“I could do it,” Faye offered. “If we decide to cast this spell.”

Verlaine made up her mind. “You have to do it. You have to try. And I’ll anchor the spell.”

Everyone stared at her. Verlaine couldn’t quite believe she’d said that herself. But she knew what she knew.

“I love Uncle Gary as much as I love anybody on Earth.” Her breath didn’t want to support her voice; it felt caught in her chest, waiting for tears she wouldn’t let come. “But I don’t just love him. I know him. And if we could tell him how much is at stake—that this could mean the deaths of thousands and thousands of people if we fail—then he’d say to take the chance. He’d do it himself if he could. I know that, for sure.”

It felt beyond horrible to risk Uncle Gary’s life like that. Just getting the words out seemed to have stolen the strength from her body.

But a life was more than a pulse, more than a breath. A life was also made up of what you believed and what you stood for. Of what you were willing to do—and who you loved. Protecting Uncle Gary’s survival at the cost of so much pain and suffering would betray his life more surely than anything else, and Verlaine knew it.

“I’ll take the chance with him,” she said, holding out her hand for Nadia’s pearl charm.

Mateo reached across the table and took her free hand. Verlaine was surprised how much it helped.

“I’m going to get it right,” Nadia said . . . no, promised. Her dark eyes burned with intensity as she removed the pearl charm from her bracelet and put it into Verlaine’s palm. This was the swearing of a solemn oath. “I can do it. I can and I will.”

“I know,” Verlaine replied, and for a moment she could really believe.

Mateo’s hand tightened around hers. At first she thought he was still attempting to comfort her, but then his grip became even tighter, until the bones of her hand ached. She looked at him in alarm, but he was staring past her—through her—

Nadia shook his shoulder. “Mateo?”

He collapsed.

“I serve the One Beneath, and he will not be denied,” Elizabeth said, storm winds whipping her chestnut hair, her eyes alight as if with an unearthly fire.

“Someone, help!” Verlaine ran along a corridor, pursued by pounding footsteps and the shouts of dozens of—people? Demons? In the shadows Mateo couldn’t tell any difference. All he saw was fury and destruction, bearing down on her faster by the moment.

Nadia was attempting to stand amid rushing water, as though she were in the middle of a flooded river. And yet she was holding on to something like a door, or a pillar—like she was inside, even as the waves rose higher.

The storm winds whipped Nadia’s blue-black hair, lightning brilliant in the sky, as she said, “I serve the One Beneath—”

“Mateo? Mateo!”

The dizzying swirl of potential future and present steadied, and he once again knew where he was: La Catrina, specifically lying on the floor. His head lay in Nadia’s lap, Verlaine was patting one of his hands, and Faye seemed to be grabbing something from the bar, maybe a damp rag or some ice. Mateo shifted his weight, then winced. “Ow.”

“You fell pretty hard,” Nadia said. “The visions again? What did you see?”

“I can’t tell. Sometimes the dreams aren’t literal; you know that.” He groaned and pushed himself to sit upright. “I saw you in trouble—as usual. Verlaine, too.”

“Oh, yay,” Verlaine muttered.

The front door jingled, and Mateo frowned; he thought he’d locked that door. But someone else had a copy of the key—Dad, who was staring at him in dawning horror. “Madre de Dios, Mateo, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Mateo said, but he didn’t think it was too convincing, seeing as how he was sprawled out on the floor.

Sure enough, Dad ran to him, his face white. “Is this another one of the seizures? I was just starting to think maybe that was a one-time thing, but now—”

Last month, a spell gone wrong had landed Mateo in the hospital overnight; the doctors, having no other way of understanding what ailed him, assumed he must have had a seizure. Mateo had felt awful about panicking his father, but he’d thought they’d all get over it quickly enough. So much for that. “I don’t think so.”

Dad wasn’t buying it. “We’re taking you to the hospital, right now.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” Faye said, stepping out from behind the bar, ice bag still in her hands. “Mr. Perez? I’m Faye Walsh from Rodman High. I understand your concern for your son, but given the illness sweeping through the community, not to mention the quake—the hospital’s not going to have capacity for Mateo right now. These are emergency situations.”

Wow, she was a good liar. And because she was an adult, Dad actually listened.

“I don’t like it,” his father said, but he sighed. “You’re right, though. Mateo, have you been taking your antiseizure medication?”

“No,” he admitted. This was because the stuff was useless, but at least Dad wouldn’t look any harder for an explanation.

“I tell you, and I tell you! In one ear and out the other!” Dad rarely yelled unless he was really, really scared. He was yelling now. “Come on. I’m taking you home. You’re going to take your medicine and lie down for a while.”

Mateo turned to Nadia in dismay. He wanted to be with her now—to lend his Steadfast power to the spells she would cast. That had just become impossible.