Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

ON OUR WAY HOME, BEATRíZ and I stop by the local restaurant to pick up what she says is her standing monthly order of paella.

Tonight, I'm determined to ask my aunt about the purple room. Now that I've found my voice, I intend to question her about everything I want to know.

"I hope tutoring with Felipe is going well," she says from across the table when we're almost finished eating. The seafood-based rice dish is good, but very rich and filling, so I only eat half of what's on my plate.

"Felipe is a good boy, but…" She takes a long swig of her wine. "He has a big imagination."

I'm not sure why she's volunteering this information, and I'm intrigued by her use of the word but —as if having an imagination is a drawback. I must be frowning because Beatríz answers my unasked question:

"Felipe has had his head in fiction ever since he learned how to read. For one with such an overactive imagination, too much fantasy can be a dangerous drug. I doubt there's any saving him now."

Her gaze grows distant, and I wonder why she's saying this, or what she means by saving, or who she's really thinking about. But I have a more pressing question.

I dig my hand into the pocket of my hoodie, and I pull out the photograph she sent me, where teenage versions of her and Mom are posing in the purple room. I set it flat on the table between us.

Beatríz's face puckers, like she's ingested something sour.

I clear my throat and move my tongue to speak five words: " What happened in that room? "

I only know I haven't asked the question out loud when Beatríz says, "Your mom was younger than you are now in that picture. Keep it. It's yours."

She pulls my plate toward her, ready to clear the table and end any chance of this conversation happening. I keep trying to force the words out, but my vocal cords won't cooperate. My throat closes, and my jaw stays firmly shut.

Rather than panicking, I flip the photograph over.

Dad said for every interrogation, you should always have a plan B. So on the back, I've written a different four-word question: Where is this room?

I keep my eyes on my aunt. I don't even blink so I won't miss any part of her reaction. Her hair is pulled back into such a tight knot that it tugs on her skin, making it hard to read the lines of her face. But the answer is in her eyes.

Raul's Rule #6: The big answers lie in the small details.

Beatríz's eyes widen for a flash, like she fears the secret's revelation, and I know it's true. Something horrible happened in that room.

"As I said to you already, the castle is in disrepair." Beatríz stands up, her chair scraping the floor. "Many parts are no longer accessible."

I spring to my feet, too, unwilling to let her off so easily, but my tongue is glued to the top of my mouth. My aunt takes our plates and silverware and her empty wineglass to the kitchen, leaving me struggling with my speech.

I grab my glass of water and the photograph, and I stomp after her, determined to get answers. When I get to the kitchen, she turns away from the sink to look at me and reaches out a hand.

For one dumbfounded moment, I think she's offering me affection. Until I step forward and see the seedlike black pill in her palm.

I don't take it.

I show her the photo again.

"If you're going to act out like this, I'm sure I can find an in-patient facility that will take you."

That's not concern in her voice. It's a threat.

Since I'm going to spit it out in my room anyway, I take the pill and tuck it under my tongue like I've done the past two nights. Then I swallow some water to top off my performance.

My aunt's bony fingers wring my wrist. She pulls me in so abruptly that I swallow again, hard—and the pill goes down my throat.

She lets me go just as quickly and starts washing the dishes, as if nothing happened.

I press a hand to my chest as the thing makes its way down, and I run up the stairs, a single thought repeating itself, standing out from the jumble of my mind: My aunt just forcibly drugged me.

No wonder Mom left this place. Her sister is a monster.

I hurry so I can throw up whatever she just gave me, slamming shut the door to my room—

The shadow beast steps forth from the darkness, like he exists just for me.

Startled, I back up to the wall. My breathing shallows with every step he takes, his presence as intoxicating as it was in my dreams.

"I believe I gave you a choice," he says, his voice as cold and murderous as it was last night. Everything about the shadow beast is blade-sharp, from his cheekbones to his jawline to his gaze.

"End the spell or die. What is your answer?"

After dinner with Beatríz, I'm not sure my voice works. "I—" My throat is rough, and I try to clear it. "I'm not a witch. I'm just a girl."

