“I guess.” Adriana examines her food, cheeks turning scarlet. “It’s cool knowing another witch my age. She only started at FHH this year, so we’re still getting to know each other, but her element is water—like Abuelo’s was. You’d really like her!”

“I’m sure I will.” Ximena smiles. “Her uncle is a friend of mine. He’s a good man.”

“He is?” Adriana and I say it at the same time, only my mouth is full, so it sounds more like, “HrrrzZZ?”

“Sure! Most of the witches in Fulton Heights know each other, at least in passing.” Adriana’s grandmother shrugs. “He’s mentioned his niece before. I hope she’s holding up okay after last night—I hope all three of you are holding up. It must have been terrifying.”

“It was,” Adriana mumbles, and my stomach shrinks around the guacamole.

“I can’t even remember the last time a vampire attacked a human out in public like that.” Ximena splashes hot sauce over her food. “Must be a decade ago, at least. It’s no wonder they weren’t prepared.”

Her tone is casually reproachful, an old complaint rising to the surface. For some paranormal reason no one has ever been able to fully explain, the undead can’t enter homes without an invitation, but any space open to the public—including stores and cafés—is vulnerable. And crosses and garlic, despite being decent deterrents, aren’t exactly bulletproof.

“It happened so fast there wasn’t even time to react.” Adriana’s face has lost its color. “When he went for Auggie … I mean, I don’t even want to think about it.”

“You had quite a scare, mijito,” Ximena says to me lightly, tilting her head a little. “Is everything all right? Your energy fields seem off tonight. Disturbed, maybe.”

“Abuela!” Adriana sounds vaguely scandalized.

“They do?” I swallow my food, checking the space around me. “What do you mean? How can you tell?”

“I can see your aura,” she answers reasonably. “Everybody vibrates at their own frequency, and some people are sensitive to the emanations. For me, they’re visible on the color spectrum.”

Energy fields. Before I can think twice, I blurt, “I … felt something. Like, this prickly sensation, when the vampire first came into the café? Before he even attacked. Could that be an energy field thing?”

Adriana stares at me, surprised, but her grandmother merely shrugs. “Possibly, sure. Describe it for me.”

I won’t say it doesn’t scare me to open up about all this, but once I get started, I find I can’t stop. Beginning with Sugar Mama’s, I’m soon telling her about my experience on her front porch, and in my own front yard a week ago; then I’m babbling about my dreams, and the sketches I did; and finally, I’m telling someone else about Jude and his mysterious warning for the first time.