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I let out a sigh, glancing toward the bottles of liquor behind the bar. “First, can I get a drink?”

“Sure.” Luka prepares two cocktails, their effervescent purple hue glowing in the warm light. “It’s a lavender gin fizz,” he explains, garnishing them with sprigs of lavender. “I took these from your family’s house the other day. I hope you don’t mind.”

My mouth quirks as I think of Magdalena’s similar thievery. “No, not at all.”

Together we clink glasses, and as I sip the drink, some of the tension in my body loosens. It’s good, faintly sweet with a floral aroma and citrus zing. As I raise my glass again, Luka moves to the other side of the bar, taking a seat beside me. I try to ignore the way my body tingles with alertness with him so close.

Hesitantly, I describe my strange experience inside the bunja, how I felt trapped within the body I assume was Magdalena’s. “It sometimes happens in my nightmares too. Like I’ve been transported to the past. But this time, I wasn’t sleeping. I know it sounds . . . out there, but it’s how I knew where to find this diary.”

Luka’s expression remains unreadable as he stares down at the bar, slowly turning his glass. The overhead light glints off the brim, suffusing the drink with a soft glow. Finally, he says in a subdued voice, “My grandmother told me something once. She said that when something terrible happens in a place, it can leave behind a scar. It becomes like . . . a wound that never heals, and the past gets trapped there.” He balls his fist, demonstrating. “She said Croatia is full of these places, due to the wars. But only certain people can feel them. People who are somehow connected to what happened there. I never really believed it was true, and honestly, I forgot all about it . . . until now.” His brows knit together as he studies me, as if he’s searching for the truth in my eyes.

I ponder this. My experience did seem terrible and harrowing, not a pleasant memory. “Do you think that I saw it because I’m somehow connected to Magdalena?”

“Maybe,” Luka says, taking a sip of his drink.

I mimic him, letting the concept sink in. It feels strange, the idea that I could have some special link to a part of Tolba that no one else has. All thanks to Magdalena.

“How much of this have you read?” he asks, patting the diary.

“A bit.” I summarize everything I’ve learned about Magdalena’s life. “But so far, Magdalena has only helped my family. Maybe the mora is someone else.”

“Like who?” Luka asks.

“I’m not sure.” I think of Dobrila, how she also seemed interested in Nikola. “I need to read more. I’m almost done.”

Luka gives a firm nod. “Well, you can tell me what you’ve learned tomorrow, when I’m done with work.”

Gratitude fills me at his support. It feels good to be spending time with him again. But then I think of my nightmare. Luka should know what I saw.

“There’s one more thing . . . The night we ran into Davor, I had a dream about you . . . You were dead.”

His shoulders stiffen. “Why do you think you saw that?”

Everyone knows not to love a Klarin. “Isn’t it obvious? I think the mora might be hinting you’re next.”

He looks down at his glass, his face lost in thought. “Even if the mora is real, there’s no proof she killed anyone connected to your family. And besides, we’re not . . .” He trails off, his eyes lifting to mine. I don’t need him to finish—I can tell by his hesitancy what he’s alluding to.

As much as I care for him, this isn’t love. Right? I haven’t said the words aloud. As for him, his expression remains unreadable, caught somewhere between wariness and something more fragile.

Does he wish we were something more?

“Don’t worry,” Luka says quickly, breaking contact. “If the mora’s haunting you, we’ll figure out some way to get rid of her. Until then, I’ll take my chances.”

His confidence is encouraging, but fear still pulses through me. I need to be cautious. “Here. I want you to wear this.” I don’t wait for him to answer, looping my necklace around his head. “Karmela gave it to me. It’s made of iron. Davor told me that’s harmful to a mora, so it should protect you.”

He wraps his hand around the medallion. “Alright. If it makes you feel better.”

“It does.”

As he looks up from the necklace, I realize how close we are, only inches apart. His gaze dips to my lips, and suddenly all the feelings I tried to push away ever since our kiss come roaring back, stronger than ever.

In a panic, I quickly try to pull up my usual defenses, starting with the memory of my mom’s heaving sobs. Love can disappear at any moment. But the image fades quickly, dissolving into the photo of her at the gala, wrapped in my dad’s arms, her face glowing with contentment.

I leap to my next barrier. Remember what happened with James. It was so easy to fall for his charm, yet that didn’t last.

But then I think of Magdalena and Nikola on the balcony. I was so happy, I could die.

I’ve never felt that way with someone else. I’d been so busy ruminating on how love might ruin me that I overlooked the joy it could bring. The comfort. Suddenly, amidst all this fear and uncertainty, I want that. Maybe we really could solve this curse together.