Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

I'VE BEEN DEAD A DOZEN YEARS.

Somehow, it makes sense.

Now I know why the black smoke couldn't touch me. Why I'm having nightly conversations with a shadow beast. Why I didn't die with my parents.

"I don't exist."

A weird laugh escapes my throat.

Since I was a little kid, I've felt like I'm missing a kind of anchoring to the world that others are born with. It wasn't just my parents' lifestyle—my sense of homelessness went deeper than that. I've always felt like a stranger in my age group, in my life, in my own skin.

When I was ten, I read a story about a girl with a hole in her heart that would not heal. Since air kept escaping through it, her feet never touched the ground, and she floated over her life, unable to actually live it.

That's how I've always felt, only now I know why.

This must be the reason Mom and Dad kept me on the run; so no one would get close enough to see the truth.

I'm just like Sebastián—a very lifelike ghost.

"You can't kill me," I taunt him with a weird giggle. "I'm already dead! We're both haunting la Sombra!"

"What is happening?" he asks.

"I'm dead !"

"You are not dead. Trust me."

"Trust you ?" My voice hits a hysterical pitch, but I don't care. " Neither of us is real!"

"Have you consumed a mind-altering substance? You seem different— where are you going? "

I take the photographs and certificate with me as I race back up the steps to ground level. Sebastián shuts the trapdoor and restores the rug in the span of an eyeblink, but I keep running through the castle until I get to my bedroom, where he's already waiting for me.

I didn't get the chance to throw up Beatríz's pill last night or tonight—the exact two instances when I saw the flickering lights. Sebastián is obviously distracting me because I should have made this connection sooner.

I dig into the pocket of my duffel and pull out the pills I didn't take my first two nights. This drug must have led me to the purple room. Maybe there's more it can show me. I toss the seeds into my mouth—

But they don't land on my tongue.

"What are these?" asks Sebastián. He swiped them in midair.

"Medication from my aunt. Give it back!"

"After what you said about the black fire, are you sure you can trust her?"

"How are you not getting this yet? Nothing matters because we don't exist and none of this is real— you're a figment of my imagination, and I'm DEAD !"

I shriek the final word at the top of my lungs, and Sebastián's icy hand slams on my mouth, pressing against my teeth. The force of his movement shoves me back, and my spine hits the wall, the impact rattling my insides.

I sneak a glance at the door, expecting my aunt to barge in. Sebastián keeps me pinned between the wall and him, and I breathe in through my nose, inhaling the stars that cling to his skin.

"You do not feel dead to me," he murmurs, sliding his fingers off my lips.

But I still feel the brand of his touch on my mouth. The trusty compass in my gut has gone haywire because it's pushing me toward the shadow beast.

Sebastián is still staring at my mouth, and I briefly wonder if it's actually burning. But then he takes a step back, and my lips turn to cinders.

"Give me back my pills!" I snap at him.

"Calm down—"

"GIVE THEM TO ME!" I shout, daring my aunt to hear me.

"You leave me no choice," he says, and before I can register the threat, he yanks up my chin, bringing my face close to his.

For one ridiculous moment, I think he's going to kiss me.

Then pain explodes at my throat, as my skin rips open.

I wheeze as blood rushes to the wound in my neck, my veins like straws feeding Sebastián. My entire body feels like it's being drawn in through his mouth.

My eyes roll to the back of my head, my skin burning like it's on fire. My arms and legs go limp with sleep as black spots overtake my vision, and I remember the ocular migraine I thought I was getting on the subway.

Except it wasn't a headache at all.

Dread churns in my stomach as black smoke spreads through the room, and if I had any oxygen left, I would scream. The dark plumes infect every particle of air, until they swallow the walls, and I'm no longer in la Sombra.

I'm enveloped in an inky night. Nothing else exists, and as I start to wonder if I'm floating in outer space, I see the glimmers of two stars.

A childlike being steps forth from the shadows, his silver eyes cutting through the dark, and I recognize a young Sebastián.

Beside him is a wooden box his exact size. It's rattling, like something inside wants out.

Young Sebastián wrenches it open at once—and out bursts a furry blue beast the size of an adolescent grizzly bear.

Sebastián growls. So does the blue bear. They circle each other.

The beast attacks first. It strikes at Sebastián, but the young shadow is quicker and sinks his fangs into the creature's furry blue arm. The bear cries out and stabs Sebastián's neck with its claws.

"Ah!" Sebastián pulls away, massaging his neck, and the bear limps back, licking the wound in its arm. But before it's gotten far, the shadow boy pins the creature down, and he bites into its hide again, this time to feed—

The scene blinks, and an older Sebastián is wrestling the blue bear, which is still alive and has grown bigger than him.

