Page 36 of Castle of the Cursed
“W-what was that memory?” I ask, my voice raspy.
His eyes widen. “You saw?”
I nod, and he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he stumbles toward the door. He looks drunk.
Tonight, he doesn’t vanish into shadow.
He walks out. Like a man.
I wake up on the floor.
Lifting my head, I gasp as pain zaps through my neck. I cup the spot where it hurts, and I use my other arm to push myself up. Then I drag myself to the bathroom.
My reflection reveals that dry blood is caked on my neck, throat, chest, and arm. Evidence that Sebastián isn’t just a figment of my imagination. He exists.
And he’s a vampire.
As soon as I think the word, I cringe in the mirror. And yet I can’t deny he’s real, not after his bite and the memories I glimpsed when he drank my blood.
What does it mean that we were both hit with the same spell across different dimensions? What could our connection be?
I run the faucet to fill the bathtub, then I rest my head against the porcelain, shutting my eyes as I scrub my skin to wash off the blood. “You are alive,” I hear Sebastián whisper in my ear… then his fangs stab my throat.
My eyelids fly open and my spine stiffens.
I survey the bathroom, but the shadow beast isn’t here. I’m alone.
I drain the last of the reddish water. I’ll have to keep my neck concealed while it heals so Beatríz doesn’t notice.
I still don’t get how she didn’t rush in after all my screaming last night. Either the walls are soundproof, or she takes a heavy sedative to fall asleep.
I spot the death certificate and the photographs on my bed when I enter my bedroom—and the rest of what happened last night comes flying back to me.
Without thinking, I snatch the papers and march into my aunt’s room, wearing only a towel. “BEATRÍZ!”
I skip knocking and twist the handle. It’s unlocked.
Her room is bigger than mine but more spartan, and she has an old-fashioned phone on her nightstand. Everything is polished dark wood. The four-poster bed is neatly made, the bathroom empty.
I try the kitchen next. She’s not there, either.
Back in my room, I pull on a turtleneck, and before leaving, I hide the photographs and death certificate with my notepad in my period drawer.
I go directly to the clínica because my conversation with Beatríz can’t wait. I need to know what the death certificate means. If she threatens me again, I’ll have to lead the Spanish cops—Dad’s former coworkers—to the purple room and let them sort this out for me.
The door to the clínica is locked, and a handwritten note is taped to it.
Me fui a Madrid por un congreso médico. Regresaré en unos días.
—Dra. Brálaga
The note is in Spanish. Like she left it for her patients and not for me.
I make out the words Madrid, medical congress, and days. So last night she was threatening to institutionalize me, and this morning she takes off? Why didn’t she tell me she was leaving? And why did she remind Felipe of his appointment to get his blood drawn today?
It doesn’t make sense.
I can’t help feeling like this has something to do with the purple room. Does she know I found it? Is she afraid I’ll go to the authorities? Will she be back in time for the full moon?
