Darknight(41)

Neither of those spells was at my disposal, however, so I followed Connor’s lead and took off my coat, then hung it on one of the overcrowded racks clustered by the front door.

“Connor!” an unfamiliar voice called out, and I saw a tall dark-haired man smile and wave. He had the Wilcox look about him, with his sooty hair and eyes and high cheekbones, but his expression as he approached us was far friendlier than I imagined Damon’s could ever be.

“Lucas,” Connor said, “I want you to meet Angela.”

The man came to a stop even as his eyes widened. I could see the astonishment in them, that I would be here at all. But then he seemed to gather himself, and he smiled at me. “Angela. It’s so very good to see you here. I’m Lucas Wilcox, Connor’s cousin.”

“Fourth, right?”

“Something like that. Who’s counting?”

I couldn’t help smiling a little, recalling how I’d always thought of Adam that way. Third…fourth…five times removed…when the connection got that tenuous, it started to not matter very much exactly what degree it was. Thinking of Adam probably wasn’t wise, though, because then all I could do was wonder who else among these dark, handsome people had been wearing a hooded cloak that night, and had been there when the Wilcoxes invaded my home and stole me away.

Although my smile had faded, I still managed to say, “It’s very nice to meet you, Lucas.”

His dark eyes twinkled a little, as if he guessed I was only uttering the words custom expected me to say. But his only comment was, “Don’t even try to remember all our names, because it’s impossible. Just smile and nod…and make sure Connor keeps your glass filled. Assuming you drink, of course.”

Oh, I drink. Right now I want to drink…a lot.

I gave a foolish sort of nod, not knowing exactly how I should reply. Connor rushed to my aid, saying, “Looks like I’m already falling down on the job in that department. Angela, let’s get these bottles over to the table in the family room — that’s where we set up the food — and then I’ll get us a couple glasses of wine.”

“Sure.” I allowed him to lead me away from Lucas, who seemed to watch me as I went, a speculative look on his face.

I couldn’t figure out what that meant, though, because once we were moving through the living room we were approached from all sides, people saying hello and introducing themselves, a blur of smiling faces and names that, as Lucas had said, I couldn’t possibly begin to remember. Looking at them, I wondered what their talents were. We had a good deal of variation in Jerome, as there weren’t as many of us, and somehow the different skills seemed to get distributed evenly amongst a witch population, but there were so many Wilcoxes it seemed there had to be some doubling up. Not that I could ask; it was one thing to discuss such things privately, but going up to a witch or warlock and asking them to identify their talent was about on par with walking up to a stranger and inquiring about their weight.

We’d just set down the wine bottles when a woman approached and said, “So you were able to make it.”

As I focused on her features, it was all I could do to hold in a gasp. This was the woman from that nightmarish scene when I’d first been brought here to Flagstaff, when I’d been held down on a makeshift altar by one of Damon Wilcox’s unnamable spells. The Native American blood in her features was far more pronounced than it was in many of the other Wilcox clan members, and I wondered at it.

“Hi, Marie,” Connor said. “This is Angela.”

Her cool dark gaze slid over toward me, and she smiled, although it didn’t quite reach her long-lashed black eyes. “So glad you came. And you really made those tamales Connor brought over the other day? You are quite an amazing cook.”

So this was Connor’s cousin Marie. He’d mentioned her several times, and she appeared to hold a position of some importance in the clan. If nothing else, she seemed to be one of the few people with the strength to stand up to Damon Wilcox.

Belatedly I recalled that she was also the one who’d done most of the shopping for me, so I said quickly, “Thank you, Marie. And thank you for choosing all those wonderful clothes. They all fit perfectly, and the colors are great.”

Another one of those cool smiles. She herself was dressed very well, if simply, in a long black skirt, slim-fitting black sweater, black boots, and some eye-popping turquoise jewelry. My Aunt Rachel would’ve positively salivated over that squash blossom necklace. “You’re very welcome. It’s good to see that you’ve…adapted…so well to things here.”