“My grandson is a disaster, a failure,” said Mercedes. “He doesn’t even try to escape anymore.”

In Mercedes’ language, that meant they were missing out on a magnificent dog chase through the jungle in which she would get to employ a little sadism. Stephen still hadn’t said anything to Gaspar about exactly what Mercedes kept in the tunnel.

“No matter. He will eventually manage the Invocation. But I don’t like to wait. I’ve always been impatient!”

“I’ll leave tonight. If you need anything else, let me know. I’ll be around.”

Mercedes waved him away and caressed her sparse hair. Stephen remembered her from forty years before, in this very house. Back then, when he was still almost a child, he had found her repulsive. Juan had always said: Mercedes is a priestess of repulsive gods, and we always take after the gods we worship.

He wanted to see Gaspar before leaving. The kid’s visit to the guesthouse was the result of their talk at the lookout tower, and he was sure he would find the door. Even he could sense it, and he had never dared set foot in the Other Place.

He found Gaspar on the beach and the guards on high alert: the nearby river made them nervous. They were new guards: Florence had decided to change them after the suicide attempt. She had even toyed with the idea of making Gaspar be handcuffed to one of them every time he left his room. The idea was dismissed when Gaspar started accepting food again and exploring the grounds with renewed curiosity. She wasn’t stupid. She knew she had to let him find his place of power. It wasn’t impossible that he would be able to summon exactly where his father had, but it was unlikely. And if it didn’t work, Florence was capable of sending the kid to travel the world, even at the risk of losing him. She needed a medium in order to maintain a power that was unraveling, as always happens after so great a disappointment. And with Juan it had been a double disappointment: he had died, and when he wasn’t able to occupy his son’s body, it was clear that either the medium had disobeyed, or not even the Order’s most powerful member was capable of carrying out the technique ordered by the gods. She insisted: the technique has not yet been given to us in full. We need a medium to complete it. She treasured those all-too-short moments they had kept consciousness alive inside a Recipient body. She had seen different durations. Mere minutes in the overwhelming majority of instances. Hours on one occasion that had reduced her to tears. Power was slipping from her hands, slowly, just as life was slipping away from her.

Stephen approached, and Gaspar stayed standing beside him. The guards were annoyed and told Stephen: Señora Florence prefers no contact between you two. I know, he told them.

We can talk now, he said to Gaspar then.