Even though they weren’t saying much, their faces reflected the horrifying recognition that even if this wasn’t the nagual, they might be in great danger.

“It’s the nagual! Velia, Delia, get our things!”

“Remember what Teresita said? What if this is him, the nagual?”

“Aramés, aramás, todavía nada más, ven aquí, ven acá, aire frío, aire mío, aramés, aramás,” the nagual continued, even as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his long ears perked up and flapped loudly.

“Aramés, aramás, todavía nada más, ven aquí, ven acá, aire frío, aire mío, hazlas mías, cinco hermanitas, cinco estrellitas serán mías, aramés, aramás…” The nagual kept chanting different verses of the same spell, and before we knew it we were all on the ground, weakly looking at the donkey as he shifted from animal back to his human form and stood—a dark-clad figure looming tall and menacing above us.