Steadfast(75)

“I’m going to get it right,” Nadia said . . . no, promised. Her dark eyes burned with intensity as she removed the pearl charm from her bracelet and put it into Verlaine’s palm. This was the swearing of a solemn oath. “I can do it. I can and I will.”

“I know,” Verlaine replied, and for a moment she could really believe.

Mateo’s hand tightened around hers. At first she thought he was still attempting to comfort her, but then his grip became even tighter, until the bones of her hand ached. She looked at him in alarm, but he was staring past her—through her—

Nadia shook his shoulder. “Mateo?”

He collapsed.

“I serve the One Beneath, and he will not be denied,” Elizabeth said, storm winds whipping her chestnut hair, her eyes alight as if with an unearthly fire.

“Someone, help!” Verlaine ran along a corridor, pursued by pounding footsteps and the shouts of dozens of—people? Demons? In the shadows Mateo couldn’t tell any difference. All he saw was fury and destruction, bearing down on her faster by the moment.

Nadia was attempting to stand amid rushing water, as though she were in the middle of a flooded river. And yet she was holding on to something like a door, or a pillar—like she was inside, even as the waves rose higher.

The storm winds whipped Nadia’s blue-black hair, lightning brilliant in the sky, as she said, “I serve the One Beneath—”

“Mateo? Mateo!”


The dizzying swirl of potential future and present steadied, and he once again knew where he was: La Catrina, specifically lying on the floor. His head lay in Nadia’s lap, Verlaine was patting one of his hands, and Faye seemed to be grabbing something from the bar, maybe a damp rag or some ice. Mateo shifted his weight, then winced. “Ow.”

“You fell pretty hard,” Nadia said. “The visions again? What did you see?”

“I can’t tell. Sometimes the dreams aren’t literal; you know that.” He groaned and pushed himself to sit upright. “I saw you in trouble—as usual. Verlaine, too.”

“Oh, yay,” Verlaine muttered.

The front door jingled, and Mateo frowned; he thought he’d locked that door. But someone else had a copy of the key—Dad, who was staring at him in dawning horror. “Madre de Dios, Mateo, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Mateo said, but he didn’t think it was too convincing, seeing as how he was sprawled out on the floor.

Sure enough, Dad ran to him, his face white. “Is this another one of the seizures? I was just starting to think maybe that was a one-time thing, but now—”

Last month, a spell gone wrong had landed Mateo in the hospital overnight; the doctors, having no other way of understanding what ailed him, assumed he must have had a seizure. Mateo had felt awful about panicking his father, but he’d thought they’d all get over it quickly enough. So much for that. “I don’t think so.”

Dad wasn’t buying it. “We’re taking you to the hospital, right now.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” Faye said, stepping out from behind the bar, ice bag still in her hands. “Mr. Perez? I’m Faye Walsh from Rodman High. I understand your concern for your son, but given the illness sweeping through the community, not to mention the quake—the hospital’s not going to have capacity for Mateo right now. These are emergency situations.”

Wow, she was a good liar. And because she was an adult, Dad actually listened.

“I don’t like it,” his father said, but he sighed. “You’re right, though. Mateo, have you been taking your antiseizure medication?”

“No,” he admitted. This was because the stuff was useless, but at least Dad wouldn’t look any harder for an explanation.

“I tell you, and I tell you! In one ear and out the other!” Dad rarely yelled unless he was really, really scared. He was yelling now. “Come on. I’m taking you home. You’re going to take your medicine and lie down for a while.”

Mateo turned to Nadia in dismay. He wanted to be with her now—to lend his Steadfast power to the spells she would cast. That had just become impossible.

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if concentrating, and suddenly they were suffused by an aquamarine light. He realized immediately that nobody else could see this besides him, and perhaps Faye: This was magic. Nadia had just cast a spell, and whatever it was, it made him feel steadier instantly. It was a little like being desperately seasick aboard a boat, then stepping onto solid ground.

“This should help you sort out the dreams,” she murmured, low enough for Dad not to hear. “I don’t know that it’s going to stop them, but you should be able to tell the difference between dreams and reality.”

Faye had engaged Dad in a conversation about how the school could accommodate Mateo’s condition. He decided he liked her. Quickly Mateo whispered, “I can sneak out. Just give me ten minutes or so at the house.”

To his surprise, Nadia shook her head. “If you’re overcome—it’s dangerous to both of us, Mateo. What I want you to do is to report the visions to me if you can. Text me, or call. If you start to see a more definite future, and there’s something you can warn me about, then warn me, okay?”

“Or me,” Verlaine piped up. He’d almost forgotten she was sitting near them. “Since I’m in danger, too. If the One Beneath is coming after me, I’d appreciate a heads-up.”