Fiona nods. “Aye. They are very powerful. A rare commodity.”
She lets go of the snake and steps toward us. Paige and I step back. The snake winds itself around Fiona’s arm then slithers its way up to her neck.
“A month ago,” she says, “you brought me a particular specimen, a snake with bands of red and black. Its Latin name is Micrurus diastema. A coral snake normally found in Mexico and Central America. Extremely venomous. And by way of you, an incredible gift. A powerful gift.” Fiona stops and rests her hand on the corner of the table, and the snake slithers its way down her arm and coils itself into a ball on the glass. “A valuable gift.”
It suddenly occurs to me where Fiona is going with this. “Did you sell it? Have you been selling”—I gesture to the wall of stainless steel drawers—“all of them? This whole time?”
“These items are highly sought among those like me. It would be selfish to keep them to myself.”
“You’re selling them for profit!” I shout.
Fiona shrugs. “These items are not common, everyday items. You will not find them in a shopping mall or online—well, maybe on the dark web. No matter,” she adds, trying to stay on course. “We sell, trade, and barter when we need to. I myself buy from others all the time. It’s what we’ve always done.”
Paige shakes her head. “We? Who’s we?”
“And”—I bury my head in my hands—“you sold one to her, didn’t you? Melchora?”
“The coral snake,” she admits.
“When?”
“Oh, three weeks ago.”
And there it is. “Right before Elizabeth was kidnapped,” I say.
It’s no coincidence that Fiona knew so much about Santa Muerte and the lechuza. That’s why she warned me to stay away. She had met the lechuza.
On instinct, Paige approaches Fiona to confront her. Then she stops when she realizes the snake is still coiled on the table. “Wait a second. Are you saying this snake that Darcy… vomited…was used to possess Elizabeth with this demon?”
“Oh, it’s not a demon,” Fiona corrects. “She’s a powerful spirit, yes, but not a demon.”
“But,” Paige counters, “Elizabeth is possessed. Like Darcy.”
“Possession is not exclusive to demons, my dear.”
I’m not concerned with the semantics but with the notion that this whole thing—Elizabeth’s kidnapping, her subsequent possession, Leona’s death—was put into motion by me.
As if reading my thoughts, Fiona comes close and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Aye, my dear. It’s not your fault.”
“More like yours,” Paige says.
I wave my hand at Paige. I love that she defends me, but now’s not the time. Fortunately, Fiona doesn’t take it personally and ignores Paige’s comment.
“Frankly, I’m surprised Melchora is able to wield such magic,” Fiona says. “I didn’t think she was that powerful a witch.”
“Another thing you were wrong about,” Paige mutters.
“Paige!” I say. “That’s enough.”
She crosses her arms.
“Oh dear,” Fiona says, turning away. She collects the snake off the glass table and returns to her wall of drawers. When she extends her hand to the empty drawer, the serpent obediently slithers back into its container. She slowly closes the drawer.
Paige and I exchange a look, trying to read each other’s thoughts.
Fiona finally turns to face us. “What do you intend to do?”
“I’m going to find this thing,” I say, “and I’m going to make it reveal the name.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
I’m a bit taken aback by this comment. In light of recent events and the revelation that she’s profiting from me, it’s becoming clear that my possession is a benefit to Fiona.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m sure.”
“Because,” Fiona continues, “someday, perhaps sooner than you think, you might be able to harness even more power than you think you have. Imagine what you might be able to do with it.”
“She can’t control—” Paige starts.
I point my finger at Paige—a final warning. I hate having to be the big sister right now, but I need to hear what Fiona has to say, and I can’t have Paige pissing her off. It doesn’t matter whether or not Fiona is giving me good advice—she’s giving me information.
My attention returns to Fiona. “Go on.”
Fiona focuses her attention on Paige and calmly continues. “All I’m saying is that perhaps Darcy has not considered what a blessing this might be for her.”
“How…” Paige chokes on her words. Then she resumes. “How could this possibly be a blessing?”
Fiona approaches me. With a finger, she pulls down the collar of my sweater to reveal my healed wound. Even Paige is surprised by its improved condition.
“This is how,” Fiona says.
She pinches her thumb and index finger together in midair and pulls. Slowly, the suture begins to unravel itself until the last of the threads is pulled out. It hovers for a moment in the air. She snaps her fingers, and a flash of fire consumes the string. A wisp of smoke is all that remains.
Her lips widen, and she puts on a smile. I’ve seen this smile before—it’s the expression she shows on TV every day—a warm, loving mask meant to endear and captivate an audience. “As with any good talent, all you have to do is learn to control the power.”
I don’t look at Paige. Even out of the corner of my eye, I can tell what kind of judgmental stare she’s casting in my direction.
But I have one question for Fiona. “How?”
* * *
Don’t ask me how I convinced Paige to leave Fiona and me alone for fifteen minutes. I have no idea how, but I’m fairly certain it wasn’t particularly diplomatic. Fiona stands at the far end of her glass table while I stand at the other end.
“Magic is all about control, Darcy,” Fiona says. “But you cannot control the elements until you can control yourself. The same goes with your demon. This entity inside you has great power. You have that power, too. I know you can feel it. What you’re needing to believe is that you can control it whenever you want.”
I make the mistake of rolling
