“She has changed the structure beneath Captive’s Sound!” Elizabeth snapped. “Nadia Caldani knows something of what I am, but that alone would not give her such power.”
She possesses two things you do not.
Elizabeth refused to ask. If the demon was fool enough to tell her that Nadia possessed faith or hope or love, any such token from a children’s story, she’d beg the One Beneath to send him to the deepest torments, and it would be done for her. As a gift. As a blessing.
But in the past century, she’d forgotten how useful Asa could be. Nadia possesses Goodwife Hale’s Book of Shadows.
How? How had she found it? Elizabeth herself had no need of it—formidable witch though Prudence Hale had been, her knowledge counted as nothing compared to Elizabeth’s own. But the book was so old, so powerful that it had served as a kind of anchor of the magical energies in this town. No wonder the balances had been thrown off. Nadia had not only moved it, she had taken possession of it—begun to learn from it.
Then Asa said, And Nadia possesses a Steadfast.
Elizabeth frowned. “Who?”
You know a Steadfast is shielded from the eyes of a demon. I cannot see her face. But I sense the presence and the power of a Steadfast behind Nadia’s witchcraft.
A Steadfast was normally a woman known well to a witch—a deep friend, a relative, a lover, someone whose loyalty went beyond measure. But Nadia Caldani had only recently come to Captive’s Sound. With her were only male relatives, neither of whom could serve as a Steadfast. So she had drawn upon someone new.
“The gray-haired girl,” Elizabeth said. She looked at the glow of her stove and smiled.
15
“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR?” DAD THRUST AN apron at Mateo. Obviously Mateo was still On Dad’s List—which he expected to live on forever, given how many absences the school had reported. “Never mind, tell me tonight at home. Another three minutes late and I’d have docked your pay!”
“Sorry, Dad.” Mateo pulled himself together for the dinner shift. He was almost relieved; after dealing with magic and curses and evil witches and destruction, waiting tables counted as a break. For the next few hours, he wouldn’t have to worry about anything more complicated than whether to serve the guacamole on the side. It already looked like it was going to be a crazy night at La Catrina—most of the tables filled even though it was only five p.m.
Mateo glanced over his area on the floor, then paused as he saw who was at the two-top by the back.
He walked to her first. “Hey, Verlaine.”
“I didn’t come here to talk to you about it,” she said very quickly. “I mean, I didn’t come here to not talk to you. It’s just—I feel like I’m not ready to talk about this with anybody. And I didn’t want my uncles asking me why I was acting strange. But I didn’t want to be alone, either. And I thought I wanted to be near at least one person who would understand why I’m like this. You know?”
Weirdly, he got it. “Yeah.”
“And I’m sorry if I was weird with you about—taking off for a while. I get it now. I really, really get it.”
Mateo shrugged it off. “You need anything?”
“A virgin piña colada and more of these chips. Way more. And later I might need to go into a veggie-fajita coma.” Verlaine leaned back in the booth, her pale skin stark against the red leather. “Did something happen to your hair?”
“I’ll check back with you,” Mateo promised. He started on his rounds—waters for this table, the next already wanted their nachos yesterday, and then—
—then Ginger came in.
She seemed much more together than she had in the barbershop: calm, steady, even smiling. Ginger came to La Catrina a lot, always ordering by pointing to the menu. But she rarely came alone, and he would never have expected to see her again today.
Their eyes met as she took a seat, and even though she wasn’t in his section, Mateo figured he needed to go over and say something. Quickly he dished out the waters and nachos and put in the order for Verlaine’s drink; while he had that moment at the bar, he quickly grabbed his phone and texted Nadia. Ginger’s here at La C.
Keep her there! Nadia sent back almost instantly. I’m coming over.
It made more sense for Nadia to talk to her, Mateo figured, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t acknowledge what had happened at the barbershop. Besides, that would be part of making sure Ginger stuck around long enough for Nadia to reach La Catrina. But Ginger would want to stick around, wouldn’t she? Now that she’d calmed down, she had sought him out; that had to mean she wanted to help, or share what she really knew about Elizabeth. Or maybe she just wanted somebody to finally understand. Mateo knew exactly how that felt.
Maybe Ginger would know a weakness they could exploit—some way for him to start getting back at Elizabeth for all the evil she’d done to him and his family. To Mom.
So the first free moment he had, he went to Ginger’s table. She sat there, head held high; once again he saw the sooty, coiling collar of the curse wound around her throat. Mateo imagined he could feel the weight of the thorned halo bearing down on his head.
“Hey there,” he said, trying to keep it light. “I think I need to get this haircut finished sometime.”
Ginger wrinkled her nose and nodded.
“That bad, huh?” Mateo laughed, but the self-consciousness wasn’t totally faked. How weird did he look? He now avoided mirrors as much as possible, but he’d have to brave one to see precisely how lopsided this was. “Sorry if I, uh, startled you today.”