Darknight(11)

The streets below were even busier than they’d been that morning, which made sense. All the shops would be open now. I saw people carrying a lot of bags and packages. Strangely, I didn’t notice much in the way of decorations. In Jerome there were holiday lights everywhere, with a good many of the houses with a single lighted “Ho” in their yards or attached to walls and fences. Just our silly in-joke, a crack about the town’s bustling red light district back in the day.

I realized then that I’d never asked Maisie what she thought about all those “Ho”s with the Christmas lights attached to them. Probably just as well.

But here in Flagstaff I didn’t see much sign of holiday cheer, except in the people themselves, who appeared festive and happy enough. They had friends and families to shop for, places to go, people to be with. It all looked so normal. Then again, the vast majority of the city was normal. I was sort of hazy on Flagstaff’s actual population, but it was of course many, many times the size of tiny Jerome. There, half the residents were McAllisters. Here, even if there were a good many more members of the Wilcox clan than there were in my own family, they’d still constitute a tiny minority.

They could probably get away with a lot, using the anonymity of a large population to conceal them.

Seeing all those people intent on their own business didn’t cheer me up, though. Sighing, I went and sat down on the couch. In that moment, I could only think of the clan elders, returning to Jerome empty-handed, and how disappointed my aunt and Adam and so many others must be. I didn’t see how they’d thought they could ask Damon Wilcox to just hand me over. Maybe they’d thought they could get reason to prevail. Unfortunately, he was the polar opposite of reasonable.

And what now? I had no idea. Damon had said Maya wouldn’t risk a clan war, and if she wouldn’t, that meant the McAllisters’ hands were effectively tied. There was no way they could take on the Wilcoxes without allies. But Maya had also said this wasn’t the end of it. What did that mean?

Once again, I had no answer. There had been clan wars back in what Aunt Ruby had referred to as “the old country,” but she’d been very vague about what such warfare actually entailed. “We left those things behind,” she told me once when I tried to press her on the matter, and that seemed to be the end of it.

However, it wasn’t too difficult to figure out that a war between witch clans would no doubt attract a lot of attention, the sort of attention we all — even the Wilcoxes — tried very hard to avoid. So maybe Maya and the elders were trying to see if there was another way to get me back, one that wouldn’t involve magical pyrotechnics. But did they even know where to find me? They’d obviously known where Damon lived, but Connor could be an entirely different story.

As if thinking of him had somehow summoned his return, the door to the apartment opened, and he came in, stopping a few paces away from where I sat on the couch. I still wouldn’t call his expression or posture exactly relaxed, but he did seem a little less tense than the last time I had seen him.

“You made the sale,” I said.

“I did.” He pushed his hair back from his brow. I found myself wondering what those sleek, heavy locks would feel like slipping between my fingers, and once again my heart sped up.

This was getting ridiculous.

“Congratulations, I guess.”

“Thanks.” He stood there watching me for a few seconds, then added, “I’m surprised you’re not watching TV or reading or something.”

“I was people-watching,” I replied, with an off-hand gesture toward the window.

“Maybe you saw my client, then. Uptight-looking jerk in a gray coat, drove off in a silver Audi SUV?”

Despite myself, I smiled. “No, I must have missed him.”

“You didn’t miss much.” Turning from me, he went into the kitchen and got himself some water.

I watched him — really watched him, trying to study his expression, his stance. He was still doing that thing of looking at me without actually looking at me, and while I understood his reason for doing so, it still felt odd, as if he were only partially present in the room.

“This isn’t going to work,” I said.

That did make him raise his head. For a second his eyes met mine before he glanced away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” I got up from the couch and moved toward the kitchen, although I stopped in the dining area. That way there would still be a safe distance between us. “Maybe it could have worked, if you’d been honest with me from the beginning.” At that comment his eyebrows lifted, and I said, “Okay, maybe not from the very beginning. I can see why you wouldn’t want to admit you were a Wilcox at the Halloween dance, right when you were smack in the middle of McAllister territory. But you could have told me in Sedona. That’s neutral ground.”