"Then your life is forfeit."

I'm not going to get any answers by making enemies with my own mind. If this hallucination represents a repressed part of my self, I'll get further as a friend than a foe.

"But I—I think I can help you," I say, my voice trembling as he moves closer. "I have a source who knows a lot about this castle's supernatural history. Tomorrow I can ask him about spells."

The silver eyes are so near, they're all I can see. "Arrogant of you," he murmurs, "to assume you have a tomorrow."

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. My heart is racing again, and I can't deny there's something inviting about its song.

"W-we should be working together," I say, nerves fraying my voice as his shadows eclipse all the light.

"If something happened to us, to both of us, at the same time—that must mean we're connected." I have no idea what I'm saying; my only plan is to keep him talking. "At least tell me your name?"

"What for?" he whispers, his mouth by my hairline.

"So I'll know what to call you. Or at least I'll know who killed me."

I wince as my mind twinges with a spasm of discomfort. Is he going to end my life with a brain aneurism?

"You know well," he says, pulling back to look me in the eye, "my name is Bastian, bruja."

" I don't know you, and I'm not a witch, " I insist without breaking his gaze, emphasizing each word. I don't remember ever naming the shadow beast, so I'm not sure where Bastian came from. "Is that short for Sebastian?"

"You tell me," he says, still scrutinizing me as hard as I did Beatríz at dinner. "You must know who I am if you brought me here."

Is he admitting he knows I'm manifesting him? "I don't know you, so I'm not going to call you that," I say, refusing to cede more ground to this frustrating figment. "I'm going to call you Sebastián. "

I meant to say Sebastian, but for some reason I pronounce it with a Spanish accent. The shadow beast doesn't answer, and my mind twinges again, like someone is wringing my brain's folds dry.

"Stop that!" I say, rubbing my temples. "If you kill me, we're both dead. Your only chance is to work with me."

A faint heartbeat begins to sound in my mind, but it's too calm to be my own. I only hear it between every third beat of mine.

"What are you doing to me?" I ask as the overhead light flickers, producing a strobe-like effect. A wave of lightheadedness crashes over me, and I blink away the dizziness.

"I have not yet begun," he says, giving me more space. "What is it? You look green."

"There's something out there." I lunge for the bedroom door and yank it open. The heartbeat sounds louder in the hall.

I follow the pulse and feel Sebastián's presence sticking to me, his shadow darkening the walls as I hurry down the stairs and pass the dining hall. Thankfully, Beatríz isn't there.

The heart's beating is growing louder with every step.

"Where are you going?" asks Sebastián, as the red-tinged lights around us flicker again.

"Are you messing with me?" I ask him.

"Is this real or part of the performance?" he shoots back.

"Don't you see that?"

"See what?"

Either I'm getting played, or I'm the only one seeing something again. Neither option is good.

We reach the fork where the castle bifurcates, and I look from one crimson corridor to the other. The passage that leads to the mirror room is dimly lit, but the one I took last night to the cathedral is flickering.

"What do you see?" asks Sebastián as we cut down the east wing, through the string of barren rooms.

"The lights are flickering." As I say it, the blinking stops.

We're in front of the double doors that open into the windowless cathedral. "They led me here," I say, reaching for the handle.

Sebastián flings the doors open and advances into the cathedral, his shadows darkening the air, until the entire hall is an inky black night. I get the sense he's scanning the whole place at once.

"There is nothing here," he says when he's finished, appearing before me. As the shadows retreat into him, the air brightens back to a dull reddish hue.

"Yet this room holds secrets," he says with a frown.

"Like a hidden door?" I ask, wondering if it's the purple room.

He cocks his head to the side, surveying me. "Why did you bring me here?"

I hear the death lining his voice, and I know my brain isn't big enough for the both of us. The shadow beast and I can't coexist.

"What makes you think I'm the bruja, and not my aunt?" I challenge him.

"She cannot sense me, nor can I touch her. You alone perceive me—so you must be behind the spell."

How convenient; I created a creature only I can see.

