Protector(46)

“Not about that exactly.” He picked up a stir stick and ran it through his coffee, even though he was drinking it black and didn’t really need to stir anything. “She just…well, it wasn’t as if she said it in so many words, but she made it pretty clear that the wrath of both the McAllisters and the Wilcoxes would fall on the de la Paz clan if we don’t get Danica and Roslyn back safely.”

Caitlin wanted to protest that he must have misunderstood her, that Marie had meant something else entirely, whatever she’d said to him. But although she couldn’t claim to know Marie well, Caitlin did know that the other seer wasn’t exactly the world’s most tactful person. However you wanted to paint it, the kidnappings had taken place on de la Paz soil. That meant their clan was partially responsible, since if Maya had been fully functioning as a prima, she should have known interlopers from another clan were in her territory, and taken steps to have them sent back to wherever they’d come from.

However, Caitlin also knew that Alex knew all that as well, so there was no reason to point it out to him. Instead, she broke off another piece of scone, then said, “We all know that Angela and Connor will never retaliate. No matter” —her voice felt oddly dry, and she set down the bit of scone and instead took another pull at her iced tea— “no matter what might happen.”

“Maybe they wouldn’t. But what about your other clan members?”

He would have to ask that. Caitlin stalled by eating the piece of scone she’d broken off. “They wouldn’t go against their prima’s wishes. And neither would the Wilcox clan.”

“Are you sure about that?”

His dark eyes searched her face. She could see the doubt in his expression, the worry that Angela and Connor might be the prima and primus of their respective clans, but they were also, in the eyes of a lot of those same witches and warlocks, only a couple of kids in their twenties, not ready for the kind of responsibility this crisis had created.

“Well, I can’t speak for everyone,” Caitlin said, knowing she was hedging but at the same time realizing that she couldn’t possibly give him a definitive answer. “But even though they haven’t been the heads of their clans for all that long, no one can say they haven’t been doing a good job. I’d like to think everyone would give them the benefit of the doubt.”

For a few painful seconds, Alex didn’t say anything. Then his shoulders lifted, although she got the feeling the shrug was intended more to show her that he didn’t feel like arguing the subject, rather than because he agreed with her.

“The best thing we can do is find them,” she went on. “Which is why it’s so frustrating to sit here and know that I should be doing something besides having scones and tea. It’s just not right.”

“What else could you do?” he asked reasonably. “You’ve tried summoning the visions, and that didn’t work. In the meantime, you still have to eat and drink and carry on like a normal person. I doubt you’ll do them any more good by continually stressing until your focus is totally shot.”

She couldn’t really argue with that. At the same time, she couldn’t help feeling angry with herself for being here and finding any kind of enjoyment in the pastry she was eating, or even simply being able to look across the table and see Alex’s earnest gaze on her, the warmth of his voice. Something about the way he spoke always sounded unruffled, always in control, although she knew that wasn’t entirely the case. There were things that worried and upset him, just as they would anyone.

“You’re right,” she said, trying not to sigh. At the same time, she couldn’t help feeling impatient with that supposed third eye of hers, or whatever it was. If time was of the essence, why wasn’t she being bombarded with a string of images that would lead her straight to wherever Danica and Roslyn were being held?

Alex’s phone went off then — another email, judging by the alert sound.

“I’d better check that,” he said. “That’s usually how my mother gets in touch with me. She hates texting, and I hate getting interrupted by phone calls, so the emails are our compromise.”

“Maybe she has some new information for us,” Caitlin suggested.

“Yeah…or maybe she’s emailing to give me a ration of shit about how that interview with Marie went.”

“Ouch.”

He smiled then. “Yeah, that about sums it up.” But he reached into his pocket and dug out his iPhone, then unlocked it so he could access his emails.

Caitlin watched as he scanned the message from his mother, the movements of his eyes almost hidden under the dark sweep of his eyelashes. Was he even aware of how good-looking he really was? He definitely didn’t dress all that flashy; when she’d first met him, he’d had on dark khaki pants and a white button-down for work, and today he was wearing nicely faded jeans and an untucked polo shirt along with some well-broken-in cross-trainers.