Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

"BUT WHAT IF IT'S TRUE?" I ask yet again, as we climb the overgrown garden to the castle doors.

"I already told you, I'm a physician," says Beatríz, carrying a fabric bag that she didn't have with her earlier. "You can't revive the dead. Especially when there isn't even a corpse."

"But you didn't believe the spell to send her to the other castle was real, and it worked!"

"It doesn't take magic to ki—to make a person disappear," she says, choosing different words. " Magic would be reviving them!"

It's clear where she stands on this, so I switch subjects. "I met Teo my first day here. He was the driver who picked me up from the airport."

She looks at me in shock. " That's why the driver didn't wait for me to pay! I called the company the next day, and they told me the trip had been canceled. I just assumed the center in DC had arranged your transportation so you didn't meet my driver." She shakes her head in a kind of awe. "He must have been keeping watch over me ever since the subway, expecting you would come home eventually."

We reach the front doors of la Sombra, and Bea slips the key in the lock and looks at me. "Be ready."

"You think he's here?" I whisper.

"Just in case." She shows me what's inside the fabric bag, and I see a dozen syringes. They're the sedatives I saw on my tour of the clínica the first day. Holding one up to demonstrate, she removes the plastic cap over the needle and says, "Stab him with the pointy end, then press in to inject."

She hands me one. "Put it in your coat pocket."

My eyes feel like they take up my whole face as I accept. This still doesn't feel like real life, and I ask her, "Why aren't we calling the police—?"

"Shh," says Beatríz, opening the door.

We search the front part of the castle together, our bedrooms, the grand hall, the kitchen—but there's no sign of him. "Should we check the hidden rooms, like in the basement and the tower?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "I was being cautious, but I think since he left us a note, he wants us to come to him. He's waiting for an answer."

I follow Beatríz to the kitchen, where she washes her hands before pulling out a pan and eggs. "I'm going to make you a Spanish staple," she says, reaching into a cupboard for a bag of potatoes. "Tortilla de papas."

"I'm going to get comfortable," I say, and this is the first time I'm actually looking forward to a meal with my aunt. "I'll be back." When I get to my room, I call out, "Sebastián?"

He isn't here. I hide the blood bags I just stole from the clínica under my bed, since I can't put them in the fridge. Then after pulling on my sweats, a top, and my hoodie, I head back downstairs.

"Can I help?" I ask, joining my aunt in the kitchen.

"Sure. Whisk eight eggs." She plucks a bowl from the cabinet.

I open the fridge, and while she starts peeling potatoes over the sink, I start cracking eggs. "Was your mom—my grandmother—a big cook?" I ask.

Beatríz lets out a yelp of a laugh that startles us both, and I drop half a shell into the bowl. "My mother did not cook," she says as I fish it out with the whisk. "She had a household staff for that. It was the same with her mother, and her mother's mother. You and I are breaking with tradition. ?Salud!"

She holds out the potato peeler, and I clink it with my yolky whisk, smirking. "Dad was always the cook in our family," I say. "Mom was allergic to the kitchen."

Smiling, my aunt looks so much like Mom that just breathing hurts. "Your mother wasn't allowed in this kitchen after she snuck in early one morning when she was nine and tried to make breakfast," says Beatríz, some color returning to her face. "It was as bad as you're imagining. After that, she was banned, so whenever she wanted a snack, I had to go in and get it for her."

I whisk the eggs, wondering more about Mom's childhood. "What was Mom's favorite part of the castle?"

"The library. She was a born writer. Her little hands always reached for pens and crayons, and she'd leave her markings everywhere."

I bring the bowl to Beatríz, who is still peeling potatoes. "What was Antonela like?" I ask in a lower register.

My aunt's hands stop working. She doesn't look at me, but her chest rises and falls faster.

"She was an explorer. You liked to sit still, like your dad, but she had more of your mom's restlessness. She loved to play outside and didn't mind things like dirt and bugs."

