Darknight(68)

Connor didn’t gasp — he was too in control of himself to do that — but somehow the room felt as if it had lost some of its oxygen. Damon’s face darkened with fury.

“You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?” he said. “I’m afraid your confidence may be misplaced.” Without bothering to say another word, he stalked to the door and went out, slamming it behind him.

For a moment neither Connor nor I said anything. Then I remarked, “You know, he really needs to take some anger-management classes. He slams doors more than anyone I’ve ever seen. Good thing you don’t have anyone living below you, or they’d probably be calling the cops.”

“Angela — ” Connor began, his tone a warning. Then he stopped himself. “He’s really not someone you want pissed off at you.”

“Maybe not, but since he seems perpetually pissed off, I can’t take all the credit.”

Instead of answering, Connor crossed the room and pulled me into his arms, held me close. I was fine with that; this was exactly where I’d wanted to be, here in front of the fire, with my consort as the snow fell outside. Everything else could wait.



* * *



It turned out that he really had meant what he’d told Damon — Connor took me up to the Snow Bowl, the recreation area outside Flagstaff, where we tromped around in the snow, got caught in the crossfire of a massive snowball fight between several groups of kids who looked to be in fifth or sixth grade, and slid around in saucers until we were exhausted and laughing and wet. He tried to convince me to try skiing, but as I wasn’t really in the mood to break any bones, I demurred.

And another day we roamed around downtown Flagstaff, eating and drinking at his favorite places, window shopping and doing some real shopping, too, since my wardrobe was in serious need of a boost. We did drive out to Winslow, which didn’t have too much going on, except a fabulous meal at the Turquoise Room in the historic hotel there. Then it was back to Flagstaff, with a promised return trip to see the Meteor Crater sometime after New Year’s.

It was fun playing tourist for once, rather than being the person who had to wait on tourists all the time. Certainly there was a lot more to do and see than I’d expected. I did notice that Connor didn’t seem to make any contact with members of his family, and wondered if he was trying to keep me away from them. Certainly Damon appeared to have decamped for the time being, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I was relieved.

Still, I couldn’t help wondering in the back of my mind whether he really had given up on me, or whether he was just off concocting some new plot, maybe one involving the “alternative magic” he’d mentioned to Connor. About all I could do was hope that he’d abandon any plans he might be formulating once he didn’t have so much time on his hands; classes started back up at Northern Pines in less than a week.

I hadn’t seen anything of Mary Mullen since we’d gotten back, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. One thing I’d learned from dealing with Maisie — and the other ghosts in Jerome — was that they came and went according to their own timetables. Unless I called to them specifically, many times weeks and sometimes months would go by without hearing from them. Time just wasn’t the same for a ghost as it was for us mortals, even if we did happen to be witches.

The morning of New Year’s Eve, I rolled over in bed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking. Connor had been able to secure the hotel room for Sydney and Anthony without any problem, and they were going to come up late in the afternoon and get settled in. Then we planned to go out for a late-ish dinner and start making the rounds downtown.

This all seemed perfectly innocuous, but I couldn’t help wondering if Damon had been biding his time, waiting so he could swoop down at the worst possible moment. I tried to tell myself that was silly, that he wouldn’t do anything on a night when the town was swarming with revelers. Even so, unease still nagged at me.

“You’re frowning a lot for a girl with a big party day in front of her,” Connor remarked, turning on his side to watch me.

“Sorry. I’m just — I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about your brother.”

“Should I be jealous?” Connor inquired, and I reached over and smacked him on the shoulder.

“Don’t even joke about that. Just…no.” I pushed myself up to a sitting position, holding the sheets against me. I’d fallen asleep right after the previous night’s lovemaking session, and my clothes were still scattered all over the floor. “It just seems as if he backed off way too quickly. He’s not really going to give up that easily, is he?”