I frowned and shook my head in confusion.
“Lilith, you really don’t know anything,” Elena said with a pretentious sigh. “The Americans got involved because their ship was supposedly destroyed by the Spanish, but there was never any proof.”
“So the demons attacked the ship to start the war?” I asked. “But why? What does El Diablo gain from it?”
“Chaos,” Alba said. “While everyone is focused on the war and saving civilians, he can strike without alerting any Councils to his misdeeds. It’s an added benefit that there is no Council in Cuba. Even if the Spanish or American Councils did know what he was doing here, there’s little they could do to stop him.” She jabbed a finger at Oliver and me. “This means you need to exercise extreme caution when you venture to the other side. The Santeros are still being targeted by him.”
I nodded.
“What about weapons?” Oliver asked.
“See Manuel in the kitchen,” Alba said. “He’ll have what you need.”
Oliver looked at me and jerked his chin to indicate we head that way, but Elena touched his arm. Her icy gaze drifted to me, and her eyes narrowed. Like I was the one being rude by lingering.
She just lost her brother. She’s grieving. Cut her some slack.
I sighed. “I’ll be back there.”
I pointed awkwardly to the kitchen and weaved through the crowd. I told myself I didn’t care, but I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder. Elena clutched Oliver’s large hand in both of hers. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable, and nodded as she spoke. Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth.
Jealousy and anger flared in my chest. I’m such an idiot, I thought. I clenched my teeth and turned toward the kitchen, stomping a little too forcefully as I finally broke through the throng of witches and warlocks.
“You have mud on your boots or something?” Manuel said from the kitchen as he cleaned a blade with a rag.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Maybe that’s just how I walk.”
Manuel snorted, his shoulders lifting in a lazy, silent laugh. He set aside a dagger and picked up a smaller blade to clean. “What’s your weapon of choice?”
I leaned against the long table and shrugged. “I’m not a Huntress, so I don’t know. The athame was cool, but . . .”
“But you weren’t comfortable with it?” Manuel asked, eyeing me shrewdly.
I nodded, rubbing my arm.
“You just need to practice.” He set aside the small knife and sifted through the pile of weapons on the table until he found the athame—the same one Oliver and I had found in the demon training ring.
I raised an eyebrow. “You sure? What if I lose it again?”
“Then Elena will scold you again.” Manuel smirked and handed me the weapon.
I sighed and took the blade, inspecting the runes. The markings looked ancient like they could be thousands of years old. Yet the blade gleamed as if it had been forged a week ago.
“This is the safest weapon for you,” Manuel said, turning and leaning against the table like I was. “The blade is enchanted to infect demons. It might not kill them outright, but it will at least wound them significantly more than any normal knife.”
I thought of Oliver’s injury. “But Oliver—”
“The enchantment was made with demon blood,” Manuel said. “Warlocks should be fine.”
“Fine from what?” Oliver asked as he strode into the kitchen.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said shortly, sheathing the knife and avoiding Oliver’s gaze. I patted my dress for pockets and groaned. “Stupid nineteenth century fashion. Where do witches keep their weapons if they don’t wear pants?”
Metal clinked as Manuel shuffled through the various weapons and handed me a small, leather strap. “It goes on your ankle.”
My frown vanished, and my eyebrows flew to my hairline. “Impressive,” I said with a half smile. Crouching to the ground, I stretched out the strap, my brow furrowing in concentration as I tried to figure out how to secure it around my leg.
“Here, I can help,” Oliver said as he sank to his knees.
My eyes cut through his gaze. “No thanks,” I said coldly.
He recoiled in shock, but I averted my gaze, focusing on the leather strap. I found a series of small notches, like a belt, and I secured it around my ankle. The athame fit perfectly in the holster. “Awesome.”
I rose to my feet and ignored Oliver, but I felt his eyes burning into me with confusion and . . . hurt? I doubted it, but a small part of me privately hoped he was hurt by my indifference.
Manuel raised his eyebrows as he glanced between the two of us. His shoulders shook again with mocking laughter, but he said nothing.
“Thanks for the help, Manuel,” I said. “Are you staying here?”
He nodded. “Alba needs all the help she can get.”
I touched his arm and offered a small smile. “Be safe.”
Manuel stared at me, his gray eyebrows pulling together. Affection stirred in his eyes, and he nodded. “You as well, Desi.” He glanced at Oliver, his expression sobering. “Take care of each other.”
Oliver clapped him on the shoulder. “We will.” He glanced at me and asked, “Shall we?”
I nodded. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 16
AS OLIVER AND I EXITED the restaurant, muffled gunfire echoed in the street like fireworks from several miles away. I wondered if there was some kind of dome-like protection surrounding the magical realm that dulled the sounds of the artillery.
I strode down the sidewalk purposefully, trying to ignore Oliver’s presence next to me. But the heat that seared my arm as it brushed against his made that impossible.
Silence pressed in on us like an unwanted stranger.
Several minutes passed as we walked quietly down the street. Oliver made a turn onto a narrower road, and I followed him. The buildings became more spaced out, separated by palm trees and unkempt gardens and shrubs.
I couldn’t resist cutting a glance at Oliver. His eyebrows were lowered as he watched me. His mouth opened as if to speak, but
