She almost made it to the Hitchhiker, too, but as always, he sensed her coming. Turning away from the last standing Niño, he flipped the sword in his grasp and swung the butt end of it before Pao had time to dodge.
The last thing she saw before she blacked out were whirling green stars.
Don’t take me yet, she thought. But, of course, they did.
Pao awoke on the ground, flat on her back, the dream forest’s canopy above her as usual.
She groaned as she arose, pain in her hip, though there was no blood. Not here.
Pao began to walk, imagining she was on the same road as always, but this time the scene was different. She was in a perfectly round clearing with a pool in the middle of it, and Pao could sense a magical barrier surrounding her.
Frantic, she looked for a way out and saw nothing but uninterrupted trees.
Pao was back in the duendecillos’ prison, while somewhere in her waking life she was unconscious as her friends were fighting—and possibly dying—without her.
“I need to get out of here!” she screamed, but the eerie quiet of the cell absorbed her voice, deadening it.
She wanted to cry, but instead she went to the edge of the pool—the only truly dreamlike thing about this place—and peered inside, expecting to see her own reflection.
What she saw instead almost made her scream again.
It was her face, and it wasn’t. Her hair was pure white, her skin even paler than it usually was in the wintertime. But the most troublesome thing was her eyes. They glowed a poisonous green. It was the same version of herself she’d seen in another dream last summer, back at the Niños’ camp.
In that dream, she had been a feral creature, had chased Dante and dragged him into the river she didn’t yet know held the entrance to the void.
In this dream, she merely stared at herself, curious and a little afraid.
Pao raised her hand. The fantasma in her reflection raised hers, too.
Pao’s heart hammered too fast. The answer was within her grasp now, but she didn’t want to understand. She needed her mom to explain it to her, or her dad. She needed someone to tell her who she was and why all this was happening.
As her anger and fear took over, the reflection began to change.
Her eyes started multiplying. Then her mouth split into two to make room for a second pair of lips. Her hair went dark and snakelike, and she grew bigger until her face filled the pool.
No! she thought, afraid to make another noise, afraid to feel. Being angry was what had caused this. Did Pao’s anger make her a monster? Was that what the dream was trying to tell her?
She stumbled backward, breaking the connection. The forest started to shimmer and fade, a sure sign that she was about to wake up . . . but then she heard a voice calling to her from inside the pool.
“Pao, are you there? Pao, are you okay? It’s me, Pao. It’s Emma. . . .”
The first thing Pao saw when she regained consciousness was the green glow of the paper-doll creatures to her left.
The second thing she saw was her phone lying on the ground, Emma’s face clearly visible, like Pao had somehow dialed her number while unconscious even though that was impossible. Her phone had been turned off. And it wasn’t like the duendecillos had Wi-Fi, right?
“Emma?” Pao said, groggy, her hip still on fire where the Hitchhiker had whacked her. The green things blocked her vision of the battle, but she could hear it raging in the background. She tried to reach her phone, her dream still lingering in her mind.
Her reflection, with white hair and green eyes like a fantasma.
Her face becoming the Hitchhiker’s terrifying visage because she’d gotten angry.
The prison cell . . .
Suddenly, Pao had an idea. It was a dangerous one, like all her others, but she understood that there was no other way. She finally managed to grasp her phone, dragging it toward her along with a handful of leaves and twigs. She didn’t know how Emma had gotten through, but it was the perfect time for a miracle.
It was time for Pao to say good-bye, just in case.
“Emma!” she said when they could see each other at last. “Look, I only have a second, but—”
“Pao!” Emma was crying. “Pao, something weird is going on at your place. Bruto won’t stop barking, and there’s this green light and—”
“Green light?” Pao asked. “No, there can’t be, not—”
“Look!” Emma said, turning the camera around.
There were identical green paper dolls surrounding Emma, Bruto, and—Pao’s heart sank when she realized it—her mom.
