Charlie Hernández & the Castle of Bones

by Ryan Calejo

  The queen’s expression suddenly darkened, and she shook her head vigorously. “No, Charlie. Do not seek out contact with the dead, for those affairs are beset with sorrow and pain. You must not pursue them. I nearly went mad myself attempting to do exactly what you speak of.”

  “You mean like with King Philip?”

  That stopped her. Those bright green eyes sharpened on me. “How did you know that?”

  “Saci had one of your memory-painting thingies in his pipe, so I kinda saw. Why didn’t you tell us you were Juana de Castilla…?”

  “There are things in my past, things my family has done that I am not proud of. I have been trying to atone for some sins for quite a while now.” She paused before saying, “Oh, and despite what you might have heard about me, from Saci or otherwise, I was never actually crazy… crazy in love, perhaps—madly, even—but completely sound of mind.… Thought you should know.”

  “I kinda knew that already,” I said, and smiled.

  Behind us the door to the church opened again, and this time someone shouted my name. I turned and saw Violet, and the moment our eyes met, she came running toward me, her sneakers making sticky, smacking sounds on the tile.

  Perhaps we should give them a moment, said El Cadejo, and the queen, trying to hide a smile, nodded her agreement. “Yes, perhaps we give them some privacy.…”

  I felt my ears turn pink and gave Joanna a ha-ha, very funny sort of look as they all turned to go, Adriana waving at me over her shoulder, a beautiful red flower peeking out of her hair. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d plucked that flower or grown it herself. My money was on grown.

  “Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up!” V said as she came up behind the pew. I felt my ears go from pink to chili-pepper read

  I rubbed my head, which still felt a little woozy. “How long have I been out?”

  “Almost veinte minutos.”

  That made me laugh. “You’re getting pretty good at Spanish.…”

  Violet brushed a curl of blond hair out of her eyes, flashing me one of her million-megawatt smiles. “I have a really great teacher.”

  “Really? Who?” I said, and when she gave me a look that was all like, HELLO? I finally got it. “Oh, right… well, I told you I’d make a good teacher.”

  V grinned, smacked me on the side of the arm.

  “El brazo… Watch el brazo,” I said, teasing her. “You gotta be gentle with me. Been through a lot, you know.”

  “Right, right. And el brazo is the, um, head, right?” Giving it back to me. “Brazo… cabeza—I’m getting them all mixed up now.”

  “Maybe your Spanish isn’t as good as I thought,” I said with a smirk, and V, of course, smacked me again, that million-megawatt smile still crackling at full voltage.

  “C’mon, your mom and dad are waiting for us at the little café down the street.… They ordered tamales, chile colorado, and these crispy rolled-up tortilla things called flautas, which are, like, to die for.”

  “You had me at tamales,” I said.

  As we started down the aisle toward the church door, I asked Violet if she wanted to hear a joke. She said sure, so I said, “There was this Spanish magician who claimed he could disappear. And the way he’d do it was pretty cool; he’d always start by counting, ‘Uno, dos…’ And then—poof!—he’d vanish without a tres.”

  Violet burst out laughing. “That’s a terrible joke, Charlie.… Got any more?”

  I didn’t. So in my best Porky Pig impression, I said: “Th-th-the, th-th-the, th-th-that’s todo, folks!”

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN

  The sun was setting over the ring of grassy green hills that framed the horizon by the time we made it to Casa de Frutas, a huge banana plantation somewhere in southeast Brazil. Joanna said that Saci had been born not too far from here a couple thousand years ago—or so she’d heard—and she thought this was where he’d probably want us to bury him. So Juan handed Violet and me a couple of shovels, and all four of us went to work digging the grave where V and I would lay to rest our newest friend—a friend who’d showed us the meaning of friendship. It took only about ten or so minutes to dig the hole—thanks mostly to Juan’s ability to move huge amounts of earth—and maybe five minutes after that we had Saci buried, with a large gray rock Joanna had brought over from Mexico to mark the spot. Joanna inscribed it with the words “Aqui jaz um Saci Pererê, verdadeiro filho da Pindorama, y um amigo leal até o fim,” which in Portuguese means, “Here lies Saci Pererê, a true son of the Land of the Palms, and a loyal friend to the very end.” Violet and I knelt beside his grave, and V opened her backpack and brought out Saci’s little red cap and seashell pipe. She held the cap out to me, and I wiped my dirt-smudged hand across the front of my shirt before taking it. Then, gazing around at all the green banana leaves flapping in the cool November breeze, I breathed in the sweet smell of ripening fruit and found myself smiling—I knew Saci would love this place… even if there didn’t seem to be anyone around for him to mess with.

