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the
sanctuary’s scheduled meals and ate alone in cafés, chewing her
food so slowly it went cold by the fourth bite. Yesterday, Gray
boarded the metro and let it carry her into parts of the city she’d
never ventured. It hadn’t mattered. She’d noticed nothing as she
walked around aimlessly.
    Didn’t mean it hurt any less.
    Now Hannah had both fists on the door,
beating a hasty rhythm. “Gray, open up!”
    Gray looked at the door and smiled for the
briefest moment. S eñora Contreras’ rule of
no magic had its advantages. For instance, Hannah couldn’t unlock
her door unless she wanted to zip her lips for the rest of the
summer with S eñora Calida.
    “Gray, this is Marco. You need to come
out.”
    “We have an entire day of fun planned,”
Hannah said. “Starting with macchiatos.”
    Gray lifted her head. “Macchiatos?”
    “And pizza,” Marco said.
    “Anything else?” Gray asked. She’d made up
her mind to come out at the mention of macchiatos, but she might as
well hear the entire menu before unlocking her door.
    “Surprise entertainment,” Will said.
    Gray frowned. “I’ll come out for the food and
drink, but I’m not in the mood for entertainment.”
    “Too late,” Hannah said. “We already bought
the tickets.”
    “Then take someone else.”
    The two Dutch witches would probably jump at
the chance. They were always eyeballing Marco and chattering away
whenever he breezed past. Who knew? Maybe even Will would get
lucky. Double date. Witches and wizards. Not everyone was destined
to strike out that summer.
    “No way,” Hannah said. “You’re coming. Trust
me. You won’t want to miss this.”
    Gray opened her dresser drawer and reached
under her pile of neatly folded tank tops for her luck amulet. Her
fingers brushed against the stone and metal. Then she dropped it
into her purse. Gray would never remove it again.
    Gray considered changing into a tank top and
shorts, then decided to stick with the sundress. If she could have
snapped herself into a wardrobe change that would have been another
story. Gray stepped into her flip-flops and reached for the door
handle. “I’m coming out but only for the food.”
    Gray could practically see Hannah smile
through the door.
    “Whatever you say, chica .”
    Ten minutes later, Gray had her macchiato.
The drink slid down her throat bittersweet.
    “Tourist. Spaniard. Tourist, tourist,
tourist,” Hannah said, watching people pass their table outside on
the Ramblas.
    A middle-aged man stopped several feet away
to consult a city map. Hannah stifled a yawn. “Tourist.”
    “And her?” Marco asked.
    Gray followed the direction of his stare to a
tall, slender woman in a long clingy skirt and six-inch heels. She
had lush dark hair and gold jewelry clasped around her neck and
arms.
    Hannah took a quick look. “Definitely
Spanish.”
    Gray was glad to be in the company of friends
again. Or maybe that was the macchiato talking. Food and coffee
always made her feel better—so long as she didn’t consume them
alone. Gray took another sip and smiled.
    “Feeling better?” Marco asked.
    Gray ran a tongue over her lower lip. “A
little.”
    “I’m sorry, Gray,” Will said.
    Gray shrugged. “That’s what I get for dating
a normal.”
    “That’s what you get for dating a Spaniard,”
Hannah said. “Watch out for any man who speaks a Romance
language.”
    Marco grinned and winked. “She’s right. The italiani , francesi , and spagnoli are all great
lovers.”
    Hannah rolled her eyes. “No kidding, you
don’t know when to stop.”
    “How does one stop loving?”
    “ Pfff ,” Hannah said. “And how many
hearts have you broken back home, Marco?”
    Marco placed a hand over his chest. “I do not
break hearts. I make them sing.”
    Hannah rolled her eyes. “That’s the
problem.”
    Gray swallowed the last of her macchiato and
set the mug down. “I believe you promised me pizza next.”
    “Pizza, shopping, entertainment, tapas, and
clubbing,”