“Never?” He sounds incredulous. “Don’t you miss it?”
“I…yeah. Sometimes. Anyway, I’d probably try a purification spell first. Demon possession is like an infection, or a corruption.”
“My thoughts exactly. A simple but well executed purification spell might knock it out of Matteo’s body.”
“It’s worth a shot. And if it doesn’t work, we’ll break out the big guns.”
He winces. “Can we not use gun metaphors? I’d prefer not to kill my brother. I’m very happy not having the pressure that comes with being the oldest.”
“Sorry. Let’s compile the ingredients and work on the incantation.”
“I’m sure Tío Nestor has everything we need in the kitchen.”
“How are we going to explain that? He’ll guess that we’re doing a purification spell and want to know why.”
“That’s where you come in, mi corazón.”
I groan. “Oh no.”
“Just get Tío Nestor talking about his cape collection—”
“Diego, do not do this to me.”
“And I’ll get everything we need for the spell. Easy as that.”
I jab a finger in his direction. “You are cruel and unusual.”
“Only for you, babe.”
And then he winks.
My stomach somersaults. Was Diego always this much of a flirt? I’m sure I would remember that. And I’d certainly remember if he had this kind of effect on me before.
Cheeks burning, I head downstairs to find Nestor. When I ask if he’s obtained anything new since I was last in town, his eyes light up. He hurries me to his private suite, which has an entire room just for his capes.
Nestor makes the introductions. “This burgundy silk with the ostrich features is Tonya, and this emerald green beauty with the embroidered basilisk is Flavio.”
I respond accordingly to each cape, but when I spot some of my own creations hanging among them, I feel a twinge of grief.
After Nestor’s done introducing me to his new “bebés,” I drag myself back to the Vampire Suite where Diego greets me with a grin.
“How many new capes?” he asks.
“Fourteen.” I flop face down on the bed and try to ignore the fact that Diego is wearing nothing but a black towel tied around his waist. My voice is muffled as I speak into the bedding. “Did you get everything?”
“I did. Can you prep the herbs while I take a salt bath?”
“Fine.” I wait until I hear the bathroom door close before I sit up again. Is the man trying to fluster me on purpose? And just how many tattoos does he have?
Despite my reduced access to magic, I still remember the rituals. Ritualistic magic requires more prep work and study, as opposed to natural magic like telekinesis, which demands hours of practice to hone. Since Diego will be the one casting the spell, he takes a purifying sea salt bath while I grind bay leaves, broad leaf thyme, and culantro with a mortar and pestle. The herbaceous scent simultaneously makes me hungry and reminds me of home.
Once Diego’s out of the bath—and fully dressed—he spreads a beaded mat across the dresser and lays El Padre, the fifth card of the Isla Bruja tarot deck, in the center. We place a white jar candle on top of the card and surround it with carved wooden symbols of our deities. La Luna, the moon and mother. El Sol, the sun and father. Tierra and Mar, earth and sea, are their children. And the fifth, who is never named except in ritual and prayer, el Espíritu, the spirit.
After burning enough of the candle for the top layer of wax to melt, Diego sprinkles in the herbs I’ve crushed. We’ll use this to conduct the spell during the rehearsal dinner tonight.
We spend the rest of the time working on the incantation. Words have power, and we want to get it right. But sometimes we detour into intellectual discussions about spell structure and magical theory, and it’s nice to have someone to debate these topics with. For the past five years, I’ve completely shut off this part of my life, and I missed it.
I also have to admit Diego and I are getting along better than we ever did before. I don’t know how to handle this new side of him, but it’s kind of…pleasant to be working with him rather than against him.