A blade slices through a potato, and after Beatríz finishes chopping, she instructs me, "Cut these two the same way." Then she turns on the heat and drizzles olive oil into a pan.

By the time we sit to eat, it's dark out, and I need to decide what to do. As soon as Sebastián sees Beatríz, he's going to have a reaction. I just hope it won't be to kill her on sight.

"What do you think?" she asks me.

"Of what?"

"The tortilla espa?ola."

"Oh!" I look down and realize I've scarfed down my slice. "Delicious," I say honestly.

I tried it at Felipe's house, but it wasn't as good as this one. That night, I remember being hungry and having to wait a while before the food started circling. "Do Spaniards eat late?" I ask.

Beatríz nods, glass of water in her hand. "Our biggest meal is la comida, in the afternoon, and then la cena is late at night, a few hours after your usual dinnertime. But your doctors asked me to stick to your usual schedule so you wouldn't feel a disruption." She takes a sip of her water. "Speaking of meals, it's your birthday in three days."

I've been actively avoiding thinking of it. The first birthday I'll celebrate without my parents.

Mom and I had my present picked out for when I turned eighteen. It was a promise we made to each other years ago. But it's impossible now.

"I'm sorry," says Bea, reading the sadness on my face. "If you don't want to celebrate, I understand, but I'd like to at least make you something you like. Maybe you can tell me your favorite food?"

Movement flickers in my side vision as Sebastián materializes.

He looks from Beatríz to me and frowns questioningly. I shake my head slightly to signal him not to do anything. "Um, sure, I'll think about it," I say, standing up. "I'm really tired. I'm going to head upstairs—"

My aunt places the black pill on the table in front of me. Before Sebastián has a chance to swipe it and bewilder Beatríz, I ask, "What is it?"

She rises, too. "I think it's time I show you."

I follow Beatríz down the east wing of the castle, where the purple room is buried.

Sebastián's shadow darkens the wall, but my aunt seems oblivious to his presence. We cut across the red rug, and she opens the door into the windowless cathedral. Sebastián appears in physical form beside me, and we exchange curious glances.

My aunt pads across the hall, and at the back wall, she presses her hand to a nondescript stone. Sebastián stiffens; she must have pricked her skin, and he scents the blood.

The stone lights up and slides out. Beatríz twists, and a door swings open, just like the secret one that leads to the purple room.

We step into a dimly lit shed. It smells musty and dank, and all around me are gardening tools and gear.

"Put these on," she says, handing me rain boots.

"Are you certain you can trust her?" Sebastián asks me.

As certain as I can trust you, I mouth. When he grimaces, I know he understood me.

She grabs a pair of gloves before reaching for another door. As she twists the knob, I spy something— thorns . Another blood-print check.

As soon as she opens the door, Sebastián goes ahead of us and stops at the threshold.

He's hit a barrier, I think.

But then he steps forward, only slowly; and when I look around, I see why.

We've entered the strangest space I've ever seen. I'm not even sure if we're outdoors or underground.

It looks like a garden made of body limbs. To my left are plants that resemble legs and arms with toe-like flowers, and to my right are tiny trees with bone-like trunks and tonguelike leaves.

"What is this?" I ask, revolted.

"Blood," says Sebastián, his voice low with awe. "It is everywhere."

I have no idea what he's talking about, but then I see Beatríz raise what looks like a watering canister, only the liquid inside is red.

"This castle runs on blood," says my aunt. "That's the real reason we established the blood bank. This is a jardín de sangre." Blood garden.

Sebastián and I exchange stunned stares.

It's hard not to be creeped out by the plants that look like body parts growing in the ground, but Sebastián walks around the foliage fascinated, like he sees a beautiful garden and not a grotesque display. I remember my first impression of la Sombra was not of a shadow castle but a shadow creature… I guess I wasn't far off the mark.

"So, the lights and the fireplace—?"

"Fuego de sangre," she answers. Blood flames.

"You mean there's no electricity?" I ask quizzically.

