“She doesn’t want to hear it. My uncle rails against superstitions. But something lurks near our home. I can almost feel it watching us sometimes. Whether it’s the teyolloquani or another dreadful creature, I can’t tell.”
They stood in the middle of the fields of barley, which were nothedged by any fence or rocks, spreading freely, with the river in the distance to mark the contours of the Quiroga farm. To the west, behind the house, there were the fields of corn, which were also ripening. A grove of poplars and willows provided shade to the farmworkers in the warmest weeks of the year, and many times Alba had seen her father standing there, under the trees, waving back at her.
This was a land she understood, yet it had grown alien to her. She gazed at each tree and each clump of wildflowers with unease; the swaying and rustle of the barley made her shiver. She feared something hid behind the curtain of greenery. Valentín could feel it too, she was sure, but when he spoke his voice was firm.
“Alba, you know how a witch acquires power over someone, don’t you? They grab hold of their victim’s nails, their hair, a personal item. Then they can cast spells and tease their victim, and the more the bewitched grows fearful, the more pleasure and power the witch derives. So what we’ll do is we’ll remain calm,” he said. “You must have heard about that old trick of placing a pair of scissors in a bowl of water under the bed to ward off evil.”
“I’ve never done it, but yes.”
“It’ll keep any witch away,” he said, and with careful fingers he took a chain from around his neck and handed it to her. “That locket is blessed, there’s a picture of the Holy Virgin in it.”
Alba opened the locket. “And your picture, too.”
He blushed. “Yes, but you can toss my picture and keep the Holy Virgin by your heart. She’ll watch over you.”
The necklace with the single pearl that her uncle had given her was what rested by her heart, but now Alba contemplated the locket.
“Thank you. But this still doesn’t tell me who’s bewitched us, if that is the case, or how the bewitchment might be broken.”
“Sometimes there’s no real reason for wickedness. But the people at Los Pinos might have remedies against such magic, I’ll have to see about that.”
“We could ride there together next week,” she suggested. “I could say I’m going to visit the Molina girls.”
“Your uncle won’t chaperone you?”
“On Tuesday he’s going into town to post letters and talk to the mayor again. My mother still wishes to bring a private investigator here.”
“Then we’ll sneak out together that day.”
She looked again at the house and spoke in a hushed voice. “I should go in. They’ll be looking for me soon.”
“I know. Alba, one more thing, and I do not mean to frighten you with this, but in every story I’ve heard about these creatures, once they drink the blood of their victim, the situation becomes dire. The more blood they drink, the more powerful they grow, and the deeper their victim falls under their spell. I advise you to protect your room with the scissors, but also look for your brother’s pistol and keep it by your pillow.”
“Tadeo kept Father’s gun in his room,” she said. “I don’t think it did him any good. Besides, you said we should remain calm.”
“We are calm, and calmly, you should find the gun. Please do it,” he said, and indeed he did sound composed.
“I will,” she said.
“Be careful, Alba.”
Valentín took her hands between his own and kissed them, then bowed his head, blushing again. She remembered how the Molina girls thought he was her sweetheart, which was not true, for no word of romance had passed between the two. However, something about his young, pleasant face struck her that day. Maybe it was the confidences they were sharing, or the way he spoke, resolute but also kind, which moved her deeply, as she hadn’t been moved before.
She clutched the locket he’d given her against her chest with one hand and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. He smiled at that, and she blushed in turn, feeling silly. She walked ahead of him. When they reached the house, she bade him a quick goodbye.
He waved at her before heading to the stables, where he’d left his horse tied up, and she lingered by the door to see him ride away. Then she rushed back inside, into the kitchen, where her mother was baking bread.
“Have you finished mending the buttons on your brother’s shirts?” she asked.
“I’ll do it today.”
Alba’s mother shook her head. “You can’t avoid your responsibilities.”
“I’m not, I promise,” she said, even though she was sure she’d pinch each of her fingers with the needle; she was terribly flustered and anxious. Valentín’s warnings mixed with the sweetness of his smile in her memory, making her want to blush again and making her feel warm.
At dinner, the warmth of her heart transformed into a cold lump in her throat. Since Tadeo had disappeared, the children were glum and quiet. The feeling of desolation around their table had increased with the death of the animals around the farm. They hardly spoke, but after Alba took the little ones upstairs and was returning to the parlor, she heard her mother and her uncle conversing.
“You can’t stop people from being superstitious, Arturo. Fernanda and Dolores might speak of monsters and witches, but they’re loyal to the family.”
