Chapter Seventeen
I was almost surprised to find the study empty, but not surprised at the relief that washed over me. I lay my head against the door and closed my eyes as I gathered my breath. When I opened my eyes, I stared straight at the window across from me. The gift from the Pope. One of the Piuses, River had said. I wasn’t up to date with my Pope knowledge, but I knew it had to be old. I walked over to it again. Maybe it was because it made me think of my grandmother, but I felt called by it. As I stood there, staring up at it, one of the candles beside me flickered. I turned my attention to it and froze when I saw a figure just beyond it.
“Who’s there?” I turned to face the person, then looked at the desk beside me to see what I could make a grab for to use as a weapon if it came to that.
“Don’t tell me you don’t recognize your own cousin.”
“Esteban?” My voice came out gasped, fear lodging into my throat. “B—but you’re dead.”
“Am I dead though?” He took a step forward, then another, but it was still too dark for me to see him and in my uneasiness, I found myself taking two steps away from him. “Have I been forgotten?”
“No, of course not.” I swallowed, shaking my head. This can’t be real. This can’t be real. “You died. You disappeared. We assumed you died.”
“I did.”
“B-but that’s impossible.” My heart pounded harder in my ears. “How is this possible?”
“I’m tethered to this house, to this land, to whatever he wants me to be tethered to.”
“Wh . . . who?” I stared at him, wishing I had the courage to walk forward and actually look at him, but I couldn’t seem to move. My feet were too heavy to lift.
“Do you think I’m wicked?” he asked, ignoring my question.
I shook my head.
“If you just forgive me, I can move on. If you forgive me, he’ll let me be in peace. I won’t have to relive my death every day, the pain, the choking, the horror.”
“F . . . f . . . forgive you for what?” My lower lip quivered.
“Look at me,” he shouted. “Look at me!”
“I am. I’m looking at you.”
“Look closely,” he hissed. “I paid for what I did to you.”
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, blinking away tears to keep them at bay.
Esteban had been my best cousin. Sure, he’d done questionable things, like take me to places I wasn’t allowed, but he’d also gotten me out of trouble more times than I could count. Whatever it was he thought he did, well, of course, I’d forgive him. He stepped closer to the light and in it, I could see that his teeth were yellow, the front ones cracked, and his neck, oh God, his neck. It looked like someone had tied a rope around it and pulled mightily. His wrists too. I brought my hand up to my own neck and swallowed.
“Someone killed you?” I whispered, wiping the tears away. “Why? Who would do such a thing? Was it because you were stealing leaves for Tia Julia? To cure her of illness?”
“I was a thief,” he said. “I took and I took. Just like my father did. Just like his father did. You need to forgive me.” His voice was louder now, and it didn’t sound like his at all. It sounded mean and demanding.
I took a step back, trying to figure out a way to get to the door quickly. This isn’t real. It wasn’t real but I didn’t want to stay in here anyway. I crashed into the edge of the desk as I walked back. Esteban walked forward quickly, as if on skates, and stood directly in front of me.
“You need to forgive me.” He reached out a hand and I half expected it to go straight through me.
He was admittedly a ghost, after all, wasn’t he? His hand touched my shoulder. It was light and quick just as I moved away, but it was enough to render me motionless, breathless, unable to do anything at all. The door to the study opened and River walked inside.
“Leave.” It was the only thing he said, his voice clear and loud, and the angry expression on his face as he looked in the direction of where Esteban was standing left no room for question.
When I turned my head to where my cousin had just stood, he was gone. I stumbled backward, my hand on the edge of the desk the only thing keeping me from falling as I began hyperventilating. What the fuck was that? What the hell just happened?
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” It was River, but he sounded like the man by the Devil’s Chair.
The thought occurred to me seemingly out of nowhere, but when my head whipped in his direction, I knew I was right. Not for the first time since I got here, I wondered what I’d gotten myself into and whether or not it would be too late for me to leave. My eyes grew tired, heavy, and suddenly, just like that, I fell asleep.
Chapter Eighteen
“No one needs to know about this,” Esteban said. “They won’t believe you anyway.”
I shook my head. I was scared, but I couldn’t bring myself to say no, to tell him to stop. I was wearing a skirt, so when he climbed over me and put a hand over my mouth and another hand between my legs, the only thing I could do was scream into it, shut my eyes tightly, and pray it would be over soon.
It was.
It was over sooner than I’d anticipated. I couldn’t bear to look at him. I looked out into the darkness instead, my gaze on the fog covering the streets, covering us. This was why Papi didn’t want me out at night when Carnival was set to happen. Bad things happened after dark, but Esteban had promised him I’d be okay, that he’d look after me, so Papi let me come anyway. A sob escaped my throat.
“Oh, come on, that wasn’t bad.” Esteban nudged my foot with his. “Someone had to do it and prepare you for the real thing. We don’t have time for that now though.”
I swallowed and tasted blood in my throat.
