“Well … I don’t know, maybe it was!” Adriana exclaims. “There are lots of spells that require stuff like that, but … it’s the way she’s been asking about you, the way she wanted you to come over for dinner in the first place—even before that scene at Sugar Mama’s went down. I didn’t think anything about it at the time, but now…” Adriana trails off and then shakes her head, coming to a decision. “She’s going to be so pissed I told you this, but … my grandma isn’t exactly who she says she is.”

My eyebrows ratchet up slowly. “She’s in witness protection?”

“No, you doofus.” Adriana rolls her eyes. “What I’m saying is … look, there’s a difference between a witch and a sorcerer, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” I answer hastily, hoping to forestall another diatribe against people who belittle smudge sticks because they remember the time the Baeserta cultists brought down two feet of snow on Fulton Heights. In July. “Anyone can become a witch, but you have to be born with the gift for sorcery—like the X-Men.” I swallow. “Are you trying to tell me that … Ximena is one of the X-Men?”

“I don’t even know what she is,” Adriana returns. “Witches who can do actual sorcery try not to advertise it, because it scares people—and because history hasn’t exactly been awesome toward minority groups with a little power.” Fingering the zipper on her coat, she adds, “Abuela’s afraid to even show me everything she can do. It’s part of the reason she and my mom fell out.”

“Really?”

“Abuela can do serious, hard-core magic, and it scares Mamá. She thinks it’s dangerous, and she doesn’t want me involved with it.” Adriana looks down at her hands with a regretful smile. “You know what’s really messed up? I couldn’t get involved even if I wanted to, because I don’t have the gift—but I refuse to admit it to my mom.”

“So … what are you saying, exactly?” It’s a question I’m not even sure I want to ask, because there’s only one good answer … and lots and lots of really bad ones. In my head, all I can see is some dude either getting zapped to death or possessed by an eternal monster while a bunch of witches rejoice.

“I’m saying that I think she already knows about all of this. She kept bugging me to invite you over, she took your hair for a spell … and she didn’t tell me!” Adriana blurts. “I know she wants to keep the sorcery stuff under wraps, but there are lots of protection spells that don’t require that kind of magic—and you’re my best friend!” She pushes trembling hands through her hair. “She’s hiding something. And it has to do with you.”