Page 81 of Castle of the Cursed
“The tortilla española.”
“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.
