ã€ŠWitches of Emerald Vol. 1ã€‹


 Chapter 1

    NOBODY OWNS LIFE, yet anyone wielding a weapon can own death. Santiago did not need the weapon. His fists were enough.

    Santiago knew eventually his stepfather would darken their doorstep again. Oscar always did. Like any stray, you give them once and they will always come back. Guadalupe, no matter how horrible the man was to her, always let him back into their life. Years ago he gave up trying to convince her to be done with him. There were always more excuses lined up.

    It¡¯ll be different this time.

    He says he¡¯s really sorry and won¡¯t do it again.

    Being in prison scared him into being a better man.

    Santiago never understood why his mother did what she did. Not sure if he really wanted to. If it wasn¡¯t excuses, it was bullshit reasons that truly boiled down to her fear of being alone.

    He''s a good man deep down.

    He¡¯s funny when he¡¯s sober.

    It¡¯s just the alcohol. Once he gets right, everything will be how it was.

    He makes me feel safe.

    We can¡¯t afford the house without him.

    At least there was some truth to the last one.

    All Santiago needed to know was that the man was back.

    Clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white as Santiago glowered through a nearby window with its screen crudely cut out. The beige stucco on the craftsman-styled home desperately needed a power wash to clear the years of grime that trailed down to the dying overgrown weeds. Cigarette butts littered the battered concrete porch. Flimsy, now four times replaced by the landlord, the beige door hung loosely from its hinges. It matched everything else on the interior painted in the same flat tone from the baseboards to the popcorn ceilings.

    Garbage littered the yard: The plastic bags were torn to shreds, in it several shattered bottles ranging from cheap beer to bottom-shelf tequila. Santiago grimaced at the used condoms and discarded pregnancy tests. From the porch he could hear his mother and Oscar arguing. Definitely over something meaningless. Santiago wondered if this time, it would be about who should take out the trash or whose turn it was to do the dishes.

    This time it would not matter how much his mother begged him. He was ending this.

    Santiago was no longer a scared child at the mercy of a man with no soul.

    His mother screamed as Oscar and Santiago slammed into a wall, sending photographs cascading down onto cracked floor tiles in a sprawl of broken glass. The sour stench of copper, tequila, and animal urine clung to frayed carpets. The pungent scents flooded Santiago¡¯s nostrils.

    ¡°SANTIAGO! STOP!¡± Lupe threw herself on top of the husky man stooped against the top of the stained sofa. ¡°GO, JUST GO!¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He seethed. ¡°You let this piece of shit back into the house?¡±

    ¡°Stop, please. Just go!¡± She wailed. ¡°Get out of my house, now!¡±

    Her words and cries echoed in his skull, failing to reach his consciousness. His deep hazel gaze fixated on Oscar, while he struggled to catch his breath. No matter what happened tonight, one of them was leaving in a body bag.

    It didn¡¯t matter who.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Get up!¡± Santiago boomed, kicking bits of glass towards Oscar, waving his hands mockingly. ¡°Real big man, huh? Big bad thug, repping the barrio. Bitch you ain¡¯t about shit!¡±

    The older man cursed, throwing Lupe to the floor. In one motion he lunged at Santiago and gripped the boy by his waist with thick arms wrapped in tattoos.

    The full force of the gangbanger¡¯s weight rocketed Santiago into the nearest wall.

    His back cracked against one of many patches along the wall. A sunbleached plasma TV wobbled on an equally outdated box-store entertainment center moments before crashing into the stained carpet.

    Lupe¡¯s desperate sobs disappeared under the white noise of muffled laugh tracks.

    Oscar had a hundred pounds on Santiago and at least six inches.

    Oscar also had kidneys that barely functioned. Santiago decided to put the poor organs out of their misery. Solid and muscular, the teen locked his arm around the man¡¯s neck and brought his elbow down with everything in him onto Oscar¡¯s lower back to buckle him.

    Oscar was not a weak man. Too many times now had Santiago been on the receiving end of those calloused meaty hands. Even days later, the bruises strained his muscles and left him fumbling and limping. Whenever the drunken deadbeat strolled down the street, anyone with any sense turned about-face and jogged off.

    There was a time when even Santiago feared the man.

    Until he learned the truth: Oscar was nothing more than a bottom rung thug slanging drugs for a gang that was not even the same emblazoned on his skin. He ran away long before haunting Santiago¡¯s doorstep from the people he once swore loyalty to after snitching for a plea deal. To top it off Oscar couldn¡¯t even get decades long addicts to buy.

    Santiago caught him by the chain around his neck and knocked him straight in the teeth. Several cracked knuckles split, sending shockwaves up his arm. Blinded by rage, adrenaline pumped through his veins as he pushed through it.

    Lupe latched onto his arm, pulling him away.

    Somehow the parasite had wormed his way into his mother¡¯s heart. Maybe it was the supply of substances or some delusion that Oscar was somehow redeemable.

    ¡°Mom, stop!¡± He pulled her close, both of them gasping for breath. ¡°Get out of the damn way.¡±

    She wrapped her arms around him. ¡°It¡¯s over, okay. It¡¯s over. Please, let it go. It¡¯s enough. He¡¯s had enough.¡±

    They always ended up here. With Santiago kicking the leech to the curb after he used up everything they had then vanished for a few blissful months. Then Oscar would find his way back to the small two-bedroom home that perpetually stunk of animals and smoke.

    Santiago stiffened. his jaw clenched tight as she hung on to him. Faded pink clung to lifeless, matted ends from a cheap dye job. Even past the tangle of blonde hair falling over his mothers shoulders he could see yellowing bruises trailing up from her clavicle along her pale neck and stopping below her jawline.

    ¡°I ain¡¯t done yet, you fucking little bastard.¡± Oscar fished out a small blade from the pockets of his worn denim, flicking open the switchblade with a muted click. Its honed edge gleamed menacingly in the lamplight.

    Lupe screamed, standing between him and her son. ¡°Baby please, he¡¯s sorry. He¡¯s going to leave, please.¡± Defensively she outstretched her frail hands in front of her in a pitiful attempt to hold the man back. Compared to his rounded barrel-chest she almost looked like a doll.

    ¡°Get the fuck out the way.¡± Oscar backhanded the woman, sending her to the floor, brandishing the pawnshop switchblade at his side in the opposite hand.

    Santiago lunged, caught Oscar¡¯s hand by the wrist and locked his other arm with his own. He head-butted Oscar.

    Oscar¡¯s bulbous nose buckled with a sickening crack. Blood gushed from his face. Somehow his rounded face and beady eyes managed to swell more. Dark bruises and cuts along his cheeks hid the deep flush from tequila coursing through him.

    The knife clattered to the floor. The men went right along with it.

    Santiago rained blows down on the fallen man.

    Pain shot up his arms with every strike. He did not stop.

    When all he could see was red, he did not stop.

    When the cops kicked the door in and screamed for him to get down on the floor, Santiago did not stop. The bellowed commands, warnings, and countdowns failed to reach him.

    When they fired on him, he stopped.

    One grazed his shoulder. He could not tell the difference between the first bullet and Oscar¡¯s fists pummeling into him.

    Second, hit him in the back. It exploded inside him as though someone had forced their fist through his back and out through his belly button. The teen did not even have time to process what felt like a balloon expanding in him, pressing his organs painfully against his spine and pelvis.

    Third straight to the head.

    Santiago died, but he didn¡¯t stay dead.

 Chapter 2

    WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER?

    Ears ringing, he stared back at the social worker sitting across from him, focusing on the abstract mess of brush strokes on the canvas behind him.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, take your time,¡± the middle-aged therapist smiled softly with a knowing patience in his eyes.

    Dr. Marcus Thompson appeared as though he were modeled and generated in a Pixar studio, from his pristinely tailored monochromatic suit to the large black square glasses that framed his face. The rich, sunny warmth in the man¡¯s skin was a contrast to the lifelessness of his suit. His smooth bronze complexion was a refreshing brightness to the clinical room around them.

    The case worker bore a warm, crafted smile that reached the corners of his eyes- though it never revealed his teeth. If he fully smiled, it might have revealed jovial dimples that rounded his cheeks into a youthful glow. Whenever he studied his clients, those umber eyes flickered with ideas and compassion. It only softened his longer, more awkward features.

    Santiago glowered through the throbbing pain in his head at the chipper, organized man before him. The teen wanted nothing to do with his upbeat curiosity or his suffocatingly cerulean office. He winced, bending over to hold his head. The words kept coming and none of them were sticking.

    ¡°Most people who experience something like this have a variety of reactions, none of them wrong. You might be feeling some residual pain and dizziness. Being in a physical assault is a pretty traumatic experience.¡±

    Traumatic. That was a word for people with put-together lives to describe disorder in their sheltered bubbles. Getting laid out was the consequence of going head first into a brawl. Blacking out in a fight wasn¡¯t unusual, though waking up with burning stiffness was.

    Bright light from the afternoon sun filtered in through the plastic slatting of partially opened blinds. The way it illuminated Thompson¡¯s eyes reminded Santiago of a stray dog he¡¯d once fed extra tortillas to for a month. The entire time it had followed him too and from school, always wagging his mangy tail as if the thin flatbread were the spice of life.

    However, this office was not anything like home. Barely any outside sound filtered in, aside from the muffled conversation of a receptionist. Instead of graffiti, these walls were a singular sky blue, painted to bounce the sun around them like a disco ball. Where there would have been garbage were stacks of magazines meticulously piled into a neat alphabetical fashion.

    Santiago let out a breath as he leaned back against the sofa cushions. It seemed that blue was the seasonal shade for Thompson. Obviously a favored color. In the corner stood an enormous Monstera, no doubt some attempt to bring more life into this clinical setting. The room was suffocating with over simplistic modernism.