“I need you guys to get out of there!” Pao said, trying to sound strong. There was only one thing those green lights could mean. Void creatures were coming.
“We can’t!” Emma sobbed. “We’ve tried, but they won’t let us through!”
This is because of you. Pao heard the words in Dante’s voice, like he was standing over her now. You don’t mean to cause destruction, but you do, to everyone you love.
“No,” Pao said. “Emma, I’m sorry. I . . .” What else was there to say? Bruto might be able to help, but he was just a puppy, and Emma and her mom . . . they would be helpless against whatever the void coughed up.
Pao wished so profoundly that she could be with them in that moment, staff in hand, to protect them. But she was never able to protect the people she loved. She only hurt them. Dante had been right about that much. Had he been right about everything else, too?
Pao looked through the screen, a thousand emotions tangling in her until she thought she’d fly apart with the strength of them. Emma. Her mom. Her puppy. She might never see them again.
The green light around Pao grew brighter as the dolls encircled her and began to spin.
“Now they’re spinning, Pao!” Emma shrieked. “What do we do?”
Pao didn’t know. She had no idea what these green things were or what the parallel between her and Emma’s experiences meant. She wasn’t even sure whether she was dreaming or awake.
Pao closed her eyes. She asked every god and ghost and saint and monster—any person or creature with an ounce of power in this world—to please, please keep her mom, Emma, and Bruto safe.
The green light grew so bright Pao could barely see. A faint whining began in her ears, and there was a vibration in her chest like something inside her was powering the spectacle, draining her like the magic flashlight once had on the banks of the Gila River a thousand miles from here. . . .
And then the last thing she could have possibly expected happened before her eyes.
Emma, Bruto, and Maria disappeared from the screen . . .
. . . and fell in a heap of legs and fur and tangled hair right on top of Pao.
The green light faded. Everyone untangled frantically and sat up. They’re really here, Pao thought dizzily, in the flesh. But how? They had been in danger, and she had prayed to the saints and the gods and the ghosts to keep them safe. . . .
But instead, her prayers had brought them here, to the least safe place in the known world—and probably some of the unknown ones, too.
Even so, it was impossible for Pao not to feel happiness, and relief, and every other emotion there was. They were really, really here.
Bruto—who was now licking Pao’s face with reckless, joyful abandon. Pao’s mom, her hair in a bun, wearing her paint-splattered striped pajama pants. And Emma, her eyes still filled with tears, the knees of her light-blue jeans dirty from hitting the forest ground.
All Pao wanted to do was hug them, and tell them it would be okay, and say that she’d never been so happy to see anyone. And let the tears that were prickling the backs of her eyes fall on their shoulders.
Okay, she wanted to do that and do a bajillion hours of research into what exactly had just happened and how she had managed to bring them through the portal when they’d been only seconds from being devoured by void beasts. But that was beside the point. . . .
Because behind her, wi
th the glaring green light of the spinning portal finally extinguished, Pao could see the devastation that had overtaken this place since she’d fallen unconscious. She knew there was no time to do anything other than what she’d been planning to do before the appearance of Emma and her mom had made everything infinitely more complicated.
All the Hitchhiker’s eyes were focused on Franco now, while the rest of the Niños huddled on the ground beside the prison cell gate, still nursing their wounds. Franco was fiddling with the buttons on his Game Boy again, cursing, sweat beading on his brow.
“I love you guys, but you have to get over there!” Pao shouted to her mom and Emma, pointing to where the duendecillos were still crouching, terrified. “And whatever you do, don’t watch!”
Pao’s mom and Emma did as they were told, shutting their eyes tight, but Bruto stayed with Pao.
“Well, if that’s how you want it, let’s go, buddy,” she said, grabbing her staff from where it had fallen on the ground and sprinting over to where she saw Estrella tending to one of the wounded twins.
