Paola Santiago and the Forest of Nightmares
Page 11
She didn’t get the chance to find out. As she lunged, the circle moved with her, keeping her right at its center point. “What the—” Pao shouted, thrusting again and again, moving forward, then back.
The glowing dolls stayed just out of reach, and the speed of their spinning increased.
“Dante! Naomi!” Pao shouted, racking her brain for commonalities between the various times the green spirits had appeared. They didn’t seem to be picky about whether she was asleep or awake anymore, that’s for sure.
“What do you want?” she shouted again in pure frustration.
The green guys didn’t answer this time, either, not that Pao had expected them to. They just spun faster, no longer discernable as paper dolls, just round green blurs against the backdrop of California highway.
That’s when Pao remembered something specific enough to help. Both times the green shapes had appeared in real life—in Señora Mata’s apartment and at the hospital—they had dispersed when Dante walked through the circle.
But why? And where was he now?
“Dante!” Pao screamed, knowing she didn’t have time to test her theory or wonder about its origins. She just needed to stop these things before something even more freaky happened.
But Dante didn’t answer.
The spirits did, though, in their own terrifying way. Suddenly, like they’d been given a silent signal, the spinning blobs stopped dead, quivering on their base points like they were waiting for something.
Pao didn’t even have time to see if she could pass through them before she realized what they were waiting for.
The circle, tightly formed around Pao until now, began to widen, the paper-doll arms still reaching out for each other as they created space between them. Space for five shaggy pony-size black dogs to stalk through.
Pao wasn’t proud of it, but she screamed then, a high-pitched shrill sound like a girl in the movies. In her defense, she thought, the dogs were almost as tall as she was. They were nothing like the chupacabras she’d fought in the cactus field, or the wolves she’d studied in earth science during their unit on predators and prey.
As she’d so often had to last summer, Pao raced through her mental catalog of folktale beasts, cursing herself (not for the first time, nor probably the last) for not paying closer attention to her mom’s stories. As a kid she’d been too busy disdaining their lack of scientific accuracy, and since Pao had returned from the rift, her mom had been too preoccupied to tell her more.
Black dogs, black dogs, Pao thought as she rotated slowly, trying to keep her eyes on all of them at once. Why did there have to be so many stories?
That’s when it hit her. The cadejo. It would definitely explain their rotting-meat smell, anyway. She didn’t quite remember the story, but she remembered being grudgingly impressed by the idea of a dog big enough to ride.
The real thing was definitely more horrifying than impressive, though.
These cadejos had glowing green eyes, marking them as creatures of the void. Their rumbling growls told her they didn’t care that she’d tamed a chupacabra with Starbursts—they were going to eat her for lunch anyway.
Recovered from her initial embarrassing reaction, Pao took up her combat stance, knowing she was no match for the five slavering hell beasts on her own but determined to go down fighting regardless.
Hadn’t she gotten out of worse scrapes than this?
Not without help, came a small voice in her head. And right now she wasn’t sure she could count on any.
Finally, after an eternity of sizing her up, the biggest cadejo lunged, its teeth the perfect height to tear out her throat. Despite the limited space within the glowing green circle, Pao jumped sideways, narrowly escaping the monster while thrusting her knife in front of her.
Her strike was too feeble. It glanced off the big dog’s hide like it was nothing. But that didn’t stop the creature from becoming very, very angry.
With a snarl that chilled Pao’s blood, the cadejo lunged again. This time, Pao let the beast’s weight do the work for her. She held her knife straight out, level with her chest, and when it connected with the beast, it yelped, backing off to rejoin the circle of its friends.
“Yes!” Pao shouted. “Take that, you gross-smelling jerk! My void dog could eat you and all your buddies for breakfast!”
But her triumph was short-lived. Despite the sound it had made, Pao couldn’t see any evidence that she’d seriously wounded that cadejo, let alone the four others waiting for their turn. The next one was ready to lunge—she could see it in its narrowed eyes and tightly coiled muscles.
Pao was surrounded, and alone, and out of options entirely.
But just as the dog crouched, its snarl echoing around her, something in the air above Pao caught her eye.
Still unable to see outside the circle of green ghost things, Pao followed the object’s descent toward her, squinting to make it out while trying not to keep her eyes off the cadejos for too long, knowing an attack was coming any second.
Finally, the object got close enough for Pao to identify it, and her heart leaped into her throat.
It was a worn blue corduroy slipper. But even as it turned end over end, nearing the paper-doll ghosts and the cadejos, it was changing shape. The toe became huge and rounded, the heel lengthened into a handle, and the sun glinted off its surface. The luminous magical club made for Pao’s outstretched hand as if she were reeling it in.
Without thinking, without hesitating, Pao swung Dante’s Arma del Alma at the first dog she could reach.
With a sickening, satisfying crunch, the monster’s skull shattered, its body slumping over before disintegrating into what looked like pebbles at the bottom of a fish tank.
One down, Pao thought as three of the remaining four cadejos came for her at once.
Pao needed room to maneuver, and with one of her few precious seconds, she swung the club into the circle of green paper dolls, hoping they’d drift away like wisps of smoke or something. But the force field was impervious to the blow, and it also somehow prevented Pao from exiting.
