refused to get up. The spell, then, had likely been cast during the previous night.
With all the slaves within the house, no one could have entered without raising an outcry. But that meant little. There were spells of invisibility. Yaotl's house was warded against intruders, but not against magic. A sorcerer could have found an easy access.
I combed the room again, but could find nothing. It unnerved me. Surely something that powerful would have left traces.
However… a curse like this, slowly spreading over Chimalli, would need to be renewed regularly. The spell- caster would have to come back, most likely every night.
Xoco was sitting by Chimalli's side when I rose from my second search.
“So?” she asked. Anxiety shone in her eyes.
“I found nothing,” I said at last, ashamed to admit defeat. “I thought one of your husband's enemies might have been responsible–” I left Xoco an opening, hoping to have more details, but she looked away.
“Please don't give up,” she said.
I sighed. I could think of only one thing left to do. I asked Xoco, “Will you object if I stay here tonight? I have a feeling whatever comes for him does so at night.”
It was a foolish idea. I still had no idea of whom I might face, or of his powers. But I had no other plan.
Xoco's gaze was uncertain. “I don't mind if you stay,” she said at last. “Though I'll have to ask Yaotl.”
As I suspected, Yaotl agreed to let me stay. He was far too worried about his child, and trying very hard not to show it, not to appear weak.
As the sun set, I made my preparations. I slaughtered a hummingbird, symbol of Huitzilpochtli, the god who protected the Mexica Empire, and drew wards in the bird's blood. The heart I put at the centre of Chimalli's room, and I said the words that would seal the protection.
What surprised me was that Xoco wanted to stay with me. I told her that for this to be effective, I needed to be alone with the boy. That I could not protect Chimalli, her and myself at the same time. Still she refused to leave. Finally, I won out.
When night fell, I was alone in the room. Chimalli was not sleeping; he was sitting on the reed mat, propped up against the wall. His eyes were trained on me. After a while, it became unbearable. I turned my gaze away from him, staring only at the tiled floor.
For what seemed like an eternity I remained seated beside my wards, silently repeating the spells of protection, suspecting they would not be enough.
It grew darker, and colder. The stars rose in the sky: I saw them beyond the door, but they lit nothing. Still I did not move. I had endured worse during my novitiate.
When a shadow fell across the door, I was wide awake.
The wind blew to me the smell of corn, and rotting leaves. Looking up, I saw a woman in the doorway.
She wore a cloak as dark as night, the hood thrown back to reveal a face that had nothing human. Her face had skin, but it was sallow, stretched so thin over bones that I could see the skull beneath it. Her hands had long, slender fingers tapering a point, like claws. And the eyes… the eyes were the worse. Because they were still human, filled with a hunger so intense I recoiled.
She was not the sorcerer I had been expecting. She was not even a human.
She was a Haunting Mother.
That was not possible. Haunting Mothers, those who had died in childbirth, hated children. They did not play games or cast slow spells. They merely slaughtered those children they could reach.
“Priest,” the Haunting Mother whispered. “Let me pass.”
“No,” I said. “I stand against you, Mother. You can't kill him.”
She prowled around the edges of my wards, trying to see the weaknesses in them. “Fool,” she hissed. “I'm not here to kill him. Let me pass.”
“Then what do you want with him?” I asked.
Her mouth stretched in a sickening smile, a bitter, angry expression that had nothing of joy. “I'll take him with me.”
“He's not yours,” I whispered.
She threw back her head, and laughed. “Of course he's mine.”
A soft patter of feet made me turn around: the child Chimalli had risen from his reed mat, and was going towards the doorway, a wide smile of joy on his face. Bile rose in my throat; I watched as he walked along the edge of the wards, desperately trying to find a way beyond them. But the wards still held.
I turned my attention to the more pressing danger: the Haunting Mother. “You can have no child,” I said.
“Not any more,” she hissed, lunging at me, claws extended to tear my heart out. My wards shook, but did not yield. “He's mine, priest. Do you think I'd say this lightly?”
“You are dead,” I said. “Nothing is yours any more.”
“I gave my life to bring him into the world,” the Haunting Mother said. “I bled on the reed mat, and bled, until there was no blood left, but he lived. I won. Let me have him.”
My heart missed a beat. “He's Xoco's child, and Yaotl's.”