    ¡°I know there was a lot of miscommunication at the hospital about your situation,¡± Thompson sighed, leaning back in his chair as he balanced a clipboard on the knee crossed atop his leg. ¡°Your discharge nurse had mentioned an electrical blackout on the phone.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know, would I?¡± Santiago vollied back, eyebrow cocked.

    Thompson nodded in agreement.

    ¡°Either way,¡± the specialist nodded sagely, ¡°we can work to fill in the blanks.¡±

    Frankly, the late teen did not feel like chatting with the cartoonishly professional case manager or his mountain of questions. His skull felt heavy and throbbed like an anvil strike with each pulse. His shoulder was swollen and tighter than a suspension bridge. Any pathetic attempt at mustering decorum was shot by the sheer distraction of his pain. The glare wasn¡¯t even at Thompson. Santiago¡¯s gaze was simply boring into the wall past his head.

    ¡°Take your time, if it¡¯s too much we can move on to something else and revisit this later.¡± A weighted pause hung in the air as the exhausted young man considered how much more time he could take up. Unfortunately, Santiago knew a lack of cooperation meant spinning his wheels. He would be coming back over and over until he was shuffled through the deck of files.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m good.¡± Santiago grasped the phantom pain on his right arm, rubbing tentatively. ¡°They shot me. I thought¡ª nevermind.¡±

    Silently, he chided himself. Never give too much away. He had learned that all the niceness in the world couldn¡¯t stop the person across from him from reporting the truth. He had only one goal: go home. Fear sat heavily in his gut. He wasn¡¯t sure what happened to his mother or if she even survived .

    ¡°It¡¯s alright. Whatever you say never leaves this room. There are no wrong answers.¡±

    ¡°Christ, they give you all the same bullshit script with that degree?¡±

    ¡°How would you like me to respond?¡± Thompson offered open palms, gesturing to the space around them. Santiago stuck his tongue deep in the pocket of his cheek. ¡°I¡¯m only telling the truth.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°Unless you tell me you want to hurt yourself or others, or disclose active abuse to me,¡± Thompson spoke gently, ¡°I¡¯m here to give you the space to say whatever you need to. Besides, I can¡¯t force you to tell me those things, even if I wanted to.¡±

    Easy for them to tell someone to spill their guts. For all the nonsense they talk about, things staying between them were lies and Santiago knew it. He made that mistake once. Then he learned what a mandated reporter was. The little spiel was hardly necessary.

    The last time he was honest Lupe didn¡¯t come home for nearly two weeks. Sobriety was a yoke of suffering and physical agony, shaking their world up in the name of keeping Santiago safe. Her sentence was as long as the time it took her to collapse back into the ease of her pattern, aid out, arm tied, needle still stuck in the crook of her arm.

    Those were the consequences of honesty.

    Santiago¡¯s leg bounced rapidly as he leaned against the sofa backing. Equal parts irritation and anxiety bubbled to the surface from predictable approaches towards the subject he found increasingly creative ways to avoid. ¡°It doesn''t matter anymore. I¡¯m fine now.¡±

    ¡°Traumatic physical wounds down to the muscle tissue in your shoulder, major head trauma and lacerations,¡± Thompson listed, flipping a page up on the clipboard to read through his intake sheet. ¡°I¡¯d hardly call that fine.¡±

    ¡°What do you want to know? I¡¯d like to go home but apparently minding your business is out of fuckin¡¯ fashion these days,¡± Santiago barked, leaning up from the couch that threatened to swallow him.

    ¡°It¡¯s sort of my job to not mind my business,¡± he smiled softly, eyes unmoving.

    ¡°Who even signed off on this group home shit? I don¡¯t need to be here! I have a home.¡± He snapped, gripping the edge of the couch as he leaned forward.

    ¡°Do you?¡±

    ¡°What the fuck is that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°Address? Phone number? They¡¯re all things we can check off this list, Santiago. What I know is you were in an accident you-¡±

    ¡°Accident?¡± The young man scoffed, rolling his eyes like a dead man¡¯s hand of dice. ¡°Those fuckin¡¯ pigs.¡±

    ¡°So the police.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I said,¡± he spat back. A heavy steam-engine sigh escaped the young man as he folded his arms over his chest and leaned back into the couch. He tucked his chin down, glowering down directly into the brown eyes of the case manager.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Santiago frowned; the man was nosy and a little too good at getting him to talk too much.

    ¡°What were the police there for?¡± Thompson pried, head tilted.

    ¡°Same shit as always,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Oscar up to his fuckin¡¯ shit¡­¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Oscar?¡±

    Looking back over at the man haloed by a wall of academic decorations, Santiago felt his body tense tighten. He only wanted that piece of shit out of their home. Yet a part of him wondered if Lupe would hold that space for him when he turned eighteen.

    ¡°He¡¯s a punk ass bitch,¡± the young man finally said with a steep frown, eyes cast to the shaded window casting a glow across them.

    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re not a fan.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an understatement,¡± Santiago quipped. ¡°He¡¯d be fuckin dead if I¨C¡± No, he chided himself that was too much.

    ¡°Is that how you got into this state?¡±

    The silence answered Thompson¡¯s question plenty. He nodded, scribbling nothing in particular but watching the teen¡¯s reactions over his glasses. His body wound like a coil of heat and frustration. The therapist laying the pen down to break the tension.

    ¡°Did Oscar shoot you?¡±

    ¡°Oscar couldn¡¯t shoot me if he had his arm in a splint strapped to a scope,¡± Santiago laughed, a refreshing sign of life from the teen. ¡°I told you already. Pinche huras.¡±

    ¡°For confronting Oscar?¡± Thompson asked, hoping to bring Santiago out into the conversational clearing.

    The teen sighed, chortling softly as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. He shook his head.

    ¡°Somebody¡¯s gotta do it,¡± the teen muttered.

    ¡°What was he doing that was worth your life?¡±

    The sharpness in the young man¡¯s eyes told the therapist more than his words ever could. For all Santiago was unwilling to say, his body told the tapestry of his life woven in perfect order.

    The tension, the tapping, the impatience. He was a war child surviving overhead fire in his own home.

    ¡°I¡¯m sick of that bastard bringing that shit back into our house. You call for help and it takes hours to show up if they ever do at all. Do something about it and you¡¯re target practice.¡± Santiago yelled, a fire finally bursting out of the young man that Thompson had yet to see. ¡°Not like any of that shit matters now.¡±

    ¡°You were shot, Santiago. You were shot by police while trying to protect your mother from her abuser. That matters.¡± His expression softened as he leaned closer. Thompson knew he had to carefully craft his responses. Every word needed to be humble, non-judgemental, no leading statements, and absolutely no promises he could not keep. Santiago¡¯s mental state clung by a fraying thread, and one poorly worded response could destroy the modicum of progress they made.

    Thompson was newly appointed to the boy¡¯s case. His supervisor warned him this would be a tough nut to crack. Santiago¡¯s case was miles long: expelled from one school district, kicked out of seven schools total, and multiple prior offenses from breaking and entering to aggravated assault.

    As far as he could tell the boy never had a decent father figure in his life. Santiago¡¯s father had died before he could form sentences and the man who replaced him was the farthest thing from good.

    Part of the case worker wondered why his supervisor assigned him to the case. With a long history of disdaining male authority he did not feel as though he was the best choice for the boy. Then again, the only person with the training and background for empathetically reaching boys like Santiago was him.

    Much of this session felt like dancing on thin ice with dull skates. How one attempted to miss where it thinned to avoid crashing into the frigid abyss.

    Thompson knew he needed to border between authentic and compassionate without appearing like a pushover. Yet, he needed to command enough respect in his posture and decorum to be taken seriously without triggering the boy.

    Cadence and courtesy, firmness and patience.

    Guiding a child such as him was a trapeze walk.

    Another glance over the file and much of the unspoken facts fell into place for Thompson. No wonder the boy had issues with authority.

    Thompson had looked over what little SPD had relinquished: non-cooperation, assault, detainment. If it was not excessive force and overt racial targeting, the kid was treated like an adult before he ever understood the innocence of childhood.

    Each intake was a heavy-penned analysis dripping with bias and impatience. Even a previous case worker had double red underlined UNCOOPERATIVE at the top of one of his intake sheets. If there was anything Thompson knew it was that if you went looking for problems you were bound to find them.

    ¡°Was I?¡± He threw up his hands, ¡°I remember them shooting me. I felt that shit. But nothing. Not a cut, bruise, scar. They shot me in the fucking head¡ª! No. No it felt like¡ª¡± Santiago groaned, unable to articulate the sensation of bullets as they littered his body. There was no way to convey the exact sensation of his bones coming apart and his organs flooding with blood until they were fit to burst.

    Dr. Thompson leaned in, extending his hand to halt the anxious rambling. ¡°You¡¯re fine. I don¡¯t want you to tell me what you think I want to hear. I want to know what happened to you, Santiago.¡±

    From what he was told, he should have been dead. Santiago had been on his way to the morgue when he fumbled out from under the gray tarp. Scared the morgue tech so badly he nearly ended up in a steel bin himself.

    The administrators claimed it was a clerical error. After all, the hospital had experienced a freak black out around the time he had been admitted.

    The doctors were overwhelmed.

    Someone made a bad call.

    Santiago had little recourse to deny it. He didn¡¯t remember anything. Not waking up. Not clambering out of the steel coffin. He barely remembered who he was when he finally regained some semblance of consciousness.

    ¡°I¡¯m not crazy.¡± Santiago snapped.

    ¡°I know.¡± Thompson replied sympathetically, ¡°I know that a lot of people have told you a lot of different things about what they think happened to you. I want to know what you remember.¡±

    Thompson¡¯s voice was measured and maintained the warmth of real concern as he spoke. In another setting Santiago might have mistaken him for a weatherman or news anchor. Apparently being a professional meant wearing a tie. The same striped tie that might come in colors other than black and gray, if Thompson felt dangerous.

