Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" I ask, trying and failing to process Felipe's newest revelation.

"My great-grandfather told me," he insists. "You're invited to come in, you know."

I realize I'm still standing on the last rung of the stairs, and my skin crawls as I step down. All four walls of his room make up a mural composed of images whose edges don't quite match, forging a twisted version of la Sombra.

It's like being inside a pop-up book castle.

"If you're its keepers, then where is the Book?" I challenge.

"I don't know yet," he says dismissively, like that's not the important part. "But I will know someday . The secret is mine to inherit, just like Libroscuro."

"Did your great-grandfather tell you anything else, like what's in the Book?"

Felipe shakes his head. "He said it can't be read except by a Brálaga."

"So it's a Book from a story that can't be read or found." I wish I sounded less skeptical, but I can't help it. "Do you have any older siblings who might know more?"

"My older brother left town years ago."

"Did you have a falling-out?" Seeing his bemusement, I prod, "Was it a fight?"

He shakes his head. "It's hard to explain, but you'll see that people here belong to one of two groups—the nicknames are Oscurianos and Noscurianos. Oscurianos are lifers, and Noscurianos leave as soon as they can. They rarely return."

"Why not?"

He shrugs like he doesn't know or care.

"Aren't you curious what else is out there?" I ask, gesturing to the walls of his room. "Beyond this town?"

"I travel," he says, almost defensively. "But Oscuro is my home."

I sense there's more he's not saying. And yet I'm almost jealous of Felipe's single-mindedness about la Sombra and the librería and his place in the world. It must be so much easier to know where you belong and not have to question it.

"Why didn't you mention that my aunt is the mayor?" I ask.

"Politics isn't a big deal here. Besides, it's always a Brálaga in charge."

"What do you mean? Aren't there elections?"

"You don't get it," he says with a sigh, shaking his head like he's tired. He walks to the bed, its bloodred covers the only spot of color in the room. He sits down and taps the spot next to him.

When I sit, he says in a low voice, "Your family runs this town. They finance everything."

"I definitely don't get it," I say, agreeing with his first statement.

He twists his body on the mattress to face me. "Families own their property because it gets handed down through the generations, just like the castle. But there are still taxes and utilities and other services that have to get paid. Your family handles that for everyone, including our health care."

"I thought households paid into a health fund," I say, recalling my aunt's words.

"Not with money. We pay with our blood. By donating a few times a year to make sure there's enough of each type."

"How can Beatríz afford that?" I ask.

"Estela, your family is more than old money—you're ancient money. You will never have to worry about anything again."

"Except surviving," I say ominously. "We Brálagas have a short life expectancy."

"Maybe… or maybe la Sombra holds more secrets than we know."

I search his face for a smile before asking, "What do you mean by that?"

"Isn't it obvious after everything we read?" he asks, his eyes ablaze like a bonfire was just kindled. "Your Brálaga ancestor who built the castle wasn't human. That's why your family can interact with the supernatural."

Beatríz wasn't exaggerating when she alluded to Felipe's outsize imagination. "You should be a writer," is all I can think to say.

"I am! I'm working on my own book about la Sombra." His gaze lingers on mine, laden with whatever else he's not saying, and I realize I must be part of the story.

The thought pisses me off. I hated being tabloid fodder, and I definitely don't want to star in a book.

"What about you?" he asks. "What's your plan?"

The question makes me wish we were back out in the crowded living room and not in here where it's spacious and quiet and every breath can be heard.

"I—I don't have one."

"Yeah, you do," he says with bold assertiveness. "Your aunt brought you here to inherit her estate and her mayorship and her practice—"

"Whoa, slow down—"

"It's a good thing! You've come here to take her place."

It's the same thought I've been circling, but hearing him say it out loud rips the fear from my mind and gives it form. I leap to my feet, the food I ate tonight jostling in my stomach. "I never said I was staying in this ridiculous town!"

Felipe looks so crushed all of a sudden that under other circumstances it might be comical. But right now, I'm not finding anything funny.

"Why wouldn't you stay?" he asks.

"I haven't decided anything yet," I say, crossing my arms. "I just got here."

"Where would you even go?" He springs to his feet, too. "You don't have anything left in the United States, not a house or parents—"

"Felipe?"

His mother stands above, calling down. "?Todo bien?"

"I was just leaving!" I call back to her, my eyes burning as I climb the steps as fast as I can.

