Lucas had made our reservation for three nights, so the clerk at the front desk looked a little puzzled when we appeared and said we wanted to check out. “Is there anything wrong with the accommodations?” she inquired, a worried little frown pulling at her expertly plucked brows.
“No, not at all,” I said at once. “The room was perfect. I hope we can come back someday. But we just had some urgent family business come up, so — ”
“Oh,” she replied, expression clearing. “Of course. Let me take care of this. We can only refund one night because we need twenty-four-hour notice, but — ”
Oops. I hadn’t thought of that. I certainly didn’t want Lucas (or his friend with the timeshare…I wasn’t exactly sure who had financed the room) losing out on hundreds of dollars, and I bit my lip, not sure what I should do.
Luckily, Connor cut in then, saying smoothly, “That’s not a problem. We’re sorry about the inconvenience.”
“Oh, it’s no inconvenience, sir,” she said, with a quick bat of her eyelashes. Despite her professional appearance, I could tell she was a little smitten with Connor.
Then again, who wouldn’t be?
She typed away on her computer, then said, “You’re all set. Just let me get a copy of your paperwork.” Moving away from us, she went to a printer a few feet away, picked up a few sheets of paper, and handed them over to Connor. “Thank you for staying with us, and I hope you can make it back here in the near future.”
I somehow doubted that was going to happen, but I didn’t reply, only gave her a smile and a nod as Connor folded the papers and then shoved them into the Northern Pines bag he was carrying. He thanked her, and then we were headed out the door, going to where we’d left the Cherokee waiting under the porte cochère.
And a few minutes after that we were winding our way out of Newport, heading back to the freeway. I glanced at the clock. One o’clock. Normally that would be lunchtime, but we’d eaten breakfast so late that I wasn’t really hungry yet. Anyway, I could feel the urgency building in me, the need to get out of here as early as possible before traffic created an impenetrable wall that would only delay our arrival in Phoenix.
Connor must have noticed my nervous survey of the time, because he reached out with his right hand and brushed a stray strand of hair off my cheek. “It’s okay. We’ll get out of Orange County and head east on the 10, and then maybe we can stop for a late lunch in Palm Springs or Indio or something. We’ll be fine.”
His words did reassure me somewhat…or maybe it was just the thrill I felt from that brief brush of his fingers against my skin, a touch that seemed to right the world again. Whichever it might be, I could feel my heartbeat calm somewhat as we drove north and east, especially since we didn’t encounter much in the way of traffic jams. We slowed here and there, and there were far more cars around us than I’d seen even in Phoenix, but everything more or less flowed until we were away from most of the SoCal crush, passing through towns like Redlands and Banning and Beaumont, cresting a hill and then dropping down into the low desert, into a landscape that grew sere with almost shocking suddenness.
“Which do you want, Indio or Palm Springs?” Connor asked as we passed a sprawling outlet mall. “Palm Springs is nicer, but it’s off the main highway, so we’ll lose a little more time.”
“Indio,” I said automatically. My stomach was telling me I needed to eat, that the lovely frittata I’d had for breakfast was long gone, but I didn’t want to waste any time. I was fine with grabbing a burger somewhere and then getting back on the road.
“Indio it is. It’s still about fifteen miles up the road. Can you check your Yelp app and find someplace that looks like it might be halfway decent?”
Here I still had a decent signal, unlike parts of the desert we’d driven through on the outward journey. I pulled up the app, scrolled through a few choices, and asked, “What do you want? Mexican? Burgers? Doesn’t look like there’s much else.”
“Either one. Maybe Mexican. Flagstaff’s Mexican food is kind of meh. I probably got spoiled living all those years down in Tempe.”
I nodded, chose a restaurant based on the reviews, and then told Connor which exit we should use to get off the interstate. Even though I’d tried to streamline things, we still had to drive a couple of miles to get to our destination, as it seemed as if most of the businesses in town were clustered away from the freeway.
Since we were coming in at the tail end of traditional lunch, at almost two o’clock, the place was busy, but not so much that we had to wait long for a table. In just a few minutes we were seated and had been served what tasted like freshly made chips and salsa, which I attacked as if it had been a day since I’d last eaten rather than four hours.
Connor must have gotten used to my pregnancy appetite, because he just gave a small shake of his head before he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I thought it might be a good idea to call Maya, let her know we were dropping in.”