    At least it wasn¡¯t blue, Santiago was starting to feel like a terrible 90¡¯s pop-hit.

    He sat for a long moment until the tick of the clock behind him echoed in his head like a church bell.

    Santiago needed to get out of this room.

    Glancing up at the ceiling tiles, attempting to distract himself by mentally drawing pictures with the array of speckles. Part of him wondered how old the ceilings were, they looked old enough to have asbestos. They did not seem to have any mystery stains like the ones his schools always had.

    ¡°They shot me. They killed me. I remember what it felt like when my fucking skull came apart. Now I¡¯m here and I don¡¯t know why.¡± He stared up at the ceiling, thumb quickly brushing the moisture pooling in his eye.

    There was no way the man across from him understood what any of this was like. Thompson did not have to worry about putting food on the table for his mother. Or where he might find a winter coat before it snowed. Nor what it meant to work from the moment he entered high school.

    Santagio knew what it looked like when someone lived the way he had. Thompson did not have that look.

    The man¡¯s skin was flawless, not a single callous or scar on his hands. He probably had the good fortune to go to college right out of high school.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re lying, Santiago.¡± Thompson steepled his hands in front of him. ¡°We both know there are supernatural alternatives to consider. People can move from one place to the next in a blink of an eye. Conjure up fires. Move things with their mind.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t bring people back from the dead.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it?¡± He gave a pointed nod at the boy, ¡°You wear that chain but don¡¯t believe in resurrection.¡±

    Reflexively his hand clamped around the pendant embellished with a crucifix. ¡°I don¡¯t wear it because I believe in God or whatever.¡±

    ¡°Yet you feel the need to tell others of your belief. Did you choose God or did God choose you?¡±

    Santiago talked to enough of these therapists to know that they were as nutty as their clients.

    Thompson had angel paintings hanging from the pale walls that one could find at any dollar store. Small placards with encouraging prayers sat atop the small coffee table that separated them. Over the man¡¯s shoulder a quick skim of the book titles: ¡°The Confessions of St. Augustine¡±, ¡°The Imitation of Christ¡±, ¡°The Story of Soul¡±.

    It must¡¯ve been his lucky day because he managed to net his favorite kind: a religious nut. The only thing worse than a social worker was a called-by Christ social worker. They were either holier-than-thou and staring down at him from the end of their noses or there were the ones who believed everything was God¡¯s plan.

    Was it God¡¯s plan for the cops to litter a seventeen year old kid with bullets?

    Was it God¡¯s plan for his mother to constantly let that animal back into their house?

    He supposed it must also be in God¡¯s plan for his mother to spend his entire childhood an addict. Of course it was. He and everyone like him were meant to suffer.

    ¡°Is that your clinical diagnosis?¡± Santiago scoffed, ¡°God chose me?¡°

    Santiago did not know what happened. He could not explain it any better than anyone else. Not that it mattered. None of it did, because it did not change the fact that he was stuck here.

    ¡°Is that so unbelievable? Miracles happen,¡± said Thompson.

    ¡°Not for people like me.¡±

 Chapter 3

    DAYS BLENDED TOGETHER UNDER close supervision from social workers. The House Lead maintained a strict schedule. They claimed it provided structure. A pretty way of saying they controlled their lives.

    Get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, go to school, back to the house, dinner, then bed. Rinse repeat.

    Every day for the last three months. Santiago could do it in his sleep if he needed to sometimes it felt like he did.

    Santiago witnessed dozens of boys transfer out of the house nearly overnight when he arrived, Dr. Thompson told him it would be the same for him. That it was only temporary while a suitable foster was arranged for him or until his family came forward.

    Around him steam swirled densely as the immense water pressure from the busted showerhead affixed to fake plastic tiles poured down on him.

    Why hadn¡¯t his mother stepped forward? Every attempt to contact her led to the same dead ends. Without his phone he couldn¡¯t recall Alejo, J¨¦sus, or Lola¡¯s numbers to see if they knew where his mother was so she could rescue him from this monotonous nightmare.

    A trio of muffled voices filtered through the hollow corridor that separated the closet sized bathroom he shared with his roommate Alex. Two of the voices he recognized immediately, and another he couldn¡¯t recall hearing.

    ¡°Hey give my phone back!¡± Alex shouted

    ¡°Hell no, you snuck this bitch in and you¡¯re not even looking at porn on it,¡± Wes hollered back, his voice stuck out amongst all of the boy¡¯s most. There was a distinct gravel to it, his normal speaking voice sounded strained and forced into a higher octave. When Wes shouted, it shook windows and boomed deeply in his chest like rolling thunder warning of forming tornadoes.

    ¡°When I showed you the video I didn¡¯t say take my phone and look at titties! Give it back before Bennett shows up man!¡± Alex¡¯s shrill voice sounded like mosquitos with the way it filtered through the running shower.

    Santiago stepped out from the column of boiling water and wrapped himself up tightly in a nearby towel. Leaving the water running he silently clicked the lock into place. The mystery boy stayed silent aside from an occasional scoff.

    ¡°Why the fuck would I wanna look at bodies being dragged into a hospital?¡± Wes volleyed, ¡°you got everything on google to look at and your dumb ass is on reddit.¡±

    ¡°Look! Just look at it! It¡¯s not the same body! I¡¯m telling you someone swapped the bodies!¡±

    ¡°Motherfucker I am not staring at bodies just because you like a cold one wrapped around your dick doesn¡¯t mean anyone else is into that.¡±

    ¡°Why would anyone steal a body?¡± The third boy asked, ¡°Alex, stay off reddit. Don¡¯t make me tell Thompson you snuck that in here.¡±

    Alex gasped dramatically, and the sound of a thumping scuffle ricocheted closer and closer to the door. Instinctively Santiago took a step back, pushing a chunk of soaked coal curls from his eyes, ¡°You wouldn¡¯t do that Eli!¡±

    ¡°I will if you don¡¯t get off this shit, it¡¯s rotting your brain. Literally. You attacked our math teacher because you thought she had something to do with Pizzagate,¡± Eli explained, the exhaustion in his words made the boy eavesdropping feel tired for him.

    ¡°Real shit?¡± Wes asked, ¡°you one of them QAnons?¡±

    ¡°No! But she had something to do with it! She¡¯s around kids all day! Shopping! For ki-¡°

    ¡°There wasn¡¯t even a basement at that location Alex,¡± Eli interrupted.

    More sounds of hitting and wrestling thundered, following strings of curses. Deep triumphant cackling echoed thunderously followed by muffled cursing, Santiago guessed Wes won the match.

    ¡°Fucking crazy ass. Who the fuck steals bodies?¡± He asked again.

    ¡°Black Lives Matters! They¡¯re in league with communists to turn this country Socialist! They staged that police shooting and then used some other kid¡¯s body to make it look like they killed some kid!¡±

    Eli groaned, ¡°for the last time Alex. Black Lives Matter is a movement to end police violence. Not encourage it and fabricate more dead kids.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true! Look! Look at it! Why else would protestors loot the same hospital? If not to place the body!¡±

    ¡°I think you need a room with more padding,¡± Wes mumbled, stomping out of the room, ¡°Aye! Mother Goose!¡± The boy shouted vanishing down the hall.

    ¡°Protestors did not attack the hospital. They have never done that.¡± Said Eli.

    ¡°They did! It¡¯s real! Unlike that body! Why¡¯re there no body cams then if the shooting is real?!¡±

    ¡°Since when do the cops incriminate themselves? ¡ª You know what. I¡¯ve had it with your shit,¡± Eli replied. The sound of a window sliding open shuttered near the bathroom door.

    ¡°No! No don¡¯t you d-¡° Alex¡¯s protests were cut off by the sound of him screaming at the top of his lungs and muffled arguing from downstairs.

    As Eli¡¯s light footsteps faded, Santiago emerged from the bathroom after turning off the water, ¡°What happened?¡± He asked, feigning ignorance while his roommate sobbed against the window ledge.

    ¡°They fucking threw my phone out the window because they don¡¯t want to know the truth! And that is the government is being overrun with elites to destroy this country and sell kids!¡±

    Santiago nodded, attempting with every ounce of his self-control to maintain a concerned expression. ¡°Well that sucks.¡±

    That was the third phone in a month Alex snuck in, only to have it confiscated by Bennett or Thompson. Or to subsequently have another boy smash it in a brawl while trying to steal it for their own personal reasons. How Alex kept sneaking these phones was beyond Santiago.

    He ignored his roommate¡¯s dramatic wailing and calls from Dr. Thompson, to see Alex for a moment. Santiago continued about his business of putting himself together. This consisted of spending all of his time and energy on an elaborate skin routine from the cramped faux-porcelain sink with a mirror the size of a bagel while ignoring his wild mess of curls entirely. Once his skin was clear and smooth he stepped from the bathroom to finish getting ready with the only thing of value he owned.

    Santiago glanced down at the small oak-veneer side table, the only thing that greeted him were dozens of water-stain rings. Plopping clumsy steps sounded up the wooden stairs just beyond their doorway.

    The teen tilted his head towards his roommate as he stepped out of their shared bathroom. ¡°You see my chain?¡±

    Alex shrugged, ¡°No.¡±

    Santiago did a once over of his own bed; a quick glance underneath it, peeled back the sheets, even lifted the mattress. Then the drawers. Then the closet. Then the restroom.

    Nothing.

    He ignored the boy¡¯s complaints as he rifled through his things. It wasn¡¯t much, half a dozen all black shirts, a couple of pairs of stained denim jeans, with far less socks and underwear than a boy should own.

    Each room was arranged and decorated with what looked like old dorm room furniture; with twin beds shoved into parallel corners of the room with sheets so tightly tucked in it would bring joy to a drill sergeant. Accompanying single-drawer nightstands that needed fresh coats of stain from all of the years of water staining were stationed at every bedside.

