“Is she religious?” Vera asked.

“No.” Max shook his head. “I mean, we were all baptized, but that’s it.”

“Does she have any religious objects in your house?”

“Aside from a Christmas tree?”

Vera snorted, but still, it sounded like she was listening.

“This is gonna sound weird…” Vera twisted her hands. “But have you seen a statue of a skeleton in your house? Maybe a shrine? Something that looks like a Grim Reaper, only with wings and a torch?”

“What? No,” he spat. “Why would you ask that?”

“No reason.” She shrugged.

“It sounds like there’s a reason. That’s pretty specific.”

She bit her lip, not explaining further.

“Something’s wrong with my mom. If you know what it is, you have to tell me,” Max insisted. “I could sit here and pretend I don’t know the rumors about your family, but we both know that’s a lie. It’s why I came. So while I have no right to ask for your help, if half of what I’ve heard about your parents is true, then it’s possible…”

His voice trailed off as he watched her stare at the lawn, mowed in perfect rows, her sneaker kicking the freshly trimmed blades. The air smelled of baseball fields and summer. God, it was the start of summer. He should be with his friends. He should be at the creek.

“Even if my parents wanted to help, they’re out of the country,” Vera said, not looking him in the eyes.

Max’s shoulders fell. “Where? For how long?”

“They’re in Barcelona. On a case. I’m not sure when they’ll be back.”

“Are they helping someone who’s possessed?”

Her eyes shot his way, surprised that he’d said it. He might have danced around it before, but it was time to put it out there—she knew about his dead dad and his mother’s addiction, and he knew about her demon-hunting parents.

“I don’t know what you think my parents do, but they work for the church. They don’t just take on cases. The archdiocese fields calls, globally, from people who are troubled, possibly afflicted, and they can’t send priests to investigate each one. My parents work as consultants. They check things out and report back. To the church. So even if they were here, what you’re asking…”

“Is for help. I’m asking for your help. If your parents aren’t around, maybe you can help me? Just see for yourself.” Max was desperate. He sounded it and he felt it, but if she said no, what exactly was his next move?

If he brought his mother to the ER, if she was hospitalized for any reason, he knew his grandparents would win custody. And it wasn’t that he didn’t love his grandparents. He did. His grandma made the most amazing Jamaican food that reminded him of his dad’s home cooking, and his grandpa played a harmonica and sang songs in Italian, but Max’s mom was the only parent he and his sister had left. He couldn’t risk them being separated from her; Chloe couldn’t deal with that. She couldn’t lose her mother too.