“You have her number?” I asked, after taking a swallow of water to wash down the chips.
“Lucas gave it to me.”
“Lucas?”
My tone must have been disbelieving, because Connor smiled a little and replied, “Well, I guess they do have their ways of keeping in touch in case of emergency or something. I know my brother had it, since he was the one who patched the call through to Maya when I was trying to transfer to ASU.” At the mention of his brother, Connor’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. We’d deliberately danced around the issue, had hardly mentioned Damon to one another. I didn’t know if that was the best way to handle it, but I also didn’t want to reopen any barely healed wounds. Better to allow Connor to decide what he wanted to say…or not say. “Anyway, when I told Lucas what our plans were, he gave me Maya’s number, said it was a good idea to have it with me, since we were going to be traveling through her territory.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I said, my tone neutral.
He had to wait to make the call, though, because then the waiter came by to ask what we wanted. I’d barely glanced at the menu, but made a quick choice and ordered a chimichanga, while Connor got fajitas. That should be enough to hold us on the drive across the desert. After the waiter left, Connor picked up his phone again, scrolled through his contacts, and selected Maya’s number. After waiting a few seconds, he said, “Maya? Hi, it’s Connor — fine, we’re fine…. No, we’re already on our way back home. But we’re going to be in Phoenix in about four hours or so, depending on how long lunch takes, and Angela would really like to stop by and talk to you, if that’s okay…. Sure, we’ll call again when we get into town…hang on, let me write down the address.” He made a frantic writing gesture with his free hand, and I scrabbled in my purse for a pen. Luckily, I actually had one, and I gave it to him, then watched him write down an address on his napkin. “Okay, thanks, Maya.” He ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket, then said, “We’re set. She’s actually in Scottsdale, not Phoenix proper.”
“Well, that makes sense,” I said. “I mean, the prima of the de la Pazes should live in the high-rent district.”
I’d meant it halfway as a joke, but Connor appeared to take my words seriously, asking, “And what about the prima of the McAllisters?”
“Well, Paradise Lane is the high-rent district in Jerome,” I pointed out.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Lucas is already pressuring me to look for a different place. He says I’m the head of the family now and shouldn’t be living in a loft apartment above a storefront.”
“I like your apartment.” How could I not like it? It was where we’d fallen in love, where we’d made love for the first time. Even more than that, it felt like Connor. I really couldn’t imagine him anywhere else…although of course I’d had daydreams where he’d come to share the big Victorian in Jerome with me. But that was before Damon died, before the unwanted primus powers had passed to Connor. There was no way he could relocate permanently to the house on Cleopatra Hill.
“I like it, too.” He lifted his eyes to meet mine, and once again I was struck by the layered shades of green in those depths, sage and moss and dark, dark emerald, all fringed in black lashes so thick they almost didn’t seem real. “But Angela…it’s no place to raise a child.”
Almost unconsciously my hand went to my belly, to the secret hidden there. I still hadn’t begun to show at all, so sometimes I felt like I could almost pretend I wasn’t even pregnant. But of course I was…and that child was the reason we’d come to California in the first place. “So you’re going to move?”
“Eventually. To get Lucas off my back, I told him he could start looking around for me. He was thrilled, of course. The only thing he likes better than spending his own money is spending someone else’s.”
I laughed at that, albeit a little stiffly. “And so…how is this going to work? I want to be with you, but….”
“I know. I feel the same way. I like that big creaky Victorian of yours…well, except for that bathtub…but there’s no way the Wilcoxes would ever let their primus live in McAllister territory.”
“And of course the McAllisters feel the same way about Wilcox territory.” I sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Too bad we can’t just elope and, I don’t know, go live in Wyoming or something. I’ve heard it’s really beautiful.”
“What, you didn’t like the beach?”
Wrinkling my nose, I shook my head. “Not really. That is, I liked the beach itself just fine, but I couldn’t handle having that many people around me all the time. I’m too used to wide-open spaces.”
“I can’t really argue with that.”
And so we shared some idle chitchat about Southern California and the hotel, leaving behind the subject of our future residence. After all, it was all going to be pretty academic if we couldn’t figure out a way to break the curse. And what would happen if I was gone, and left the baby behind? A morbid thought, but one I had to make myself think about, considering the track record of all those former Wilcox wives. I supposed if it was a boy he would go to live with the Wilcoxes and be the next primus after Connor, and if the baby was a girl, she’d go to the McAllisters. All very neat and sensible. I had a feeling the reality would end up being a little messier than that, as I doubted Connor would ever willingly hand over a child of his to my relatives to raise, thus abdicating any responsibility.