“Do you know how to . . . abre la puerta?” Pao asked the duendecillo, knowing she had minutes to pull off this crazy plan that she’d concocted while half asleep. There would be no time to form hypotheses or do trial runs or anything else. It was time to go now.
Estrella’s eyes were very wide. “Sí,” she nearly whispered.
“Bueno,” Pao said. “Do you trust me?”
Estrella nodded. Pao knew this wasn’t really fair, that Estrella had no idea what she was getting herself into, but there was no time to explain.
Unable to remember any more Duolingo Spanish with so much going on around her, Pao spoke as clearly as she could in English, gesturing when she wasn’t sure Estrella understood. “We have to get everyone out of the way,” she said, pointing to all of them and sweeping her hands to the side. “And then we have to open the door, okay? As fast as we can.”
The second Estrella nodded, a determined look on her tiny face, Pao turned and sprinted across the clearing to join Franco. She would have to believe that Estrella had truly understood. She was their only hope.
“Get back,” Franco said when she reached him, his voice half a snarl. “I’ve got this!”
“What are you trying to do?” Pao asked. “Because I have a plan!”
“Is it to barbecue everyone again?” Franco asked, just as a thin red laser dot appeared in the center of the Hitchhiker’s face. “Because that was so fun last time!”
He closed his eyes in concentration, turning one dial slowly, the red laser growing larger in diameter as he held it steady.
But he kept his eyes shut for too long. The fantasma lashed out with one of its two functioning arms (the other two hung limply at his sides, green goo oozing from multiple puncture wounds), and before Pao could stab it with her staff’s blade, it knocked Franco off his feet and into a nearby tree trunk, where he lay without moving.
Pao swore, her eyes automatically darting to her mom, who would probably have the audacity to ground her even in these dire circumstances. Fortunately, Maria was too far away to hear.
“My plan it is, then!” Pao said to no one as she waved her staff over her head. “Hey, ugly!” she called, and all the Hitchhiker’s eyes turned to focus on her. “You want me? Come and get me.”
Then Pao flew, running as fast as she had ever run before, her heart leaping when she realized the Niños had moved a few feet and the door to the smoldering, blackened prison cell was wide open. The way ahead was clear. . . .
Clear except for Naomi, who was balancing on her uninjured leg, refusing to step aside.
Behind Pao, the Hitchhiker roared and lurched clumsily, but he would reach her in seconds.
“What the heck are you doing?” Naomi asked.
“No time to explain!” Pao shouted, leaping over a tree stump and skidding to a stop in front of the threshold. “If I don’t come back, make sure my mom and Emma get home, and try to save Dante’s abuela, okay? They need you.”
“Stop!” Naomi said. “You don’t have to do this!”
“I do,” Pao said sadly. “And I know you’re enough of a hero to understand why.”
Naomi didn’t argue further, which Pao knew was as close to agreement as she was going to get.
From thirty yards away, where they were crouching with the duendecillos, Pao heard her mom scream, “Paola, no!”
But Pao couldn’t stop. Not now. Not if she wanted any of them to live.
“Close the door behind us,” she told Naomi, patting her leg to command Bruto to stay with her. Then Pao wrenched herself away from everyone else she knew and loved in this world and bolted into the cell.
Despite Naomi’s resistance to her plan, the surly girl obeyed, and less than a minute later, Pao was alone in a smoldering prison with a chupacabra puppy, a twenty-foot-tall monster, and no way out.
Well, probably no way out, Pao thought. That would all depend on what happened next.
“You think you’re so clever,” said the thousand voices of the Hitchhiker’s victims. “But you and your friends are still going to die. How long do you think this weak forest magic can hold me?”
“Long enough for everyone to get to safety,” Pao said. “That’s all that matters.”
“Silly, naive girl,” the layered voices said. “You’ll never save them. Not from me, and not from yourself.”
Sometimes, when Pao walked away from research that wasn’t making sense, or an experiment she couldn’t quite get right, she’d distract herself by doing something else—training Bruto, playing video games, seeing how many marshmallows she could fit in her mouth—and find that the problem solved itself a little at a time.
