Eva nodded eagerly.
Do?a Rosa shot her a mischievous smile. “What I’m going to teach you today is that it can also be used for spells of animation.”
Do?a Rosa gestured for the journal, then leafed through the pages. Eva’s attention was snagged by a page with the illustration of a naked woman with a split-open neck. The woman sat up from a workshop table with tools scattered about, a hooded person behind her. The caption jumped at Eva like the letters were screaming. “Resurrection?” she said, holding the sheet down before Do?a Rosa could leaf through to her destination.
The older woman cocked an eyebrow at the interruption. “Oh, yes. Galio can be used for that as well. From what I understand, it was an art developed by desperate witches attempting to heal the helpless or to bring back the dead.”
Eva ran her fingers along the hastily scribbled text, her poor fluency in the old tongue revealing a few words that Do?a Rosa was kind enough to explain to her: “When attempting resurrection, it recommends using a living person’s body as the host, because the dead rot and waste away. These spells call for binding the soul of the person you want to resurrect into the living, breathing host to give them a second life in the body of another.”
Eva thought of her mother, then immediately chastised herself.
“Fascinating, no? But I didn’t bring this so we could talk about resurrection.” Do?a Rosa flipped to the next page, pointing her stubby finger at another passage. “I want to show you how galio spells can be extended to animating what has no life to begin with.”
Do?a Rosa paused, her dark stare seizing Eva. It was a humid day, apparent by the beads of perspiration hugging the older woman’s forehead. Eva felt her own sweat rolling down her back.
“I was only ever successful at it once before, years ago, when I was furious at my father for the way he’s allowed the family to humiliate me,” Do?a Rosa said. “I think my anger made it work. I wonder if you can do it now.”
It was posed as a challenge. Eva stared at the page and spoke truthfully. “I don’t understand the instructions.”
Do?a Rosa folded one of the paper cutouts until it resembled a butterfly. She handed it to Eva. “Put your hands in the shape of the drawing and blow on the paper.” She pointed at the illustration of two joined hands, their fingers locked, the indexes pointed outward and the thumbs propping up the butterfly. The hands were drawn wearing a capped ring on the middle finger.
One thing Do?a Rosa failed to mention—which Eva caught at once, for it was undoubtedly part of her challenge—was that she needed to have a vision and intent for the animation at the forefront of her mind.
She took the paper butterfly and pinched it between both thumbs, her fingers entwined according to the illustration. Eva focused on the spell, desperately desiring for the meek paper body to flap once and twice until it didn’t need to be propped between her thumbs anymore. She deeply wanted this hot yearning to travel from the depths of her chest, to her finger, through the ring conduit, and out into the material world. She blew on the paper.
As Eva had valco blood, she was capable of seeing the strings of geomancia flitting out of the ring, circling her fingers, and ultimately infecting the paper cutout with Eva’s desire for animation. The folded scarlet wings twitched in her grasp. Eva’s heartbeat quickened. She let the golden threads twirl around her hand until all of them were spent in animating the paper before she released it. Once she did, the butterfly flapped and flew over the table. Her very own creation.
“You’re brimming with power,” Do?a Rosa murmured in awe.
Eva too felt this awe, deeply, and was overrun by the rush to do it again. To produce many more flapping little creatures of her design.
“I did it,” she said, beaming.
Do?a Rosa let out one of her deep, hearty laughs. “Well done, child.”
“I really did it.”
“Now, don’t pat yourself in the back too fast. You have valco blood in you.”
“And you have nozariel blood,” Eva said with a toothy grin, as if to prove she needn’t be angry to do it. She didn’t need the help of her emotions or blood to accomplish this—and more.
An outside breeze tickled the shells hanging on the door, carrying a call of Eva’s name. She recognized Néstor’s voice telling her it was time to go. She clicked her tongue in disappointment.
Do?a Rosa also understood their time was up. “Take them with you,” she said, helping Eva disenchant the flapping butterfly and fold the cutouts into a single pile. “You can pay me for the galio ring later.”
Eva nodded, hiding the litio vial, for warding, within the folds of her dress. She grabbed the papers as Néstor entered the small house. He grimaced, either at the smell or at the sight of them.
“Let’s go before mi mamá gets home. I don’t want her suspecting anything.”
Eva could imagine Do?a Antonia’s outrage: her youngest son getting friendly with someone who wasn’t his betrothed and her granddaughter learning from the resident curandera.
Do?a Rosa and Eva exchanged a conspiratorial nod before Eva bid her goodbye.
Néstor and Eva snuck out of the Contador house like children up to a scheme. Their driver welcomed them with a blind eye. Just before they ascended into the carriage, Néstor whispered in Eva’s ear, “You shouldn’t meddle with Rahmagut—that’s the devil’s magic.”
Eva whipped around, cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t.”
“I saw the little icon she had in her house,” Néstor murmured, and entered the carriage.
Eva had, too.
Do?a Antonia had shown the images of the sitting man to all her children and grandchildren, as a warning, so that they would know what the devil looked like.
Eva chose to ignore Néstor and his fear. Instead, she clung to the most important piece of information reaffirmed to her today. Geomancia came to her naturally. She’d been born for it. Now she needed to figure out a way to reconcile this hunger with becoming the person her grandmother expected Eva to be.
4
The Benevolent Lady
Her heartache was like the splitting of mountains. It fractured Reina from the inside out, as if a despondent god were raising his fist to the vast sky, only to slam it down on her, with enough force to erupt volcanos and rupture continents. The pain made Reina writhe like no breath was enough to bring her out of Rahmagut’s Void. When she finally opened her eyes, attempting to scream, someone shoved her back down by the shoulders on the hard surface where she lay.
Reina screeched, her vision flooded in tears and black spots of agony. The same person who held her down stuffed a rag into her mouth to silence her.
When the tears cleared, Reina saw the tall woman from earlier standing by. Her grandmother. The woman regarded Reina without sympathy, even if the screams that made it past the rag were enough to make anyone’s hairs stand on end.
Do?a Ursulina’s gloved hands held a ragged black ore reflecting light like a night sky peppered with stars. A string of fervent whispers violated Reina’s thoughts when Do?a Ursulina lowered the ore to her chest, as if something foreign were forcing itself into her the moment she laid eyes on it. The woman sighed and said, “Your galio potion wore off.” Then she gave Reina a long look, seemingly debating something with herself.