When he broke the water, cold air slapped his face, burned his lungs. Next to him he could hear Nadia choking and gasping as she struggled to stay afloat without letting go of the book.

That book—the way it gleamed, like it was made of liquid metal, the lone light in the dark sound—was both one of the most frightening and most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

As was Nadia’s face, water beading on her full lips and flushed cheeks, still terrified but so determined, despite everything.

Mateo slung one arm around her and began pulling them back toward the boat.

Nadia sprawled on the floor of Mateo’s house, wrapped in his father’s heavy white bathrobe. She couldn’t go home with her hair soaked through—Dad might be preoccupied with his job or Cole, but he’d notice if she walked into the house wet as a drowned rat. But apparently the Perez men didn’t need a hair dryer. So she leaned back against the padded ottoman, hair streaming out behind her to take in the heat of their gas fireplace, as she propped Goodwife Hale’s Book of Shadows on one bent knee.

Every page was dry and fresh; the binding showed age, but only the many years it would have belonged to Goodwife Hale, not the centuries between then and now. It crackled with a pleasant, warming energy; Nadia felt as if she were between two gentle fires. Although the handwriting was spidery and strange, with old-fashioned spelling that was sometimes difficult to read, already Nadia was getting the hang of it.

The spells were going to be amazing, she could tell—but what she wanted most now was the history. And the Book of Shadows had it.

“One cup of Aztec hot chocolate coming … up.” Mateo stood in the doorway that led from the kitchen, staring at her with an odd expression on his face.

“Does the Book of Shadows look incredible to you?” vzyl She could only imagine what the world of magic looked like through a Steadfast’s eyes. Maybe this book could even teach her how it was possible for a guy to possess that kind of power.

“I—uh—yeah.”

Nadia suddenly realized how much of her leg he could see with her knee bent like that, and she tugged the robe around her snugly as she sat up and accepted the cup of hot chocolate. The water’s chill still clung to her despite the nearness of the fire, plus chocolate was always a good idea—but this stuff was amazing. There was a spiciness to it that made it utterly delicious. “Wow. Aztec?”

Mateo shrugged as he sat cross-legged in front of her; the warm light painted his dark brown hair. “Aztec by way of my dad inventing the recipe. A little chili and ginger to add some heat—well, people at La Catrina like it.” His hand rested on one of the fluffy towels still wrapped around her foot. “This book—this is important? The kind of thing you were hoping to find?”