  Feeling tears burn behind my eyes, I placed the cap on the ground below the burial stone and whispered good-bye to the all-time king of pranksters as Violet did the same with the pipe. For what felt like a long time neither of us said anything. I listened to the wind blow between trees, to the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. I wondered how old Saci had been. I wondered what his childhood had been like. I wondered if he’d ever been to Miami and what he might’ve thought about it. I started to wonder something else and then stopped when I heard Violet give a weak laugh.

  “You okay?” I said.

  She nodded. “Yeah, I was just thinking about something Saci said…”

  I smiled, imagining what it could be. Probably something completely off the wall. Actually, scratch that—more like, definitely something completely off the wall.

  Violet wiped a hand across her cheek. “Remember when he told us how much Brazil loved him? How a witch had told him that Brazil herself would always look after him or whatever—that it would never ever let him die?”

  “Sounds like typical Saci.”

  “Yes, exactly! That was him. Always making stuff up. Always having fun. Pretty much saying and doing whatever he wanted. That’s what was so great about him!” Her smile faltered, turning regretful as she whispered, “I just—I wish it had been true, you know?”

  I did know. Truth was, right now I wished it more than anything. “Yeah…”

  A few seconds later, the wind picked up around us, gusting through the banana trees, and a few feet away I heard Juan whisper, “Debemos irnos. No debemos dejar La Provencia sin protección en estos tiempos.”

  I glanced back at Joanna. “Why do we have to go? Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she replied calmly. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just that an enemigo is never more dangerous than when you’ve wounded him. And make no mistake, we’ve wounded him.” The queen turned to stare out at the cloudless late-afternoon sky, her glowing eyes bright even in the column of sunshine illuminating her face. “But Juan is right,” she said after a moment. “We should get going. A storm is coming—yes, is nearly here. It would be wise for all of us to prepare.”

  I couldn’t say for sure, but something about the way she’d said that made me pretty confident she wasn’t talking about the weather.

  EPILOGUE

  Aurelio Espenola, known by more than a few of his neighbors and friends—those who dared call themselves as such—as Aurelio El Curioso or Aurelio the Nosy, watched the odd group of strangers who had seemed to blow in with the wind itself with only mild curiosity. Aurelio had lived a long and rather remarkable eighty-seven years and had seen many peculiar sights in that time, and this group of strangers—even with their rather large, rather hairy blond-haired ape—didn’t come close to making his top ten. Anyway, they stood well off his property, gathered in a little circle along the edge of the neighboring sugarcane field, a field Aurelio did not believe (nor did anyone else in this area) belonged to anyone in particular, so
what did he care what they were up to?

  At least that’s what he told himself for the first handful of minutes as he busied himself yanking the dead and browning leaves off his favorite banana tree so his prized Prata bananas could grow big and strong. But once he was finished, Aurelio could no longer contain himself—and honestly, how could he be expected to? There was clearly something curious afoot; what was that strange woman with those two strange children and their enormous ape doing over there, anyway? They obviously weren’t farmers, and they obviously weren’t planting or reaping or tending the soil in any way he could tell. No, they surely were not. And this sort of odd behavior needed looking into—required it, in fact, and since there wasn’t another soul out here, he decided that the burden had once again fallen upon him. In Aurelio’s experience, it usually did.

  Tossing aside a handful of dead leaves, the old farmer made his way slowly but purposefully across his three-acre banana farm, pruning a tree or two along the way so as not to waste the distance traveled (Aurelio had always been a correct, if not efficient, man)—and reached the spot where the strangers had been gathered just as they wandered off into the trees. To his surprise, he had come upon what appeared to be some kind of burial site, and at first he felt a pang of sorrow and shame, for he had thought ill of the woman and her children who had merely come here to bury some beloved pet—the family pig, perhaps. But when he read the inscription on the headstone, he had himself a great big laugh. Saci Pererê? Those bobos had come all the way out here to make a grave for that old and silly myth? Aurelio almost couldn’t believe his eyes. Some people and the ridiculous things they did to pass the time…

  The old man’s left knee began to ache as it had after all these years of tilling the ground, and he cursed himself for his eternal, ceaseless curiosity (a curiosity which his mother, God rest her soul, had often told him would be the end of him), and then he cursed that wretched family and their oversize ape for giving him reason. As he turned to head back toward his prized tree—Mariana, as he’d named it, still required a bit more tending to, not to mention watering—something rather odd happened: In the blink of an eye the once-clear blue November sky darkened to the color of bruised bananas. Black clouds churned and boiled overhead. Lightning crackled. Rain began to lash down in violent, spitting waves.

  Suddenly the ground below Aurelio’s sandaled feet began to quake as he had never felt it quake before, and down from the dark, angry sky above snaked the largest whirlwind he had ever seen. It touched down on the grave with all the fury of a hurricane, uprooting banana trees and snatching up the cap and pipe in a swirl of howling wind and freezing rain.

