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Nikola quieted the dog and instructed Antula to clean up—the holy water and coal had spilled onto the floor in the tussle. And then he swept into the hall, grasping my arm. His touch was rough, and the sudden loss of the gentleness he usually had with me almost hurt as much as Ana’s violence.

“What the hell happened in there?” he asked. He towered over me, hot anger puffing up his slender frame, suddenly making him seem huge.

I stammered. I didn’t know what to say. The truth? Would he even believe me if I told him his mother had been cursed with the Evil Eye? But if I lied, what good would that do? A portrait of Isus stared at me from the wall, silently condemning me. Antula was silent in the room; I sensed she was listening. I know Nikola trusts her, but I didn’t want her witnessing whatever I decided to say.

So I asked if we could speak somewhere private.

Nikola’s gaze pierced straight through me as he considered my request. He took my arm again, leading me to the stairs and then to the workshop outside. It comforted me somewhat to return to that space. It seemed to relax Nikola too. He didn’t seem as angry when he asked me again what had happened, but there was a tremor in his voice. He was afraid. I was too.

I fumbled with what to say as questions raced through my head. Who was that woman in the vision I saw? Why did Ana attack me? But amidst all my worrying, Nikola said my name. Gently. A plea. It sent a wave of calm through my body, and in that moment I knew I could trust him, that I should tell him the truth.

And so I asked, “Have you ever heard of . . . the Evil Eye?”

The muscles in his jaw tightened as soon as I said this. “Yes,” he replied. “One of our workers, when his son was born, asked me for some of our lavender to take home. He said it would help protect his son from it. But it is only peasant superstition. Why do you ask?”

I gripped the table behind me, summoning strength. I had no idea how difficult it would be to convince him he was wrong. I told him, “It is not superstition. What I did up there was a test, to determine its presence. Your mother has been cursed with it.”

Nikola shook his head firmly. “No. That can’t be.”

“The coal sank. And her other symptoms match.” I listed them off.

“She has not mentioned these dreams to me,” he said. He seemed a little hurt by this, and I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Maybe she didn’t want to worry you,” I offered.

“But isn’t the Evil Eye . . . cast by some demon or witch?” he asked.

Now it was my turn to shake my head. “It can be cast by anyone with feelings of envy or spite.” I thought again of the vision, the woman’s glare. Could it have been her? I went on, explaining what I had seen. “When was the last time your parents were in France?”

He thought for a moment, then answered, “They went to Paris a little over two months ago.”

The same time that his mother fell ill. I could see the realization dawning on him too.

I asked who it was they met there.

“His name is Pierre. He owns a perfumery. My father regularly sells oil to him.”

“And his wife? What’s her name?”

“I’m not sure . . . I’ve met her once, but I can’t remember.”

More questions sped through my mind. Why would she feel envious or spiteful toward Ana? Could she have been a mistress of Marko’s, perhaps? Was she even aware of what she had done? And most important of all, the question that still looms largest, even now—what am I going to do?

“You believe . . . she cast it?” Nikola asked.

I nodded. Why else would I have had such a vision? “Is your father . . . loyal to your mother?”

Nikola’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. He told me, somewhat reluctantly, he wasn’t sure. Sometimes his father is friendlier with women than he should be. But he insisted it is nothing. Marko loves Ana.

We fell silent for a while then. He paced around the workshop a bit, running his hands through his hair. I felt terrible watching him, realizing how hard it must be to hear this diagnosis. I’d learned over my time there that he cared deeply for his mother.

Finally, he stopped before me. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, hesitant. “Just before my mother . . . attacked you . . . there was something glowing above her, a yellow ball of some sort, connected to her with black threads.”

I stiffened, remembering the strange sight. “I believe it was some sort of manifestation of the Evil Eye’s hold on her. So long as she is under its spell, it will eat away at her.” They were harsh words, and his gaze dropped to the ground in pain, but I needed him to know the seriousness of the matter.

“Can you get rid of it?” he asked.

Instantly, my nerves jumped up to my throat. I didn’t know what to say, so I simply told him the truth. “I’m not sure,” I said, thinking of your notes. “The exorcism is difficult.” I explained what it entailed, how I must summon the Evil Eye again with coal and holy water, then cut the threads of its bond. How, afterward, Ana must drink a bottle of holy water to heal and replenish her body.