Page 84 of Castle of the Cursed
“Sleep, Estela,” he whispers in my ear. “You will need it for what lies ahead.” As blackness overtakes my mind, the last thing I hear him say is: “We have no idea what your uncle is plotting.”
12 YEARS AGO
“UNO, DOS, TRES, CUATRO, CINCO…”
I’m counting, and Antonela is hiding.
This time, I start my search outside. I run to the front door, and when I see that it’s open, my worst suspicions about my sister are confirmed. I open my mouth to yell at Antonela that I’m not going to play with her anymore if she keeps breaking the rules, but I forget the game altogether when I spot her.
Antonela isn’t hiding, nor is she alone.
A boy is approaching her.
He sticks out his hand, and I see her rest something on it. A rock.
There’s blood on her hand as she gives it to him. Then he cuts his own palm open.
The lights in the foyer flicker on and off, on and off, on and off.
Like a warning.
I don’t like that the castle is talking to me when Nela isn’t around, nor that Nela is talking to a boy when I’m not around. We’re supposed to do everything together.
This feels like a bad sign of things to come.
CHAPTER 19
MY DREAMS ARE ALL OF ANTONELA.
Probably because of the black seed, a memory dam broke overnight, and I’ve started to recall things from when we were five, like us playing hide-and-seek, and discovering the purple room, and me spying on her blood pact with Felipe. He and I didn’t meet as kids; he met my twin.
I wake up missing her as much as I miss Mom and Dad. This morning, I accompany Bea to the clínica, but Teo isn’t there, and there are no new messages from him. At the bookstore, Arturo tells us that Felipe is coming back tonight.
I have no idea how I’m going to handle seeing him again. I know friends are supposed to forgive each other, but I’m not sure what he did is forgivable. As much as I’ll miss our sessions in the attic, I will never be able to trust him again. Can you have friendship without trust?
“I’m going to the castle,” I say to Bea. “I’ll come back to the clínica in the afternoon.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, studying me like I might be coming down with something.
“I didn’t sleep well,” I lie, before she jumps to take my temperature and oxygen levels.
“Do you have your—?” She mimics firing a gun, but I know she means injecting a syringe.
I reach into my jacket pocket. “Locked and loaded.”
“Don’t let anyone in.”
“I know,” I assure her. “I won’t be breaking that rule anytime soon. Or ever,” I amend when her eyes narrow.
“Good,” she says. “See you back here in four hours for la comida.”
I prick my finger and press my blood to the tablet.
The bookshelves slide apart, and I climb to the secret room at the peak of the tower, where everything is exactly as I last saw it.
Ignoring Brálaga’s letter, I go straight to the journals and open them at random. They all feature a pair of names on the inside cover, and as I flip through the pages, the words translate themselves, same as yesterday.
I skim ingredients, instructions, and diagrams for various potions and spells that claim to do everything from growing a plentiful garden, to invoking prophetic dreams, to producing a truth-telling tea. The last one has a postscript that notes the tea only works on members of the Brálaga family, and only within the bounds of la Sombra.
