“Just keep an eye out,” I said. “Let me know if you see anything strange.”
“You mean like a big smoky demon?” he muttered under his breath.
I ignored him and went to the household altar in the kitchen. In the drawer to the right, she kept a handheld mirror that she used to communicate with our ancestors. I put that on top of the altar and grabbed the matches. As I took one out, I whispered my intention.
“Child of fire, connect me to my abuelita. I need to talk to her. I need to see her. Will you help me?” I struck it on the side of the box and lit the tall white candle on my left, watching as the flame danced and flickered. The smoke twisted at first but eventually settled into a thick stream, indicating the candle would assist if it could. I used the same match to light the matching candle on the other side with the same result. I grabbed Tita’s rosary and placed it in the center of the altar, sprinkling rue for protection, marigolds for communication, and cinnamon for luck. After pouring holy water in the offering bowl, I said a prayer to any ancestors listening that they would accept this sacrifice and help me in this work.
Then I closed my eyes to ground myself, to pull from the earth and summon the spirit of this house, of any benevolent energies that would assist in this work. It spun through my nerves, sparking in my blood, tingling as it coursed through me.
When I opened my eyes, I gazed into the mirror, letting my focus soften. Staring at myself, I willed my mind to go blank, trying to force myself into a trance. Behind me, Atlas shifted and sighed, but I ignored that, buffering myself in the safe cocoon of this house and my magic.
“Abuelita, hear me,” I whispered. “Tita. Come to me. Please hear me. I summon your spirit.”
My features in the mirror started to morph, my jaw rounding, the skin around my eyes aging and wrinkling.
It’s working. Keep going.
“Tita, can you hear me? Tita. It’s me. It’s Marta.”
The fuzziness of this altered state pulled me under, beckoning me into the same lull of safety as being in her arms. It reminded me of myself as a little girl, wrapping myself around Tita’s midsection when I’d had a bad dream and she held me until it went away.
“Mi hija?” came the sound of her voice. It echoed in my head, bouncing off my mental walls like surround sound. “Mi hija, are you safe?”
“Tita,” I said on a sob. “We’re stuck in the liminal. We need your help.”
“Oh, Marta,” she said. “We’ve been so worried.”
I couldn’t focus on that. I needed to get the point across quickly, just in case things took a turn.
“Tell my sisters,” I said. “Tell them we’re in the liminal. We’re trying to get out on Día de Muertos. Tell the coven to pull us, to summon us.”
“You must pray,” she said. “The Virgin?—”
The connection cracked like static on a bad cellphone call, and I winced as an electric shock buzzed behind my eyes. My magic had started to wane, so I pulled on the earth’s energy harder, yanking it into me to feed this tenuous connection. I needed to see her. I needed her wisdom now more than ever.
“Mi hija,” came her panicked cry. “Som—ing’s com?—”
Her voice faded in and out.
“No,” I growled, forcing more energy into the spell, grimacing as I struggled to hold it. “Tita, come back.”
The vision in the mirror transformed, my abuelita’s face dissolving into a thick obsidian cloud of smoke with dark crimson eyes and a big, toothy smile.
“I see you, filthy mortal,” it snarled. “I enjoyed the sight of you in the woods with your warriors. Your magic is quite delicious.”
I jumped, breaking the connection to my tita’s house before grabbing the holy water from the altar and tossing it on the mirror.
“What?” Atlas said, launching to his feet as he ran into the dining room. “What happened?”
“The demon,” I said, pointing to the mirror. But the vision had faded and the smoke had cleared, leaving only my reflection behind and droplets of liquid sliding down the glass.
“The demon?” Atlas raised his eyebrows and glanced around, yanking his gun from the holster under his arm. “Where?”
“In the mirror.” I explained what happened, trying to stay calm despite all signs pointing to the demon having gotten into my abuelita’s house. Was it there in the real world? Had I put her in danger by trying to reach out to her? Or was it here? Was it in the room with us, silently waiting to take us by surprise?
Panic seized my heart, clenching around it so tightly I couldn’t breathe. My lungs struggled to pull in air, and I grabbed my hair, my frantic gaze searching around the space as if I would suddenly see her there.
“Hey,” Atlas said, grabbing my shoulders so I had to look at him. “Hey, take a deep breath with me, okay?”