    ¡°What the hell man I didn¡¯t take your shit!¡± Alex shoved him barely budging the boy.

    Santiago swung Alex around by a vice-like grip on his shirt slamming him into the wall. The kid was lanky with eyes too big for his face. He was taller than Santiago, but he did not feel like it at that moment.

    The two locked eyes with each other for an uncomfortably long time. Both of them refused to blink or glance away. Santiago studied their every movement in hopes the boy might betray himself with a split second glance elsewhere. Underneath his fists he could feel Alex''s chest trembling.

    Santiago remained silent. He relented and turned his attention back to the bed, flipping the mattress with little effort.

    Nothing but a few discarded candy bar wrappers. His deep mossy eyes scanned over the pilling carpets for any clue as he grumbled under his breath. There were light impressions in front of the nightstand on his roommate¡¯s side of the room.

    Alex leaned out the door and hollered for the staff. Santiago continued his search, now digging through the nightstand. Inside the garbage heap of discarded candy wrappers and partially used boxes of condoms. He found a few severely battered notebooks.

    His own curiosity drove him to flip through the pages. The notebooks were mostly barren aside from some journal entries Santiago intentionally avoided reading. He threw the notebook back into the drawer turning around to see their designated den mother, Bennett.

    ¡°Santiago! You can¡¯t go rifling through people¡¯s personal belongings.¡± Said Bennett.

    Bennett¡¯s commanding presence put the boys on alert. Everything about the man was big. His stature and especially his voice filled an entire room. When he really got going they could hear him clear across the street. The older black man¡¯s clothes tightly adhered to him almost ready to burst at the seams from another unreasonable amount of muscles, and tight fitting fatigues tucked into combat boots told the boys he served time in the military.

    Anyone who tried to badger him about it or asked about it, received the same polite but curt responses that he would not talk about it with them. Everyone wondered which branch, Santiago leaned on the guess of Army or Marines. He was far too organized and tidy to be chair force and did not have the lackadaisical energy naval men carried. Even if he did not say anything, his rigid posture and way he marched about the house made it feel like bootcamp.

    Unlike some of the other adults in the home, at any time Bennett¡¯s stern features could instantly morph into an almost Santa Claus like jolliness. When he laughed it rolled like ocean waves and carried the sunshine of summer in its notes.

    Unlike Thompson however, he lacked textured coils. Instead Bennett had a completely bare scalp. Truthfully, the thought of him with any hair other than bald made Santiago want to laugh. The stiff-bald look suited his deep starry midnight complexion, and chiseled square jawline.

    ¡°Maybe you should tell that to them.¡± Santiago raised his voice for smug onlookers to hear. ¡°Someone took my chain.¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°Relax-¡±

    Santiago shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me, man.¡±

    ¡°Really this is how you want to kick off the weekend?¡± Alex groaned, rolling his eyes with an aggravated yet dramatic sigh. The boy¡¯s voice grated his nerves, with its nasally high-pitched squeal.

    Bennett looked at the boy who took a step forward holding his arms out in challenge, ¡°You will, or I will.¡±

    Bennett shook his head. ¡°Clear the floor!¡±

    The boys cussed as they headed back to their rooms. His roommate leaned back against the pale flat-painted wall outside their bedroom, a rumbling stampede sounded up the steps as the staff flooded onto the upper floor.

    ¡°Room checks!¡± Bennett boomed. He muttered something to the other staff who started rounds.

    Santiago stood watch as the staff entered each room. Among them, was a caregiver with a warm smile and gentle demeanor, Maria. Her voice carried the rhythmic cadence of their shared mother tongue, offering comfort and reassurance in moments of distress.

    She reminded him of Guadelupe making Santiago very intolerant of any of the rowdy boys giving her a difficult time. The only difference between her and Guadelupe was where his mother was pale and rail thin, Maria was the color of warm sandstone with dark chestnut waves that flowed freely and vibrantly against her full-heart shaped face.

    Leon was another Seattle native, a younger Chinese man with an unshakeable calm despite his slim build he had a strong presence. No doubt from years of dealing with troubled teens and being one himself. His attire covered most but not all of the tattoos that crept out from under his sleeves and neckline telling a story many of them knew too well. Many times Santiago watched one of the new boys try to get a rise out of him only to be sent away with their tail tucked between their legs from his basilisk glare.

    The way Leon walked and carried himself activated a part of Santiago he did not know he had. Deep it down made him want to test the man. The sensible part of him warned him against it from the serious and cold look in his eyes.

    Unlike Bennett this man had no sense of humor and treated the halls as though it were a war-zone. Considering he opted for all black and wore nearly the same style of clothing as Bennett, the boy guessed he must have been an officer previously. There were a few times he heard the man call them juveniles.

    Santiago was not as familiar with the others. They never stuck around long enough. The staff rotated from the other houses about every two weeks like clockwork save for the three he knew by name.

    Sometimes Santiago witnessed staff meltdowns where they screamed they could not take it anymore and needed to work with real children, not demons. A few rare times he heard staff whispering to each other about no-call-no-shows or terrible excuses for absences.

    Lined up single file against the wall, the boys got patted down one by one.

    Leon¡¯s charges complained the least of the lot of them. Santiago took a mental note of the foolish boys who blew kisses to Maria as she wearily went about her duties. Of course they would, any teen boy who saw a woman with more curves than their hormone riddled brains knew what to do with all sense went out the window. It didn¡¯t matter if she showed no interest. They took her kindness and voluptuous form to be invitation enough.

    There was a newer staff member whose hands lingered a bit too long for Santiago¡¯s liking. Peculiar older blond man with bottle cap glasses. They mockingly called him Jeffrey Dauhmer so often none of them remembered his name.

    ¡°Hey, hey what¡¯s going on?¡± Thompson trotted up the steps, his dark leather loafers clacked distinctly against the wood, ¡°Come on I thought we talked about this. These checks are demeaning.¡±

    ¡°If they kept their hands to themselves it wouldn¡¯t be an issue. If they''re stealing they need to be held accountable.¡± Bennett¡¯s pudgy hands rested on his portly hips. Man was husky but Santiago knew he was stacked under all that blubber. He had seen him pull two of these kids in a scrap up like a mother cat does her kittens.

    ¡°This is supposed to be a home not a prison!¡± Thompson reiterated for what felt like the thousandth time, ¡°You didn¡¯t even ask the boys before invading their space.¡°

    Thompson gestured towards the room with his entire hand, swinging his arm out to the side. The two of them packed into the narrow hallway with the old veteran staring down at the young caseworker while he gestured wildly in the crowded hallway.

    Thompson was like a mother hen squaring up on a Rottweiler. As much as Thompson being hated known as the Mother Hen, the man certainly earned the nickname.

    It wasn¡¯t supposed to be a prison yet their every waking moment was dictated down to the hour. It was not a prison but they were not allowed to leave without supervision or a sign off.

    There were cameras in the halls and every room save for the bathrooms. Even outside cameras on every corner of the property watching both the streets and the courtyard.

    ¡°They are not going to admit they stole something.¡± Said Bennett.

    Santiago and Bennett¡¯s expressions of exhaustion and disbelief mirrored one another.

    Thompson looked at him pointedly firmly placing both of his thin hands on his hips.

    Bennett let out a dry laugh. ¡°Alright boys, did any of you come across a chain? Anyone see anything? Got anything they would like to share? Now¡¯s the time.¡±

    He received a few snickers, though mostly silence.

    Santiago glanced over his shoulder, watching Leon and Maria tag-team searching the room. They overturned the mattresses he tossed aside carefully feeling along the sides and bottoms for fresh cuts in the materials. Backpacks and drawers were dumped out then systematically sorted and organized.

    Leon lifted a thin brow as he pulled a hidden adult-magazine from beneath a false bottom in the drawer. Maria frowned slightly at the find only to cast those warm whiskey-toned eyes towards Dr. Thompson who shook his head. The search continued as they failed to find any other hidden treasures in the room.

    ¡°Everything looks clear.¡± Said Leon.

    Bennett pinched his brow, muttering something under his breath.

    Thompson smiled. ¡°If you look for the worst in people, you¡¯ll find it.¡±

    Santiago leaned out the door, ¡°You check their shoes?¡±

    Both men looked at him and then at each other.

    ¡°Shoes!¡± Bennett hollered as he waved the group along like a conductor.

    Some kicked their shoes off in a huff making Maria have to gather up a few strays that had tumbled across the floor. Before she could reach another pair of high-top sneakers in varying states of distress, Leon had begun methodically dumping out every pair before tossing them aside.

    Thompson crossed his arms tightly over his chest about to lay into the man when Leon raised his hand. ¡°Got it.¡±

    The boys burst out laughing.

    Thompson shook his head disapprovingly, ¡°Wes, you owe Santiago an apology.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Wes snorted, ¡°Alright.¡±

    Wes, stood at least six inches taller than Santiago with cropped sandy-brown hair. Whenever the boy looked at anyone, he stared down the end of his nose with a sharp piercing gaze that reminded Santiago of a feral tom cat. Maybe it was hatred rolling around in that pale-grassy gaze, or conversely, was a terminal level of apathy. Truthfully he could not think of a single time that those wide-set eyes weren¡¯t drooping.

    He crossed the hall towards where they stood, Wesley paused beside the other staff members. A crooked smirk spread across his thin-angular face.

    ¡°Wesley!¡± Bennett had not even finished before the boy snatched the chain and barreled down the stairs.

    Santiago shoved past to fly after him.

    The rest of the boys hooted and hollered trailing hot on their heels.

    The staff attempted wrangling in a few of them. They were outnumbered eight to their four with teens twice their size in most of their cases. Bennett radioed for back up as they followed the wild pack of boys.

    Wesley sprinted across the manicured laws of the gated community. Faces popped out of the windows as they passed. The pale faces that looked on were identical and shared the same bug eyed expression from their perfectly identical homes with American flags hanging on the wrap around concrete porches. More of the boys opened up the windows to egg them along.

