Rose stands in front of the television in the living room with her finger pressed to her mouth and her eyes set in deep worry.
“What is it?” Alex asks, trotting down the steps two at a time.
“I was flipping through all the news for something weird, and I didn’t have to wait long.” She takes the remote and raises the volume. “Remember those bodies they found? They revealed their names and cause of death.”
An anxious knot starts to twist in my gut. The reporter in the studio stares at the camera with red-rimmed eyes. “—we’re following the story closely. Something like this has never happened in this city, not in broad daylight, and not that I’ve ever seen.”
Her coanchor takes over. No makeup in the world can fix the sickly green pallor of his skin or the terror in his wide, brown eyes.
“You’re right, Gaby. This case has the NYPD out in full force. Commissioner Brentwood is holding a press conference tonight. He wants to assure the city that those responsible for this heinous crime will be found and held accountable.”
“Do the police have anyone in custody?” a third reporter on the split screen asks.
“Not at this time,” Adam answers.
“Any news from the crime scene, Adam?” Gaby asks.
“There is unconfirmed speculation of cult activity,” Adam says.
Adam looks over his shoulder and wipes his brow with a folded handkerchief. It’s nearly five o’clock, but the summer sun is lazy to set, and the bright-yellow glow lights up his face. “All is quiet from the NYPD at the moment. They have yet to release a statement but a source from the medical examiner has confirmed cause of death. The two young men have been identified as Robbie Duran and Gregory Amadeu. Both bodies, which were found at different locations, had their hearts ripped out of their chests. According to the chief medical examiner, their…their hearts have not been recovered.
“The NYPD has issued this hotline for anyone to report tips or anything suspicious. Mayor Bloomberg has issued a curfew in the neighborhood of Coney Island tonight. Back to the studio.”
“They said earlier one of the boys, Robbie, went to your school,” Rose says. “I don’t know the other.”
“Oh no,” I say, because I’ve seen that name before. My heart is in my throat as I go to the table in the foyer, where I left my keys the day I brought Maks home. I open the drawer and fish between unopened bills and envelopes until I find the wallet.
Alex and Rose gather around me. I can’t bring myself to open it, so Alex takes it. Her eyes scan the name on the identification behind the thin plastic cover.
“Read it,” I say.
Alex breathes quickly, shuts it. “Robbie Duran.”
“Oh gods.” I cup my hand over my mouth. I shut my eyes and think back to the ride on the subway. The thread that led me to Maks. His lips stained cherry red from the ice pop in his hand.
Maks.
“We don’t know Maks did this,” Rose says, more like she’s trying to convince herself than us. “Maybe he found the body and took what he could. Maybe—”
“There’s nothing we can do right now,” Alex says, and I’m surprised at how calm she can be at a time like this. “But our books have turned up nothing on Maks’s condition or anything new on Lady de la Muerte’s staff. We need to speak to someone who can help us figure this out. What about Mayi and the girls?”
“So you can fight the whole time?”
Alex rolls her eyes. “I’ll behave for this.”
“Not to be a snob,” Rose says, “but if our books turned up empty, there’s no way they can help. It’d be like me asking you two to help with my calculus homework.”
Alex holds up a finger to Rose’s face and says, “Rude.”
“Maybe Rose is right,” I say. Then I remember a name scrolling on Lady de la Muerte’s forearm the day of the accident. I meant to tell Alex before, but now it’s been so long and I don’t know how she’ll react. I’m unable to look at her face. “There’s another option. Someone who knows about blood magic.”
“No,” she says, as if I’ve invited Death herself into the house.
“His family knows the darker side of magic better than we do,” I remind her. “He knows brujos who deal in the afterlife. Angela the Great is his grandmother. She’s written the deadliest poisons and—”
“I know very well the kinds of poisons Angela has written,” Alex says. “But I’m not asking Nova for help. He’s the one who helped put you in Los Lagos, or have you forgotten?”
“I will never forget Los Lagos.” I want to strangle her for being so stubborn. “He gave up his power to save us.”
Alex holds up a finger to her chest and stabs at her solar plexus. “My power. That was never his. He stole it from me.”
“He brought Dad home,” Rose whispers.
“I’m not sure if we can trust him either,” I say. “But I’m saying that he knows things that might help. Maks is up there in my room, and right now it’s possible he’s responsible for two awful murders. We need some sort of help, and it can’t come from Mom and Dad.”
“Girls?” Dad says, walking toward the foyer where we’ve been lingering. “Dinner’s ready.”
The ceiling creaks. We all look up as though expecting a phantom to materialize or the rusty chandelier to rattle. My whole mouth is dry and my heart beats a guilty rhythm against my chest.
But all my father says is, “I keep forgetting to fix that ceiling.”
? ? ?
Ever since Nova brought my father back, we’ve made it a point to have dinners at the kitchen table. Ma thinks it’ll restore a sense of normalcy, and the three of us don’t have the heart to remind her that we’ve never been normal.
Normal families don’t spend time in other realms. If Alex won’t let me ask Nova for help, then I can make Dad try harder to remember. Maybe he can give me a clue as to how to free Lady de la Muerte and help Maks. I know when I dream, I remember Los Lagos, and perhaps that’s the key to where he’s been.
“Dad,” I start, pushing rice around. I’m too nervous to be subtle. “What do you dream about when you sleep?”
He looks up, surprised by my question. For a moment, I can see the man he used to be, holding a sizzling pot full of meat and potatoes, dancing around the kitchen to a song that was all saxophones and congas. Now, his gray eyes appear haunted and lost.
“Shadows mostly. Why?”
“I wonder if maybe the answer to getting your memories back is in your dreams. At this point, everyone in the family has been to another realm. But we can remember. I just don’t know why you can’t.”
Alex gives me a what the hell are you doing? look, and Rose picks the red peppers out of her yellow rice.
Ma takes a drink of her seltzer water and sighs. “When things calm down, we’ll try again. At least we’re together now, thank La Mama.”
“Why? The Deos weren’t the ones who brought him back,” I say, then cover my mouth immediately.
“Yesterday you said you weren’t ready to cast magic. What’s changed?” Mom asks, her eyebrow quirked high. She has the kind of knowing stare that can draw out the lies from even the best liars.
“It’s not magic,” I say, picking up my fork and keeping my gaze down. “It’s the realms part. I think that might be the answer to all of this.”
“Lula, if something’s wrong, please talk to me.”
For a moment, I want to confess everything to my mother and let her make everything better the way she always has. But she has already suffered so much, and I can’t add to her worry.
“I’m fine, Ma,” I say, and smile through the pain in my abdomen. “Alex and Rose are taking care of me.”
She’s about to say something, but a soft knock on the back door makes her jump. Dad gets up to get it. But when he opens the door, there’s no one there, just the scent of nearby cookouts. He stares out into the backyard for a long time.
“Patricio.” Ma calls out his name like a lifeline.
He shuts the door and takes his seat. Clears his throat. “My dreams are fractures, like my memory is a glass wall and it’s been punched right at the center. But what happened to me can wait. First, I want you to concentrate on healing.”