Protector

Chapter 4-1

4

Everything was happening so fast, moving so quickly. Now they were back in Alex’s SUV, heading north toward Scottsdale and a meeting with Maya de la Paz. Somehow that felt wrong, as if she should be calling her parents to tell them what had happened, or at least Roslyn’s parents — belatedly, Caitlin realized she didn’t even have a number where she could reach Danica’s mother and father, now that her cell phone with all its stored contact information was gone — but when she’d tried to suggest doing so, Luz Trujillo had only shaken her head and told her that it was Maya’s duty to inform the prima of the McAllisters and the Wilcox primus that something terrible had happened to two of their witches while visiting in de la Paz territory.

That had made a little sense, but Caitlin still thought it was wrong that her Aunt Lysette and Uncle Marcus didn’t know anything of what had happened to their daughter, and neither did Olivia and Joseph Wilcox. But there wasn’t much she could do about it now. If she’d wanted to call anyone, she should have done it while she was back at the condo and had access to a landline.

And maybe those warlocks had looked up Lysette’s and Marcus’ number where it was stored in her contacts, and had already called. Maybe they’d made a ransom demand or something. No, that didn’t feel right. Those warlocks hadn’t been after money. They’d wanted Roslyn and Danica…and Caitlin herself, only she’d somehow been lucky enough or crazy enough or whatever to get away. Something about the blood…she didn’t know what it was for sure. A whisper of a whisper, the sort of subject that was always carefully avoided whenever impressionable ears were around. Blood magic was the darkest kind, one that had been f*******n for generations. What were those three warlocks trying to do?

She stared out at the unfamiliar landscape passing by outside the SUV’s windows. How dry and dusty it was here, how inhospitable-looking. No, that wasn’t exactly fair. At this time of year, there were wildflowers blooming along the edges of the highway, in shades of bright coral and pale, pale lavender and purest white. Even the desert had its blooms, although sometimes you had to look harder to find them.

On the way out of town, Alex had stopped at a drive-through and gotten iced teas for everyone. Luz had asked if Caitlin wanted anything to eat, and she’d shaken her head. It had been a long time since the burger she’d eaten on her way into Phoenix, when Danica had pulled over at an In-N-Out on the outskirts of the suburban sprawl, but at the moment, the thought of trying to force some food down her throat only made her feel vaguely nauseated. At some point Caitlin knew she’d have to eat, but not now. Right now, she just had to get through this interview with Maya de la Paz.

That notion was almost as frightening as the thought of confronting those three warlocks again. Caitlin had never met Maya, or even seen her, but she’d heard stories about what a tough woman the de la Paz prima was, how no witch or warlock with a healthy sense of self-preservation would ever think about going up against her. She was sure to ask questions, hard questions, and Caitlin had no idea how she would ever begin to answer them.

She sipped some of her iced tea and then closed her eyes, once again willing the strange ability that slept within her to wake up and tell her where her friends were. But she saw nothing, only the glare of the bright afternoon sun coming in through the car’s windows, a glare that somehow managed to penetrate her closed eyelids, burning down out of a hard, bright blue sky with not even a single cloud in it. You couldn’t hide under a sky like that. It exposed everything.

Trying not to sigh, she opened her eyes just in time to see Alex pull off the freeway and head slightly northeast, along wide boulevards planted with cactus and palm trees in the center dividers. It looked very unlike Jerome. Well, to be fair, so did Flagstaff, but Flag had a certain wild woolliness in common with Jerome, whereas Scottsdale might as well have been on another planet, with its expensive homes and upscale-looking shopping centers, and equally upscale and expensive cars on either side.

Maya’s house was intimidating as well, a handsome Santa Fe–style compound with an actual courtyard with a fountain in it. Everything about the place made Caitlin feel small and shabby, like a poor relation coming to visit some rich great-aunt in the city or something. Which was silly, because it certainly didn’t matter how rich Maya de la Paz was or wasn’t, or how homespun the McAllister witches might seem in contrast to all this splendor. The important thing was whether Maya could help her or not.

Luz didn’t seem inclined to stand on ceremony, but only led Caitlin and Alex through the courtyard with its bright-blooming flowers and on past a massive front door of aged timbers banded in black iron. As they entered the foyer, fully two stories tall, Luz called out, “Mamita! We’re here.”

“In the living room,” a soft voice replied, so whispery and dry that Caitlin could barely hear it.

The three of them entered the living room, where a tiny woman sat on one of the leather couches there. A knitted afghan covered her legs, and a glass of water was sitting on a lap tray on top of that, as if she didn’t have the strength to even reach as far as the coffee table to get her refreshment.

It took everything Caitlin had in her not to stare. This — this was the fabled Maya de la Paz?

For the woman before her looked as dry and shriveled as if she’d been left out in the Sonoran Desert for fifteen years, her hair white, her olive skin cut through with deep furrows, as if rain had pressed it into the sorts of gullies Caitlin had seen in the washes and canyons near her home. Her hands, where they rested on the tray, were covered in raised veins and age spots, and seemed to tremble.

Somehow Caitlin found her voice, managed to say, “Hello, Mrs. de la Paz.”