    As they neared the back wall of the cul de sac it became clear what his plan was. Wesley intended to fling Santiago¡¯s jewelry into the surrounding densely packed woods never to be seen again amidst the lush underbrush of ferns and thick shrubbery. The sun hung low casting a muddied pale golden light on tightly packed trees illuminating faded emerald leaves against muggy overcast skies.

    Wesley¡¯s mistake was stopping to wind up.

    Santiago tackled him to the ground. They skid across the concrete drive.

    Santiago stood up leaving Wes laid out stomping over the boy''s glasses with a smug sense of pride as they cracked beneath his feet, he plucked the chain from the floor.

    Wes clambered to his feet in a fit of rage snatching up a brick that framed the rose garden in front of the home.

    ¡°WES, NO!¡° Bennett¡¯s voice boomed.

    Santiago turned in time for the brick to smash into his frontal lobe. Rung his ears like a bell, vision blotted out. A blur of the gray cement and strip of lawn came into view.

    Wesley stood over him, bashing the brick into his left temple before he had a chance to block, the crack sounded like lightning ringing through the air.

    Santiago swung his leg striking the side of his knee. The brick flew, replaced by fists as they slugged it out in the driveway.

    Half a dozen sets of hands forced the boys apart.

    ¡°Enough!¡± Bennett¡¯s sweat dripped from his brow, ¡°Take Wes to 6. Santiago back to 4.¡±

    Leon took charge of Wes, though the boy seemed entirely unphased unlike the others. The boy offered almost bloodthirsty grins to the man who ignored his attempts to break free. Of all of the boys in this home, Wes stood out as unique. Nothing seemed to scare him. The misery of others brought him genuine joy. The few fights that broke out with him at the center always ended up with someone hospitalized.

    As lean as Wes appeared, the boy carried the strength of a power-lifting champion. Every last hit felt as though he were being kicked by a donkey. Something Wes delighted in.

    Only a few nights ago Santiago witnessed the boy who seemed to permanently live in parkas no matter the weather, antagonize Alex into a brawl just to leave him so bruise riddled he looked like a grape. For every stiff limb and whine of agony, Wes responded with delighted laughter revealing his perfectly aligned stark-white teeth.

    ¡°It¡¯s all good Santiago, we¡¯ll handle this on the outside. Come visit me I¡¯ll be posted up at your place, homie.¡± Wesley sneered pale skin was splotchy from the bruises that had begun to form. Leon''s arms clamped across the boy''s chest forcing him back. ¡°Don¡¯t worry I¡¯ll keep your mama company.¡±

    Santiago lurched forward throwing the staff to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs. Bennett caught him by the arm and another meaty palm clamped around the back of his neck.

    Santiago growled furiously as he was pinned up against the metal garage door.

    Beyond Bennett, Wes continued to grin. His eyes alight with sadism and calculations. Every last move Santiago made those cold eyes remained fixed on him.

    ¡°He¡¯s trying to goad you, kid. Ignore him. The only thing it¡¯s going to do is get you sent back to Juvie.¡± Bennett growled in his ear low enough only he could hear. Santiago had been doing so good it ate at Bennett to think it would all go down the drain over a degenerate like Wes.

    Santiago''s eyes clenched shut as he tried to level his breathing. His blood was boiling. Heart pounded in his ears.

    He knew what Bennett said was true.

    He didn¡¯t want to be here. He wanted to go home.

    That was it.

    Santiago asked himself if stomping Wesley¡¯s face in was worth losing the only chance of going home.

    ¡°Word on the street is she likes it rough, I¡¯ll slap her around a bit before I give her this dick!¡±

    His blood boiled like hot kerosene and Wes struck a match. Santiago ignited with the intensity of a wildfire.

    He screamed, launching from the garage door, metal crunched under his palms.

    ¡°Santiago!¡± Bennett called.

    His voice sounded miles away.

    Swinging his arm back Santiago¡¯s elbow struck the older man in the ribs.

    Santiago charged at Wes flinging aside any caregiver attempting to separate them, bodies flailed in the air like ragdolls.

    Wes tried to fight him. A couple hits and he realized something was not right.

    He started to back off, Santiago would not relent.

    A handful of boys jumped in swinging at Santiago. A flurry of kicks and fists drummed into his back and sides in chaotic unison.

    It should have hurt. It did not.

    Flames devoured him from within, sanity and awareness reduced to ash.

    Every blow sent an electric shot of adrenaline making the world around him warp into a blur of colors and muffled heart beats.

    Thompson gaped at the display.

    Boys splayed out across the lawn in bloodied piles as though it were the beaches of Normandy, their wounded groans and cries rang out in an agonized symphony.

    Santiago¡¯s bloodied knuckles dripped, hanging limply at his sides.

    He panted, turning his gaze heavenward, shadowed behind the curls that stuck to his face with sweat and blood.

    ¡°Santiago.¡± Dr Thompson murmured.

    The boy''s head tilted in his direction and his blood ran cold.

    Darkness devoured his eyes, consuming everything except for glimmering silver rings.

    Thompson froze in place as the boy sauntered over to him. A lopsided grin pulled at his lips revealing blood-stained teeth.

    Thompson¡¯s thoughts begged him to scream, but his lungs and throat failed him. Unable to stumble backwards or tear his eyes from the scene. His heart hammered harder with every step the boy took.

    Santiago shambled forward, each passing step grew more unsteady until his balance failed, sending him face first into the grass with a heavy hollow thump.

 Chapter 4

    BENNETT ENTERED THE HOSPITAL and gave a polite nod to the concierge behind the counter. He repeated the usual request of a visitor''s pass. The circular white desk sat in the middle of the lobby¡¯s ivory and royal blue terrazzo. Waiting area lights were dim and a sprinkle of visitors sat quietly glued to their phones which stood in sharp contrast to the bustling coffee shop and the hum of machinery across the hall.

    Bennett sat in the hospital floors waiting area, his attention drawn to the news broadcast airing on the nearby television. The news anchor¡¯s somber voice filled the room relaying the latest tragedy, another young boy dead at the hands of police. Allegedly was a word that was thrown around alot. Everytime this case popped up on the news there was some new angle attached to the story.

    It was never any easier to sit and listen to the broken voices that told a story of a life drawn to a close far too soon. He knew many boys like him both in his youth and in his line of work. There was always a pit in his stomach every time one of them left the group home. Never knowing if they would be able to turn things around or end up in the ground.

    This case in particular hovered in his peripheral the past couple of months. Santiago latched onto it after his accident. Thompson said it was the result of a traumatic brain injury. He could not differentiate himself from the young Santiago in the news.

    Bennett did not understand the science behind it all. Yet he knew more about these kids than any degree could teach him. Santiago had been brought in from a horrific car accident behind the wheel of a car that did not belong to him. A good samaritan had pulled him from the wreckage. His own family never claimed him despite several attempts by the state to reach them.

    Of course he wanted to be someone else. Someone that was loved. Someone that was wanted.

    Sydney, a family friend.

    The bleached blonde woman told the story of a child with infectious laughter and a playful nature. Her heavily mascaraed eyes left blotchy rings around her eyes as she clutched the photograph of a small freckled child to her chest.

    ¡°I knew him since he was just a baby.¡± She wiped delicately at the corner of her eyes with her lengthy acrylics. Behind her a portion of concrete wall was splashed with colors that stretched into a mural which the broadcast seemed to be covering. ¡°He was good. He¡ª.¡±

    ¡°Bennett¡ª¡± The nurse looked down at her clipboard, ¡°The doctor finished with Alex, you can see him now.¡±

    Over the course of a few days the boy''s conditions improved. Well, enough to give the nurses a hard time. A few broken bones in the shoulders and a mile of bruises between the lot of them.

    They would be running amok in a few weeks time.

    He reached out to their caseworkers. Given the state of the boys he was able to convince them to write off the incident and return them to the home with only an extra month on their designated time there.

    He stopped at the room being cleaned, the scent of bleach and synthetic lemon flooded the hall. They usually came around for that strictly in the morning. Learned that after requesting a clean up during an evening prior. Both the nurse and Bennett received a huffy woman on the other end of the line insisting that the morning cleaners take care of stayovers and they would send someone when they could.

    Bennett called out to the nurse behind the desk. ¡°Hey, 706 did he make a mess tonight?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, he was discharged a few hours ago.¡±

    A few hours ago?

    Did his family finally come to claim him?

    Or was Thompson throwing in the towel?

    ¡°Did his family come forward?¡± He asked, hopeful that maybe for once in his line of work there was some kind of a happy ending.

    ¡°No it seems his caseworker released him, I have the email requests and consent forms,¡± the nurse replied casually. Before he could pry her for more details the phones rang off the hook in a discordant off-tempo orchestra.

    Bennett grumbled under his breath and stormed outside to quell the broiling anger and irritation bubbling up in his throat. His teeth ground together as the itch to smoke consumed his thoughts. As he pulled a crumpled pack from one of the many pockets on his scrubs he cursed Thompson for his cowardice. Surely he did not sign off on this. A supervisor went over his head instead and passed off Santiago to a different facility.

    That had to be it.

    He ignored the nosey stares of people entering the hospital as he paced out front with his cell pressed to his ear. The old veteran¡¯s hands trembled as he dug around for his lighter amongst the myriad of scrap papers and pens. He fumbled the rusted and dented zippo lighter the minute he pulled it free. The wick and flint went wheeling down into the mud. Cursing under his breath he hoped for the other man¡¯s sake, he would not answer as he cleaned the lighter and attempted to get a bent cigarette lit.

    Bennett stood outside taking a drag on his cigarette listening to the phone ring. The near immediate wash of buzzing relief that filled his senses curbed the growing wave of jittering in his limbs. With every passing ring he mulled over what he wanted to say to Thompson.