“I’m going to go get some leaves from that tree. It’s just across the gates. I’ll be right back.” He loomed over me. “Stay here.”
I nodded, biting my lip so hard I realized where the taste of blood was coming from. I listened as he left and then I cried. I cried until my face was full of snot and tears and my chest was heaving from it. When I was finished crying, I stood. Something wet trickled down my legs, and when I looked down, I realized I was bleeding. That made me cry again. Esteban was supposed to be my protector. Everyone said he was like an older brother to me since I didn’t have one. He wasn’t supposed to . . . he’d never done anything like that before. I started walking. He’d told me to wait, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I was bleeding. I walked by the iron gates and saw that they were shut.
“Are you okay?”
I gasped and whirled to look behind me. There was a man, a figure, someone dressed in all black. I shook my head and swallowed. My lower lip started to shake and then I started to cry. I was crying so hard that I didn’t know how I ended up sitting in the Devil’s Chair again. I’d just sat there earlier, when my friends dared me to, but that was before they left.
“Make a wish,” the man said.
“I already did.” I sniffled, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “I wished to be rich.”
“You already are.”
“No, my parents are rich. I wish to be rich myself.”
“What else do you wish?”
I bit my lip. I thought of Esteban, what he’d done. How he’d never own up to it. How things would go even if I did tell my parents about it. They’d shake their heads and tell me I was crazy, that I was making it up, but I knew. I knew. An awful sob raked through me, making my shoulders shake. I wanted Esteban to suffer, the way he’d made me suffer. I wished I could leave. I wished I could leave so that I’d never have to see him again. That was what I wished. As I walked home, I felt something watching me from the darkness of the forest beside me. When I glanced over, I saw two golden eyes staring at me. When I blinked, I was standing in front of my house. I looked around quickly. How had . . . had I walked here? I ran up the driveway, clutching my hands into fists.
“Where did you get that?” My father opened the door before I got a chance
to.
“I . . . ” I looked around, feeling lost.
“Where’s Esteban?” Papi asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Come inside.” My father moved out of the way and looked outside briefly before turning to me and taking the camera from my hand. “You need to cover the lens, Penelope. How many times do I have to tell you? These are expensive.” He sighed heavily and then looked at the screen. “How did you take this?”
“Take what?”
Papi left the room suddenly.
“Oh my God, Penelope. What happened?” Mami walked in and rushed over to me.
“I don’t know.” I shook my head and started to cry again. Mami held my head to her shoulder and shushed me gently.
“She went to Caliban Manor.” My father stormed back into the room, screaming.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Maximo. How would she have gotten there?”
“I didn’t.”
“She’s lying.” That was my father. “She has a picture of the Manor.”
“I’m not lying. I don’t know how that picture got there.”
“Penelope.” Wela gasped. “I told you to be careful. I told you to stay by Esteban.”
“Esteban touched me. He . . . he violated me,” I shouted, then started to cry again, harder now that I’d said the words aloud.
“He what?” My father roared.
“What do you mean, Penny?” Mami asked quietly. “Surely, your cousin wouldn’t . . . “
“You don’t even know what you’re saying?” Papi asked.
“Did he put his . . . you know . . . ” Mami asked, tears welling her eyes.
I shook my head. He hadn’t put his penis inside me. Only his hand. Forcefully. Painfully.
“Oh, thank God,” Mami said.
“She could be lying.” My father shook his head. “He’s a good kid. He wouldn’t—”
“That’s not true,” I shouted, standing. “I am not lying. He hurt me.”
“With the company you keep I find it hard to believe you’d even be a virgin,” Papi said.
My grandmother did the sign of the cross on herself.
“Stop it this instant, Maximo.” My mother stood. “Go look for Esteban.”
“I will not question Esteban about this. His mother is dying. His father just died. Do you think this is fair to him?” Papi asked, then looked at me. “You need to get out of my house. You betrayed us. You betrayed our family when you decided to go to the Caliban Manor.”
“I didn’t go. I didn’t.”
“Leave my house. Now.” It wasn’t a request.
I ran to my room and packed a bag. Mami sobbed. Wela picked up the leaves and cried quietly in the kitchen. When I walked back out of my room with my bag in my hand, Wela was the only one waiting for me. She had a cup and my camera in one hand and money in the other.
“Drink this,” she cooed, kissing my forehead. “Drink this. Everything will be fine.”
And so I did.
Chapter Nineteen
Everything was rocking. The room was swaying. I sat up and screamed.
“Hey.” River’s voice was beside me.
I felt like I was going to start hyperventilating again, but he put a hand on my shoulder and I instantly felt calm. I was scared to look at him. I was scared to look anywhere, but my eyes were on the sitting area in his bedroom, and so I knew I’d been lying in his bed again. Had it all been a dream? I swallowed. No. It hadn’t. Even the worst nightmares aren’t as awful as reality. I buried my face in my hands.
