“It’s fine, Angela,” Connor said, opening the passenger door for me. “I don’t recognize any of my brother’s spies.”
I waited until he had climbed inside and started up the engine before asking, “He has spies?”
“Well, okay, any of my relatives.” He fastened his seatbelt, and I did the same. “Even if they did see us, what are they going to do? We could just be going shopping or something.”
“With luggage?”
“Our ‘luggage’ doesn’t really look that much like luggage. We could just be going for a day trip with those bags.”
“Okay, true.”
He backed out of his parking space and headed down the alley. After turning down a couple of one-way streets, we emerged on Route 66 and headed east. I frowned, because even though I didn’t know the town very well, I did know that I-17 was in the other direction.
Connor must have noticed my worry, because he said, “It feels like we’re going out of our way, but really, it’s easier to get to the freeway from this direction. Otherwise, we have to sit through a ton of lights.”
That seemed reasonable. I nodded, and sure enough, a few minutes later we were on I-40 going west, heading to the interchange that would take us south and toward Jerome. As soon as we were past the Flagstaff city limits, I could feel my spirits start to rise. No one had stopped us.
Great snowy pine forests crowded the landscape to either side of the highway. The highway had been plowed, but Connor kept our speeds down well below the posted seventy-five miles an hour. Although I understood his caution, part of me chafed at the delay. I wanted to be home.
We didn’t talk much on that drive. He seemed calm enough, but I could feel the tension practically radiating off him. I understood it, of course; I’d been in a similar situation just the day before. Well, except that the McAllisters generally tended to be a far less dangerous bunch than the Wilcoxes. Their outward normality hadn’t soothed my misgivings all that much. Yes, Lucas and some of the others seemed pleasant enough, but there were those weird vibes I sensed coming from Marie, and Damon…well, enough said on that topic.
“The 260, right?” Connor inquired, and I startled. I’d been watching the changing landscape outside the window, watching as the ponderosa forests dwindled to familiar juniper, the snow fading as well until all that was left were patches in the shadows behind rocks or under trees.
“Right,” I said, then asked, “But you’ve been to Jerome before. Don’t you remember the way?”
“Actually, my friend Darren was driving. Everyone I came with that night was a civilian. They didn’t think we were doing anything except going out and having a good time. Damon wanted to send some family members with me, but I didn’t think that was a good idea since it was his first time using that masking spell, and I didn’t know how many people he could really handle.”
I supposed that made sense. So those had been some of Connor’s civilian friends. I wondered what their reaction would be if they ever discovered the truth about his family…or the real reason why he’d come to the Jerome Halloween dance.
That was between them, though. For now I was content to guide Connor up the highway that led us into the heart of Cottonwood, to go through streets that were almost as familiar to me as those of my own little hillside town. After we swung our way through the last roundabout and began heading up twisty 89A to Jerome, I could feel tears beginning to sting at the back of my eyes. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this place until I saw it again.
By then it was a little past three in the afternoon. Snow still gleamed on the north face of Mingus Mountain, but the roads were clear enough. And in the town itself, everything seemed normal, serene. The usual gaggle of tourists, maybe a little thicker today because it was the holidays and so many people were off from work and school.
I saw Connor wince a little as we passed the town limits and reached out to lay my hand on his leg. “Everything okay?”
“Yes,” he said, although his voice sounded tight. “I think we must have just passed one of your wards. I didn’t feel it back in October, when Damon cast that one spell. It had to have protected me somehow.”
“Are you all right?” I asked immediately.
“I’m fine. It was just a twinge. Maybe being with you eased it a little, or maybe it’s not intended to actually hurt too much, just warn someone off.”
That sounded about right. The McAllister way was not to bring suffering to others. However, if Connor had felt the ward, that meant the alarm had probably been sounded. We might not have a lot of time before the welcoming committee showed up.