"Estela se va," she announces to the living room, and I'm sucked into a sea of farewells that extends to the front lawn.

When I finally make it to the street, cold air buffets my face and the stark emptiness of the night soothes me. I hear footsteps behind me, and the creaking of tiny wheels, and I turn to see Felipe rolling a cart filled with Tupperware.

"This is for you," he says. It looks like everybody brought me a dish to take home. This is enough food to sustain me for at least six months.

"I got it," I say, reaching for the handle.

"I'll walk you."

"I can manage—"

"Parental orders." He starts rolling the cart uphill toward la Sombra, and I have no choice but to follow.

We're quiet the whole way. I lag a few steps behind to make the point that I'm not interested in his company. The only sounds come from the occasional hoot of an owl and homes where people are still finishing dinner or watching television. They're eating a lot later than Beatríz and I do.

When we reach the end of the residences, all that's left is the steep slope up to the castle gates. "I can go alone the rest of the way."

Felipe ignores me and keeps walking, without slowing. He goes right to the hidden door in the gargoyle-guarded gate and opens it, wheeling the cart through, then he holds it for me. I start to get a creeping sensation he's not going to turn around at the front door. Especially since he knows I'm alone tonight.

Well, technically . He doesn't know about Sebastián.

At the thought of the shadow beast, my stomach does a small flip. I don't know what worries me more—that I'm about to see him, or that he won't be there.

Especially since we'll be alone.

As Felipe lugs the cart up the sloping garden, I say, "Thanks for walking me, but you can go now."

Ignoring me, he cuts across the overgrown foliage and up to the massive doors with the gargoyle knockers. I hang back on the grass with my arms crossed, unwilling to produce the key until he leaves.

He blows out a loud breath. "I'm sorry, Estela. I know I went too far tonight. It's just the thought of losing you is unbearable."

"The only way you'll lose my friendship is by saying the things you said in your room. That crossed a line."

"You're right, and I'm sorry." He steps away from the cart and comes down to where I'm standing. "I hate to leave when you're mad. Let me come in and help you put the food away—"

BANG.

Before I can turn him down, the door rattles in its frame, like a gargoyle is knocking from inside.

Felipe turns to me with wide eyes. "What was that?"

BANG.

The gargoyle knocks again.

"Castle's cursed, remember?" I bite my lip to avoid laughing as I step up to the door, which quits quaking as soon as I fit the key into the lock.

"Buenas noches!" I call back, pulling the cart inside. "I'll get this back to you tomorrow."

I shut the door behind me and look for Sebastián, barely repressing my laughter—but my humor evaporates when I realize he's not here.

A solitary candle burns on the floor, in the middle of the entrance hall.

I spot another one farther down, and the glow of more candles in the distance. My heart starts to beat a different melody, gentler than the heavy bass drum of fear.

I'm not sure what I was expecting after last night, but it wasn't this . I pull the cart along as I follow the golden trail, blowing out each light as I go. I've seen enough of Dad's arson investigations to know that too many house fires start with an innocent candle.

I leave the food in the kitchen to sort later, and I keep following the lighted path. It ends just beyond the dining hall, at a bookshelf built into the wall of a crimson corridor.

The final candle is on the middle shelf. I pick it up to illuminate the furniture's details, trying to find a clue as to what's next. I spot a small hole in the side of the wood, like the indent of a missing screw, and I press my fingertip in. There's a click, and the bookshelf unhinges from the wall, like a door.

On the other side, a single candle illuminates a crumbling wing of the castle. There's no furniture, the paint is soiled with bruises, and pieces of wood and stone litter the floor. If the doorless rooms in the east wing look like they've been abandoned for a decade, this wing might not have been touched for a century.

The construction is either unfinished, or it's fallen apart.

"Sebastián?" I call out as I see another candle farther down.

There are cracks in the walls and strange house sounds. I recall what Beatríz said about the castle being in disrepair and some parts being unsafe. It feels like the ground is tilting downhill, but I can't be sure.

"Sebastián, where are you?" I call, after blowing out what by my count is the 198th candle.

Nothing about this gesture is feeling remotely romantic anymore. The darker the air gets, the chillier I feel. Until finally, there are no more candles.

"What's going on?" I ask, my voice trembling.

The darkness cradles me like a quilt. Something brushes my shoulder and I spin around, inhaling sharply. "Sebastián?"

Nobody's there.