They quit fighting when an older being who looks like he could be Sebastián's father enters the space. His gaze is frostier than the deadliest snowstorm. "When you did not kill this beast as a child," he says, "I assumed you were waiting for it to grow plump, so the blood in its veins would be richer and its fur would be large enough to fashion yourself a new cloak."

Sebastián doesn't say anything. He is stoic, his expression a mask of neutrality, but his fists clench at his sides.

"It is time for you to prove me right," commands his father. "Drink."

Horror breaks through Sebastián's face, and he takes a step back. "I cannot."

"Then starve."

The scenery blinks, the lights flickering off and on. Sebastián and the blue bear are emaciated now, and they seem sluggish and tired. The older being returns. He studies his son without pity. "You have failed me" is all he says.

In a heartbeat, his arms are around the bear's neck.

"No!"

Mustering all the energy he has left, Sebastián rushes at his father like he can stop him. But he's barely gotten to his feet when he hears the sound of the bear's neck snapping.

"Fail me again," warns his father, "and the consequences will be worse."

The scene blinks again, and now the air is deep purple, cut out with thousands of black silhouettes. It looks like an army of shadow beasts is fighting against beings with tails.

One of the shadow beasts is particularly swift with his meals, disposing of bodies like he's crushing soda cans. He fights in a cloak of blue fur—

The memory cuts out, and my bedroom comes back into focus. Sebastián's jaws have released me.

My knees give in, and I slide to the floor, gasping for oxygen. As the smoke dissipates, I see him clearly.

The shadow beast's incisors have grown into pointy fangs, and they're dripping with my blood. It rolls down the sides of his mouth and smears his chin.

His silver eyes are round and cloudy. "You are alive," he whispers, licking his lips like he's savoring my taste.

My heart pounds, proving his point.

"W-what was that memory?" I ask, my voice raspy.

His eyes widen. "You saw ?"

I nod, and he doesn't say anything else. Instead, he stumbles toward the door. He looks drunk.

Tonight, he doesn't vanish into shadow.

He walks out. Like a man.

I wake up on the floor.

Lifting my head, I gasp as pain zaps through my neck. I cup the spot where it hurts, and I use my other arm to push myself up. Then I drag myself to the bathroom.

My reflection reveals that dry blood is caked on my neck, throat, chest, and arm. Evidence that Sebastián isn't just a figment of my imagination. He exists.

And he's a vampire .

As soon as I think the word, I cringe in the mirror. And yet I can't deny he's real, not after his bite and the memories I glimpsed when he drank my blood.

What does it mean that we were both hit with the same spell across different dimensions? What could our connection be?

I run the faucet to fill the bathtub, then I rest my head against the porcelain, shutting my eyes as I scrub my skin to wash off the blood. " You are alive, " I hear Sebastián whisper in my ear… then his fangs stab my throat.

My eyelids fly open and my spine stiffens.

I survey the bathroom, but the shadow beast isn't here. I'm alone.

I drain the last of the reddish water. I'll have to keep my neck concealed while it heals so Beatríz doesn't notice.

I still don't get how she didn't rush in after all my screaming last night. Either the walls are soundproof, or she takes a heavy sedative to fall asleep.

I spot the death certificate and the photographs on my bed when I enter my bedroom—and the rest of what happened last night comes flying back to me.

Without thinking, I snatch the papers and march into my aunt's room, wearing only a towel. " BEATRíZ! "

I skip knocking and twist the handle. It's unlocked.

Her room is bigger than mine but more spartan, and she has an old-fashioned phone on her nightstand. Everything is polished dark wood. The four-poster bed is neatly made, the bathroom empty.

I try the kitchen next. She's not there, either.

Back in my room, I pull on a turtleneck, and before leaving, I hide the photographs and death certificate with my notepad in my period drawer.

I go directly to the clínica because my conversation with Beatríz can't wait. I need to know what the death certificate means. If she threatens me again, I'll have to lead the Spanish cops—Dad's former coworkers—to the purple room and let them sort this out for me.

The door to the clínica is locked, and a handwritten note is taped to it.

Me fui a Madrid por un congreso médico. Regresaré en unos días.

—Dra. Brálaga

The note is in Spanish. Like she left it for her patients and not for me.

I make out the words Madrid, medical congress, and days . So last night she was threatening to institutionalize me, and this morning she takes off? Why didn't she tell me she was leaving? And why did she remind Felipe of his appointment to get his blood drawn today?

It doesn't make sense.

I can't help feeling like this has something to do with the purple room. Does she know I found it? Is she afraid I'll go to the authorities? Will she be back in time for the full moon?

My mood improves in the librería, when Felipe offers me a mug of steaming hot chocolate topped with frothy cream.

"Your aunt is gone," he says by way of greeting. "She left a note about going to a medical conference in Madrid."

