But this she wasn’t sure about. Things don’t typically end well for a serial killer, do they?

“As Coyote moves from one disaster to the next, he refines the art of self-sabotage to sheer perfection. No one can blindly do themselves or others in with more grace and ease than the holy trickster.”

Yes, Izabel thought. Yes.

Maris skimmed down the page. “Here,” she said. “Snooze time is over. Watch out. Your glass house may come crashing to the ground at any moment. All your self-mirrors may shatter.”

That took a turn.

Maris’s finger kept moving. “And this: Go immediately beneath the surface of your experiences. Ask yourself what you are really doing and why. Are you playing a joke on yourself? Are you trying to fool an adversary? Is someone tricking you?”

But Izabel heard, Are you in danger?

And as if Maris could answer an unasked question, she read, “If Coyote is approaching you from the outside, beware of this master of illusion. Coyote may put you in his spell and take you to a briar patch to pick berries. It will be a painful lesson for you if you follow him.”

Izabel didn’t know—was staying in town the equivalent to following him? And what would the briar patch be? And what would be the berries? And would they be sweet? Worth it in some way? And didn’t she come into this reading not believing any of this?

Maris closed the book and said, “I think this means, for you, that you must be tricky. If you are going somewhere, tell people you are going somewhere else. You must deceive, in order to protect yourself and your family.”

That reading made sense. Izabel quickly chastised herself for reading it the wrong way, for reading potential in the killer, potential for her own life.

“This card can also mean do not take yourself so seriously. Sometimes you’re wrong.”

Izabel felt sick again.

“Our hour’s up,” Maris said. “And it looks like you need to go home.”

Izabel nodded.

“It was nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Izabel said.

Maris followed her out, all the way to the doors of the spiritual center, and she waited there, behind her, not saying anything, watching until she got safely into a car.

At home, Cami was eating cut-up grapes on the couch, watching a cartoon called Glitter Force, where teenage girls change into superheroes and collect pieces of something magical that will one day form into something magical enough to save everything.

“Hi, mi amor,” Izabel said to Cami.

“Hi,” she said, smiling but not taking her eyes off the screen.

Kaito came out of his machine. “How was it?” he said.

“We should leave,” she said.

“The cards said that?”

“More directly than I could have imagined.”

“Go cards!”

“Yeah,” Izabel said.

“Aren’t you happy?”