“Chimichanga,” the waiter said, startling me out of my reverie as he set my meal in front of me. “Very hot plate, miss.”
I nodded, forcing my dark thoughts away, and watched as he set down a sizzling plate of fajitas next to Connor, along with one of those little plastic warmers for the tortillas. After the waiter asked if we needed anything else and we both murmured that we were fine, Connor sent an inquiring glance in my direction.
“You didn’t look like you were thinking very happy thoughts.”
“I wasn’t,” I admitted. Not that I really wanted to tell him what had been on my mind, but I’d admonished him earlier that there could be no secrets, no lies between us, and I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t follow my own rules. “I was just thinking about what would happen to the baby after — I mean, if we can’t — ”
“Don’t say it,” he cut in. “We will figure out a way to make this work. We will.”
He looked so determined that I could only nod and say, “You’re right, of course. Well, let’s eat so we can get back on the road.”
And that’s what we did, plowing into our food and concentrating on the here and now, and not what might be in the future. That chimichanga restored my faith in humanity, and Connor seemed to be having a similar reaction to his fajitas, so I was glad I chose this place, even if it was a little off the beaten track. After we were done, the waiter asked if we wanted anything else, but we both just shook our heads. Even I couldn’t have fit anything else in my stomach, not even some homemade flan.
“Just the check,” Connor said, and shortly thereafter we settled up and made our way back outside.
The restaurant was located in a small strip mall with inadequate parking, so we’d had to leave the Cherokee around the corner on the street. I wasn’t that thrilled about the area, but the car had a security system and of course was insured up to the hilt, so I’d told myself not to worry about it. As we approached the SUV, it looked fine — no windows broken in or anything like that. My feeling of relief quickly began to fade, however, when I saw a group of five young men begin to approach us from down an alley across the street.
“Connor,” I murmured.
“I know,” he said, his jaw tense. “Just keep walking.”
But it wasn’t just any gang of toughs out to carjack what they thought was an easy mark. As they got closer, I could feel the power coming from them, the same pulsing energy all witches and warlocks shared. My eyes widened, even as Connor sent a quick worried look down at me. Clearly, he’d sensed it, too.
The young men paused about ten feet away from us, blocking access to the car. The leader, a young Hispanic man who looked like he was around Connor’s age, flashed us a sardonic grin. “So, what are you doing here, witches?”
“Just passing through,” Connor said calmly. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Ah, well, I guess it’s not a question of whether you want it, ese.” The four other warlocks came up to flank their leader. They were all in their twenties, muscled builds shown off by tight-fitting T-shirts or wife-beaters. I wouldn’t have wanted to come up against them even if they didn’t also happen to have magical powers.
“Really, we’re just heading back to Arizona — ” I began, and the leader let his dark gaze rake up and down my body before he laughed and said,
“Don’t worry, chica, we’ll have some fun with you after we take care of pretty-boy here. As for Arizona” — he spat on the ground — “we got no use for that shitty state, or the pinche puta who thinks she runs things over there. Deciding who can come in and who has to stay in this rathole!”
I realized then that these must be some of those rogue warlocks Connor had told me about on the drive here to California, the ones who had been turned away from relocating in the Phoenix area. Obviously they had no love lost for Maya de la Paz. And although there had been a few other cars parked here when we got out to head into the restaurant, they all seemed to have disappeared. There was no one around to intervene.
Then again, Connor and I weren’t exactly helpless. After all, we’d defeated a skin-walker.
“I really think you’d better step aside,” I said, making sure my voice sounded cool, confident. “I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with here.” Even as I spoke, I could feel the prima energy beginning to uncoil in me, warmth without heat, the power flowing through every limb.
And somehow Connor seemed able to sense it, too. He reached out to take my hand, and it was as if a spark ignited between us, one that had nothing to do with passion and everything to do with power. Never before had a prima and a primus been able to work together in harmony, and I wasn’t sure what that meant.
I had a feeling we were all about to find out, though.
The lead warlock laughed. “Yeah? And who are you, puta?”
“No one you want to fuck with,” Connor said. His fingers tightened on mine, and the power flared in me, searing without burning, coiled, ready…eager.