    The first voice that came to mind was the familiar booming aggression of his drill sergeant, ¡°Have you lost your damn mind?!¡±

    No that wouldn¡¯t work, Marcus would hang up immediately and then ghost him for days on end. Like every other Seattle local. The phone seemed to ring for eternity as he continued to work shop his approach. Slowly settling on a more inquisitive mental tone.

    Though, he was not entirely sure if that still held an edge of confrontational aggression.

    It was late in the evening, not that the skies in Seattle could be trusted to tell time. Summer days had the sun high in the sky well until nine in the evening. No matter the time of year the gray blanket of clouds would make an appearance if you waited long enough.

    He watched cars pulling up and away in a steady succession as visitors, patients, and food delivery circled the roundabout.

    ¡°Bennett?¡± Thompson said.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to get a hold of you for an hour now.¡± Bennett seethed through clenched teeth.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°I apologize it¡¯s been a busy day I had a few meetings and¡ª"

    ¡°They discharged Santiago. Said you signed off on it.¡±

    There was a lingering pause, ¡°I did, yes.¡±

    ¡°All that crap you like to spew about second chances, all that goes out the window when you get scared.¡±

    For once he was thankful to not be face to face, he could feel his jaw twitching as he growled into the microphone. It would have taken all of his self-control to keep his hands in his pockets. According to one of his old therapists, wildly gesturing in an argument was considered escalating aggression.

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand Bennett.¡± Thompson dropped his voice to a whisper.

    ¡°What don¡¯t I understand? He¡¯s a kid. Despite his temper he¡¯s been trying to get right.¡±

    Bennett bit back the urge to rip into his colleague, the old conditioning from his years in command screamed insults and obscenities in his mind. Closing his eyes he waited for the younger man to answer between attempts at square breathing.

    ¡°I was wrong.¡± Thompson let out a long breath, ¡°There is something evil in that boy. Something unnatural. He¡¯s beyond our help.¡±

    Bennett looked at his phone in disbelief, ¡°What the hell does that even mean? Thompson, where is Santiago?¡±

    The line clicked, an obnoxious dial-tone filled the silence.

    Bennett stared at the screen with Thompson¡¯s face hovering over the meager call time. The phone shook violently as tremors climbed up his arms, all he wanted was to launch his phone into the side of his colleague¡¯s head. Maybe that would knock some sense into him.

    Countless times had the two bickered over practice methodologies. With holier-than-thou lectures from Thompson about reforming the justice system, new holistic approaches for emotional safety, and trusting in a community of love and support for reform. Only for him to abandon it all over a single fight. No one was dead, mangled beyond recognition, or traumatized anymore than when they entered the home.

    The charge before Santiago, mutilated animals for the fun of it had been redeemable in Thompson¡¯s eyes. Bennett refused to believe the kid who was trying and genuinely cared about others was more evil than the other boy who wound up back in juvie for attempting to set his roommate on fire while he slept.

    This wasn¡¯t over.

    Not if he had anything to say about it.

    This time, he would not hold back for the sake of pointless civilian politics and professionalism. Bennett shook his head as he marched to the Madison street stop for the streetcar.

    The trolley rattled and quaked against the tracks. Brand new luxury apartments intermingled in a blur with the boarded up abandoned brick structures.

    Bennett rubbed and tugged at his weathered features, both dreading and anticipating the coming battle.

    Layers of caked on greasy fingerprints distorted his view of the bay opening into Puget Sound. Even with the overcast skies, the freezing waters glittered beautifully.

    As the carriages continued their cacophonous descent towards the International District, vibrant red columns painted with lively stylized koi marked the boundary for the historic district. Beneath the overpass dozens of families tried to survive in their small sedans with busted out windows. Bennett felt his stomach knot as he wondered if this was the fate that lay in store for Santiago.

    Bennett wondered if his colleague had bothered to verify who claimed the boy. Had the man abandoned all of his principles and unleashed Santiago into the streets to fend for himself?

    Bennett stomped off the side exit of the streetcar wrapped in Sakura Blossom vinyl decals and made his way from the transit hub towards Pioneer Square. Old murals spray painted on plywood lined the historic business district for blocks. Some vacated during the COVID lockdown with the promise of eventually returning, never succeeding in the following two years of recovery.

    Others were faces of previous victims at the hands of police: Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and Mike Brown. The old veteran wondered if somewhere among the faces was the other Santiago. These murals were newer, some of them looked as though they dried only hours ago. Then there was newly hammered plywood, barren of tagging and human life.

    No Justice, No Peace, No Racist Police tagged in thick black paint filled an entire block. Letters taller than himself stretched in desperation. Metal trash cans lay dented and mangled along the sidewalks, their contents scattered everywhere.

    Bennet glanced down as his foot crunched against something stiff, a cardboard sign crudely scrawled across the question: Where were the body cams?

    He did not know how the protests traveled all the way from downtown to First Hill. All of it had been monitored and a constant tug of war with the overly militarized police. Every last officer strapped with more armor and weapons than he ever carried in Desert Storm.

    There was no possible way the protests managed to get so out of control it poured up the largest hill in Seattle and only destroyed one emergency bay of the largest hospital network second only to University of Washington. All with no other property damage or traffic blockade.

    Maybe if it took place where the autonomous zone once stood, not closer to the piers.

    Stopping out front of the towering brick building he steeled his resolve. He had to do this. He didn''t come all this way to talk himself out of it now.

    This would most likely result in him getting blacklisted from the facility.

    Bennett did not care at all.

    Not if it could settle the growing nagging sensation in the corner of his mind telling him, they were all missing something. If it could assure him someone who was both capable and compassionate enough took charge of Santiago instead of shipping the kid off to juvie, every last word would be worth it.

    <hr>

    He turned away from the sunlight pouring through the window panes, as the sun descended below the horizon. Face buried in the goose-down pillow that smelled of fresh detergent. The foam made him melt into the mattress. It was quiet.

    Santiago lurched upright.

    Absent-mindedly he rubbed at his arm, attempting to shake off the phantom sensations from the previous week of itchy IVs and leads stuck into him like a pin cushion.

    This was not the hospital.

    It was not the group home either.

    Feet against the hardwood floor, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Bookshelves lined the peach walls, and pale trimmed bay windows overlooked forested hills bathed the same golden light.

    He poked around looking for his shoes. Finding a pair of sneakers on a shelf in the closet he made his exit silently.

    It was not the first time he woke up in a house that was not his and not being able to remember how he got there. Except this time there was not any Fireball involved.

    Wandering the halls the walls in each room were painted deep colors of burgundy, hunter green, and navy blue. It gave the place a feeling of warmth amidst the opulent crown moldings, carved corbels, and pilasters.

    Delicate rugs laid an intricately woven path through the hardwood halls polished so finely his reflection looked clearer than his mirror at home. In the foyer a crystal chandelier dispersed the sunlight into a myriad of rainbow hues that danced across the surrounding surfaces.

    It was a nice place. Not one he would ever be invited to. It was a place he would have stolen from with his boys.

    He peered over the banister before heading downstairs. Place seemed empty.

    Not a group home. They would be on him like white on rice. He did not linger too long on the thought before he opened up the front door.

    Wind chimes jingled lightly in the gentle breeze. The hinges of the swing squeaked, catching his attention.

    An old woman rocked idly on the porch, her colorful earrings swayed gently with her. Cloaked in a sense of wisdom even as she sat, the Romani woman sat with an air of grace and dignity. The warm eyes creased with smile lines and streaks of silver against her inky black hair told stories of a rich life with both joy and hardship.

    Flowing violet layered skirts adorned with intricate embroidery swept about her feet. The bangles on her wrist clinked together lightly with gentle movement.

    He cleared his throat, ¡°Uh, Excuse me.¡±

    She looked over at him and gave him a warm smile. ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°Could you tell me where I am?¡±

    She nodded, ¡°You¡¯re home, Santiago.¡±

 Chapter 5

    ¡°LADY, I DON¡¯T KNOW YOU.¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°I¡¯m Rosenia, you can call me Rose.¡± She patted the empty space next to her, ¡°You have a lot of questions, perhaps I can answer some of them.¡±

    A part of him wondered if he was still asleep in the hospital. If he had been dreaming, he wasn¡¯t sure it would be quite like this.

    Santiago eased into the space beside her, brows pulled together tightly. ¡°Is this some kind of psyche ward?¡±

    Rose cackled, ¡°We might be a little crazy here but no this isn¡¯t any formal institution. This is Coventry.¡± She made a sweeping motion out towards the veranda vines wound their way along the wood balustrades. ¡°This is a safe haven for those who have no other place to go.¡±

    ¡°I do have a place to go.¡± Santiago bristled. ¡°I appreciate you inviting me into your home, but it is not mine.¡±

    He was halfway down the stone pathway, when she called from behind him. ¡°You put over a dozen people in the hospital a week ago. How long before you put someone in the grave?¡±

    Santiago stopped.

    The all consuming flames resurfaced vividly in his mind. He remembered everything in perfect clarity, yet the memories did not feel like his own.

    Rose watched him solemnly from her seat, ¡°There is power inside you Santiago. If you do not learn how to control it, it will consume you and everything else around you. I know you felt it, the fire inside.¡±

    Metal bent under his palms as though it were cheap plastic. Cacophonous screaming echoed in his mind and rusting copper filled his senses.

    ¡°How do I get rid of it?¡± He said.

    ¡°There are ways. First you must learn control. How to stop fanning those flames.¡±

    He was not sure if he trusted this lady or not. Regardless, she had a point. It was not the matter of if, it was the matter of when. He could not expect that it would simply go away.

    ¡°I do this. I get a handle on this whatever, I get to go home.¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°No more group homes, therapists, or caseworkers.¡±

    ¡°As long as you keep your nose clean, yes. You have my word there will be no more hoops for you to jump through.¡± Rosenia smiled.

