Page 28 of Castle of the Cursed
“Buen día, Doctora,” says Felipe in greeting. He looks more than just surprised. He seems nervous. “¿Cómo la puedo ayudar?”
“Quería asegurarme de que todo iba bien con la tutoría.”
“Su sobrina es una estudiante excelente.” They both turn to me, and I stare back blankly. Felipe smiles and Beatríz grimaces.
“Bueno,” she says, turning back to him, “también te quiero recordar que tienes cita para donar sangre mañana.”
“Ahí estaré.”
“Nos vemos por la tarde,” Beatríz says to me before sweeping out the front door.
“What was that about?” I ask Felipe.
“She wanted to see how tutoring was going. I said you were a quick study,” he says, and we both smirk.
I follow him as he climbs the ladder, and he adds over his shoulder, “She also reminded me I have an appointment to donate blood tomorrow.”
A chill runs down my left arm as I recall Beatríz drawing my blood. “How often do you do that?”
“Few times a year.” He shrugs. “Whenever la doctora says it’s time.”
Once we’re seated at the high table, I ask, “What can you tell me about my family?”
“The Brálagas are the oldest bloodline in Oscuro—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I mean my parents. Do you remember anything about when we lived here?”
He looks at me like I asked a trick question. “Do you? Remember anything?”
I frown with annoyance. “I asked you first.”
“I don’t know. I was young. I don’t remember much.” He breaks off and seems to be listening deeply for something, possibly the sound of customers.
“But I heard stuff over the years,” he goes on, his voice significantly lower. “People say your family are victims of the castle’s curse. First, you and your parents disappeared overnight. Then your grandmother died. Soon after, your grandfather. And then… the subway.”
He doesn’t explain further, and I’m glad.
“La doctora was left alone when her parents died, and after firing the castle’s staff, they say she’s never let another person set foot inside la Sombra again.”
He had me until that last part. “That sounds like an exaggeration. The castle is ancient. She must have had to call a repair person at some point to fix the plumbing or wiring or something.”
“They say la Sombra’s power has never gone out, not even in bad snowstorms. And have you seen the condition of the garden? She won’t even hire a landscaper.”
I think of the kitchen’s modern refrigerator; that model didn’t exist half a decade ago. “So you’re telling me my aunt carried in a state-of-the-art refrigerator on her own?”
He shrugs. “If it’s new, it has wheels. Unless—is the kitchen on a different floor?”
“It’s not,” I say, noting how he logs this scrap of information, the same way I archive evidence in my mind, and it reminds me that Felipe has his own agenda. These past few days, I’ve been the hungry diner and Felipe has been feeding me intel; but now his own appetite is rising to the surface.
“What about what your great-grandfather said about Brálagas having magic?” I know I’m only indulging my delirium by bringing this up—but what happened to the photograph last night? Did I drop it, or is Sebastián real? I felt his grip around my neck, and today my throat even feels a little sore.
I don’t know what to believe, if I can trust my own senses.
Felipe bounds to the desk. He uses a key to unlock a drawer, and he pulls out a pamphlet printed on thick parchment. He holds it gingerly as he brings it over.
The paper has an ancient feel and scent. At the top of the pamphlet is the Brálaga coat of arms: the full moon and la Sombra’s silhouette, inversely mirrored, against a bloodred background.
There are only four lines of ink, written in striking calligraphy. Felipe reads them aloud:
