“We belong together, you know it,” he said, his voice raspy. “No one will ever understand you like I can. And I can give you everything you want, everything you’ve always dreamed of.”
His eyes vivisected her where she stood, even as his voice was a velvety whisper, and she knew he did not lie. His sincerity made her want to weep. She cared about him, even if he was monstrous.
More than once, Alba had comforted herself with the thought that they were the same, he and she. He had embodied gallantry and romance. Tarnished, lying in the muck, he still maintained a brightness to his expression, a terrible, damning beauty. And he was so young, boyish still, it made her hesitate. But Tadeo had been younger yet, as had Valentín.
“Do not forsake me, Alba,” he pleaded.
Arturo extended a hand toward her, and she brushed her fingertips against it. Under his skin she felt the throbbing pull of magic, the power embedded in his bones, and, deeper yet, the awful extent of his appetite. He’d eat her whole. Maybe he wouldn’t savor the taste of her bones, but he’d eat away at a part of her anyway, mangle her soul. Pull her deep into shadows that she might dwell in darkness until the end of her days. “My love,” he said. His voice was appallingly soft, tinged with an unbearable affection that was ghastlier than his cruelty.
Alba pulled her hand back and pressed it against her lips. They stared at each other. Longing and fire and rage mingled in their eyes. Her tears scalded her cheeks and her whole body shook as she looked at him there, crouching low against the dirt, reaching for her once more so that she might help him up.
“I won’t let you destroy me,” she said. “I will live through this.”
His eyes widened and he yelled for her to stop.
She cut off his head all the same.
—
Minerva fell to herknees, still clutching the axe tight. Black spots danced before her eyes. She blinked them away and lookeddown at Carolyn’s body. It was melting, like hot wax. Rivulets of darkness spread across the floorboards and bones poked through the softening, peeling tissue. With each minute the body decayed more, becoming, at last, nothing but a fine layer of dust. Even her jewelry, her vestments, her shoes, grew rusted and brittle and disintegrated. Every item she’d brought into that room vanished as if it had never been, leaving behind only a sour scent.
The taste of her own blood in her mouth and the powerful stench made Minerva want to vomit, but she managed to resist the impulse. Instead, she bowed her head and let go of the axe. It landed with a thud on the ground. The edge of its blade was clean, though a faint tendril of smoke seemed to rise from the metal and vanish in a heartbeat. The noxious smell also dissipated, and then there was only the scent of decay and humidity that naturally permeated the factory.
Eventually, very slowly, Minerva raised her head and took a deep breath.
—
Six weeks passed beforeAlba returned to the shadow of the tree, to the river. The spot where she’d killed Arturo, where his body had seeped into the grass, was blasted and barren. Nothing would ever grow there. It was as if his blood had poisoned the flowers and the plants that had once sprouted by the water.
But aside from that desolate piece of earth, the land was peaceful and the river gurgled merrily.
The people in Paraje de Abedules claimed that the Quirogas were cursed, that a foul monster must have taken Arturo as it had taken Tadeo, and made the sign of the cross when they approached their farm. Her family was becoming infamous, but the reticence of the village people meant they asked few questions about her uncle’s disappearance, and they did not disturb Alba’s peace.
Alba leaned her back against the tree and listened to the river’s current and the way it spoke, sharing secrets with her. Above her, the tree spread its branches wide, shading her like a jade parasol.
She’d woken to a portent that morning, knowing she’d birth a child. It would be a girl. The townsfolk might declare she wasValentín’s bastard, or a demon’s daughter. Who could tell, with the Quirogas? They were cursed, after all. And her mother might have questions, her eyes still damp with grief, but she’d welcome the baby.
Her fingers rested against Valentín’s locket. She’d flung Arturo’s necklace with the single pearl into the river, along with the axe. It would rest there, in the muck, in the dark. Let the water have this present and do what it will with it.
She’d name the child Tadea, after her brother. One day, when her daughter was older, Alba would tell her stories about witches and curses, for her own protection.
The world, after all, was rife with dangers and traps. To explore it was to venture down a path paved with knives. Yet, as the river demonstrated, there were also chances for beauty and quiet.
She brushed her hand up the tree’s trunk, feeling the texture of the bark.
“Bless me, Tadeo,” she said, for under the shadow of the tree her brother had perished. Two deaths there, side by side, but the spot where his body had fallen was dotted with yellow wildflowers and the land there had not withered.
“Bless me, Valentín,” she said, kissing the locket, for if the dead ever paid any heed to the living, she hoped he would be kind.
Of Arturo, she did not ask a blessing. She’d survived him, and that was enough of a gift.
Epilogue
Minerva had finished carvingthe pumpkin when the cat alerted her to an approaching car. The college held a trick-or-treat day for local children the evening before Halloween. They would go to designated dorms and knock on the door and the resident assistants would hand out candy. It was popular with the kids of the college’s faculty and staff.
Briar Hall was already decorated, with the appropriate cobwebs and plastic spiders dangling by the doors. Joyce House remained shuttered; the renovation had been postponed until next summer. She’d walked through its hallways, curious to see if she might speak to Ginny. But whatever presence had lingered there had vanished. Perhaps Carolyn’s death had liberated it. If that was the case, Santiago’s ghost might also have vanished. But Minerva had not gone back to the factory to check.
Ledge House was almost ready to receive guests. She had bags of candy and Hideo had helped her hang cutouts of bats around the porch. But she thought the pumpkin would make for a nice touch, and the children wouldn’t be stopping by until Friday. She had two whole days to spruce up the decorations.
