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euphoric as he had shown himself to be after the sensational public reception to the report about the possessed girls, was starting to lose his patience. The brief notes that Sancho sent him, commenting on the process of the exorcism, were not enough. The veil of silence that the Church had managed to impose on the media had only served to increase the sensation that Las Noticias really was, and continued to be, the only newspaper that had direct access to the sources.
    Sancho parked his car in the outskirts of El Salto, very close to Gabriela’s house who, according to Valeria’s version of the story, was the girl who had led the invocations. Her home was in an area of low-level, modest houses, but they were pretty and well cared for. Almost all of them were in a very similar architectural style, and they were plastered in light tones of pink, turquoise and green. He went up and down all of the streets, stopping at each and every door, until he finally came across the one he was looking for: a sign next to an open door, which read; Yanet. Witch: Fortune telling and Love spells.
    José Antonio remained there in front of the doorway to the house, hesitating for a few minutes. He should proceed with caution; he needed to find a way of obtaining the information without arousing the suspicions of a woman who had not necessarily done anything bad, nor was directly to blame for all that had happened. Finally, he crossed the threshold, and was received by a dark and dense atmosphere, barely illuminated by dozens of small candles, and a penetrating odour that he associated with incense.
    “Yanet?” he dared to ask out loud.
    “Who is it?”
    A short, and somewhat bulky woman, with kind eyes, a sweet voice and reserved expression, appeared as if out of the blue.
    “My name is José Antonio Sancho. I’m a reporter from Las Noticias , in Mexico City. I’m writing a report about witchcraft in Jalisco, and I would like to ask you a few questions.
    The woman scrutinised him before responding.
    “I don’t believe you’re telling the truth. What do you really want?”
    “Okay, I wish to know if it’s possible to invoke a malign being.”
    “You’re going to write about that in your newspaper? You’re all the same, you only have bad things to say about witchcraft...”
    “No, no. Yanet,” said Sancho, trying to gain the seer’s confidence by using her name, “I just wish to give you the opportunity to express yourself, to reject all the slander.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Well, someone has to present a different point of view...”
    “Follow me. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
    The woman led him to an inner room. The walls were plastered with images and cards, and on top of the only table were dozens of candles, giving off a welcoming reddish light. They both sat down on some cushions on the floor.
    “Thank you very much,” murmured the journalist.
    “We’re devoted to doing good, do you understand? We help people, try to comfort them...”
    “Interesting.”
    “Look, although I’ve lived in Mexico for decades, I’m actually Cuban, and come from a family that’s been dedicated to witchcraft for generations. Do I look like someone who goes around summoning the Devil?”
    “Not at all.”
    “Here, what the majority of people come to me for are love spells , you know? Basically, they’re women who only want their boyfriend or husband to love them for life. Some also want me to predict the future, and then there are some who want to hear from their dead.”
    “Then, nothing about devils?”
    “For the last time, no!” exclaimed Yanet, ill humoured.
    “Do you know Gabriela?” he then enquired, with a certain level of fear, changing the topic so drastically. He knew that the interview could end at any moment.
    “Gabriela? Yes, she’s a little girl who lives nearby. Every now and then, she drops by and I let her stay. When she’s older, she wants to be a witch and a seer, you know? But, what does the