Sebastián's viselike grip closes around my neck, and pain shoots through me.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Lightning flashes in the silver of his eyes as my pulse picks up speed. He's excited by my fear. "Any last words?" he whispers, our noses nearly brushing.

I inhale his starry scent, and I can almost feel the moonlight of his gaze tickling my skin. This cathedral may be windowless, but the night sky has never felt closer.

"If you're going to kill me," I squeeze out through his grip, "can I at least pick the room?" My mind must have conjured the shadow beast to protect me from the truth, so it's possible he also holds the answers.

I watch his jaw clench before he opens his fist, freeing my neck. " Where? "

I massage my throat and take measured breaths. I'm seeing spots, and my head is throbbing, but I use what energy I have left to dig into my pocket and hold out the photograph. " Here. "

When he reaches for it, I keep my grip on the paper, so he can't take it. Our fingers rest there, touching.

A shiver runs down my middle when he looks at me. Then he studies the picture.

He stares for so long, and with such focus, that I take him in slowly and uninterrupted. His sculpted face is smooth, sans age markers, not a wrinkle or blemish anywhere. Yet the rest of him is harder to make out.

It's as if his body is cloaked with the night itself. The length of his form is covered in a formfitting fabric so dark that it shades the air around him, shrouding his details. Yet the blackness isn't opaque; there are lights in its depths, and I get the sense that if I look long enough, I might not even notice when his hands close around my neck again.

"No," he says, and I blink, forgetting my question.

"I have explored this castle every night, and I have not seen this room… Yet it feels familiar." This last part sounds more muted, like he's thinking out loud.

He stares at me now, with the same quiet intensity. "How did you come to possess this?"

"This picture is what lured me to this castle. I know something happened to me in that room, but I don't know what. I've come to find it."

He watches my lips move as I talk, and an inner warmth spreads down my middle. But being attracted to my own hallucination makes me even more screwed up than I already am, so I close my eyes to shut him out. Yet I still see him against the black of my lids.

When I open my eyes again, he's gone.

Along with my photograph.

I wake up earlier than usual, so I cross paths with Beatríz in the kitchen. "I'll walk with you today," she says, wearing another dark and outdated dress.

I was planning to return to the cathedral first thing to see if I could locate the photograph I lost last night, but now I'll have to wait until later. We walk in stiff and uncomfortable silence the whole way to town, and when we get to the bookstore, she goes inside with me.

"Buen día, Doctora," says Felipe in greeting. He looks more than just surprised. He seems nervous. "?Cómo la puedo ayudar?"

"Quería asegurarme de que todo iba bien con la tutoría."

"Su sobrina es una estudiante excelente." They both turn to me, and I stare back blankly. Felipe smiles and Beatríz grimaces.

"Bueno," she says, turning back to him, "también te quiero recordar que tienes cita para donar sangre ma?ana."

"Ahí estaré."

"Nos vemos por la tarde," Beatríz says to me before sweeping out the front door.

"What was that about?" I ask Felipe.

"She wanted to see how tutoring was going. I said you were a quick study," he says, and we both smirk.

I follow him as he climbs the ladder, and he adds over his shoulder, "She also reminded me I have an appointment to donate blood tomorrow."

A chill runs down my left arm as I recall Beatríz drawing my blood. "How often do you do that?"

"Few times a year." He shrugs. "Whenever la doctora says it's time."

Once we're seated at the high table, I ask, "What can you tell me about my family?"

"The Brálagas are the oldest bloodline in Oscuro—"

"No," I cut him off. "I mean my parents. Do you remember anything about when we lived here?"

He looks at me like I asked a trick question. "Do you? Remember anything?"

I frown with annoyance. "I asked you first."

"I don't know. I was young. I don't remember much." He breaks off and seems to be listening deeply for something, possibly the sound of customers.

"But I heard stuff over the years," he goes on, his voice significantly lower. "People say your family are victims of the castle's curse. First, you and your parents disappeared overnight. Then your grandmother died. Soon after, your grandfather. And then… the subway."