"The soil this castle was constructed on isn't wholly of this Earth. As there is no magic here, it must be nourished by our blood, which contains our ancestral power. In the earliest days, neighbors were sacrificed. The original owner used to host wild parties to feed the castle, but as civilization matured over time, mass murder became harder to pull off."

The full moon parties. They were real. I can hardly believe it, and I suddenly wish I could tell Felipe.

"Over the generations," she goes on, "our ancestors found a more civilized method: collecting blood from residents to feed the castle. That is what we are doing when we tend this garden."

The soil seems to be a mix of dirt and blood, and I notice dark droppings in places. When I look closer, I see they're the black pills.

"The seeds of these plants can be eaten," Bea explains, following my gaze. "They have supernatural healing and nutritional properties, and I've been continuing the work of our ancestors by cataloguing the effects of each plant. I prescribe them as homeopathic remedies for my patients. We take care of la Sombra, and la Sombra takes care of us."

I don't know what to say. Or think. Or feel.

"The seed I gave you is the most potent plant here," she goes on, "which our family uses when introducing a new family member to the castle."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"When it comes to spouses or hired help, we introduce their blood to this garden first, in higher and higher doses, until it's safe for them to start visiting and eventually move in. We also give them these seeds to ingest so that the castle recognizes them as part of its family. That's how it worked for your father."

"That's why you wanted to draw Felipe's blood the other day," I say, remembering how she reminded him of his appointment.

"I figured it was only a matter of time before he got in here," she says. "I wanted to give him some extra protection."

I can hardly believe it. This castle really is a creature. And like all beings of this world, it's been named by others: la Sombra .

"I should've never let Felipe in. I put him in danger." I feel Sebastián's comforting hand squeeze my shoulder.

"You didn't know he was working with your uncle," says Beatríz. "Nor did the boy know what he was getting into." She sighs and sets down the canister.

I still hold her responsible for what she did to Antonela, but I do believe that Beatríz has changed. I don't think she and her brother are the same. She's stepped out from his shadow; she's not his sombrita anymore.

"I'll take the pill now," I say, swallowing it sans water.

I think Sebastián bends down and scoops some seeds, but it's too quick to tell.

"How often do you water—er, blood these plants?" I ask.

"Once a week." She approaches a metal chamber, and I know it's a freezer by the exhale of icy mist when she opens it. "I fed the castle a big meal before leaving, but I think Teo has been getting into my stores at the clínica," she says, and I look away guiltily. "I wonder what he's doing."

Sebastián lingers by the freezer while Beatríz and I head back into the shed. I hope he doesn't finish all the bags in there.

I left you some under my bed, I mouth to him.

"I already found them," he says, baring his fangs in a scary smile.

I keep my aunt company as she washes the dishes. She looks so exhausted that her eyelids are drooping, and I wonder when the last time she truly slept was.

"Let's go to bed, it's been a long day," I say. She doesn't argue and lets me steer her upstairs.

It's only once I'm alone in my room that Sebastián and I can properly speak. "I take it she is not involved in her brother's plans?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I found another room today with journals of spells my ancestors attempted. And I learned something."

"What is it?" he asks, and I know he feels the gravity of my news because concern colors his gaze.

"I had a sister. A twin."

He stares at me with wide eyes, wordless.

"They killed her," I say, my voice breaking. "In the black fire."

Sebastián pulls me into his chest, and I inhale night's cologne. "I am sorry," he murmurs.

How is it possible to miss someone I only learned about hours ago? After becoming an orphan, I didn't think I had anything left to lose. But the world just keeps on taking.

"Your uncle will pay for all he has done," Sebastián vows into my hair.

I flash to the book I buried in the garden, and my stomach roils with guilt. Am I just as bad as the rest of my family, using lies and deceit to get what I want?

"What if it turns out you're with someone where you're from?" I ask, the anxiety eating at me. "Or if you have a family or important responsibilities or power —?"