"I know." I blow on the drink, warming my hands against the mug. The first sip scorches my tongue, activating every nerve ending down to my toes.

"Seems kind of last-minute. And she bailed on my appointment to draw blood." When I don't say anything, he asks, "When did she tell you she was leaving?"

"She didn't. I found out from the same note."

His brow rises as I sip some more hot chocolate, the foaminess tickling my top lip. "That's odd," he says.

"That's Beatríz. Or haven't you noticed she's not exactly chatty?"

"Not even with you?"

I shrug, and today I'm the one leading the way to the attic, cradling my hot chocolate. Strange, how this space is where I feel safest in Oscuro. It's the only place where I don't worry about being hunted, or drugged, or judged.

"Thank you," I say to Felipe when we're both upstairs. "For tutoring me. I like coming here."

"Every teacher likes an eager student," he says, flashing his crooked grin.

I feel myself grinning back, even though just days ago the reflex seemed like an obsolete function.

It's been years since I made a friend. When the partings became too painful and the pen pals too plentiful, it got easier to avoid socializing at all. It worried Dad more than Mom. I heard them argue about it once, and Mom said, She can make friends when she grows up.

I thought she was calling me immature, so it surprised me that Dad didn't defend me. But now I think of the gravity with which she said grows up, and I wonder if she meant it literally.

"I wish what happened hadn't happened," says Felipe, his smile slackening into a more intimate expression, "but I'm happy you're here, too."

It's refreshing not to have to doubt he means what he says. Felipe's face is easier to translate than Spanish, which is what makes him so easy to be around.

"Where did you grow up?" he asks me, his voice as soft as his gaze.

"The United States."

"Which state?"

"All of them," I say, sitting down on the aged leather couch. I realize my mistake at once as it nestles every part of my body. I doubt I'll ever get back up.

Felipe drops onto the cushion next to me. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"I don't mind," I say with a shrug. "I grew up on the road. My parents and I lived everywhere, from condos in big cities to cabins in the wild."

"Your parents didn't work?"

"Mom was a journalist and Dad a private detective."

"And school?"

"I was homeschooled." I'm struck by the irony of the term, since I've never had a home. "That means my parents taught me," I clarify when I see his confusion.

"What about friends?"

"I stopped making friends because I got tired of leaving them behind." I sound almost angry, and I flash to the four girls on the subway and the longing I felt when I saw what they shared. A chance to grow up together.

Instead, they died right in front of me.

"Toda mi vida," says Felipe, "tuve la atención completa de mis padres." I look at him, and he says, "Now you say it."

"What's it mean?"

"Work it out as you go. Try it."

"Toda mi vida…" I say, the only part I remember.

Felipe goes to the desk, and when he comes back, he hands me a piece of paper. "Read it out loud."

"Toda mi vida," I say, " all my life ." Felipe nods in approval. "Tuve la atención completa de mis padres… complete attention… my parents. " I look at Felipe and translate the full thing: "My whole life I had the complete attention of my parents."

The hole in my chest widens as I say it, and my heart holds its next beat.

"Good," he says of my translation.

"But even with their full attention," I say, "I was still missing something. I used to think it was a room of my own. But now that I have that, the hole is still there. It's only… only when I'm here that I feel better."

My cheeks warm as I admit that last part. Felipe's face heats with color, too.

"Estela," he says, and a cold fear spikes the warmth as it occurs to me that he may want more than friendship.

"Can I visit you at the castle in two days?"

I'm relieved that's all he wants. "Why two days?" I ask, thinking of the full moon.

"It's my day off."

Beatríz said I'm not to bring anyone to the castle, but if she's going to take off without warning, I'm not going to follow her rules. Besides, if Felipe won't be at the bookstore, I'll have nowhere to go during the day. And I'd rather not be alone.

"Sure," I say after a beat.

Today, he adopts a more traditional tutoring approach, opting to teach me from a workbook, and we don't say another word about la Sombra.

I want to ask him about vampires, but I can't bring myself to form the question. Knowing I'll be completely alone with Sebastián in a few hours is exciting and terrifying in equal measure. Part of me never wants to go back to la Sombra. Part of me wishes the clock would move faster.

My skin craves the shadow beast like a new drug. I shouldn't want his fangs anywhere near me—and yet, I've been fantasizing about his bite all day, as if it had been a kiss. I'd rather not think too hard on how wrong that sounds.

This is the first time I've ever felt this way about anyone, like a pull that's impossible to resist. Returning to Sebastián's orbit feels as inevitable as gravity.

I want him to touch me.

I want him.

I want .

"Closing time," says Felipe, snapping me out of my reverie. A million moths flutter in my belly as I stand up to return to the castle.

