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little one have to do with you?”
    The reporter took a few photographs out of his overnight bag: they were the ones he had taken on the banks of Lake Chapala.
    “It’s possible that this girl might be in danger, and you can help her. I beg you to take a look at this pyramid, in case there’s anything it can tell you.”
    The seer took the photographs, suspicious, and she contemplated them for a good while, several times.
    “It’s a ritual I’ve only performed on a couple of occasions. It’s Aztec. An elder taught it to me when I lived in Axapusco, many years ago. It represents the Pyramid of the Moon, which is in Teotihuacán. It’s a construction found at the end of the place they call the Calzada de los Muertos , or ‘Avenue of the Dead’. It’s a funerary. Some Mexicans think that it’s possible to speak with the dead, invoking the Moon Goddess. I don’t know what to say to you...”
    “And Gabriela saw you once constructing this pyramid with twigs?”
    “She didn’t just watch me, she helped me do it! What’s so bad about that?”
    Sancho felt his blood coursing fiercely once more through his circulatory system, causing a painful pounding within his temples, within his chest, within all of the internal organs crowded into his abdomen.
    “I don’t know. I’m going to reveal some confidential information, because I believe that your collaboration could end up being important: Gabriela has been possessed by a demon. Right now, she’s in a secret place in Guadalajara, in the hands of an exorcist. Is there anything that you believe he should know?”
    The witch sat up, her eyes almost protruding out of their sockets. She was thoroughly enraged.
    “Are you accusing me of something? Do you think that I could have had something to do with this tragedy?”
    “Not at all... Please... There are several girls involved, they were playing, and they definitely did something without knowing it, but I need to know what!”
    “Get out of my house!” cried the seer, as she pushed him away with all her strength. “I don’t ever want to see you around here again!”
    Sancho left Yanet’s house under an onslaught of shoves and blows. He accepted a decent amount of the beating, because a part of him understood the unmeasured reaction of the witch, whom he instinctively believed to be a good woman. 
    He stayed in the street for a few minutes, disorientated and confused. All of a sudden, he realised that he had his bag with him, but during the commotion he had left behind the photographs at her house. He did not dare go back to collect them. He had digital copies of all of the material, but even so, it bothered him that the woman was in possession of such valuable graphic evidence. Disappointed, he set off in search of his car. He had barely taken a few steps when he heard the woman’s voice, behind him.
    “Reporter!”
    Sancho immediately turned back, as he thought that there was nothing worse that could happen to him that day. Yanet was waiting for him with the snapshots in one hand, and a small book in the other.
    “Forgive me, I should have told you the truth from the beginning. I’m sorry...” he said.
    “I’m not bothered about that. I’m not doing this for you; I’m doing it for the girl. Perhaps this could be of some value to the exorcist.
    The witch handed him the photographs, along with a small book with black covers and golden letters. In the centre, there was a pentagram.
    “What is it?”
    “I have a large library. This is a singular manual of satanic rituals. I myself have never practiced these ceremonies, or anything like them. But when I looked back over the photos carefully, I believe I recognised some drawings. Perhaps at some point Gabriela, in secret, read this book, and when she was playing, she mixed up different invocations and rituals. From what you’ve told me, the consequences couldn’t have been worse...”
    “Then, can I take it with me?”
    “Yes, take it! But I’ll say it