"What if you had died in the woods?" he asks, cutting me off. "I was so consumed with the fear of losing you that I could not produce another thought."

"You only have access to seven months' worth of memories," I argue. "How can you know you really feel this way about me?"

"I can only describe it as I feel the pain of breaking-in muscles I did not know I had," he says, and his silver gaze no longer holds any coldness. "You are cultivating a gentleness in me I never had cause to develop. I do not want to lose these new pieces of myself any more than I want to lose you."

Everything he says is perfect, and yet I don't deserve it. I am keeping his identity from him, just as my family did to me.

But I can't lose him.

Our lips meet, and his tongue flips a switch that makes every inch of me tingle.

I barely feel the floor beneath my feet as he guides us to my bed. As we move, Sebastián zips down my hoodie and pulls off my shirt, letting the layers fall behind me like flower petals.

I'm trembling as he pulls down my pants, his starry gaze glued to mine, like he's daring me to say stop .

I'm only in a bra and underwear as he slides me onto the bed. We're both sitting up as he kisses my neck and draws a path to my chest with his tongue. I boldly reach back and unhook my bra. The straps sling off my shoulders and the whole thing rolls down, exposing my breasts.

I've never been naked in front of someone like this, and I feel a sear of heat flush my cheeks. I want to ask him if he's going to remove his shirt, too, but I can't make my tongue form the words.

"You are beautiful," he says, running a finger across my jawline, his cold finger leaving a trail of heat on my skin. "We can move slower if this is too fast."

I chuckle nervously. "Must be the opposite for you. This must feel like slow motion."

" Time is a concept with which I have only recently become acquainted," he says. "What I know of it can be summed up in a line from a book I read in this library: Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time. "

All my organs seem to be melting. Only a week ago, the shadow beast seemed a sadistic monster with no heart, and now he is the most romantic being I have ever known.

"It is better in the original Spanish," he says, his gaze so soft, it looks like a silver sea. " Estar contigo o no estar contigo es la medida de mi tiempo ."

His voice sounds deeper in Spanish, and I remember noting the way my parents' pitch would also shift when they switched languages. Without breaking our stare, he rakes his fingers through my hair, pulling the curls back, and his other hand closes around my neck, his thumb pressing into my chin.

"You say when to stop," he tells me, then his hand drops from my face to my collarbone, and then lower still, to my breasts.

Sebastián's caresses make me moan, and I feel an engine deep within me revving to life. His hand trails down my rib cage, and in with my waist, and as it keeps moving south, I fall back onto the bed. His fingers stay on the outside of my underwear, but the cotton is too thin to be much of a barrier.

I can't keep my eyes from rolling back as numbness spreads through me, a relaxing sensation that overtakes every muscle and makes my mind too dizzy to form a complete thought.

"I want to," I mumble, "stay awake."

I'd rather not miss more time with him, but this sense of release is making me sleepy. I'm sad about my sister and hopeful about Beatríz and overwhelmed by Sebastián—and the cocktail is emotionally draining.

"Sleep, Estela," he whispers in my ear. "You will need it for what lies ahead." As blackness overtakes my mind, the last thing I hear him say is: "We have no idea what your uncle is plotting."

12 YEARS AGO

"UNO, DOS, TRES, CUATRO, CINCO…"

I'm counting, and Antonela is hiding.

This time, I start my search outside. I run to the front door, and when I see that it's open, my worst suspicions about my sister are confirmed. I open my mouth to yell at Antonela that I'm not going to play with her anymore if she keeps breaking the rules, but I forget the game altogether when I spot her.

Antonela isn't hiding, nor is she alone.

A boy is approaching her.

He sticks out his hand, and I see her rest something on it. A rock.

There's blood on her hand as she gives it to him. Then he cuts his own palm open.

The lights in the foyer flicker on and off, on and off, on and off.

Like a warning.

I don't like that the castle is talking to me when Nela isn't around, nor that Nela is talking to a boy when I'm not around. We're supposed to do everything together.

This feels like a bad sign of things to come.