“You don’t need a wand or a staff or a broom?”
Fiona bursts out laughing. “Only if I’m wanting to sweep. Wands and staves have their place, and truth be told, some prefer to use them, and some spells require them. Some spells require an incantation. Some spells are so powerful that two or more witches are needed to harness the energy. A coven, if you will.”
Paige leans forward, enthralled. “You mean, combining your power?”
“Not necessarily,” Fiona answers with a smile, happy to oblige her eager audience. “Some spells can be incredibly complicated, with multiple parts. You may have one witch use a conjuration spell to summon power, while another uses an enchantment to harness and hold the power.”
Paige nods. “A team.”
“Aye. As for myself, I learned that I only need to use a handful of spells on a daily basis. These are conducted with simple chants or by the use of everyday items I carry with me at all times”—she reaches into her pockets and pulls out three gold coins, a vial of salt, and a crystal—“much like you carry your keys, wallet, or cell phone.” She waves her open palm over the items, and one by one, they disappear.
“How did you learn to do all this?” Paige asks.
“My mother. She was a very powerful witch herself, and she taught me everything she knew. Over time, I developed my own style and discovered a few things myself. But my passion for the arts—and that’s what they are—was all because of her influence.”
I stop eating as Fiona mentions her mother. Casually, I try to register Paige’s expression. It’s blank.
Paige stands and reaches for her headphones. She takes a deep breath to compose herself. “I’m sorry for pestering you with my questions.”
“Paige…” I start.
“I need to get my run in. Breakfast was delicious,” she says to Fiona. “Thank you.” She disappears out the door for what I can only imagine will be a marathon.
When she’s gone, Fiona turns to me. “Did I bollocks it up?”
“It wasn’t anything you did.” I go back to eating my breakfast.
* * *
After breakfast, I help Fiona with the dishes. It’s the least I can do for the feast she provided. As I’m drying the last of the bowls and putting them away, I sense Fiona staring at me.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Are you wanting to tell me what happened last night?”
I guess it’s time. “I just need to get a refill on my coffee,” I say, picking up my empty mug. Fiona waves her hand over the top of my cup. It fills from within. So much for stalling.
We take a seat on her sofa, which overlooks the Westside of Los Angeles. “I first saw Santa Muerte at the library,” I begin.
I proceed to tell her about Lupe’s murder and seeing the spirit for the first time. I tell her about the owl too. Then I talk about Carmen and the cartel, what Paige and I witnessed in the temple, Sebastian’s death, getting shot, and what happened last night. I give her every detail I can think of—anything that might help her help me. She’s surprised by none of it.
“You know what I’ve been going through, don’t you?” I ask.
“There isn’t much magic that happens in this city that I don’t know about,” Fiona says. “That’s how I found you so many years ago.”
I lean forward. “Do you know who she is?”
“I wasn’t sure then. I’m sure now.”
“Who?”
“Her name is Melchora. She is a bruja, which is a kind of witch. The lechuza you’ve been looking for.”
I have limited experience with the supernatural. Ghosts, Fiona, and my demon were everything I knew until I encountered Santa Muerte. Now Fiona is telling me about a bruja being “a kind of witch.” How many kinds are there? What else is out there?
“I have tried to keep you from this world,” Fiona continues. “But this seems to have been a long time coming. Somehow, you quelled a demon inside you. A demon that has mighty power. There are others out there who will wish you harm and some who will want to use you. And now this one knows your name.”
This gives me chills. “Melchora. How do you know her?”
Fiona rises from the sofa and offers a remorseful smile. “I think you should follow me.”
“Uh-oh. This doesn’t sound good.” I’m rising to follow Fiona when Paige enters through the front door. She’s drenched in sweat from her short but evidently intense run. She grabs a water from the refrigerator before realizing Fiona and I are watching her.
“Better?” I ask.
Paige shrugs and takes a big gulp then takes another look at us and hesitates. “What’s going on?”
“Fiona wants to show me something, and I think it’s bad. Wanna come?” I smile, pleading for a friend.
Paige and I follow Fiona slowly down a staircase that leads to the bottom floor. Fiona guides us to a locked door, which she opens by muttering a chant I can’t understand. We step inside a large room with a dark tinted window and yet another view of the city. On the back side is an entire wall of stainless steel, apothecary drawers, and cabinets. A long, glass table sits in the middle of the room, a decorative bowl with stainless-steel balls in the exact center of it. Fiona walks to the wall and selects a drawer halfway down. She opens it and removes a snake—the same one I gave her when I last saw her.
Paige squirms. “Oh geez.”
Fiona walks toward us with the snake. “I have a confession. I haven’t been completely honest with you about what I do with these specimens. It’s important to tell you that these creatures possess a tremendous amount of magic.”
“What kind of magic?” Paige asks.
“The kind of magic that can only be created in another world,” Fiona answers in an ominous tone.
“Hell,” I add. “She means the kind of magic