"Cut this out!" I say, crossing my arms to keep them from shaking. "Either show yourself, or I'm leaving—"

A candle blazes on in the blackness.

As I move toward the glow, I realize it's illuminating a wall. This is a dead end.

I pick up the flame and turn in a circle, confused, until I lower it and study the floor. There's a red rug .

Holding the candle in one hand, I yank back the edge of the rug with the other. A trapdoor, just like the one that leads to the purple room.

Pulling up on the wooden hatch, I see a set of stairs and little illumination. Nothing about this feels safe or smart. I'm not even sure why I would consider going down there when I don't know Sebastián's motives.

All I know is that when he bit me, I saw the black smoke for the first time since the subway.

I need to know why .

Using the candle as a torch, I climb down. The steps end in a basement so large that the tiny flame does little to illuminate it. I spot the familiar crimson-tinged lights bracketed high up on the walls, but they too fail to lift much of the darkness.

I have to walk the room and look at it up close to really see it.

The first thing I come across is what appears to be a metal cage. When my vision adjusts to the dimness, I make out that linked to the bars are chains that end in handcuffs.

My mouth goes dry. Why did the shadow beast lead me here?

I step up to a wooden beam, and when I raise my candle, I make out an altar of sorts. It looks like the start to a game of hangman.

Where am I? A dungeon ?

"Sebastián!" I call out. "Talk to me!"

A scarred wall looms ahead, and as I hold up my candle, I see that it's a board with slices everywhere, like it's been stabbed with thousands of blades—

"AHHH!"

I scream as a dagger thwacks into the board, so close to me I can feel its trail of heat by my eye. The board rattles, and I drop the candle.

The light snuffs out.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

My heart is racing out of control. "What's wrong with you?" I shout at the air. " Coward! If you want to kill me, show your face!"

Sebastián manifests in front of me, shadows licking his skin like smoky snakes.

"Is that your last request?" He sounds different, like he's slipped into a lower register. "You want my face to be the last thing you see?"

There's something new in his expression tonight. A fiery blaze in his wintry eyes that must have been ignited when he drank my blood. Tasting me has changed him.

"Why?" I whisper.

"You reminded me of what I am." There's nothing luminous about his smile now. His mirthless mouth promises only death.

I don't see when he reaches for the second blade.

"AAHHH!"

My scream stings against my sore throat. This time, the dagger lops off one of my curls and pins it to the board.

Sebastián already has a third blade in his hand, so I run.

I can't see where I'm going very well, but I find a wooden device with a shelf underneath that's big enough for me to squeeze inside. "I am astounded I let you live this long," I hear him say as he searches for me.

My pulse echoes in my head, so I know he hears it. My heart is a homing beacon.

"Earth must be softening me," he says, his voice moving in my direction. He's going to find me, and I've trapped myself. I need a better hiding place. I used to be so much better at this game.

I crawl out and dart for cover again behind a rack of whips.

"I should have finished you off last night," he says, and I can't tell anymore if he's talking to me or to himself. "I am even more certain now that killing you will break this spell."

What makes him more certain now, I wonder? Did he see the black smoke, too? I flatten myself against a narrow bed that's been bolted to a large, spinning wheel.

His silence is more terrifying than his words, so I taunt, "You couldn't even kill a baby blue bear—"

The shadow beast appears in front of me, and I know at once he could have ended me at any point tonight, or the past five nights.

But Sebastián prefers to play with his food… Until the food plays back.

"You should not have said that." He doesn't seem angry or bloodthirsty. He looks hurt .

His eyes lock on my throat, and I raise my hands to cover it.

"Why didn't you finish the job last night?" I ask him. "Why all the candles?"

"I wanted to make it special for you," he says, but it's clear this has nothing to do with me. It's about his own pleasure.

I'm backed against the upright bed and have nowhere to go. I can't sidestep Sebastián the way I did Felipe when we first met, nor can I outrun or outthink him. My fingers stay locked on my throat, like they can protect me from his fangs.

"If it is any consolation to you," he says, his icy hands closing around both of mine, "it was always going to end this way."

He pushes down on my arms, ever so slowly. "You had to know that once I had a taste"—I gasp as he tears open the turtleneck of my sweater, exposing my skin down to the tops of my breasts—"I would want more."

There's nothing I can do to protect myself. We both know he's in complete control.

Goose bumps ripple across my body as his mouth hovers over mine, no breath blowing from his lips. There's something so alluring about his starry gaze, his hypnotic voice, his fatal fangs that promise escape from pain and eternal sleep. All of these things must be part of his power because I almost want to feel his bite again.

