Page 24 of Castle of the Cursed
“Are you upset the Book was destroyed before you could read it?” I ask to lighten the air.
“I just didn’t expect you to be so suspicious after what you lived through,” he says, sounding almost angry.
My gut hardens, and my guard shoots up. “I think you mean skeptical, and yes, I am. Sorry if that disappoints you.”
“I think you mean it confuses me.”
“Why?”
“You saw black smoke, and even though there was no evidence, you wanted the world to believe you. What makes your ancestors less trustworthy?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
It’s not just that he makes a valid point—it’s also that he went there. He poked my rawest wound. I don’t think Felipe would have done that if this book weren’t so important to him. But he’s not a Brálaga, so why does he care so much?
“What do you think is the truth?” I ask, trying to ignore the sting from his question. “Do you believe all these supernatural encounters really happened?”
“I don’t have answers yet, just ideas,” he says, not meeting my eyes. “But I’m not sure you’re ready to hear them.”
“Tell me,” I say, burning a hole in his head with my gaze, until at last he looks at me.
“Before he died,” he begins, “my great-grandfather told me something. He didn’t have any evidence”—Felipe’s eyes light up with excitement—“but he never lied to me.”
So far, Felipe has shared his knowledge with me freely. Yet this secret, he protects. Whatever his great-grandfather told him, there’s no doubt Felipe believes it.
“What is it?” I ask.
His throat is so dry I can hear him swallow. “He told me some Brálagas are—special.” Felipe says it like he’s not sure it’s the right word. “On the full moon, they can perform magic.”
I look at the drawing of the castle’s crest on the Book’s cover, and he must be having an effect on me because the first thought to cross my mind is, Maybe that’s what the moon represents.
Either my ancestors and I share a supernatural sensibility, or we suffer from an inherited mental illness. “Do you have a lunar calendar?” I ask, the detective’s compass in my gut spinning erratically.
Felipe strides to the desk and riffles through the papers until he finds something. “This calendar uses small black circles for the full moons,” he says, bringing it to me.
I flip back seven months…
And I see the black dot.
The Subway 25 happened on a full moon.
RAUL’S RULE #5THERE ARE NO COINCIDENCES, ONLY CLUES.
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.
