Fated

granddaughter is here.”
    Chepi?
    I watch as Dace’s mom—Cade’s mom too—finishes her ritual and turns away from the bed. Her eyes meeting mine with a look I can’t read, before Chay escorts her from the room and closes the door behind me. Leaving me to stand in the entryway as I study the space, taking in a scattering of handwoven Navajo rugs hugging a dark wood floor, a short, sloping ceiling, and three identical niches along the far wall crammed with fetishes, carved wooden santos, large silver crosses, and other assorted objects of worship. My breath catching when I face the small, slim figure on the narrow bed, with a fan of silver-streaked hair spread wide across her pillow, and realize it’s Paloma. Her pallid complexion providing sharp contrast to the trickle of blood that seeps from her nose and onto the sheets.
    I claim the seat beside her, reach for a tissue, and gently bring it to her face. But the moment the blood’s cleared away, it starts flowing again—a constant stream that refuses to cease.
    “ Nieta, ” she murmurs, the word requiring obvious effort, demanding the kind of strength she no longer has.
    I stroke her cheek softly, lean closer, and say, “It’s me, abuela .” My voice catching on the word—Spanish for grandmother. And though I took the time to learn it, I could never bring myself to use it. I guess it felt too risky—hinted at the kind of bond I wasn’t sure I could handle. But now, seeing her like this, there’s no denying how much she’s come to mean to me—how much I’ve come to trust her, rely on her, love her. I have no idea what I’d do without her. I can’t stand to see her this way—so vulnerable and frail.
    I rub my lips together, steady my voice, and say, “Don’t worry, I’m fine, perfectly fine.” I swallow hard, blinking back the tears as soon as they come. “Please don’t waste your energies worrying about me. You need your rest. We’ll talk later. For now, get some sleep.”
    She lifts her hand from the bed, ignoring my words. Her fingers cold and thin as she makes a grab for my wrist, asking, “Did you find it, nieta ?”
    I glance behind me, ensuring we’re alone, that Jennika didn’t find a way to sneak in. “Cockroach worked like a charm.” I smile, wanting her to be proud of me. “I not only found it—I got in. And I know you warned me against it, but I didn’t have much of a choice. It just sort of happened, though I made it out fine, with no one the wiser, so all’s well that ends well, right?”
    “And which way did you travel? Up, down, or sideways?” she asks, voice disturbingly frail.
    “Sideways,” I say, remembering the sewer-like tunnel that led to the well-appointed cave, noting the way her face floods with relief.
    “The Middleworld.” She sighs, her lids drooping halfway, fluttering for a moment, struggling to rise, until they lift once again. “Still just the Middleworld. I am grateful for that.”
    Not wanting to upset her, but knowing she needs to hear it, I take a deep breath and say, “Well, even if it was just the Middleworld, what I saw wasn’t good. He’s planning something…” I lean back in my chair, gaze flitting toward the niche and its collection of carvings. The memory of everything I saw blazing in my mind so brightly I wish there was a way to transmit it to her. I’m not sure I can relay it with the kind of accuracy it deserves. Though knowing I have to try, I lean toward her and say, “He has big plans to break away from the family tradition—wants to extend his reach—rule all the worlds—and the bizarre thing is, he’s asked me to join him. He sees no reason why the two of us can’t work together. He thinks of it as a peace treaty, but that’s because he’s totally crazy. No peace could ever come of such a thing.” I study her carefully, see the way her lips tighten, pulling under her teeth. “While I have no idea how he plans to pull it off, I’m sure it has something to do with a bunch of dead Richters. They’re no longer just communing with their spirits—Cade’s communing with the ancestors themselves —apparently without Leandro’s approval. You should’ve seen it—there was an entire army of undead Richters, and I watched as Cade fed them these strange, glowing white objects, which made them transform right before me. Making them a lot less gruesome and zombie-like, and a lot more … human-like.”
    Paloma gasps. Her face stricken, blanching so badly I’m