He doesn't explain further, and I'm glad.

"La doctora was left alone when her parents died, and after firing the castle's staff, they say she's never let another person set foot inside la Sombra again."

He had me until that last part. "That sounds like an exaggeration. The castle is ancient. She must have had to call a repair person at some point to fix the plumbing or wiring or something ."

"They say la Sombra's power has never gone out, not even in bad snowstorms. And have you seen the condition of the garden? She won't even hire a landscaper."

I think of the kitchen's modern refrigerator; that model didn't exist half a decade ago. "So you're telling me my aunt carried in a state-of-the-art refrigerator on her own?"

He shrugs. "If it's new, it has wheels. Unless—is the kitchen on a different floor?"

"It's not," I say, noting how he logs this scrap of information, the same way I archive evidence in my mind, and it reminds me that Felipe has his own agenda. These past few days, I've been the hungry diner and Felipe has been feeding me intel; but now his own appetite is rising to the surface.

"What about what your great-grandfather said about Brálagas having magic?" I know I'm only indulging my delirium by bringing this up—but what happened to the photograph last night? Did I drop it, or is Sebastián real? I felt his grip around my neck, and today my throat even feels a little sore.

I don't know what to believe, if I can trust my own senses.

Felipe bounds to the desk. He uses a key to unlock a drawer, and he pulls out a pamphlet printed on thick parchment. He holds it gingerly as he brings it over.

The paper has an ancient feel and scent. At the top of the pamphlet is the Brálaga coat of arms: the full moon and la Sombra's silhouette, inversely mirrored, against a bloodred background.

There are only four lines of ink, written in striking calligraphy. Felipe reads them aloud:

Disco que asombra,

Río rojo más puro,

Castillo de las sombras,

No hay luz en Oscuro.

The last line lands in my stomach with a thud. "What does the whole thing mean?"

"Think you can figure it out if I help you?" he asks, activating tutor mode.

I take a stab at the first line. "Disco? Like the dance?"

Felipe snorts. "No, it means disk."

I grin, too. "That makes more sense. So, disk that… a-sombra? Is that like a shadow?"

He chuckles again. " Asombra means astounds or astonishes."

"So… disk that astounds ?" He nods in assent, and I continue. " Río … means river?" He nods again, his smile growing. "Red… most… pure? Red river most pure? "

"Yes!" he says proudly. "And the last two lines?"

" Castle of the shadows… there's no light in Oscuro ." I reread the whole thing, in English: " Disk that astounds, red river most pure, castle of the shadows, there's no light in Oscuro ."

I look at him, still confused. "What's it mean?"

"I think it's kind of a riddle."

I used to love those. " Castle of the shadows means la Sombra," I say, and I start to pace the attic like I used to when I was in problem-solving mode. " Red river most pure … could that be blood?"

I stop moving and look at Felipe, who nods in assent. Thinking of the Brálaga crest, I say: " Disk that astounds must refer to the moon. So, the answers are: full moon, blood, la Sombra, and… nighttime ?"

His brow arches up. "That was quick."

"But if those are the answers, what's the question?" I ask, resuming my pacing.

"What if it's a spell?"

I freeze, feeling my eyes widening at the word. If— if —Sebastián is real, and if there's actually a spell, and if Brálaga magic exists…

"Do you think my aunt can conduct magic?" I ask, answering Felipe's question with another.

The humor fades from his features. It feels like removing the filter of friendly bookseller and seeing his true face underneath.

The hunger I glimpsed earlier was nothing compared to the ravenous way he looks now. He's more than the bright-eyed tutor of the past few days, and I see the danger Beatríz picked up on. Felipe is an investigator in search of a secret he's so desperate to uncover, he's willing to risk everything for it. Even himself.

He reminds me of me .

"No one knows what la doctora does inside la Sombra," he says, lowering his voice. "You're the first to get close. If anyone can find out… it's you."

"Can I see your calendar again?" I ask.

Felipe grabs it off the desk, and I look down at the tiny black circle for this month. I guess I'll have my answer soon.

The full moon is in three nights.