“You mean is there a whole hell-spawn breeding program?” I asked. “I don’t know. He dropped his little bombshell and bailed, leaving me with a lot of unanswered questions. He said his mother was well compensated for the job, so whoever’s behind it has a lot of money.”

“And at least one attorney with demonic powers of persuasion,” Mom observed. “Along with designs on Pemkowet.”

“Right.”

“Is that what’s had you so worried?” she asked, a crease between her brows. “Because you’re right—it is worrisome.”

“It would be if I’d had time to worry about it,” I said. “I’ve been busy with that whole Night Hag business. And there’s something I didn’t tell you about that, too.”

I’d told her I managed to catch and bind the Night Hag. I hadn’t told her how I’d done it.

Now I did.

She listened without comment as I described the nightmare that brought my deepest, darkest fear to life.

I was sort of hoping for a “That would never happen!” or a “You would never do such a thing!” at the end of my recitation.

Instead, my mom frowned in thought. “I’d like to read your cards tonight, Daisy. Would you be willing to let me?”

“Yeah. I would,” I said. “But let’s do the dishes first.”

She nodded. “Good plan.”

Half an hour later, the dishwasher was loaded to straining and the kitchen was spotless. I poured the final dregs of coffee into our mugs as Mom and I sat back down at the dinette table. She placed her worn old deck of lotería cards from a high school Spanish class on the table between us.

It wasn’t the first time she’d read my cards, or the tenth or the twentieth. She’d practiced on me while I was growing up, working out her own complicated system of symbolism. Most of the time, the issues I’d concentrated on were the usual childhood or adolescent dramas, and if I really thought about it, her insightful readings probably owed as much to maternal instinct as they did to skill with the cards. But she’d done a reading for me last summer, when the Vanderhei kid drowned, that was incredibly accurate and literal.

It made me apprehensive. That had been a serious issue, but this was serious in a whole different way. This was terrifying and personal. I’d dreamed I’d broken the world, and I was afraid to find out what the cards said.

I pulled out my significator, El Diablito, the little devil, shuffled the deck, and cut it a few times before handing it to my mom.

“They’re just cards, honey,” Mom said gently. “They’re not magic. They can’t really tell us anything we don’t already know somewhere deep inside.”

“That would have been more convincing before the reading you did on Thad Vanderhei’s death,” I said. “Because I assure you, I did not know deep inside that a guy with a spider tattoo was involved.”

Mom pushed the cards away. “Daisy, we don’t have to do this.”

“No,” I said. “I want to. Whatever the cards say, I want to know. It can’t be worse than my imagination.”

“All right,” she said. “Do you want to reshuffle?”

I shook my head. “Just do it. Maybe it will end up being about my love life,” I added. “I could use some insight there, too.”

“Let’s see.” With a deft hand, she dealt a seven-card spread in the shape of an inverted V. I never knew for sure what kind of spread Mom would use, or what significance she would ascribe to each position. Some of them were based on actual tarot spreads, but some of them she made up herself. According to her, it was an intuitive process. She turned over the first card at the apex of the V.

El Mundo, upside down. The World, reversed. All the breath left my lungs.

“It’s not what it looks like, Daisy,” Mom said quickly. “It’s not literal. El Mundo represents attaining success in the material world. Just because it’s reversed, all that means is you’re dealing with a setback.”

“Really?” I found my voice. “Because I haven’t had any setbacks in my career lately, but I have had a dream that pretty much turned the world upside down. And the last reading you gave me was awfully fucking literal, Mom.”

She gave me a look. “Language, honey.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Just don’t soft-pedal it, okay? If it’s bad, it’s bad.”

“Okay.” Mom tapped the card. “Maybe it is literal. If it is, it’s because that’s what’s on your mind. It’s not a prediction of things to come. It’s just the issue on the table for this reading. All right?”

“All right.”

“Let’s see what the past holds.” She turned over the first card on the left arm of the V to reveal El Arbol, the Tree. “Ah. This represents your roots. Your history, your sense of place, your community.”

“As in all the reasons I wouldn’t want to destroy the world?” I said. “Why’s it in my past?”

“Because it has bearing on the issue,” Mom said patiently. “Possibly for the exact reason you just stated.” She turned over the next card. “And this represents the future.”

It was La Corona, the Crown. “Aristocracy?” I said, hazarding a guess. After all, Stefan was a count’s son. A centuries-dead count from a nation that no longer existed, but still . . .