Page 1 of Castle of the Cursed
RAUL’S RULE #1DON,T THINK; FEEL.
CHAPTER 1
“ESTELA AMADOR?”
The driver approaches us at the airport with a sign that reads LETICIA GUERRA, my nurse’s name, as my own would draw too much attention.
Yet it’s my name he calls on his approach, clearly recognizing me from the news.
“Where is Doctora Brálaga?” asks Nurse Leticia in a guarded tone.
“I don’t know. I’m with a car service,” he says in decent English, with only a slight accent.
He doesn’t look like the typical driver. He wears skinny jeans, aviator shades, a blue surgical face mask, and a charcoal zip-up with the hood over his head.
My nurse frowns with uneasiness. She was given a companion ticket to accompany me on the flight to Spain, but this is as far as she comes. Her return trip is in a few hours.
I stick out my hand to her in farewell, so she’ll know it’s okay to leave.
“Oh, put that down,” she says, and my joints stiffen as she reels me into a hug.
My first embrace since—well, in seven months.
“You are so young, Estelita,” she whispers in my ear. “Don’t give up on the world so soon.” Then she retrieves a small pill container from her pocket and offers me my medicine for the final time. I pop the meds into my mouth and take a swig from my water bottle.
“Twenty-five voices were silenced for good,” she says, more serious than I’ve heard her. “But you still have yours.”
I wait until I’ve fallen into step behind the driver to spit out the pills.
The fog rolls in as the castle comes into view.
It’s a thin film of mist that makes me feel like I’m entering a dream dimension.
We’ve been driving through northern Spain for two hours, but it’s only now that castillo Brálaga’s silhouette burns into the horizon. From here, it looks like nothing more than a dark speck in the corner of my vision.
If only it were farther away.
The last time I rode in a car, I was being shuttled for questioning by the NYPD, FBI, CDC, and a bunch of other acronyms. It was the same script with all of them:
“My name is Estela Amador. My parents are Olivia and Raul. We’re subletting a place in Asheville, but we live on the road. We came to New York City because I begged them to bring me here.”
I begged.
It’s my fault.
I feel my pulse slow to a crawl, like my body is losing power and shutting down. I lower the window until it cuts just below my eyes and press my cheekbone to the cool glass, letting the wind whip my face. Its gentle slaps try to revive me…
But you can’t reawaken a corpse.
“¿Todo bien?”
I stare at the driver in the rearview mirror. I’d nearly forgotten him. For a fragmented instant, I could almost believe I was in the back seat of my parents’ ancient Subaru, watching the world from my usual vantage point.
“¿Necesitas algo?” he presses. I don’t know what he’s saying, but he looks like the Invisible Man with his hood, sunglasses, and surgical face mask on. It’s not even sunny out.
“Hay una gasolinera donde voy a llenar el depósito y allí podrá tomar algo, aunque sea un poco de aire.”
I nod in assent just so he’ll leave me alone. It’s annoying that he’s speaking in Spanish now, when at the airport he spoke perfect English.