Except… he isn't striking.

And his daggers missed me. If the shadow beast wanted me dead, I'd be dead. This is something else… He's manipulating me.

Sebastián is trying to seduce some kind of confession, which means he still overestimates me—but maybe I can use that to my advantage.

"Or this could all be part of a test," I say, infusing my voice with as much confidence as I can, and the shadow beast's brow wings up in surprise.

"What sort of test?" he asks, and I hear the suspicion surfacing in his tone.

"I mean that you are in a cursed castle," I say, "and if fairy tales have taught me anything, it's that curses happen to bad princes who misbehave and must be taught a lesson."

I'm being facetious, but something about what I said hits a mark because he frowns with too much interest in my words. "If we are both in a cursed castle, what are you being punished for?" he asks.

For a moment I forget how to breathe.

"My dad is— was —a detective. A good one. I learned from him how to investigate, and I'm here to figure out what happened to my parents on the subway. If it's a spell, like you say, maybe we can work together. Under one condition."

" You are setting the terms—?"

"You don't touch me again without my consent." I say it in a rush, unsure I'll be able to get the words out. "Deal?"

"No deal," he growls, and I get the sense he's not used to taking orders.

"So you won't work with me, and you won't kill me," I say. "What do you want from me then?"

"The truth."

"I wish I had that!" I snap. "I have no idea why you're here, or why my parents died, or if my aunt is really the one responsible—"

"None of that is what I want to know from you," he says, cutting me off before I spiral. "The biggest mystery about the subway is not how everyone died. It is how you survived."

I have no idea what to say to that.

"You… think I have magical powers?" I ask blankly.

"Not exactly." He looks like he's evaluating something in my expression as he speaks. "Have you considered the possibility the black fire could have been a protective spell performed on you when you were young?"

His question blows my mind. As I consider his theory that the smoke is protecting me, I realize it tracks: I saw it on the subway, and again last night, when Sebastián bit me.

"But why didn't I see it now when you threw the daggers?"

He nods like he's already contemplated this. "I believe it means intent matters. Only true life-or-death danger triggers the spell's protection."

It takes me nearly a minute to pick up on what he's saying. "You mean you didn't intend to kill me tonight?"

Sebastián moves toward me again, only this time he bends down so he can look straight into my eyes. His gaze is pure steel.

"If I had intended to kill you, Estela, you would be dead."

I force myself not to shrink from his intensity. "Then why aren't I?"

I don't mean for the question to sound so dramatic, but I feel it on many levels. Why aren't I dead?

After a prolonged silence, he says, "I was certain I would kill you tonight."

Shivers race down both my arms. My knees bend as I wonder if there's a point in attempting to outrun him—

"And yet, here you remain," he goes on. "I have no explanation for my choices. Nor can I guarantee they will not change in the future."

Here I remain.

Even a starving vampire with no other source of sustenance can't kill me. Maybe he's right that the black smoke is protecting me because how else can this be explained?

Sebastián believes the spell gets activated if I'm in true danger. It was also danger that prompted me to speak for the first time in months a few nights ago. I thought the impulse was a sign I wanted to live… but maybe I was just acting on instinct.

I try reverse-engineering Sebastián's logic: If the black smoke only shows up in case of an actual threat, can it reveal whether a threat is legitimate? Does its presence expose a person's true intentions?

The only thing tethering me to life right now is my desire to know the truth about the Subway 25 and my parents' and my past in Oscuro. But what's left for me on Earth after these mysteries are solved?

Felipe said it himself: a lifetime in this castle with my awful aunt. So what am I even holding on to? Who cares if I stay or go? I don't have parents anymore.

The tears race each other down as I see Mom's right dimple and Dad's bushy brows. It's amazing how fast the world ends: one instant your parents are alive, the next they're dead.

I'm nothing more than a ghost with unfinished business.

Like Sebastián, I might as well do whatever it takes to get answers. Otherwise, what's the point?

"I'm tired," I say, walking away from him as calmly as I can.

But my heart echoes through my body as I pass the crate of daggers, betraying me.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

I know Sebastián hears the beating. I have no idea how my body will react once the blade is in my hand, if I'll be able to go through with it… But it's now or never.

So before the shadow beast can figure out what I'm doing, I yank out a hilt—

And drive the dagger into my heart.