“Right. I wasn’t thinking. Of course. Why would you have a cell if you couldn’t use it?”

“Exactly.” I held up the phone. “But this is Raphael’s. He left the compound every day for work so it made sense for him to get one. Clients needed to get in contact with him. But Luciana never let me out of her sight.”

The phone started ringing again. I didn’t bother reading the caller I.D.

“You going to answer that?”

I didn’t want to. Not even a little. “If he calls again, I’ll pick it up.”

She grinned. “Makes sense.” She motioned back to my brother’s sleeping form. “So how do we help him?”

I leaned back in the chair. “I have no idea. That kind of black magic is so far out of my knowledge base. I’m hoping that the demon didn’t fully infect him, but I won’t know until he wakes up, and I’m not waking him up. Not yet.” I chewed on my lip. “Is Muraco back by any chance?”

She shook her head. “He’s not expected back until the afternoon. Why? What are you thinking?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’m thinking. But if Raphael needs white magic to fix him—and I have a feeling that’s what he might need—then I’m going to have to go to Peru.”

“All signs are pointing that way. You can break your oath there. You can fix Raphael there. And you can find magic to help us there.”

I nodded. “I noticed that, too. Powerful signs happen in threes. I got told three times in twelve hours that I should be in Peru. I don’t like to ignore the spirits when they shout at me.” I didn’t want to pry, but had to ask her… “Have you seen anything about this?”

She cringed and looked away from me. “Not really anything helpful. I’m sorry. Ever since…you know…it’s been hard. I feel like I’m blocked. It’s probably just psychological, but I’m worried that—”

The phone started ringing and I wanted to chuck it across the room.

“You don’t have to answer it,” Teresa said.

“He’ll just keep calling.” But boy did I not want to answer it. “Hello.” I held my breath as I waited for his response.

“Claudia? Finally. What the hell is going on over there?”

I didn’t know what to say. Or where to start. “A lot is going on.”

“I heard from Luciana. She’s freaking out. Whatever this little rebellious phase is, you should get over it and go home.”

Rebellious phase? He made it sound like he was so much older than me. And he was. At thirty, he was exactly ten years older than me. It made him extra gross for getting engaged to a sixteen year old at twenty-six. Not that the age difference was the problem. It was more his lack of maturity. “I’m not going back to the compound. Not now. Not ever.”

“But—”

“No.” I nearly shouted the word. “You don’t know what’s been going on down here. And if you do, well then I’m even happier that we never got married. Because that’s not going to happen. Ever.”