“Is the party still going? Are my friends still here?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to me?” I whispered.
“You remembered.”
“Was that . . . were you the one . . . ” I swallowed. “Did you kill him?”
“Yes.”
I pulled back. Yes. He didn’t even bother looking sorry about it either. I swallowed past the knot in my throat and took a deep breath. “Did you kill my father?”
“What?”
“Did you kill my father?” It was harder to get the words out the second time, with the knot in my throat and words that tasted bitter on my tongue.
“Yes.” His mouth formed a flat line. “Indirectly.”
“What does that mean?” I managed, my voice barely a whisper. “What does indirectly even mean?”
“It means he died because of an accident I caused, but I did not mean to kill him.”
“God.” I brought a hand up, brushing against the diamonds on my neck before covering my mouth to stop the sob that wanted to rip out of me.
“I would have stopped at nothing to get you here.”
“Why? Why do you need me here?” I let out a choked laugh, tears blurring my vision. “God. That would almost sound romantic if it wasn’t so deceitful.”
“Isn’t that all romance is? Deceit wrapped up in a pretty package.”
“Real love isn’t deceitful.” I blinked, wiping under my eyes with the tips of my fingers.
“What do you know about real love, little witch?”
“Don’t call me that.” This time when I spoke, the anger registered in my voice. “I . . . I can’t breathe with you in front of me right now.”
River stood up and walked a couple of steps away from the bed.
“You killed my cousin because of me.” I wiped my face and finally looked at River. “I sat in that chair and made that wish and then he died.”
“You didn’t wish for him to die.”
“It’s all the same, isn’t it? His ghost is still here. In this house.”
He shook his head. “His ghost is your memory. Your memory has kept him alive, and so, he appeared for you in his true form. That’s what happens during Carnival.”
“You choked him to death,” I whispered, hating that it hurt so much to speak the words aloud. Hating that I was upset by any of it even after what he did to me.
“I did worse than just choke him,” he said. “You asked him if I knew him, and I did. When he worked here, I even went as far as befriending him.” He shook his head. “But how does one un-see what he did to you?”
“You saw it happen?”
“Not when he did what he did. I would have killed him then. I put two and two together when I saw you crying and then when you sat in the chair I saw it . . . ”
I searched his eyes. “It’s true what they say then.”
“What do they say?” His mouth turned up slightly.
“That you’re the Devil.”
“Plain terms.”
I clasped my hands together and brought them to my chest.
“What are you going to do, little witch? Start praying?” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”
“I want to go home with my friends.”
“Your friends are in no state to go home.” He stood and walked to the fireplace, looking at the ships in the painting. “Besides, the tide’s up for the night.”
“I thought the tide stayed low this week. I thought that was the point of the party.”
“I’m not the keeper of the ocean. Are you?” He glanced over his shoulder at me. My heart dipped. My grandmother did always say the Devil was charming and seductive. She wasn’t lying.
“Why me?” I’d asked the question a million times and never got a clear answer.
“I’ll tell you.” He turned to face me. “If you stay through the week.”
“Through the week?” My eyes widened. “That’s . . . two more nights.”
“That’s my condition. Two nights and you take the leaves when you go.”
“How do you know about . . . ” I let my question trail off. Of course, he knew about the leaves. He seemed to know everything about me. It was an unfair advantage, but then, it had been from the beginning. I met his gaze and nodded once. “I’ll stay through the week.”
His smile was blinding.
Sinful.
Promising.
Wicked.
I had no desire to see any ghosts, so I decided to stay inside River’s bedroom. He stayed with. He only let me out of his sight so that I could shower and change, and he did the same before settling in the sitting area to read a book. I kept replaying the memory over and over in my head. Esteban on top of me, touching me forcefully. I shivered. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten it.
“The tea,” I said. River looked up at me. “The tea made me forget.”
“The leaves can do that.”
“My grandmother used those leaves for a lot of things. To cure people, to help them, and to make me forget.” I shook my head. “Why do I remember everything else? I didn’t even remember he disappeared that same night.”
“We believe what we want to believe.” River went back to his book.
“Are you human?” I tried to keep my voice level, but the question was quiet. Maybe I didn’t want to know.
“I am.” The edge of his mouth lifted.
“But are you not—“
“The Devil?” He glanced at me over the book. “I don’t know. Are you not a witch?”
“I’m not.”
“You come from a long family of witches. Many of whom were burned at the stake.”
“For having strong opinions about things.”
“For practicing witchcraft, Penelope. Even you can’t kid yourself into thinking they weren’t. Your grandmother is one of the island’s most sought-out healers.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Healer doesn’t mean witch.”
“Outcast doesn’t mean Devil.”
I leaned back against the headboard and stared at him. His gaze flicked from me back to his book, which was apparently more interesting. I crossed my arms. I was fully intending to say something snappy, but my mind drifted back to the memory.
Fables & Other Lies Page 13