Kizzy muttered, “Holy guacamole. That red area is the tightest we could narrow it down to. It’s still hundreds of miles wide. You may have just pinpointed their location. The guys we’re worried about are Northern Europeans somewhere in this area. I don’t know about any natives working with them. I kind of thought these guys were racist.”
“The wizard who tried to lift the curse said he saw one native. Maybe it’s like how the Native Americans helped the Pilgrims survive in Plymouth. They needed them.”
Mallory wondered if Kizzy was thinking the same thing she was—that their situations were linked…or related. If so, maybe she was cursed too! She didn’t know how to ask. Kizzy looked like she was thinking hard.
The girls were silent for so long that Gabriella eventually stood up, clasped her hands, and said, “Well, I’d better get dinner ready.”
Antonio rose. “And I have a thing…downstairs. I’ll be gone for a few minutes, or maybe several, depending on when dinner is done.”
Gabriella chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll call you the minute we’re ready.”
Antonio handed the container of shredded meat to Kizzy. “Would you like to give the boys the rest of their dinner?”
“I’d be happy to.” Then Kizzy looked over and offered it to Mallory. “Unless you’d like to do the honors.”
She smiled. “Yeah. Just show me how it’s done.” She rose and walked around the table, taking Antonio’s seat next to the cage.