“Fuck that shit,” the warlock said, raising his own hand.
Of course I had no idea what his power might be, and I wasn’t going to wait to find out. An unspoken signal passed between us, and Connor and I lifted our hands, fingers still intertwined. The energy crackled all through my body, surging through my arm, moving away from me.
A wall of white light seemed to blast outward from where Connor and I stood. It hit the group of young men, crashing into them like a tidal wave into a pier. They were all knocked backward a good five yards or more, and went sprawling on the sidewalk, their bodies limp and unmoving.
Heart pounding, I looked up at Connor. “Are they…?”
“I don’t know,” he said with grim indifference. “And I don’t much care. Let’s get to the car before anyone comes to find out.”
I decided I didn’t really want to argue. After all, they were the ones who’d initiated the confrontation. We hurried to the Cherokee, which appeared completely unaffected by that magical shockwave, and climbed in, Connor gunning the engine and peeling away from the curb before I even had a chance to fasten my seatbelt.
It wasn’t until we were moving up the main street that would take us back to the interstate that I turned to him.
“What,” I asked, “the hell was that?”
He could only lift his shoulders in reply.
We pulled into Scottsdale a little after six. The place was still baking — the thermometer on the dashboard indicated it was a hundred and three degrees outside — and I stared moodily out the window as we wound our way along wide streets planted with cactus in the dividers. Palm trees loomed overhead. Everything was extremely manicured, very neat. Not the sort of place you’d expect to find the head of the local witch clan, but then again, I was coming to realize that perhaps the bohemian McAllisters weren’t the norm in the witching world.
Connor took out his phone and made a brief call, saying we’d be there in about five more minutes. “She’s expecting us.”
Of course she was. I wondered what she might have to say about Connor’s and my latest display of power. “Are we going to tell her?”
“Tell her what?”
“About Indio.”
For a few seconds he didn’t say anything, only kept his gaze fixed on the street, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. “Should we?”
“I think — I think yeah, we should. Maybe she’ll have some insights.”
“Or maybe it’s better that she not know the extent of our powers.”
“Now you sound like a Wilcox,” I said, annoyed.
The barb hit home, I could tell. His gaze flickered toward me briefly before returning to the road. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you tend to be a little paranoid. I meant that as the general ‘you,’” I added, when I saw his lips begin to compress. “Maya de la Paz has been nothing but helpful, and you know it. She has her own kingdom down here, so to speak. She certainly doesn’t have any designs on McAllister or Wilcox territory. So why not take advantage of her age and experience and see if she has any advice to offer?”
At those words, his expression relaxed somewhat. After a brief pause, he replied, “You’re right, of course. Sorry. All those years with Damon….” He let the words die away, but I thought I knew what he meant. Growing up with Damon Wilcox as your older brother would make even the saintliest person suspicious of everyone’s motives.
I nodded but didn’t say anything else. Just as well, because we pulled over then, coming to a stop in front of a sprawling Santa Fe–style adobe house with stately saguaro cacti planted in the front yard, along with several varieties of lower, more sprawling succulents blooming in vivid hues of yellow and hot pink. I undid my seatbelt and got out, glad of the chance to stretch my legs at last.
The heat hit me like a wall, though, feeling almost like a physical weight on my chest. True, I’d been to the Phoenix area several times before, but those McAllister expeditions always happened sometime between November and March, either after the endless scorching summer or before it had a chance to begin. Not that we didn’t get hot in Jerome in the summer, but not like this.
Connor seemed singularly unaffected by the heat, though, moving smoothly around the rear of the SUV to join me on the sidewalk.
“How come you’re not even breaking a sweat, Flagstaff boy?” I asked as we headed up the front walk.
“I lived down here for four years, remember? I’m used to it.” He paused and amended, “Well, used to be used to it. I’ll admit that I don’t miss the heat too much, now that I’m back in Flag, but I can live with it.”
I didn’t know why anyone would want to, but I just shrugged, reaching out to push the doorbell. About a minute later, a tall young man around Connor’s age appeared at the door.
“Come on in,” he said. “She’s expecting you.”
The enormous door of carefully aged wood, banded in black iron, didn’t open onto an entryway as I’d expected, but rather a large courtyard laid with red sandstone flags. A fountain splashed into the hot, still air, and vivid flowers bloomed from hanging containers of brightly painted Mexican pottery.
