Darker Paths

1 Hideaways Miranda McAllister Usually I felt better after I had made a decision, had gotten matters settled. Now, though, as I sat on Simon Gutierrez’s couch and watched him smile down at me, I couldn’t help but wonder whether I’d just made a terrible mistake. Yes, the man I was supposed to marry had just stomped on my heart and shattered it into about a million pieces — rejecting me as we stood on the altar at Loretto Chapel in front of the entire Castillo clan — but was disappearing with Simon so he could help me awaken my mostly dormant powers really the right response? The logical thing for me to do was to go back to the casita where I’d been staying at Genoveva Castillo’s house, gather my belongings, and catch a shuttle down to Albuquerque so I could fly home to Arizona. And yet…. The only person I had less desire to face than Rafael Castillo was his mother, the Castillo prima. There was no guarantee that I wouldn’t run into both of them if I went back to get my things from the casita. I also couldn’t see myself as being courageous enough to say the hell with it and take a flight home while still wearing my wedding dress. Besides, if what Simon had just told me really was true, if he actually could help me get in touch with magical gifts I hadn’t even known I possessed, then leaving now would prevent me from realizing my potential. Did I really want to be a nunca — someone born to parents of witch-kind but without any powers of their own — for the rest of my life? That unspoken question seemed to settle things. If Simon had taken any note of my apparent unease, he’d decided to ignore it. “I have a place where we can go. We’ll be safe there. The Castillos won’t be able to find us.” “You’re sure?” I asked. “I mean, Genoveva is pretty powerful, and the clan is so big….” “You’ll have to trust me on this one,” he replied. His night-black eyes were fixed on me, earnest, encouraging. “Just as I was able to hide my magical powers from them, I’ll be able to hide us physically, too.” He’d hidden those powers from me as well. It was only a few moments earlier that he’d revealed he was also witch-kind, but from the de la Paz clan in southern Arizona. I supposed I would have to trust him to keep us well concealed, because he’d certainly done a good job at making me think he was a civilian, just an ordinary guy with no magical powers at all, someone who’d only been reaching out to a lonely girl in a new town. And I’d have to believe him when it came to other matters as well. He hadn’t hidden his interest in me, so for all I knew, this was just an elaborate ploy to get me alone so he could finally make his move. However, I refused to believe that. He could have tried to make a pass at me all the times I’d been alone in his apartment, but he hadn’t. Right now, he seemed much more interested in helping me work with my buried powers than getting me in the sack. Which was a relief. Yes, a very good way to get revenge on Rafe for leaving me at the altar might have been to sleep with Simon, but I didn’t think I could go to bed coldly like that, driven by vengeance rather than love or desire. I’d been hanging on to my virginity my entire life, saving it for Rafe. Even though he’d rejected me in about the worst way possible, I wasn’t willing to blithely throw that virginity away. I couldn’t say what might happen as time went on, but for now I just wanted to have Simon as a friend and nothing more. “Okay,” I said. “I trust you. But how exactly are we going to manage this?” I remembered then that my meager belongings had been left at Rafe’s house, all packed into two weekender bags in preparation for a honeymoon that had never happened. At least I could avoid going back to the casita, but it didn’t seem as though there was any way to stay out of Rafe’s orbit. “My bags are at Rafe’s, and I can’t exactly go roaming around Santa Fe in my wedding dress.” I made a frustrated gesture at the heavy silk satin gown I wore, whose tight bodice now felt even more confining than when I’d put it on earlier that afternoon. More than anything, I wanted out of that damn dress. True, I’d taken off my tiara and veil a few moments earlier, but still, I was in no shape to go anywhere dressed like this. “It’s fine,” Simon told me. “I can get your things for you.” I stared at him in disbelief. “How? Even if you can block Rafe from detecting your powers and realizing you’re a warlock, he’s not going to let you waltz into his house and get my bags.” “I don’t have to go anywhere near Rafe’s house,” Simon said calmly. “How much luggage did you have?” “Um, just the two bags. Cat dropped them at Rafe’s house because we thought it would be faster when it came time to leave town, but — ” “Miranda,” he cut in, stopping the flow of words. “It’s okay.” He came and sat down next to me on the couch, then took my hand in his. Part of me wanted to pull away, but I knew that would be horribly rude. Besides, something about his touch was reassuring — the warmth of his fingers, the gentle strength I sensed within him. I needed someone to calm me down, because my whole body positively thrummed with nervous energy, probably from that terrible scene at the chapel when Rafe had rejected me…and perhaps also from the realization that I’d just made a huge decision about my future. “Think of everything you brought with you,” he said, gaze meeting mine, open, friendly. “Don’t tell me — just think.” This seemed like a pointless exercise, but I didn’t want to argue with him. I remembered how he’d said a few minutes earlier that he possessed a number of different talents, not the one magical gift most witches and warlocks could call their own. Did those talents include magically transporting inanimate objects across miles? A little shiver went through me at the thought. Just how many magical abilities did Simon actually command? I supposed I’d find out soon enough. So I sat there on his slightly saggy couch and felt how his