends are coming up here for New Year’s. She’s been cooped up in Jerome for most of her life, so it makes more sense for us to be here.”

Throughout this little speech, Damon listened with one eyebrow cocked in an expression eerily similar to one I’d seen on his brother’s face several times. When Connor was finished, Damon said, “You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”

Connor shrugged. “It’s the truth. I was just about to call Joseph to get Angela’s friends set up at the Weatherford. Do you want to wait and listen while I do that?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He shifted his attention from Connor to me. “You might as well admit that your clan has rejected you. Your place is here now, with us. It’s time for you to really join your powers to the Wilcox clan.”

This was what I’d been fearing all along, that sooner or later Damon would try to force the issue. After all, it was one of the main reasons he’d wanted to take me for his own. Yes, as a possible way of breaking the curse, but having the strength of a
prima
in addition to a
primus
would make the Wilcoxes stronger than any clan in the region.

Since I knew I was valuable to him, even as his brother’s consort and not his own, I realized he couldn’t do anything to hurt me. That realization gave me the courage to reply, “My powers are my own, Damon. I’ll use them as I see fit, and not just because you think they’re your due because I’ve bonded to a Wilcox.”

His mouth thinned to a tight line. Then he seemed to force in a breath. “That’s…very short-sighted of you.”

“Is it?” I turned away from him, went to the fire. Just a touch, just a little push from those newly kindled powers of mine, and the logs blazed up and began to crackle. “You know, Damon, you should really stop trying to rule the world. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

Connor didn’t gasp — he was too in control of himself to do that — but somehow the room felt as if it had lost some of its oxygen. Damon’s face darkened with fury.

“You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?” he said. “I’m afraid your confidence may be misplaced.” Without bothering to say another word, he stalked to the door and went out, slamming it behind him.

For a moment neither Connor nor I said anything. Then I remarked, “You know, he really needs to take some anger-management classes. He slams doors more than anyone I’ve ever seen. Good thing you don’t have anyone living below you, or they’d probably be calling the cops.”

“Angela — ” Connor began, his tone a warning. Then he stopped himself. “He’s really not someone you want pissed off at you.”

“Maybe not, but since he seems perpetually pissed off, I can’t take all the credit.”

Instead of answering, Conor crossed the room and pulled me into his arms, held me close. I was fine with that; this was exactly where I’d wanted to be, here in front of the fire, with my consort as the snow fell outside. Everything else could wait.

I
t turned
out that he really had meant what he’d told Damon — Connor took me up to the Snow Bowl, the recreation area outside Flagstaff, where we tromped around in the snow, got caught in the crossfire of a massive snowball fight between several groups of kids who looked to be in fifth or sixth grade, and slid around in saucers until we were exhausted and laughing and wet. He tried to convince me to try skiing, but as I wasn’t really in the mood to break any bones, I demurred.

And another day we roamed around downtown Flagstaff, eating and drinking at his favorite places, window shopping and doing some real shopping, too, since my wardrobe was in serious need of a boost. We did drive out to Winslow, which didn’t have too much going on, except a fabulous meal at the Turquoise Room in the historic hotel there. Then it was back to Flagstaff, with a promised return trip to see the Meteor Crater sometime after New Year’s.

It was fun playing tourist for once, rather than being the person who had to wait on tourists all the time. Certainly there was a lot more to do and see than I’d expected. I did notice that Connor didn’t seem to make any contact with members of his family, and wondered if he was trying to keep me away from them. Certainly Damon appeared to have decamped for the time being, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I was relieved.

Still, I couldn’t help wondering in the back of my mind whether he really had given up on me, or whether he was just off concocting some new plot, maybe one involving the “alternative magic” he’d mentioned to Connor. About all I could do was hope that he’d abandon any plans he might be formulating once he didn’t have so much time on his hands; classes started back up at Northern Pines in less than a week.

I hadn’t seen anything of Mary Mullen since we’d gotten back, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. One thing I’d learned from dealing with Maisie — and the other ghosts in Jerome — was that they came and went according to their own timetables. Unless I called to them specifically, many times weeks and sometimes months would go by without hearing from them. Time just wasn’t the same for a ghost as it was for us mortals, even if we did happen to be witches.

The morning of New Year’s Eve, I rolled over in bed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking. Connor had been able to secure the hotel room for Sydney and Anthony without any problem, and they were going to come up late in the afternoon and get settled in. Then we planned to go out for a late-ish dinner and start making the rounds downtown.

This all seemed perfectly innocuous, but I couldn’t help wondering if Damon had been biding his time, waiting so he could swoop down at the worst possible moment. I tried to tell myself that was silly, that he wouldn’t do anything on a night when the town was swarming with revelers. Even so, unease still nagged at me.

“You’re frowning a lot for a girl with a big party day in front of her,” Connor remarked, turning on his side to watch me.

“Sorry. I’m just — I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about your brother.”

“Should I be jealous?” Connor inquired, and I reached over and smacked him on the shoulder.