The cadejos were closer now, wary of the club but murderous after the defeat of their comrade. “Come on,” Pao taunted them, holding the club out in front of her.
One of them finally bit—literally. It latched onto the Arma del Alma, its teeth making a horrifying grating sound like a fork in the garbage disposal as the shiny surface of the club refused to yield.
The pressure on Pao’s arm was monumental. She almost dropped the weapon in shock, but she managed to keep hold of the handle, using both hands to play the world’s most dangerous game of doggy tug-of-war.
The other dogs circled, sensing their opening, ready to strike.
With an almighty wrench, Pao freed the club from the cadejo’s jaws at last, and its momentum carried her around in a circle. She accidentally took out the two dogs behind her, their howls rattling her nerves as they joined their companion as fish-tank rocks.
Two more to go. Pao could hear Naomi outside the circle of light now, shouting, though Pao couldn’t make out the words. The barrier must be weakening as I defeat the dogs, Pao thought. Once they’re all gone, maybe I’ll finally be free.
She hit one dog in the ribs as it tried to slash her with its three-inch claws. But as she was recovering, the final cadejo got its teeth around Pao’s upper arm and bit down hard.
Her vision went black with the pain, and she felt the club spin uselessly out of her hand. She was on her knees now, though she didn’t remember falling, and she looked up into the beast’s glowing eyes, thinking—not for the first time this year—that this was the end.
The police would find her body. She hoped Emma would explain everything to Pao’s mom. Your daughter just wanted to meet her dad. Pao loved you, even though you didn’t always see eye to eye. . . .
Would Dante go on without her? Try to find her father? Get the answers his abuela needed to survive? Would he always hate her for dragging him into all this?
Slobber, Pao thought, almost delirious as something finally surfaced in her memory from the story of El Cadejo. The boy in the story had asked his grandmother how to get rid of one, and she’d told him. . . .
Knowing it was ridiculous, but also realizing that she was totally out of other options, Pao raised her good arm and brought the palm of her shaking hand to her mouth. She licked it all over. Then, closing her eyes, she held it out to the beast just as the boy in the story had done. She prayed the monster would do what he was supposed to and not just bite off her hand as an appetizer and move on to the main course.
A second passed, then two. Pao opened her eyes a crack and met the cadejo’s gaze.
It sniffed her hand, then stuck out its massive, snakelike tongue, which was dark red, stained with Pao’s blood. Her arm was screaming in pain. But as the cadejo began to lick the spit off Pao’s palm, it almost seemed to smile.
Once the beast had gone over her hand twice, like Bruto did when she had bacon grease on her fingers, it sank down on its haunches and regarded her solemnly. Then, with a last mournful howl, its form dissipated, like green vapor rising into the air.
When the remains of the dogs were gone, the circle of paper-doll ghosts dissolved, too. Naomi came to her through the remaining greenish haze first, and as glad as Pao was to see a familiar face, she couldn’t help being a little disappointed that it wasn’t Dante’s.
If a life-threatening situation couldn’t make him forgive her, what could?
“What the heck was that?” Naomi asked, her expression more worried than Pao had ever seen it. “Those green things—I thought you said they were harmless!”
“I thought they were,” Pao said, still shaken, her knees trembling, her arm bleeding badly through her ripped T-shirt. “But this time they weren’t alone.”
Maybe the green shapes were creating some kind of portal, Pao thought. A way the void could open and let monsters through. But if so, why hadn’t Pao seen that happen last summer? And if it was a portal, why did it seem intent on disgorging the most horrific monsters right in front of her at the absolute worst moments?
“We were trying to get to you the whole time,” Naomi said, grimacing. “But there was no way through. When I told hero boy over there to chuck in the Arma del Alma, he thought I was nuts. But it looks like it worked.”
Pao’s heart sank further. It hadn’t even been Dante’s idea to save her?
She spotted him standing a few yards off, his arms folded, looking away with an unfathomable expression on his face.
Guilt? Pao wondered. Or was that just wishful thinking on her part? Maybe it was disappointment. Did Dante hate her enough that he’d wanted the cadejos to finish the job?
Naomi was still talking. Pao had to force her thoughts away from Dante and the pain in her arm to listen.
“. . . said something like this might happen. That the magic balance being off could result in unforeseen consequences . . .”
“Yeah,” Pao said, not quite understanding and for once barely curious—even though Naomi was discussing the literal intersection of magic and science, which should have been making Pao’s brain go haywire.
Instead, she was just tired. And sad. She felt so alone. Even when she and Dante had been distant this fall, she’d never doubted that they’d eventually find their way back to each other.
Now she wasn’t so sure.
“Either way, we have to find the Niños as soon as possible,” Naomi said. “If this is what Franco was talking about, it’s only going to get worse from here. . . .”
At these words, Pao looked up, focusing on Naomi for the first time since the attack. “He knew this would happen? The green things and the fantasmas and monsters popping up everywhere?”
Naomi rolled her eyes. “He says so much stuff, it’s not my job to catalog it all, okay?” She hesitated. “But yeah . . . he did say that there would be consequences, and if they didn’t get to the source of the buildup in time, things could get ugly. . . .”
