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Watching the man’s body and feeling safe around him had nothing to do with loving him or leading him from darkness!
“Hombres son brutos,” repeated the Bruja. “But this strengthens them, si? Protecting us, it raises them from the animals. It is our calling to keep them holy in return.”
Jo looked more closely at all the photographs lining the kitchen, almost covering the front wall. School pictures. Family portraits. Clearly that was how Doña Maria had led her life, witch or not. But Jo had once tried for a normal life, once let a man protect her.
Never again.
“Say the prayers,” insisted the Bruja, releasing Jo’s hand.
“I’m not even Catholic.”
“Do not be afraid of life, marimacho.”
“Hello?” called Zack, partway to the car. The Ferrari chirped and flashed its headlights as he approached it. That’s when he stopped still.
Jo awkwardly thanked the woman, then hurried to catch up—until Zack said, “Stay where you are.” Even over the unending Texas wind, she heard the sharpness in his voice.
“Why…?”
But then she heard the snake.
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