We followed the young man — who I thought I recognized as one of the “bodyguards” Maya had brought with her to Connor’s gallery opening in Sedona — through the courtyard and on through a second, equally enormous door into a high-ceilinged foyer. In here the air was cool and friendly, obviously the product of a very hard-working air-conditioning system. From the entry, we went into a large living room decorated with heavy hacienda-style furniture. Faded Persian rugs covered the red-tiled floor.
Maya rose from one of the leather couches and came toward us, hands outstretched. “Connor, Angela, so good to see you…together.”
From her emphasis on the last word, I gathered that she’d known about our separation. Who exactly had been her informant, I didn’t know, although I had a feeling it was probably someone in the McAllister camp and not the Wilcox clan. “Thank you for letting us stop by,” I said, not wanting to jump right into Connor’s and my relationship status.
“It’s no problem, and not too much out of the way for you, I hope.”
“No, not at all,” Connor said. “We’ll just get on the 101 Loop and head home from here.”
“Ah,” she replied, dark eyes twinkling. “And where exactly is home for you two?”
Trust Maya de la Paz to get right to the heart of the matter. But I wasn’t going to let her distract me from the true reason for our visit. “Jerome, Flagstaff,” I said shortly. “You know. Actually, though, Maya, I wanted to ask you something.”
“And it must be important, or you could’ve simply asked on the phone, rather than driving all the way here. Ah, here are the refreshments,” she put in, smiling as the young man returned with a silver tray laden with a pitcher of lemonade and three heavy hand-blown glasses, rims tinted cobalt blue. “I thought you might be thirsty after your long drive.”
“Thanks, Maya,” Connor said, reaching out for one of the glasses and handing it to me, then taking one for himself.
“It’s nothing. I’d invite you to stay for supper as well, but I can tell from the look in Angela’s eye that she’s on a mission, and will want to be on the road once your business here is finished.” Her dark gaze sharpened, even as she took a sip of her lemonade. Setting the glass down on a sandstone coaster, she asked, “And did you find what you were looking for in California?”
“Sort of,” I hedged. Yes, I’d lectured Connor about being truthful and not hiding things, but now, with Maya’s shrewd eyes studying my face, I wondered how much I should really tell her. After all, this was Wilcox and McAllister business. The de la Paz clan really had no stake in this game. Then again, we probably wouldn’t have even been able to go to California if Maya hadn’t put in a word for us with the Santiago family there. Beside me, I could feel Connor shift, hear the leather squeak faintly under his weight, and I could tell he was waiting, too, wondering how much I planned to reveal.
Well, nothing for it. The story would get out sooner or later.
“I found out my father is a Wilcox,” I said boldly.
That did seem to surprise her; she blinked, and the strong black brows — unmarked by gray — lifted slightly before she replied, “Indeed? Well, that does put a different…perspective…on things.”
“Just a little,” I remarked, my tone wry. “And I was thinking — well, hoping, I guess — that you might know what happened to him.”
“Why on earth would I know that?”
She’d replied coolly, with only a hint of question in her voice, and so it was difficult for me to gauge whether she really didn’t know anything or whether she was stalling me for some reason. “Well, Connor told me on the drive that a while back you’d taken in some refugee witches and warlocks from California, and so I thought maybe….” I let the words trail off as she continued to stare at me blankly. Then her mouth, still full and pretty, twitched a little.
“Oh, my dear, that was only a few years ago.”
“I know, but — ”
“That was the first time I allowed anything like that,” she cut in, the interruption so gentle that I couldn’t really be upset by it. “And — no offense to you, Connor — while I did allow Connor to have a residence here for a few years while he was going to school, there is no way I would allow a Wilcox to live in my territory permanently.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t have even known he was a Wilcox,” I said, desperation beginning to seep into my voice. “He was using the last name of Williams at the time. Andre Williams.”
She shook her head. “My dear, I would have known he was a Wilcox at once. I’ve been prima of this clan for more than thirty years. There isn’t much that gets past me.”
No, I supposed there wasn’t.
Connor laid a hand on mine. Just that gentle pressure made me feel a little better, even though it couldn’t erase all my frustration. “And would you know if a Wilcox passed through your territory, even if he didn’t stop and ask to stay?” he inquired.
