Chapter 1: Introduction
The air in the small, dimly lit room was thick with the scent of sage and something earthier—like damp soil after a summer rain. Jane shifted on the worn leather couch, her fingers tracing the frayed edge of a throw pillow. Beside her, Santino sat with his hands clasped between his knees, his dark eyes fixed on the man across from them.
Xolo didn’t look like a shaman. Not the kind Jane had imagined, at least. No feathers, no face paint, no dramatic robes. Just a quiet, broad-shouldered man in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair tied back in a loose knot.