    ¡°I¡¯m in.¡±

    ¡°Very good, tomorrow you will meet the others.¡±

    Fantastic, he thought.

    Out of one house for rejects and right into another. All that mattered to him was going home, he would not stay long enough to entertain the idea of bonding. This was just one more hurdle before he crossed the finish line.

    <hr>

    Thompson took a deep breath in as the boy''s footsteps came down the steps. This next conversation was crucial for the next steps towards Santiago¡¯s well-being and future. The boy''s trust in him had no doubt been shaken after his sudden displacement.

    Thompson was not so big of a man that he could not admit fault in the hasty decision. He let his own emotions get the better of him with what he witnessed that night.

    Santiago paused in the doorway, his pace slowed as he settled on the couch across from Thompson. He said nothing, his face an expressionless mask.

    Thompson knew it was on himself to set the tone. This was his mess after all. Bennett made that clear.

    Bennett chewing him out over the phone was nothing compared to when he cornered him at work. Berating him for claiming to be a godly man and spurning a child in need because of his own fears.

    Bennett was right.

    Thompson had prayed on it. Went to confession to seek the counseling of his priest. Ultimately, he came to understand that this was his crucible to guide the boy through the darkness that surrounded him and for better or worse see him through to the otherside.

    ¡°Santiago, I came here to discuss your new living situation. It''s important that we find a safe and supportive environment for you to grow and learn. Especially considering your new found powers.¡± Thompson said.

    He paused pointedly to see if the boy would respond. Santiago simply watched him behind hooded eyes.

    ¡°We have two options at the moment.¡± Thompson continued. ¡°The first is placing you here, in a foster home under the guardianship of Rosenia. She is a pillar of the community and well-versed in magic. She can provide guidance and help you understand and control your abilities. Having someone like her who can support you on this new journey is going to be an invaluable resource.¡±

    Thompson¡¯s voice wavered slightly as he mentioned the second option. ¡°The second, Santiago, is Juvenile hall. Given your past violent behavior that is where the system would likely place you. However, there is one alternative.¡±

    Santiago straightened up, his lips pulled into a frown as he waited.

    ¡°If you were capable of emancipating yourself, that is, proving you can hold down a job and stay out of trouble, you might be able to avoid juvenile hall.¡±

    That was it. The light flickered behind those dark eyes.

    This was something that enticed the boy beyond measure. Emancipation. Freedom.

    If he could get legally emancipated there were no more hoops to jump through. Santiago could decide for himself where he would go and what he could do.

    ¡°How much longer? I¡¯m gonna age out of this bullshit by next year..¡±

    ¡°Given the circumstances I will fast-track this as much as possible. You will need to resume high school. Obtain and maintain a legal form of employment.¡±

    Santiago scoffed. ¡°So what qualifies as legal? Like I gotta punch a clock or say I started like an Etsy shop would that count?¡±

    ¡°As long as you can provide official documentation of income that is sufficient by the court standards then, yes. An Etsy shop could work.¡± Thompson said.

    ¡°Done deal.¡± Santiago said.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    The confidence with which the boy stated concerned Thompson. The boy was smart. Too smart for his own good at times.

    ¡°I¡¯m here to support you.¡± Thompson said, ¡°We¡¯ll work together to navigate this challenging situation. If you need anything at all don¡¯t hesitate to reach out.¡±

    Santiago nodded.

    ¡°Alright, now there is a class Rosenia is hosting today in the garden. You should attend, I think it would be a good entry point for you into all of this.¡± Thompson gestured toward the back of the home, ¡°There is also a community event coming¡ª¡±

    Thompson rose from his seat and Santiago waved him off. ¡°I know where to go. I got it from here.¡±

    With that the boy left Thompson alone in the parlor with only the tick of grandfather clock to accompany him.

    A maze of flower beds with a riot of colors. Roses in every shade imaginable pink, red, yellow the fragrant blooms wafted through the air. Delicate tulips stood tall in elegant clusters, showcasing hues of purple, white, and orange. Dainty daisies and cheerful sunflowers added a touch of whimsy and cheerfulness to the scene.

    Rosenia sat on a stone bench in the garden before her were a few fold out chairs where a few other kids sat.

    Their gazes turned to Santiago when he approached.

    He shot back dour glare.

    ¡°Santiago, nice of you to finally join us.¡±

    He plopped into the vacant seat one arm hanging over the back. ¡°What did I miss?¡±

    ¡°Maybe show up on time and you wouldn¡¯t have to ask.¡± Mia sniped from the end of the row, arms crossed. Her cherubian features belied her harsh tongue. Glossy waves of fiery copper brushed her broad shoulders.

    Santiago eyed the girl, ¡°Listen here ginger minge don¡¯t start with me.¡±

    She gaped, ¡°You ass!¡±

    The girl a few seats down doubled over cackling unapologetically loud. Her chains jingled against the knees of her ripped jeans. Messy shorn tresses dyed a blend of cotton candy pink and blue. Lovely navy eyes and smudged black eyeliner watched him with an impish grin.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± Rosenia motioned for them to settle, ¡°Remember Mia to get respect we must give it. Santiago, let''s try not to be so vulgar.¡±

    He shrugged.

    Mia fumed.

    Her stare tried to bore a hole through the back of his head. He refused to give her the satisfaction of acknowledgment.

    ¡°All of you share a common thread. Ignis. For those who have awakened their fire they understand why it is referred to as such.¡±

    Santiago recalled the feelings as he raged.

    ¡°Now these powers are capable of so much more than conjuring flame so do not let the names deceive you. These terms are the ones that my family has always used to recognize the power of others.¡± Rosenia paused, ¡°Do any of you know how someone gains the ability to utilize this power?¡±

    Mia¡¯s hand shot up.

    ¡°Most witches are like born into it right? They are tight lipped about their practices.¡± Skylar toyed with the chains around their neck. A choker rests snuggly around her neck with different length chains and chunky spikes and an assortment of pins and charms she had managed to hook onto them.

    ¡°I thought you had to kill someone.¡± Santiago replied.

    ¡°Magic can be inherited, gifted, or taken.¡± Mia said matter-of-factly, ¡°It¡¯s possible to take it by killing someone. It is not as easy as people would believe. Pulling the life energy from a living thing is difficult, it''s more than murder which most uneducated people think.¡±

    Santiago smiled tightly, scratching his nose pointedly with his middle finger.

    She glowered back.

    ¡°All of your answers are correct. In answer to your question Skylar, most are born into their covens though not all. Some are like us. Brought together by a commonality beyond blood.¡± Rosenia held out her palm in which a spark flickered to life before igniting into a flame that engulfed her hand.

    Some jolted, startled by the vibrant flames as they raced up her arm.

    Santiago leaned in, ¡°Doesn¡¯t that burn?!¡±

    ¡°Only if I let it.¡± She shook her hand flippantly and the flames disappeared. ¡°It is important to keep your powers in check. People think more power is everything and are eaten alive by them.¡±

    The rest of the lecture those words hung with him the most. It sounded simple enough in practice. Yet, what he felt that night felt untamable..

    What would happen if he failed?

    Would the power inside devour him or something much worse?

    Would it take him and everything else he cared about with him?

    All he wanted was to be away from everyone. To have some space to himself without someone looming over him.

    Now he had it and the silence was deafening.

    Rosenia vanished into endless halls of the Queen Anne style home only reappearing for mealtimes.

    Soft light from ornate sconces lined the walls along with shelves filled with worn books, jars of dried herbs, and an assortment of bottles labeled in a language Santiago could not understand. Intricate crown molding upon closer inspection could be found to have sigils carved among the decorative designs. These served as guideposts as he traversed the home which seemed a bit too large for what could be seen on the outside. The air carried a subtle hint of incense and in the quietest moments the boy thought he heard a soft melody whose source he could never find.

    He was not even sure anyone else was here.

    Once he grew tired of staring at the ceiling, he figured he might as well see what all the house had to offer. As he ambled down the halls, he opened up each door finding more simple unlived in bedrooms. Antique furniture gracing the spaces with rich finishes from a bygone era of opulence and refinement.

    An elaborately carved mahogany sideboard with intricate scrollwork, floral motifs, and acanthus leaves in every corner commanded attention in the sitting room. Wingback chairs upholstered in brocade and deeply cushioned seats held up by cabriole legs and ball-and-claw feet.

    The fourth door he peeked into happened to be an occupied bathroom. .

    Sylvia screeched, scrambling for a towel.

    Santiago quickly closed the door, a hand pressed to his mouth to stifle laughter. He quickly made his getaway.

    On the first floor he rifled around in the kitchen splaying out the ingredients for a sandwich across the granite countertops. The matching kitchen island stood atop ornately carved legs. Generous counter space made feeding the home filled with ravenous teens a monumentally easier task. The new age appliances were jarring amidst the home that took one back a century.

    A familiar scent wafted through the open window over the sink.

    He lost count of how many times Jesus and him would sit outside huddled under the slim underhang for protection from the never ending rain. All to smoke a bowl without Jesus¡¯s parents knowing. They stashed everything in an old jewelry box that tucked in a small hole they dug out under one of the decorative brick plates of the walkway.

    Lounging on the patio sofa sat Khalil. The boy absently scrolled through his phone a lit joint in the other. Swamped in a black hoodie under which a graphic t-shirt with bold abstract patterns of a band''s name that was indecipherable beneath the folds. Pants with an unnecessary amount of utility pockets and adjustable straps that were pinned to each hip.

    ¡°AYE!¡± Santiago called.

    Startled, the boy let go of the phone, fumbling it twice before it bounced off the coffee table and hit the floor.

    ¡°Really, man?¡± Khalil quickly stashed the weed.

    ¡°Had to.¡± Santiago slumped into the chair beside. ¡°I don¡¯t even care how or why as long as you share the wealth.¡±

    Khalil grinned, ¡°Santiago, where are you from?¡±

    ¡°South Beacon.¡±

    ¡°West Seattle.¡±

    ¡°How did you end up here?¡± Said Santiago.

