Keep her there! Nadia sent back almost instantly. I’m coming over.

It made more sense for Nadia to talk to her, Mateo figured, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t acknowledge what had happened at the barbershop. Besides, that would be part of making sure Ginger stuck around long enough for Nadia to reach La Catrina. But Ginger would want to stick around, wouldn’t she? Now that she’d calmed down, she had sought him out; that had to mean she wanted to help, or share what she really knew about Elizabeth. Or maybe she just wanted somebody to finally understand. Mateo knew exactly how that felt.

Maybe Ginger would know a weakness they could exploit—some way for him to start getting back at Elizabeth for all the evil she’d done to him and his family. To Mom.

So the first free moment he had, he went to Ginger’s table. She sat there, head held high; once again he saw the sooty, coiling collar of the curse wound around her throat. Mateo imagined he could feel the weight of the thorned halo bearing down on his head.

“Hey there,” he said, trying to keep it light. “I think I need to get this haircut finished sometime.”

Ginger wrinkled her nose and nodded.

“That bad, huh?” Mateo laughed, but the self-consciousness wasn’t totally faked. How weird did he look? He now avoided mirrors as much as possible, but he’d have to brave one to see precisely how lopsided this was. “Sorry if I, uh, startled you today.”

She shook her head and looked up at him, her eyes so sad that it choked off anything else he might have said. Ginger held out her hand, as if she needed someone to hold on to—as if she was as desolate and afraid as Verlaine, or even more.

What must it feel like, not to be able to speak to anyone, not one word, for ten years?

Moved, not caring who could see, Mateo took Ginger’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

Lightning-fast, with her other hand, Ginger grabbed his wrist.

The floor fell out from under him. Mateo felt the ground slam against his back, saw the twinkling lights strung along the ceiling rafters, and then he didn’t know anything any longer.

“Slower, honey.” Nadia’s father sat in the passenger seat, leaning a little too close to her. “Technically you don’t have a learner’s permit in Rhode Island. If the cops stop us—”

“What cops? I think Captive’s Sound has, like, one guy. Part-time.” Nadia slowed down a little anyway. It wasn’t like she couldn’t try talking to Ginger later on, if she missed her tonight. And since her dad had insisted the whole family should go to La Catrina for dinner as long as she was headed that way, it wasn’t like she’d have much opportunity for an in-depth discussion.

But she could at least make contact with another witch.

Okay, maybe Ginger wasn’t a witch. Maybe she was just cursed, the same way Mateo was. That wouldn’t explain how she’d recognized Mateo’s hints about magic, though—and definitely wouldn’t explain away Ginger’s panic at the mention of Elizabeth Pike’s name. If Ginger knew enough to be afraid, Nadia thought, then she definitely at least knew about witchcraft … and few women outside the Craft were ever told about it. So the chances of Ginger being a witch were good. Really good.