  To Aurelio it felt as if the entire field—no, the entire earth!—was now groaning.

  His eyes flew back to the grave site, which had begun to throb like a living, beating heart.

  And what he saw next did, in fact, make it onto Aurelio’s top ten list of the most peculiar things he had ever seen. Made it all the way to number one.

  More from the Author

  Charlie Hernández & the…

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ryan Calejo was born and raised in South Florida. He graduated from the University of Miami with a BA. He’s been invited to join both the National Society of Collegiate Scholars and the Golden Key International Honour Society. He teaches swimming to elementary school students, chess to middle school students, and writing to high school students. Having been born into a family of immigrants and growing up in the so-called Capital of Latin America, Ryan knows the importance of diversity in our communities and is passionate about writing books that children of all ethnicities can relate to. His first novel was Charlie Hernández & the League of Shadows.

  ALADDIN

  Simon & Schuster, New York

  www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Ryan-Calejo

  Be there at the beginning:

  Charlie Hernández and the League of Shadows

  GLOSSARY

  alicanto:

  a race of mythical birds that feed on precious metals.

  anchimayen:

  beings from Mapuche mythology that take the form of small children and can transform into fireballs.

  bruja:

  a witch or sorceress.

  brujo:

  a warlock or sorcerer.

  castell:

  altars of resurrection magic.

  chonchón:

  severed sorcerer heads with wings and talons; believed to be omens of impending danger.

  chupacabra:

  a legendary creature known for drinking the blood of livestock. Its name literally translates to “goat-sucker.”

  El Caballo Marino:

  a race of mythical seahorses native to Chiloé; these horse-fish hybrids are the main source of transportation for the sorcerers of Chiloé.

  El Justo Juez:

  a legendary Salvadorian figure who prowls the night on horseback in search of evildoers. His name translates as “Righteous Judge,” and it is said that the night belongs to him and him alone.

  El Nguruvilu:

  part fox, part serpent, this river-dwelling creature unleashes powerful whirlpools to drown those who attempt to cross rivers.

  La Mano Peluda:

  a cabal of evil sombras; also the name of the hand of El Dark Brujo, whose hand came back from the grave for revenge.

  La Pisadeira:

  a powerful ancient hag who preys on those who go to bed with full stomachs. Her name translates to “She who steps.”

  lobisomem:

  a race of werewolves native to Brazil.

  Los Embrujados:

  a clan of former priests who were turned into werewolves by El Dark Brujo.

  Madremonte:

  the protector of the jungles and mountains of Colombia. “Mother Mountain” is considered by some to be the personification of nature itself and sometimes curses those who steal their neighbor’s land or harm animals.

  minairons:

  a species of tiny builder elves that live inside Saint-John’s-wort.

  Minhocão:

  a species of gigantic earthworms.

  mukis:

  cave-dwelling goblinlike creatures found throughout South America. They possess the ability to transform rock into precious metals and are said to make pacts with miners—many times to the miners’ harm.

  nahual:

  a shape-shifting witch or sorcerer capable of transforming themselves into animals, most commonly large dogs, jaguars, or birds. Legends of the nahual first appear in Mesoamerican culture.

  Okpe:

  a tribe of ogres with piglike features and impenetrable rocky armor.

  Saci Pererê:

  legendary mythical prankster from Brazil known for his trademark red overalls and magical cap.

  sombra:

  legendary or mythological being or creature.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  First Aladdin hardcover edition November 2019

  Text copyright © 2019 by Ryan Calejo

  Jacket illustration copyright © 2019 by Manuel Sumberac

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

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  Jacket designed by Karin Paprocki

  Interior designed by Hilary Zarycky

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Calejo, Ryan, author.

  Title: Charlie Hernández & the castle of bones / Ryan Calejo.

  Other titles: Charlie Hernández and the castle of bones

  Description: First Aladdin hardcover edition. | New York : Aladdin, 2019. | Summary: “When Queen Joanna is kidnapped, Charlie and Violet set out across South America to find her and discover a conspiracy to raise the dead”—Provided by publisher.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2019011849 (print) | LCCN 2019016419 (eBook) | ISBN 9781534426634 (eBook) | ISBN 9781534426610 (hardback)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Shapeshifting—Fiction. | Folklore—Latin America—Fiction. | Secret societies—Fiction. | Good and evil—Fiction. | Kidnapping—Fiction. | Kings, queens, rulers, etc.—Fiction. | Hispanic Americans—Fiction. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / People & Places / United States / Hispanic & Latino. | JUVENILE FICTION / Fantasy & Magic.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.C312 (eBook) | LCC PZ7.1.C312 Cd 2019 (print) | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019011849