“And you’re telling me this right now?” Pao asked, the spike of annoyance dulling the pain in her arm, giving her the energy to finally push herself up off the ground.
“Listen! I thought he was exaggerating to get Marisa away sooner! I asked her to stay for one more night, just to . . .” Naomi trailed off, shaking her head. “Anyway, that’s when he came up with the convenient we have to leave right now or there will be consequences line.”
Pao glowered at her, but she didn’t have time to say anything before Dante finally shuffled over, that strange look still on his face.
“You okay?” he asked.
Naomi put up both hands and backed away to talk to Johnny.
“Yeah,” Pao said, though her arm was really hurting now. “Thanks for the club. I’d be a goner without it.”
She was watching his face for . . . what? Proof that he hadn’t been the one who thought of saving her? Some particular expression that meant he had well and truly given up on their friendship?
Whatever she was looking for, she didn’t get it.
“Glad you’re good,” he said, but he didn’t seem at all disappointed when Johnny jogged over, looking even more alarmed than a guy who’d just seen a ghostly portal spit out a bunch of demon dogs should.
“I hate to break this up,” Johnny said, not sounding sorry at all, keys already in hand, “but some people just called nine-one-one. Said there were some ‘unsupervised Hispanic kids’ vandalizing a vending machine, and they had video.”
“Vandalizing?” Pao said, disbelieving. “There were weird spinning lights! And creatures from the void! Why are they calling the cops and not, like, the National Enquirer or something!”
“White people with RVs see what they want to see,” said Johnny, like it was some ancient proverb, and maybe it should have been.
“Whatever,” Pao said. “Let’s go before the cops show up. Again.”
They’d already been described as “unsupervised” and “Hispanic.” Considering that, Johnny’s vulture vest, and Pao’s sock knife—not to mention whatever hidden weapon Naomi was carrying—Pao had a feeling this wouldn’t be a slap on the wrist and take you back to your parents situation.
Then again, was it ever for kids like them?
Heading back to the car, Pao put on a brave face, even though she had no idea what was going on with Dante and her arm was hurting worse by the second.
As surreptitiously as she could without alerting the whole car to her problem, Pao twisted her arm to take a better look at the bite. So far it was just five tooth-shaped punctures in her skin. A small line of blood trickled down to her elbow, but nothing too bad.
Pao knew, however, that the biggest risk from an animal bite wasn’t depth or bleeding—it was the possibility of infection. And that was from a normal creature. If the rate of infection for an earthly dog bite was up to 15 percent . . . what was the number for slavering cadejos from the magical void?
The wound needed to be disinfected, that was for sure, but there was no first-aid kit on this impromptu adventure, and there was no time to go back into the bathroom with the cops on their way.
She would just have to watch it, she thought grimly, and wash it as well as she could the next time they stopped.
Back in the car, Johnny pulled out, tires squealing in his haste. In their wake was a crowd of chattering tourists. Pao thought she saw one of them snap a photo of the car’s license plate, but she didn’t mention it. The last thing she needed to do was spook Johnny and end up with no ride before they even reached the halfway point.
But the road trip—already losing its novelty even before she’d been attacked by massive demon dogs—suddenly felt less like a quest toward something and more like they were running for their lives.
The only question was, what exactly were they running from? And what
would happen if it ran faster than they did?
When the Niños’ camp had been overrun by monsters and ahogados, there had been a clear reason for the attacks. La Llorona had been searching for the matching soul that would allow her to bring her last remaining daughter back to life. But La Llorona was gone now. . . .
Marisa had said the void’s magic was neutral . . . unless there was a force inside corrupting it. Pao had learned last summer that the green-eyed beasts and fantasmas weren’t able to organize on their own. So someone had to be sending them, but who?
Pao knew that if she sat here thinking in circles forever, she’d never solve the mystery. She needed a brainstorming partner. One who didn’t underestimate her like Naomi and Johnny did. One who wasn’t hundreds of miles away and only accessible by a device that could reveal Pao’s location.
She needed Dante back.
He was right beside her, staring out the window again, his jaw still clenched so tight she could see a muscle twitching in his face.
He’d extended what seemed like an olive branch this morning when he’d said he trusted her, but while that had ended the open hostility from the night before, it hadn’t seemed to change anything today. Maybe it was up to Pao to fix things. She was tired of waiting around for him to talk to her, to tell her what was allowed.
She’d never let anyone push her around before. Paola Santiago knew who she was and what she wanted. She’d never even let him win at video games, for crying out loud, and now she was going to let him decide the fate of their friendship?
No way.
Pao turned to Dante with her most no-nonsense expression and said, loud enough to be heard over the increasingly loud rattling of the Karmann Ghia’s engine, “We’re friends, Dante.”
“What?” he said, shaking his head irritably like a fly had landed on his ear.
“We’re friends, you and me. Always have been, always will be.” She could feel herself sitting up straighter as she said it, her voice projecting. “Whatever boy-girl weirdness happened a few months ago? Forget it, okay? If it’s ruining what we have, I don’t want it. I want my best friend back.”