Read Online Protector (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 5) by Christine Pope - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Pope
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despite her best attempts to hide it, Caitlin said, “I don’t know what gifts you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do,” Maya replied calmly. Again she drank from her glass of water, although this time the palsy in her hand was far too evident as she set the glass back down on its tray. “No ordinary witch could have sensed the evil in those young men — certainly your friends did not. And no ordinary witch would have had the ability to see past the spell this Matías cast and strike out at him so she could get away.” The elderly witch’s gaze sharpened, and Caitlin wondered if those gleaming black eyes might actually bore holes right through her, so piercing they seemed. “You do not have to tell your family, if that is your wish. But you need to tell me.”
No way out. Oh, she could keep on lying…and Maya would only continue to stare at her, every tightening of her lips and lift of her eyebrows handing those lies right back to her. Caitlin broke the eye contact and looked out the large triptych of windows on the opposite wall, which showed a view of the courtyard. The sun was beginning to drop toward the west, glinting and glittering in the falling water of the fountain outside.
“They started about six years ago,” Caitlin said at last, not looking at Maya, but keeping her gaze focused on the way the water splashed and danced in the fountain, the way it caught glints of gold and copper and bronze from the westering sun. “I’d see things, and they’d come true. Or sometimes they’d be coming true at the same time I saw them. It’s not always consistent. But I do see things. I guess that makes me the McAllister’s next seer. But I don’t want to be that. I don’t want people always asking me for advice and wanting to know what their futures will be. Why would anyone want to know that? The future is scary.”
She broke off then, hands still knotted where they rested on her knee. She didn’t want to look at Maya, see the disapproval on her face. No witch was supposed to deny the gifts that were her birthright, that ran as deeply in her blood as the genetic markers which dictated her hair color or the shape of her nose. No, those with witch blood were supposed to embrace those gifts, no matter what they might be. But Caitlin didn’t want to know the future, especially Maya’s, which was all but written in the weary lines of her face.
Silence then, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the mantel. If Alex and his mother were talking where they waited in the kitchen, they must have been speaking in low tones, or were far enough away that their voices couldn’t carry all the way to the living room.
At last Maya said, her own voice soft, “When they came to me and told me I would be the next prima, I didn’t want to believe it. My own mother, she was a strong witch — a curandera , a healer — but nowhere near strong enough to be prima . No, the title came to me from my cousin Luisa, and, like your own prima Angela, I was young when I had to take up that role, for although Luisa was my cousin, she was some thirty years my senior. I didn’t want it. I wanted to live my own life, choose my own man, and not have to take the consort fate decreed should be mine.”
These revelations made Caitlin sit up a little straighter. She had never even stopped to think that perhaps Maya, the redoubtable head of the de la Paz clan, had not wanted to take on that role, because everything Caitlin had heard made it seem as if Maya had been born to it. In that same moment, she also wondered who that consort was, as Caitlin had seen no evidence of a husband here in the house, and neither had she ever heard anyone mention him by name. “But you didn’t say no.”
“Of course not. Just as Angela did not say no when that mantle fell to her. She knew what she had to do and did not shrink from it.”
Although Maya’s tone was mild, Caitlin couldn’t help thinking there was just a hint of
“Of course you do,” Maya replied calmly. Again she drank from her glass of water, although this time the palsy in her hand was far too evident as she set the glass back down on its tray. “No ordinary witch could have sensed the evil in those young men — certainly your friends did not. And no ordinary witch would have had the ability to see past the spell this Matías cast and strike out at him so she could get away.” The elderly witch’s gaze sharpened, and Caitlin wondered if those gleaming black eyes might actually bore holes right through her, so piercing they seemed. “You do not have to tell your family, if that is your wish. But you need to tell me.”
No way out. Oh, she could keep on lying…and Maya would only continue to stare at her, every tightening of her lips and lift of her eyebrows handing those lies right back to her. Caitlin broke the eye contact and looked out the large triptych of windows on the opposite wall, which showed a view of the courtyard. The sun was beginning to drop toward the west, glinting and glittering in the falling water of the fountain outside.
“They started about six years ago,” Caitlin said at last, not looking at Maya, but keeping her gaze focused on the way the water splashed and danced in the fountain, the way it caught glints of gold and copper and bronze from the westering sun. “I’d see things, and they’d come true. Or sometimes they’d be coming true at the same time I saw them. It’s not always consistent. But I do see things. I guess that makes me the McAllister’s next seer. But I don’t want to be that. I don’t want people always asking me for advice and wanting to know what their futures will be. Why would anyone want to know that? The future is scary.”
She broke off then, hands still knotted where they rested on her knee. She didn’t want to look at Maya, see the disapproval on her face. No witch was supposed to deny the gifts that were her birthright, that ran as deeply in her blood as the genetic markers which dictated her hair color or the shape of her nose. No, those with witch blood were supposed to embrace those gifts, no matter what they might be. But Caitlin didn’t want to know the future, especially Maya’s, which was all but written in the weary lines of her face.
Silence then, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the mantel. If Alex and his mother were talking where they waited in the kitchen, they must have been speaking in low tones, or were far enough away that their voices couldn’t carry all the way to the living room.
At last Maya said, her own voice soft, “When they came to me and told me I would be the next prima, I didn’t want to believe it. My own mother, she was a strong witch — a curandera , a healer — but nowhere near strong enough to be prima . No, the title came to me from my cousin Luisa, and, like your own prima Angela, I was young when I had to take up that role, for although Luisa was my cousin, she was some thirty years my senior. I didn’t want it. I wanted to live my own life, choose my own man, and not have to take the consort fate decreed should be mine.”
These revelations made Caitlin sit up a little straighter. She had never even stopped to think that perhaps Maya, the redoubtable head of the de la Paz clan, had not wanted to take on that role, because everything Caitlin had heard made it seem as if Maya had been born to it. In that same moment, she also wondered who that consort was, as Caitlin had seen no evidence of a husband here in the house, and neither had she ever heard anyone mention him by name. “But you didn’t say no.”
“Of course not. Just as Angela did not say no when that mantle fell to her. She knew what she had to do and did not shrink from it.”
Although Maya’s tone was mild, Caitlin couldn’t help thinking there was just a hint of
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