I follow Felipe downstairs, and I see someone else in the store. A man in a tweed coat who walks with a cane. "Hola, Estela, soy el padre de Felipe. Me llamo Arturo Sarmiento."

I stick out my hand and greet Felipe's father with a firm shake. "Hola."

"Tu tía me ha pedido que me asegure de que tienes donde comer, así que estás invitada a comer con nosotros."

I look to Felipe to translate, even though I understood the last part. I'm just buying myself time to react.

"You're invited over to dinner tonight," he says, beaming.

"My wife is already cooking," says Arturo in a thick accent. He smiles, and it's clear his son inherited his father's crooked smirk.

I'd rather return to the castle, but I can't come up with a good way out of this. So I just smile and nod in assent, and after father and son lock up the store, the three of us climb the road uphill, toward the residences of Oscuro.

La Sombra looms over the pueblo, blacker than the night itself, its lone tower stabbing the sky. Overhead, the moon is just a sliver shy of full. In two nights, la luna llena will begin—but will Beatríz be back in time to test Felipe's great-grandfather's theory?

"You're going to pass our street!" calls Felipe, and I realize I'm so deep in my thoughts that I've marched too far ahead.

I wait for the guys to catch up. Felipe is moving slower to match his dad's pace with his cane, and it strikes me what a big help it is for their family that Felipe runs the bookstore.

"Ya no corro carreras," says a smiling Arturo.

I look at Felipe, and this time I take a stab at translating: " I don't run races anymore ?"

"Excellent," says an approving Felipe. I smile back, equally pleased with my Spanish progress.

"Aquí estamos," says Arturo when we arrive at a house that's buzzing with noise. It sounds like the whole town is crammed inside.

Felipe casts me an apologetic look as the door opens, and I'm swept in by a tiny mob.

"Bienvenida, Estela. Soy Lucía, la mamá de Felipe," says a squat and curvy woman with bright red nail polish and half-moon eyeglasses. She pulls me into a hug before I have a chance to extend my hand for a shake.

The next few hours are a blur of faces and names and double kisses, each person blending in with the next, forming a tapestry, all of them inextricable from one another. I think of the ledger in Felipe's book tracing everyone's ancestral properties. The residents of Oscuro are so deeply planted here that they seem impossible to uproot—and yet, something sent Mom packing.

The Sarmientos' home is wooden-floored, with a warm fireplace and sloping ceilings. In stark contrast to my aunt's house, photographs line most flat surfaces, including the walls, featuring many of the faces here tonight. I do a double take when I see that la Sombra's crest hangs over the hearth. Beneath it, on the mantel, are candles and a single framed photo. I move closer to be sure it's who I think it is—

Beatríz.

"Estela, esta es mi abuela," says Felipe's mom, and I turn to see the old woman who feeds the birds in the plaza. "Se llama Gloria."

"Hola, Gloria," I say, greeting Felipe's great-grandmother.

I move in for the customary kisses, and she says, "Angelito"— little angel —and presses a hand to my cheek. "Te quemaron."

What did she say? Doesn't quemaron mean burn?

"?Qué?" I ask.

"Está cansada," says Felipe's mom with a strained smile. She's tired.

"What's she talking about?" I ask.

"I get her to bed," says Lucía in choppy English, flashing me a too-large smile.

"?Cómo estás?" asks Arturo, swapping in for his wife almost instantly.

"?Conocían a mis padres?" I ask if they knew my parents.

"No," he says, shaking his head a tad too effusively.

"?Por qué la foto de Beatríz?" I hope I asked him why they have Beatríz's photo framed.

"Es nuestra alcalde," he says.

"No entiendo." I have no idea what alcalde means.

" Mayor, " says Felipe, coming over with two glasses of soda. Arturo smiles and takes off, looking almost relieved to leave me with his son. "Beatríz is the town's mayor."

I stare at Felipe, speechless. He holds out a glass to me, and I take it. "Want to see my room?" he offers.

"Yes, please," I say, eager for a moment of quiet. There are so many people here that they've spilled out into the backyard and front lawn. They've been rotating indoors to meet me, and I think my head is going to explode.

We slip to the back of the house, where a set of narrow stairs leads to a basement. Picturing the attic of Libroscuro, I'm eager to enter another of Felipe's cozy, book-lined spaces. I hurry down the steps, but halfway, I freeze.

Every inch of wall space is papered, forming a collage of images that comes together to form a fragmented picture.

La Sombra. This whole place is a shrine to the castle.

"What is this?" I ask.

"Art. I hope. "

I stare into his eyes so he'll see I'm being serious. "Why did you make your room look like la Sombra?"

His smile falls away. "Remember the thirteenth tale about the magical Book?" he asks, and I nod. " It's real. "

"What do you mean?"

"It's us . My family." His eyes are shiny with moisture. " We are the keepers of the Book. "