“Of course. I could sense when you were here in the valley, although your presence was not at all disruptive. It was more like…a small blip on a radar screen, I suppose. And much stronger when your brother came here last November.” She paused then, a small frown tugging at her brows. “Now that I think of it, there might have been something, many, many years ago.”
“Long enough ago that I would have still been a baby?” I asked eagerly. If Maya had sensed my father moving through her territory, at least it would tell me that he had come back to Arizona after leaving California.
“It might have been around then.” Another hesitation, one she attempted to mask by picking up her lemonade and drinking some more of it. Then she went on, “I reached out to some of my clan members, our defenders, to investigate, but whoever it was, they were gone from our territory before we could catch up with them. And since pursuing someone beyond the borders of our clan lands is not something we would ever do, we let the matter go.”
Maybe it had been Andre — my father — driving through Phoenix and its bordering communities as quickly as he could, knowing he didn’t have a lot of time before the de la Paz contingent figured out he was there. A speeding ticket would probably be preferable to getting caught by a group of hostile witches and warlocks. In my mind I saw him racketing down the highway in a beat-up Jeep, black hair blowing in the wind. Silly, I supposed; that Jeep of his could have been brand new back then, and of course I had no idea whether he cut his hair short or wore it long.
“Heading north?” I asked.
“I don’t recall. Probably.” She set down her tea and made an odd little wave with her hand — a gesture of frustration, maybe. “At the time I was just glad that I did not have to force a confrontation. Your brother, Connor, was difficult enough to deal with, but your father…no.”
Of course. This had been so long ago that Jackson Wilcox would have still been in charge of that clan. Damon would have only been a kid in junior high.
But I didn’t like to think about that, because pondering Damon’s past only made me realize he’d been a boy once, full of his own hopes and dreams for the future, before the dark fate hanging over his clan had twisted him into the man he became. A man who should have been in the prime of his life, and was now dead.
Something very like the first beginnings of tears seemed to tighten my throat, and I swallowed. I couldn’t possibly be weeping over Damon Wilcox, could I? I could blame my emotions on pregnancy hormones, but I thought there was more to it than that.
Maybe I was just worried about what would happen to Connor if he lost me to the curse. Would he pick up his life and move on, focus on raising his child, or would he succumb to the same black plotting that had taken over Damon’s life?
Connor seemed to sense something of my roiling emotions, because his fingers slipped around mine, intertwining, bringing with them that sense of warm strength I always got from him. “Are you all right?” he murmured.
Managing a nod, I raised my chin and tried to meet Maya’s gaze. “Well, I knew it was a long shot. I just figured I would ask.”
Somewhat to my surprise, she reached out and gave me a sympathetic pat on the knee. “I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you to never know your own mother. And then to learn something of your father, but not know where he is, or what happened to him?” Her gaze sharpened, and I knew she must have seen something of the beginnings of those earlier tears in my eyes, although I had a feeling she couldn’t begin to understand their true cause. “I would be more surprised if you hadn’t asked. But truly, I know nothing else beyond what I’ve told you.”
I nodded, then said, “And there’s something else….”
“I had a feeling there might be.”
Now it was my turn to hesitate, and once again I felt Connor squeeze my hand gently, telling me it was all right to go ahead and relate the story of what happened in Indio.
So I did, speaking quickly, just giving the straight facts of what had transpired, not embellishing anything. When I was done, Maya sat quietly for a long moment, clearly weighing what she intended to say next.
“There are many bad elements over there now,” she said at last, her tone heavy with worry. “Some are good people, of course, merely displaced and looking for somewhere to call their own. This is why I took in those whom Connor mentioned to you. But there are many troublemakers, and I fear Simón Santiago is not quite as in control of things as he believes. There is little I can do, though, save protect my own. And this other thing….”
“Have you heard of anything like that?” Connor asked, clearly hoping that Maya, with her far greater experience of the witching world, might be able to offer some insight, some advice.
“No.” She lifted her shoulders, and although I knew she was not a young woman, had to be in her early sixties at least, this was the first time she looked old to me, old and tired, as if for the first time in a very long while she had been confronted by something she didn’t understand. “You realize that what you have now — the joining of a primus and a prima — this has never happened before, at least in no history that I have ever read, or had told to me by she who was prima before me. So it is not so surprising that you would be exploring new strengths, new powers, that no one else has yet seen.”
“But what are we supposed to do with them?” I asked.
Another shrug, not of indifference, but of uncertainty. “That, I suppose, is up to you.”