“Don’t even joke about that. Just…no.” I pushed myself up to a sitting position, holding the sheets against me. I’d fallen asleep right after the previous night’s lovemaking session, and my clothes were still scattered all over the floor. “It just seems as if he backed off way too quickly. He’s not really going to give up that easily, is he?”

Connor’s expression, which had been relaxed and still a little drowsy, darkened. He sat up as well. “I don’t know. The thing is, he knows he can’t
force
you to do anything. And how much
can
you do, anyway?” I raised an eyebrow, and he hastened to add, “No insult, Ange, but besides talking to ghosts, I haven’t seen you actually
do
all that much.”

I didn’t bother to tell him that was how I’d been raised, that flashy shows of power were the quickest way to invite unwanted attention. “And what about you, mister? I’ve seen you light a fire or two, and I know you were able to change your eye color, but somehow I have a feeling there’s a little bit more to it than that.”

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Okay.” And suddenly it wasn’t Connor looking at me, but his cousin Lucas.

Even though I knew it had to be only magic, I couldn’t help giving out a little squeak and clutching the sheets to me even more closely, making sure my breasts were completely covered. It sure looked like Lucas, dark eyes and the Wilcox high cheekbones and long, strong nose. I noticed there were the beginnings of some iron gray at his temples.

“That’s, um…impressive,” I managed.

The illusion disappeared, and Connor was staring back at me. “Thanks.”

“So can you look like anybody?”

“No, they have to be my approximate height and weight. I couldn’t take on your appearance, for example. But Lucas, or my brother, or any man around my size, yeah.”

That seemed a lot more useful to me than talking to ghosts. “I’m surprised you don’t use it more.”

“I don’t like it. Feels like lying to me.” He shook his head, then pushed back the covers and got out of bed so he could retrieve his underwear.

I had to admit I’d rather be looking at his backside than Lucas’s…or Damon’s. Shudder.

“And it takes a lot of effort,” he added, pulling on some jeans over the boxer-briefs. “Holding a full-body illusion like that? I can do it for maybe an hour, max.”

“But just the eye color?” I asked, recalling how convincing those brown eyes had been when I first met him. “That’s easier?”

“Much easier. I can do that all day without breaking a sweat.” He reached for the sweatshirt he’d tossed over a chair the night before, then added, “Okay, I’ve shown you mine. You show me yours.”

“Very funny.”

“I mean it.”

To stall him, I bent over the side of the bed and grabbed my own discarded underwear, then slipped it on. Since we were probably just going to scrounge breakfast downstairs after this, I didn’t worry about my bra, but instead pulled on my long-sleeved T-shirt from the day before. “It’s not that simple.”

“How so?”

Ever since Connor and I had been together, I’d felt the
prima
’s energy surging through my veins, bright and strong, but I didn’t know exactly what I was supposed to do with it. Maybe nothing more than my little display earlier, when I’d lit the logs in the fireplace. Maybe the real power, the
true
power, was waiting until I needed it, whenever that might be.

“It’s nothing obvious,” I replied, trying to figure out the best way to describe it. “That’s not how it works with a
prima
. I mean, I’m not going to go around blasting doors and invading people’s dreams and all the fancy stuff your brother does. It’s more like” — I scrunched up my nose, searching for the words — “I guess it’s something like ground water, deep under the desert floor. It’s there, but until you drill down and hit it, it’s not obvious. That’s a
prima
’s power, Connor. It’s there against the time when it’s needed.”

He’d been listening to me, his head tilted slightly to one side as he considered my words. After a pause, he asked, “And talking to ghosts?”

“That’s different. That’s just my gift — me, Angela McAllister. It doesn’t really have anything to do with being
prima
. At least, none that I can tell, beyond the talent being strong enough that it made me good
prima
material.”

“It’s interesting,” he said. “I mean, it’s very different from how the power goes from
primus
to
primus
. That’s always been father to son, at least in our clan.”

“Are there any other clans with a
primus?
Margot Emory said — I mean, I was told that the Wilcoxes are the only ones.”

“Not that I know of. There must have been once, but it seems as if we Wilcoxes are the only ones clinging to the bad old days.”

He frowned, and I went around the bed so I could give him a quick hug. “You’re not all clinging to it. You seem like you’re trying to change things.”

“I do?” he replied, surprise clear in his features.

“Well, you’re not doing every little thing Damon tells you to, and you seemed willing enough to make peace with my clan, even if they’re not meeting you halfway. So I definitely don’t think you’re stuck in your family’s past.”

A hand lifted to brush back my hair and push it behind my ear. “You have a generous soul, Angela.”

It was such an out-of-character thing for him to say that I couldn’t help raising my eyebrows.

“You do. I wish things were different, that there wasn’t this cloud hanging over us. You deserve better than that.”

There was such a note of melancholy in his tone that I felt my breath seize in my chest. No, we really didn’t deserve this. I’d always thought all that “sins of the fathers” crap was just that — crap — and never more so than now. Connor certainly shouldn’t have to suffer just because his great-great-great-whatever-grandfather had been a first-class son of a bitch. Damon I wasn’t so sure about. As far as I could tell, he’d pretty much earned whatever he got.