Higher Ground

1 Ava Castillo stared out her kitchen window and sighed. Why exactly she was sighing on such a mild early summer day, with the flowers in the backyard finally showing all their riotous colors and a fresh, warm breeze blowing through the house, she really wasn’t sure. You’re just not used to having nothing to do, she told herself, but despite the inner reassurance, she wasn’t entirely certain that was the real problem. All right, she supposed it was fairly normal to feel at loose ends less than a month after graduating from college…especially for someone who was a Castillo witch, and therefore didn’t necessarily need to go out and look for a job right away. While most members of the Castillo clan actually did work full-time, if for no other reason than to make it seem as if they were normal, everyday civilians like the nonmagical people around them, it wasn’t absolutely necessary, either. And although Ava had dutifully gotten a degree in English literature with a mind to go on and earn a teaching credential, when the time came to apply for a credential program, she realized she really didn’t want to teach English. She wanted…what, exactly? A family someday, she supposed, when the time was right. At least, that was what her immediate family and the clan as a whole expected of her…not that she’d met anyone so far who seemed like a real prospect, or even appeared to be all that interested in making her a part of his life. Besides — although she probably wouldn’t have the courage to tell anyone what she was thinking — settling down with the house and the picket fence sounded like such a tame existence, even though it was the one most witches and warlocks lived. Get married young, start a family, contribute to the clan. Who knew that being a witch could be so boring? It seemed very unfair to be blessed with magical talents and not, you know, be able to actually do anything with them. Or possibly her restlessness stemmed from the knowledge that her big brother Tony had managed to get out and have an adventure, find true love with a witch from the de la Paz clan over in southern Arizona. Seeing her brother make his escape, get out of Santa Fe and start a new life in a whole new place, made Ava think that maybe there could be a bit more to existence than simply doing the same thing pretty much everyone in the Castillo family had done since time immemorial. Of course, she had known better than to utter any of these heretical reflections aloud. Other clans might be a bit more freewheeling, but not the Castillos, who’d been here in Santa Fe for more than three centuries and were all too aware of the weight of history behind them. And although Ava had thought once or twice that it would be fun to use her singular magical gift of reading people’s thoughts in a more public way — like setting herself up as a psychic — she knew that plan would never fly. The one underlying rule that all witches and warlocks followed was to do whatever they could to avoid public notice, to keep their magical talents secret so that no one in the outside world would ever be able to guess at their true natures. She supposed that, as a matter of simple self-preservation, such a philosophy had its merits. But it sure made for a dull existence. Shaking her head, she turned away from the window and went over to the refrigerator to refill her glass of iced tea. Maybe her current ennui also had something to do with this house. Yes, it had been super-generous of Tony to hand it over to her before he departed for Tucson with his…girlfriend? Fiancée? Ava wasn’t exactly sure how she was supposed to view Cassandra Sandoval, except that obviously things were serious between her and Ava’s older brother, even if the two of them hadn’t set a wedding date or done anything quite so formal. Anyway, a big old Victorian house was probably the last thing Ava had been expecting to get as a graduation present, but here she was. The place was beautiful but stuffy, thanks to Victoria, the home’s resident ghost, refusing to have anything but antiques inside her sanctum. At least the kitchen and bathrooms had been updated — Victoria had allowed that much in the way of improvements — but everything else looked pretty much like it must have back in the late 1880s when she’d still been alive. It was a little frustrating, since Ava would have preferred to make the place more her own, but she also didn’t think it was worth the ruckus any major changes would have caused. She resolutely ignored the small bag of sugar inside the pantry and took her unsweetened iced tea with her to what had once been the sitting room and was now her TV room. Apparently, Victoria didn’t have any problems with a television as long as it resided on an antique cabinet. Maybe it was silly to sit in here and watch TV when it was such a beautiful day outside, but what else was there to do? Reading, Ava’s regular leisure time activity, didn’t seem as appealing today as it usually did. She might have gone outside to spend some time working in the garden, except that Tony had also bequeathed his landscape team to her, so there wasn’t much to do in the yard except enjoy the flowers. Just get a job, she thought as she picked up the remote for the television. Any job, as long as it gets you out of this big, gloomy house. Someone in the clan will give you something to do. Wasn’t Cousin Eduardo saying the other day that he needed a hostess for one of his restaurants? Yes, she was pretty sure Eduardo could find something for her, although Ava knew if she took an entry-level job like that, her mother would probably inquire, in acid tones, why she’d bothered to get a bachelor’s degree in the first place. Sigh. Just as Ava was about to click the power button on the remote, someone knocked at the front door. Frowning, she set down the clicker and wondered if she should ignore the knock — she wasn’t expecting anyone, and so that meant the unwelcome caller was probably a solicitor of some sort. Since it was way too late in the year for Girl Scout cookies, she didn’t see how it could be anyone she really wanted to see…not that she’d actually allow herself to consume a Girl Scout cookie after all the work she’d put in trying to lose weight the past couple of years. Then the doorbell rang. Obviously, whoever was out there wasn’t one to give up easily. Ava permitted herself an eye roll but got up from the couch and went down the hallway to the front door. It had a beveled glass insert in its upper third, although she couldn’t see much, only the dark silhouette of someone tall enough to blot out the light coming in through the glass. Hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake, she unlocked the door and slowly opened it. The contrast of the bright sun outside against the dark hallway behind her made her blink, so for a moment, she couldn’t exactly see who was standing on the front porch. Then her eyes adjusted, and she realized she was looking up at probably the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life, with chiseled features and sooty black hair and dark eyes surrounded by a ring of fabulous lashes. For a second, all she could do was stare at this apparition. But then she managed to say, “Can I help you?” His expression was puzzled, as if he hadn’t expected to see her standing there. “I very much hope so,” he said, his English fluent but clearly accented. Mexican? Maybe, but she thought his accent sounded slightly different from that of the Mexican kids she’d gone to school with, even though she couldn’t say exactly how. “This is 322 Hillside Avenue, is it not?” “Yes,” Ava replied slowly. For some reason, she felt reluctant to admit to such an obvious fact, despite the number being spelled out clearly in fancy tiles on the green-painted eaves just above them. “Tony Castillo’s house?” Now she could only stare at the stranger, brows pulling together. “It was his house,” she said. “I live here now.” “And you are…?” Should she tell him? Ava hesitated for a few seconds, then gave an inner shrug. If the stranger thought Tony lived here, had his address, then they must have been acquainted in some way. With Tony, it was hard to know how they might have known each other, exactly, since her brother could strike up a conversation with almost anyone, anywhere. This godlike person could have met Tony at a party, at a bar downtown, a gallery opening…who knew? “I’m his sister Ava,” she said, figuring she might as well tell the unknown man the truth. At once, the stranger smiled, and something in his posture seemed to relax, as though he’d feared she would be someone completely unknown to Tony, and therefore someone he had no reason to talk to. “Hello, Ava,” said the stranger. “My name is Gabriel Escobar.”