Page 118 of Castle of the Cursed
“If you do not, and your aunt disappears, too, more people will come knocking. Eventually, you will have to answer.”
“But what do I say to him? You want me to lie to a man to his face about his dead son, and in a language I barely speak?”
BANG. BANG. BANG.
“If you care about keeping this castle’s bloodthirst at bay,” says Sebastián, “then take it from another bloodthirsty beast—the best thing you can do is communicate to this man in the language he best understands that he must stay away from here.”
Sebastián is right that I don’t want cops showing up, nor do I want to draw more attention to this place. So I open the front door.
The man on the other side looks aged with worry, and my soul hurts for him. His heart fears he’s lost his son, but his brain isn’t aware of the facts yet. Right now, Arturo is caught in the despair of not knowing.
Maybe I can spare him some pain.
“Hola, Estela,” he says, nodding in greeting. “¿Está tu tía?”
I shake my head. My aunt is not home.
“No la he visto en la clínica,” he adds. I didn’t see her at the clinic.
I shrug and try to summon actual words, but he barrels on before I can open my mouth. “No importa, he venido a verte a ti.” I have come to see you.
“¿A mí?” I ask. Today, I have no trouble with Spanish. In fact, I even feel more comfortable pronouncing the words.
“¿Sabes dónde está Felipe? No ha regresado de su viaje, y hablé con su amigo Sergio, a quien iba a visitar, y me dijo que no lo ha visto en meses. Pensé que como ustedes han estado tan unidos, a lo mejor te ha confiado algo.”
I understand everything he says—it’s as if in recovering Antonela, I’ve unlocked my access to Spanish. Arturo is asking where his son is because his friend Sergio hasn’t seen him. Arturo is here because he hopes Felipe confided in me what his real plans were.
I picture Felipe’s room with all its posters of la Sombra from every angle, the dark shrine he built for its worship. I think of the attic in Libroscuro, with its ancient books about the castle and the town and its ties to the supernatural. I remember the way Bea’s photo sits on the mantel at the Sarmientos’ home, just beneath la Sombra’s crest. And I flash to Felipe saying his family are the keepers of the Book.
There is no police station in Oscuro, but there is a bookstore, and this castle, and a clínica run by a Brálaga. In my digitizing work for Bea, I barely got through the first last name in the clínica’s files because there are so many people of the same family here. Oscuro’s residents stay for generations. Mom used to say populations remain firmly entrenched in a place due to culture or poverty. In this case, I think it’s superstition.
The people who remain here, the Oscurianos, were raised to fear this castle, to be in awe of it, to watch it from the shadows. They adhere to a higher power than law enforcement or religion.
Above all, they believe in la Sombra.
“Felipe told me he received a mission,” I say, trying to channel his fierce conviction. “I don’t know where he went. I don’t even know what he meant. But I believe him.”
Arturo’s eyes have gone wide. He stares at me for a long moment, and I get the impression of a man whose faith is being tested when he asks, “The fire that took your sister… it is true?”
His accent is rough, but I understand him. I nod in assent.
“And—Felipe—he’s gone to the same place?”
“Yes,” I say, unsure what the fallout will be—if I should expect the cops or a mob next. “Bea chose to go with him,” I add, hoping Arturo doesn’t run into her. “My sister is guiding them.”
Now Arturo’s expression slackens a bit, slightly eased. “Pensé que la doctora no quería a Felipe.” I thought la doctora didn’t care for Felipe.
“I think seeing how close he and I got changed her mind.”
He nods, his eyes dazed with the shock he’s just been dealt. “I wish I could understand,” he says. “Pero Felipe creía en el poder de la Sombra. Siempre fue su sueño pertenecer al castillo.” Felipe believed in the power of la Sombra. It was always his dream to belong to the castle.
“I don’t understand, either, but I believe,” I say, and we look at each other, in the shadow of our grief.
When Arturo has gone and I’m alone again with Sebastián, he leads me to the kitchen. I feel nauseous from my lies. I refuse the glass of water he holds out to me, and he pulls me into him, pressing a kiss to my head. “You did the man a great kindness.”
“I lied.”
“You are carrying the weight of the truth for him because you know there is no fixing what is broken.”
