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.