‘It’s a school night, junior. Go home and study.’ Kurtz ducks back inside the vehicle as Pepper drives up to the nowdeserted hospital entrance.

‘I can see the first one’s head … easy while I turn the shoulders. Okay, push!’

Dominique bears down, grunting as she squeezes the newborn from her birth canal.

‘Beautiful.’ Dr. Wishnov holds the blood-streaked, fair-haired child in both hands, momentarily dazzled by the infant’s bright azure-blue eyes.

‘Hey, no breaks here!’ Dominique yells.

‘Sorry.’ The obstetrician quickly runs a suction tube down the newborn’s mouth and throat, clearing the airway before cutting the umbilical cord and passing him to Steinberg.

The rabbi places the wide-eyed child into the incubator as instructed. He mutters a prayer in Hebrew, watching as the warmth of the semienclosed chamber turns the infant’s skin a healthy pink.

Incredibly, the newborn seems to be watching him.

The rabbi shakes the ridiculous thought away, returning his attention to Dominique as her second son is birthed.

Belle Glade, Florida 1:32 a.m.

Forty-seven miles to the north, seventeen-year-old Madelina Aurelia thrashes naked beneath a sweat-soaked bedsheet as she cries out to her foster father. ‘Get this goddam baby outta me!’

Quenton Morehead, Baptist Minister, squeezes the girl’s hand, his dark eyes lingering on the girl’s exposed pelvis. ‘Don’t blaspheme, child, the midwife’s on her way.’

‘Fuck you!’ Madelina claws his arms, drawing streaks of blood. ‘Where’s Virgil?’

‘I don’t know—’

‘Find him!’

The minister cringes as the girl’s high-pitched screech penetrates his brain like a tuning fork. He hears the front door open and sighs a quick Amen.

‘Virge?’ Madelina stops thrashing. ‘Virgil, honey? That you—you cheatin’, whorin’ sonuva bitch!’

A heavyset black woman enters. ‘Calm down, baby, everthin’ gonna be just fine.’

Madelina tears at the mattress as another contraction grips her torso. ‘Vir … gil!’

The midwife turns to the minister. ‘Go on and find him. I can handle things here.’

Quenton backs out of the bedroom, then hurries out the front door of the sweltering stucco home and into the night.

Madelina Aurelia, only child of Miguel and Cecilia Aurelia, was born in the small Mexican town of Morelos. Cecilia’s marriage to Miguel had been arranged by his uncle, Don Rafelo, a man feared by all as an Ojo mak (evil man), who had learned the girl’s maternal lineage was full-blooded Aztec, her ancestors dating back to the reign of Montezuma.

Bad luck seemed to follow the young couple since Madelina’s birth. Cecilia had nearly died in labor, and Miguel suffered a debilitating stroke a month after his daughter was born. Relatives whispered that Don Rafelo had cast his evil eye on the Aurelias in hopes of obtaining their daughter. Secretly, they advised the young couple to move away from Morelos and the Ojo mak as soon as possible.