I pulled the list out of my back pocket. “I’m trying to make a potion, and it calls for these.” I handed her the paper.
She pulled on her glasses. When she was done reading, she met my gaze. “This is quite a list.”
“Yes.”
“And what are you going to do with these things?”
I explained about Meredith and the curse. About how sick she was. And finally our plan to help her.
When I was done, Rosa sat down next to me. “I’m going to help you, but I want you to know that this is dangerous. All magic is to some extent, but what Luciana does…it’s dark. Black.” She leaned back. “I couldn’t stay around so much blackness without risking my soul.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Is it really that bad?”
“Not always. You must understand that your intent matters so much more than the words in the spell. The words may be gibberish or a beautiful poem, but it’s what you intend to do with those words that matters. A little bit of your heart goes into each work you do. If you’re a dark person, like Luciana, you do dark things. If you’re light, you do light things. And when you’re a part of a coven, a little bit of what is done there rubs off on each person.”
Chills ran down my arms. I was suddenly so glad Mom kept me away all those years.
Rosa patted my cheek as she gazed into my soul. “You will do light things.”
The only thing I could do was nod. I was completely mesmerized by her gaze.
“Good.” She held up the list. “I will get you these ingredients, but with them you must do only light. Only light.” She poked my sternum. “You put a light heart in with the potion and words. You put your love into what you say and the magic will not harm you. But if you stray into the dark in your thoughts with these ingredients…the magic will be tainted and it will darken your soul. You must think only of the light.”
I nodded. “I will.”
Rosa’s knees cracked as she stood back up, and Dastien gave her a hand. “Thank you, honey.” She patted his cheek and slowly waddled into the next room.
“What’s on the list?” Axel whispered.
“Saints’ ashes, oil from a weeping icon, feathers and blood from a black chicken…you know, the usual,” I said.
Axel laughed. “Nice.”
Rosa held a brown paper bag when she came back. She rolled the top of it down a few times before handing it to me. “One more thing, before you go.” She looked at my feet. “Shoes off.”
I wasn’t one to obey a command, and I didn’t think twice about it. I pulled off my socks and shoes.
She had a tiny vial of liquid. Dipping in a Q-tip, she moved toward me. She traced a cross over the center of my forehead as she said a prayer. She did the same to my cheeks and chin before motioning for me to hold out my hands. She dipped the Q-tip back into the liquid, and did the same to the tops of my hands, then palms.
“Feet.”
I lifted them into the air, and she did the same to the tops of my feet.
She finished by putting her hand on the top of my head and saying a final prayer. Her words were soft and so fast that I couldn’t make them out. The little bits and pieces I could hear were sort of Catholic, but different.
The top of my head grew hot as she prayed, and by the time she finished, I felt much lighter—as if a weight had been lifted. It might’ve sounded crazy to say that I was touched by a higher power, but that’s what it felt like.
“There. I’ve given you a blessing. I hope it keeps you safe. I’m going to light some lámparas for you tonight.”
“Thanks.” I cleared my throat. “I thought witchcraft and Christianity were separate.”
She laughed as she capped the little bottle. “Oh, they can be. Very much so. But when the Catholics came to this land they combined their religion with our old ways. In Peru, you’ll see the Virgin as the Pacha Mama. It might not seem very Catholic, but it made for an easy blending of our peoples.”
She grinned, and if possible, the wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “Spirituality is very personal. And what a person pulls from their magic, that’s personal, too. It’s why I said the words don’t matter so much. I use my faith in God to back the little things I can do. It helps me to use His words. Others find their faith and will in other things. Does that make sense?”
I thought for a second. It kind of really did. “Yes. I think so.” And I liked it. Mom had always raised us going to church. I liked that if I did do this whole bruja thing, I didn’t have to give up my childhood beliefs. I’d already given up enough of my old life.