fingers were entwined with mine, how his skin was smooth and warm. I thought of the few possessions I’d been allowed to bring with me here to Santa Fe, the mundanities of jeans and tops and jackets, a few precious items like the green tourmaline earrings my parents had given me for my eighteenth birthday and the thick bracelet of hammered silver that my grandfather gave me when I graduated from college. All the little bits and pieces that were supposed to help me create a new life here, far from where I’d grown up in northern Arizona. And then there they were — a pair of dark wine-colored weekender bags, with my purse sitting on top of one of them. I let out a shocked sound and shifted on the couch so I could look at Simon. “You — you were able to bring them here, just like that?” “Just like that,” he said, voice and expression both slightly amused, as though he couldn’t quite understand why I should be so impressed by such a simple feat. “Soon enough, you’ll have learned to do these things as well. But for now, it’s probably a good idea if you get changed.” I had my doubts as to whether I’d really be able to command those sorts of powers, but I didn’t feel like arguing with him. All I wanted right then was to climb out of that heavy, ridiculous dress and get into something more comfortable. Even as I moved, I could feel one of the plastic bones from the bustier I was wearing dig into my underarm. “Definitely a good idea,” I agreed, then got up from where I’d been sitting. Simon’s bathroom wasn’t very big, but somehow I’d figure out a way to extricate myself from the wedding gown and get into some real clothes. After giving him a quick smile, I went and picked up both bags — since I couldn’t remember which items were in which piece of luggage — and locked myself in the bathroom to change. My face in the mirror was almost one of a stranger. No real surprise, considering I’d been made up earlier that day by an expert, and I wasn’t used to the subtle contouring the makeup artist had used. But it was more than just the surface paint — those were the eyes of a woman who’d been hurt badly. Underneath the blush, my skin was far too pale. Mouth compressed, I turned away from the mirror and began the arduous process of unbuttoning the row of tiny satin-covered buttons that fastened the back of the dress. I had a feeling this was the sort of procedure that usually required assistance, but there was no way in hell I was going to open the door and call down the hallway for Simon to come and help me get undressed. About five minutes later, I finally had everything undone. With a sigh of relief, I let the gown slither to the floor, then stepped out of it and hung it from a hook on the back of the bathroom door. The rest of the process was easy enough — I traded my lace-topped thigh-high stockings for some boot socks, the bustier for a much more comfortable bra. A pair of jeans and a sweater, my favorite low-heeled brown boots, and I was done. Well, except for the elaborate hair and makeup. I couldn’t do much about the makeup without washing my face and starting all over, so I settled for digging out an elastic hair band from my cosmetics bag and grimly pulling my hair back into a ponytail. The long, loose curls the hairstylist had given me weren’t damaged too badly by this process, but at least they didn’t look quite so over the top when confined in such a way. There wasn’t much I could do with the wedding dress except roll it into as small a ball as possible and shove it in one of my weekender bags. Taking out the jeans and sweater had freed up a little space, although I knew the gown was going to end up hopelessly wrinkled. But then, what did it matter? It wasn’t as though I was ever going to wear it again. Really, right then I could have cheerfully set it on fire. I emerged from the bathroom to find Simon standing in front of the couch, zipping up the duffle bag that he’d set down on the cushions. Apparently, he’d been packing while I was changing and putting away my wedding dress. Somehow, looking at the bag he’d put together brought home to me the realization that we really were going to do this. We actually were going to disappear somewhere together. That uneasy feeling returned to the pit of my stomach. Part of me understood how crazy all this was, that running off with Simon when I hardly knew him possibly wasn’t the best response to Rafe’s rejection. At the same time, I tried to remind myself that if I didn’t take charge of my destiny now, the opportunity might be lost forever. Did I really want to go running back to Arizona with my tail between my legs, defeated and humiliated? I told myself that once Simon and I were settled and he’d begun helping me with my powers, I’d feel a lot better about the situation. Right now I was still jangly and upset from that horrible scene in Loretto Chapel. If nothing else, I needed a quiet place to go where I could calm down and better evaluate my long-range plans. As soon as he saw me, Simon smiled. I couldn’t detect anything in his expression except approval and relief that we were going ahead with our plans. He’d probably been worried that I was going to make some kind of last-minute protest. “Better?” he asked, taking in my jeans and boots with one quick glance. “Much better,” I replied. “But how are we going to get to this place you were talking about? I thought your car was in the shop.” For the briefest second, his smile wavered. Then he shrugged and said, “Oh, it was never in for repairs. I had to tell you that so I’d have a reasonable excuse for why I was riding the train.” Unease stirred in me again. “So you lied to me.” At once he stepped away from the couch and came over to where I stood. His gaze meeting mine squarely, he said, “Miranda, I hated to do that. But I couldn’t tell you the truth about why I was here. Not at first, anyway. I had to sort of…ease into things, make certain that you really did possess some hidden powers.”