“Maya,” the woman said in that soft, whispery voice, which sounded like a rustle of brittle leaves. “You seem surprised.”

“No, I — ”

A lift of her hand. “You should be. This is not how I should be…or how I would choose to be. My clan has not spoken of it to anyone.”

For the first time, Caitlin tore her gaze away from Maya’s withered form, saw the n***d worry in Luz Trujillo’s face, the sadness in Alex’s dark eyes. Whatever had happened to their prima, it seemed to be something more than merely old age or illness or infirmity. No wonder the de la Paz family had done its best to conceal the condition of their matriarch.

“But this is not why you are here,” Maya went on. “I wish to speak with you of what happened to your friends. Come, sit here on the sofa.”

Not daring to protest, Caitlin moved away from Luz and Alex, and took a seat on the couch, sitting down carefully so as not to jostle the fragile old woman. Seen up close like this, she appeared even more brittle, as if she might snap in two if Caitlin made too sudden a move.

For all that they were framed in wrinkles and bags, and so deeply shadowed they looked almost sunken, Maya’s black eyes were very bright. They glinted now as she looked at her daughter and grandson. “You two — there is some fresh lemonade in the kitchen. Go and get yourselves some. I wish to speak to Caitlin alone.”

That was the last thing Caitlin wanted, but she knew she didn’t dare protest. Neither, it seemed, did Luz or Alex, because they nodded and headed out of the room, Alex giving Caitlin a single backward glance as he did so. Something in that gaze felt very warm and friendly, and somehow, meeting his eyes, she didn’t feel quite as nervous about being left alone with Maya as she might otherwise have.

The prima didn’t miss that look, either, it seemed; her mouth, surrounded by deep lines, seemed to purse in apparent amusement, and possibly approval. “My Alex, he is a very good boy.”

Not sure how exactly she should respond to that remark, Caitlin ventured, “He’s been very nice.”

“Nice?” Maya chuckled, but the laugh turned into a cough, and she had to drink some of the water from the glass on her tray before she could continue. “Well, I suppose we can leave it at that for now. Valentina has related the basics to me, but I want to hear from you what happened.”

Again? Caitlin thought, but she took a breath and then dutifully recounted everything that had occurred after she and Danica and Roslyn walked into that Mexican restaurant. Well, almost everything. If she could get away with not revealing anything of her own strange visions and feelings, she would. None of that was Maya’s business.

When she was done, Caitlin shifted on the couch, her mouth dry. She wished she could have some of the lemonade Alex and his mother were currently off drinking in the kitchen. Why Maya hadn’t offered her some, or at least a glass of water, Caitlin wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d intended the apparent oversight as a subtle show of power. If that were the case, Caitlin knew she wouldn’t allow herself to show any signs of discomfort. At least she was reasonably hydrated, considering the iced tea she’d finished off right before Alex parked his SUV in front of Maya’s house.

“Ah,” Maya said, after a protracted pause. That could have meant anything…or nothing. The old woman lifted the glass of water from her lap tray and drank slowly before setting the glass back down. “Tell me, Caitlin McAllister…do you truly intend to keep hiding your gifts from everyone?”

Her mouth was dry, and Caitlin wondered if she’d been too hasty in thinking she’d be above asking for a glass of water of her own to quench her thirst. Maya’s black eyes were fixed on her, far too penetrating, too keen.

“What gifts?” Caitlin managed.

A pair of sparse salt-and-pepper eyebrows drew together, and Maya responded, “You can lie to your family, and you can lie to yourself, but I will not allow you to lie to me.”

Crap. Since she didn’t have a glass she could fiddle with, or a purse strap or anything else along those lines, Caitlin had to settle for knotting her fingers together and slipping them over one knee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

The sharpness of Maya’s dark gaze disconcerted Caitlin. It could have been the contrast between their all-too-knowing gleam and her overall decrepit appearance. Once again Caitlin found herself wondering what had happened to Maya to cause such a degeneration. Surely no one in the McAllister or the Wilcox clans seemed to have an inkling of the sea change the de la Paz prima had undergone. Unfortunately, Caitlin knew she could sit here and speculate all she wanted, but in the end it wouldn’t matter — Maya wanted answers, and apparently seemed content to sit here and wait for as long as it took to get them.

“I — ” Caitlin floundered, wishing she had a plausible lie to cover up the very obvious holes in the story she’d told Maya. None of it made sense if you didn’t factor in the seer abilities she’d tried so desperately to hide. And the prima, weak as she might be, was certainly no fool.

“You what?”

Desperation clear in her voice, despite her best attempts to hide it, Caitlin said, “I don’t know what gifts you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do,” Maya replied calmly. Again she drank from her glass of water, although this time the palsy in her hand was far too evident as she set the glass back down on its tray. “No ordinary witch could have sensed the evil in those young men — certainly your friends did not. And no ordinary witch would have had the ability to see past the spell this Matías cast and strike out at him so she could get away.” The elderly witch’s gaze sharpened, and Caitlin wondered if those gleaming black eyes might actually bore holes right through her, so piercing they seemed. “You do not have to tell your family, if that is your wish. But you need to tell me.”