Page 23 of Castle of the Cursed
The line is from Dracula. I read the novel at the center, and those words found a home in me. I guess I still haven’t been able to shake them.
I have to go back on my old meds.
I squeeze my fists as I make the promise, and my nails leave deep crescents in my palms. But I’m not taking Beatríz’s black seed. I want my usual pills, or I’ll reach out to Nurse Leticia and tell her my aunt is not complying with the center’s regimen. I hide the journal in my period drawer again before changing and heading out.
“¡Buen día!” says Felipe as soon as I walk into the bookstore.
It’s impossible to miss the way he lights up when he sees me. No guy has ever been this openly delighted by my presence, and I feel my mood thawing a little.
“I made you something,” he says as I follow him up to the attic. He swipes a small rectangular thing off the desk and hands it to me.
It’s a business card that reads LIBRERÍA LIBROSCURO with the store’s contact information. Only LIBRERÍA is crossed off and BIBLIOTECA has been typed over it with a typewriter. I look at him in confusion.
“Turn it over,” he instructs.
On the other side, I see that my name has been typed in as well, including my mother’s maiden name: ESTELA AMADOR BRÁLAGA.
“It’s your library card.” His mouth hitches up on one side as he flashes me his crooked smirk. “This means you can come over and read any book you want at any time, no charge.”
I stare at the card in awe, more moved by the gesture than Felipe can understand. My lips part, and I hear myself say, “Thank you.”
His eyes widen with surprise, and my face muscles slacken with relief. Last night, only the shadow beast heard me use my voice, so I couldn’t be sure I really spoke until now.
Felipe doesn’t say anything for a stretch, which is a first for him so far. “You—you’re welcome.”
“So, librería means bookstore, and biblioteca is library?” I ask.
“Así es,” he says, beaming.
“It sounds flipped,” I say, thinking of the English words. “Like librería should be library and biblioteca bookstore.”
“I’ll take that as a sign my lessons are working.”
I feel the edges of my mouth pull up. It’s been so long since I smiled that the facial movements feel foreign.
“Hoyuelo,” whispers Felipe. I don’t know what that means, but I notice he’s looking at my right cheek. Where Mom’s dimple showed up when I smiled.
Today we read from a black book that looks slightly less old than the previous ones. For starters, the cover has images on it—or maybe etchings is a better word. A moon, stars, a cross, and a set of jaws with sharp fangs.
“This book is an anthology,” Felipe informs me as we sit down at our usual stools. “It’s considered fiction now, but these were originally published as true stories.”
I open to a table of contents. There are thirteen chapters. “The Tragedies of the Brálagas of la Sombra,” he translates.
We spend hours reading together. All thirteen families featured in the anthology suffered unnatural deaths—exorcisms gone wrong, deadly blood spells, hauntings, murder-suicides, dealings with devils (“demonios”), attacks by werewolves (“lobizones”), faeries (“hadas”), and other monsters.
The thirteenth tale is Felipe’s favorite because it’s about a magical Book, with a capital B. It was delivered to la Sombra by an enemy of the castle’s founder, the original Brálaga, who instructed the family to keep it safe by hiding it outside the walls of the castle—but before anyone had a chance to open its pages, Brálaga’s spirit manifested and murdered them all.
Then Brálaga destroyed the Book.
Felipe sets down a platter of bocadillos on the table, and I rip into one of the tiny jamón serrano sandwiches. “Scared yet?” he asks, sitting so close to me that our knees brush.
“Of what?” I ask, folding my legs under me. “None of this is true.”
Felipe flinches, like I personally offended him. I wait for him to say something or go get us a new book, but he just traces a drawing with his finger. It’s of a man holding the Book from the thirteenth tale, which bears the Brálaga crest on its cover.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says with a shrug.
