I remembered what Kismet had said: Rarity is a power in itself.
My stomach dropped, and I sat up so suddenly that I slopped warm soup on the blanket over my legs.
“Lilith,” Alba hissed, chiding me with a sharp look as she dabbed at the spill with a nearby cloth.
“Alba,” I said urgently. “My—my Familiar is here. She works for El Diablo.”
Alba’s dark brows furrowed as she set the damp cloth down on the tray. “Your Familiar? I don’t understand.”
I swallowed, closing my eyes for a moment to gather my thoughts. “In my time, my Familiar is named Kismet. She’s been with me my whole life. She’s old enough to be my mother. But . . . in the cave, with El Diablo, I saw her. She looked different. I don’t think she knows who I am yet.”
Alba, her jaw tensing, glanced at Sofia. Sofia’s brows creased, and she fingered one of the trinkets dangling from her neck.
“One thing Mamá told me,” Sofia said, her eyes distant, “is that our timelines are interwoven—connected like threads in a quilt. She knew she would be unable to travel to a time or place with which she was not connected.”
“Are you saying,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper, “I’m here because of her? Because she’s here?”
Alba and Sofia shared another glance, but this one was loaded with secrets. Wordlessly, they communicated something I couldn’t understand. Alba drummed her fingers on the edge of my cot and stared at the blanket in contemplation. Glancing at me carefully, she said, “This is most likely true. But that isn’t all.”
I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head forward with interest.
Alba dropped her hands in her lap and smoothed her brown skirt. “I can’t tell you everything. But I can tell you that my last name is Bardales.” Her eyes widened with significance.
I frowned. Why is that name familiar? Then my jaw dropped, and shock rippled through me as I remembered the photograph of José’s abuela. Luis y Carmen Bardales y su hija Gloria. Maybe Bardales was a common name in Cuba?
But the solemn look in Alba’s eyes answered that question. I squinted at her, and then my eyes widened. Her small, narrow nose and high cheekbones. Her rounded chin. It was subtle, but she clearly resembled the man from José’s photograph. His abuela’s father.
My brows pulled together in accusation, and I pointed a finger at her. “You know! You knew from the beginning!”
Alba closed her eyes briefly before looking at me pleadingly. “I’m a Seer. I can’t share everything with everyone, or it will unravel the laws of time. I only share what is necessary.”
“So, what, you’re José’s great-great—”
“Stop, stop!” Alba waved her hands frantically. “Don’t continue. I’m only telling you this now because it’s something you need to know. Yes, I know about the image you used to conjure the spell. The individuals in the image are from here and are my descendants. And that is all we will say on the subject.” She placed her hands back in her lap as if we were having tea together.
My mouth was still open like an idiot as I processed this information. Numbers spun in my head while I struggled to figure this out. So Alba was José’s great-great grandmother? The adult man in the photograph—his abuela’s father—would be Alba’s son.
My head reeling, I set the now empty bowl on the tray and frowned hard at the yellow blanket on my legs. “I—I still don’t understand what brought me here.”
“Mamá said the timeline requires multiple tethers, almost like ingredients to a recipe,” Sofia said. “It is likely that many things pulled you here—Alba’s family tree, El Diablo’s power, and the presence of your Familiar. But from what Mamá understood, each casting of the spell is unique. If you were to cast the exact same spell with the exact same ingredients and elements, you would not end up here again.”
My heart plummeted from my chest to my stomach. “Then how will I get home?”
Sofia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Mamá had no intention of returning.” Her voice was soft. “But from her research, I’ve gathered that all Timecasters are linked to their own time in some way, almost like a lifeline. So, in theory, your connection to the future will steer the spell in the right direction. It will recognize the pull you have to your time.” She strode to an end table against the wall and pulled a small, gray flask from its drawer. “These are all the ingredients you will need to return.” She extended the flask to me.
My brows pinched as I stared at the flask and then looked back to Sofia’s solemn expression. “How on earth did you fit those ingredients in there?” I remembered the crazy, disgusting things I’d put into the cauldron, especially the pig’s feet, mandrake root, and newt’s eyes.
“I have a supply of liquid and powdered ingredients for situations like this. Take it. As a thank you for saving my life. Now the only thing that remains to be found is a source of power strong enough to send you back.”
“And how will I find that?” I asked uncertainly, taking the flask from her. I looked at Alba. “Is there something you’ve Seen—a vision, maybe? Something that can help me?”
Alba shook her head. “Sometimes I See something that will only happen one way. Sometimes, there are multiple avenues that result in the same outcome. This is one of those times. I cannot See exactly how the spell is cast, but I know it will happen.”
I blew air from my lips and
