He didn’t answer right away, so she texted a few more times. Between texts, Maria smiled up at the ceiling. At the hole where the chandelier had been. She looked for the jagged edges of the spirit who had crouched there that first night. The one who’d first told Maria what she could be.

“Yo soy suya,” Maria said to the empty room. She closed her eyes. “Dime qué hacer y lo haré. He hecho bastantes preguntas. Estoy lista para actuar.”

I am yours. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’m through asking questions. I’m ready to act.

There was no answer.

Maria opened her eyes. Had she done something wrong?

That’s when she spotted something gleaming on the dining table. Something that hadn’t been there when she came into the room.

She moved slowly forward. Reached out a trembling hand. Slid one finger along the length of it. Then she lifted it, grasping its handle in her fist. It was long and thin.

The blade was shiny, even though the knife itself looked like an antique. Maria had never seen a real dagger before, but it was exactly as she’d have pictured one, with a slick ivory handle and a blade that looked too short to really do much damage.

But she was certain it could.

On the handle, a row of Spanish letters was engraved in beautiful calligraphy. Mis ojos son la burla. Mine eyes are made the fools.

The spirits had helped her with Delilah. They’d helped her with Brandon. Now they were giving her this dagger so she could help herself.

And when the time came, she’d be ready.

20

WHAT’S DONE CANNOT BE UNDONE

“For God’s sake, Felicia!” Mateo tried to slow his breathing. “I thought you were—I don’t even know what I thought you were.”

He’d thought she was La Llorona, come to life for real this time.

He’d turned to look for Lily, and suddenly, out of nowhere, Felicia was there. What with his stupid dreams, then Lily disappearing the second he turned his back, and now his own friends scaring the crap out of him, he had to be losing it.

“Sorry.” There were dark circles under Felicia’s eyes. She looked like she was about to burst into tears. Mateo wondered when she’d last slept. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah, of course, always.”

Mateo stopped by his room to wrap his ankle. Then he and Felicia walked out across the grounds, past the soccer field, where the groundskeepers were trimming the grass, and toward a collection of picnic tables where no one ever ate. They both kept their eyes averted from the steam coming off the lake as they passed a row of honeysuckle bushes. The rain had started up again, a faint drizzle this time. It was so cloudy Mateo couldn’t see the sun.