That was the feeling she had now as all the pieces came together. The Hitchhiker’s comments, her experiences last summer, Ondina, La Llorona, her father . . .
Dante’s hurtful parting words.
Señora Mata’s gasped, disjointed warnings.
The fact that Pao had been able to bring her mom and Emma to her despite all odds.
Even Bruto, a beast that should have ripped off her hand the first time she tried to pet him—or at least gummed it to death—was proof of what was starting to take shape inside her.
But just like her third-grade science fair volcano that wouldn’t erupt without the final addition of vinegar, there was one more piece of information Pao needed for her truth to expand to its full capacity.
And there was only one person who could give it to her.
Luckily, Pao finally knew how to get to him.
“I don’t care what you think,” Pao finally said as the Hitchhiker stood eerily still. She could look at him now, right in the multiple eyes. She’d seen the part of herself that was like him, and it scared her, but she also knew there was more to her than monster.
Pao took a knee on the charred ground as the Hitchhiker switched from talking mode to fighting mode, using his two remaining arms to draw his weapons.
“You have nowhere to run,” he said. “If you truly won’t join us, then you leave me with no choice.”
Pao put a hand on the burnt moss, closing her eyes despite the fact that she only had seconds before the Hitchhiker struck his final blow.
I need to see my father, Pao thought, opening the latch of the mental box where she’d stuffed every longing thought of him since she was three years old. Every missed birthday, every Bring Your Daughter to Work Day, every night she’d spent fuming at her mom and wishing, wishing there was someone else who would understand . . .
The green paper dolls sprouted around her—comforting instead of menacing now—and she stood up, allowing them to enfold her in their arms of light.
Papá, I’m coming, Pao thought, and she felt herself disappear.
The trip through the portal was like when you get nitrous oxide at the dentist. For the first few seconds, you’re dreaming all this amazing stuff, like drifting off into space, and everything’s getting sparkly around you. And then . . .
You wake up an hour later, with no memory of what happened, dizzy and a little nauseated with half your face numb.
Pao tried to shake off the disorientation, knowing she’d need her wits about her for what was coming next. Bruto leaned heavily against her legs, panting, each exhale a little whine.
As much as Pao wished he was safe at home, there was no denying it was nice not to be alone. “One more adventure before we hang up our fantasma-hunting hats for good, okay, boy?” Pao asked him, and his tongue unrolled in a big, goofy smile.
She patted his head, smiling back, and then at last, as clear-headed as she was likely to get for now, Pao looked around at where she’d landed.
They were in the center of a wide road lined by dense forest. The way ahead was all too familiar, even though Pao had never walked it while awake. This road had always led her to her father, and Pao had to trust it would do the same now.
Patting Bruto’s head one more time, Pao jerked her chin forward. “Come on, boy,” she said. “It’s this way.”
If Bruto doubted her, he had the good grace not to say so.
They walked down the road together, Pao stepping gingerly with her wounded leg. The slice on her hip had stopped bleeding, but it was still sore, and it made her infuriatingly slow. She stuck close to Bruto and to the middle of the road, just in case.
The eyes that usually peeked out from the trees along this path were missing. Even though Pao now knew those eyes belonged to a council of duendecillos that thought she was evil, she had to admit the road felt lonelier without them watching her pass.
“Just a little farther,” she said to Bruto. This time he called her on the lie, staring up at her with that particular judgy dog-raising-an-eyebrow look that never failed to get the truth out of her. “Fine,” she said. “I have no idea where we are—I’m just trying to boost morale. Are you happy now?”
He gave a satisfied—if smug—little sniff, and they continued.
Up ahead, the path grew steeper, and Pao, her leg beginning to burn from the effort, pushed her way to the crest of the hill, where she stopped dead in her tracks.
Paola Santiago and the Forest of Nightmares Page 23