    Khalil took a long drag, his head tilted back as he exhaled the smoke. his pulled back dreads bobbed along, ¡°My mom goes way back with Rosenia, she has me come here when she¡¯s on business trips. You?¡±

    Santiago let out a dry laugh, ¡°Uh, lost control of my powers and beat the shit out of a few people.¡±

    Khalil hacked in between laughs. ¡°You and I lead very different lives.¡±

    He shrugged, ¡°I mean I could do worse. It got me a room in a mansion.¡±

    ¡°Way to fail up.¡± Khalil lowered the wireless headset from his ears, his light voice had a hint of a rasp. ¡°So what¡¯s your manifest?¡±

    ¡°My what?¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°Your magic. The basic form your magic takes.¡±

    ¡°Uh,¡± Santiago shrugged. ¡°I blacked out, so I don¡¯t remember. I did come back from the dead once.¡±

    ¡°Wha-!¡±

    ¡°Dinner!¡± Mia called, rolling her eyes at the smoking boys. ¡°You both smell disgusting.¡±

    ¡°Bite me ginger snap.¡± Said Santiago.

    She slammed the patio doors.

    Khalil put out the joint, a finger tipped with chipped black nail polish pointed at him. ¡°We are going to circle back to that last part.¡±

 Chapter 6

    THE SUMMER CAST A WARM glow on the picturesque streets of Bellevue as she cruises through the city. Windows down the wind tousling her pinned back hair. The nostalgic rumble of her beloved car drew attention before passersby caught a glimpse of the vibrant red exterior.

    Bellevue was a blend of old and new with stately historic buildings standing side by side with sleek, modern structures. The warm breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers, intermingling with the subtle aroma of coffee from the nearby cafes.

    The sound system crackled to life, as she turned the volume dial up. The news broadcast was covering the recent tragedy that had the city up in arms over the slaying of a young boy.

    She was familiar with the situation as Thompson urged her to try and keep Santiago from as much media coverage as possible. These days that was fairly difficult to do with the abundance of information that youths had at their fingertips with their bevy of electronics.

    This segment was not about the boy. The radio presenter shared that the child''s mother had been released from a short stint in jail. ¡°Charges of assault with a deadly weapon were dropped after Oscar Gonzales'' failure to appear in court. There is currently an arrest warrant out for the man''s arrest for his involvement in the murder of his stepson.¡±

    Rosenia jumped as the car honked behind her drawing her attention back to the street light now green. It wasn¡¯t the case she held an interest in. It was the name she thought she heard that had pulled her focus.

    Guadalupe Santiago.

    Since Santiago had come under her care there was much that did not add up regarding the boy. Thompson¡¯s insistence that the boy''s attachment to the case was based on him sharing his surname with the boy on the news. Despite the efforts to present him with documentation that showed otherwise the boy was adamant about his believed identity.

    That was something even she had called into question. Beyond a shadow of a doubt she knew he was Vicente¡¯s son. The moment she caught sight of him she knew.

    The false name on the birth certificate was a familiar one. It wasn¡¯t uncommon to use aliases for the protection of family or themselves. Even Rosenia had a false name that her medical records were filed under. When you made a lot of enemies these precautions were necessary.

    The mother could have easily been an alias or the true mother of the child. Yet, she knew the name Guadelupe Santiago as the wife of the late Vicente.

    The details surrounding Santiago¡¯s accident were murky due to the chaos caused by a blackout during his admission. They had nearly put the boy in the morgue due to a clerical error.

    Things weren¡¯t adding up. Rosenia did not like that.

    If Santiago was not simply suffering from confusion induced by a brain injury and really was the boy who died it produced more questions than answers.

    How did he survive?

    Who doctored the boy''s information?

    Was it for his protection or something more sinister?

    Rosenia was unsure of what she would find in her search for the truth. Regardless she would do everything in her power to ensure Santiago¡¯s safety. There were so many unknowns. These were not things a child should be troubled with. She would see to finding the answers for now she needed to ensure that the boy could return to some semblance of a normal life.

    Santiago deserved that much.

    <hr>

    Spacious and meticulously organized the office housed oh tasteful furnishing. Walls painted in a warm shade of cream to pair with the rich mahogany woodwork. The largest piece being the intricately carved desk that dominates the room. Posed in front of the winds to allow the natural light to filter through sheer curtains. Everything atop its surface is arranged with laser precision¡ª a leather-bound planner, an elegant pen set still resting in the satin lined case, and a silver-framed photograph of John and his family.

    The principal sat with rigid poise behind the desk. ¡°Rose, you know that I would love to help you.¡±

    ¡°But?¡± Rosenia gave the man an even stare.

    There was always a ¡°but¡± with a man like John. Neatly combed back salt-and-pepper hair gelled down stiffly not a hair out of place. Down to his navy tailored suit, crisply pressed white shirt, and tastefully patterned ties his meticulous attention to detail was on display.

    It was why he was chosen for his position after all. To maintain strict order in a place where appearances were everything and everything must appear in place.

    ¡°This boy, it¡¯s not like it was with Mia. He has a record a mile long. Been thrown out of every school he¡¯s ever been in for beating the living hell out of other students.¡± He flipped the manila folder closed, ¡°I can¡¯t this time. The board will never allow it.¡±

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    ¡°You let me worry about them. I can convince them to give him a chance, they¡¯ve been looking to remodel that pompous sports center. Tell me what he needs to get in.¡±

    His sharp, piercing blue eyes captivated the attention of any who locked gazes with the man, were now focused intently on Rosenia. The woman knew all too well there was only one thing which the vultures who perched themselves in these pristine leather thrones cared about.

    Money.

    ¡°There¡¯s tuition for one.¡± Said John.

    Rosenia waved her hand dismissively.

    Fortunately this was not a concern for her. This place would be good for Santiago. He needed to see what possibilities for his future that lay ahead. To look past the life he once led to something more. There was no way to put a price tag on an opportunity to change the trajectory of a young boy''s life.

    ¡°His GPA. He¡¯s missed a lot of school. It''s not enough.¡± His hand stroked the well-groomed beard, reclining in his seat. ¡°He¡¯d have to pass a placement test to meet requirements.¡±

    Regardless of whether the boy''s scores were enough she knew there was a price to be paid that would allow for leniency.

    It was a formality.

    ¡°Arrange it.¡± She said.

    <hr>

    Santiago made his way out to join the others for their usual practice session when he spotted the slender figure ahead. He Trotted forward to tap her on the shoulder.

    The doe eyed girl froze her cheeks immediately tinted. Soft brown hair framed her face with a natural grace. Almond eyes underneath long lashes that sparkled with a sense of innocence. Freckles, a constellation of delightful marks lightly dusted across her rosy cheeks.

    ¡°Hey, um, I wanted to apologize to you. I realize I didn¡¯t.¡± Santiago cleared his throat, ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to be a perv when I walked in on you. I was poking around the house. It was my bad. I¡¯m sorry and it won¡¯t happen again.¡±

    Sylvia simply stared at him for a long moment taken aback. ¡°Apology accepted.¡±

    ¡°Cool.¡± He smiled.

    His good mood lasted until they reached their usual spot in the garden.

    This all seemed so pointless. It had been weeks now and he could not do anything. Could not feel anything remotely close to what he experienced that night.

    He was starting to think it was a fluke or maybe he burned out what little bit of magic he had.

    ¡°Don¡¯t stress about it too much. On the Sabbath you''ll be able to do the silver rites. It will give you a place to start.¡±

    ¡°The what on the what?¡±

    She laughed, ¡°You¡¯re like Skylar, a lost witch.¡±

    ¡°I do feel pretty lost with most of this.¡±

    ¡°No worries, the Sabbath is a fancy name for a gathering. Lots of food, some people sell or trade things, we do blessings, rituals, elders sometimes give lessons.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a church.¡± Santiago raised a brow.

    ¡°Kind of¡ªmaybe?¡± Syliva''s nose scrunched thoughtful, ¡°Never been to church.¡±

    ¡°Lucky you.¡±

    ¡°Here let me help you.¡± Sylvia extended her hands, ¡°I can try and channel my energy through you so you can get a feel for what it¡¯s like.¡±

    Santiago extended his hands resting them in her delicate palms.

    She closed her eyes. Her palms began to glow a soft pink.

    He could feel the warmth at first. Dull, as if he pressed his palm against a maglite. It started creeping under his skin. Faint pin pricks shot through his palm, climbing up to his elbow, for a moment he thought his hand was falling asleep.

    It crept into his muscles and tendons until they buzzed unpleasantly.

    ¡°Can you feel that?. It should feel like something moving through your hands, try and pull back on it. Focus it on your palms.¡±

    Santiago stared down at their hands, his own enveloping the girls. Her delicate fingers brushed against his calloused palms. He could feel the flow coursing through.

    It felt painfully long that he stood there yet the longer the energy flowed the more he was able to feel how it traveled. Through the center of his palm, up each digit, and straight down to his wrist where her fingertips touched and cycled back through again.

    If only he could simply brush it.

    Eyes lit up as a spark shot off from the fingertips briefly though it was visible.

    Sylvia looked a bit startled, ¡°That¡¯s unusual.¡±

    Santiago still focused intently on their hands. ¡°What is?¡±

    ¡°Forget it, keep going.¡± She said.

    He pushed harder this time.

    Several sparks shot off this time, Sylvia winced.

    ¡°Hey, is this hurting you!¡± Santiago pulled his hands away.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, we¡¯re making progress.¡± She assured, ¡°It¡¯s like static electricity, it''s not that bad.¡±

    Pain was the opposite of what he was trying to go for with these powers. It seemed counterintuitive.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I don¡¯t think this is working like it should.¡±

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯m fine.¡± Sylvia patted his shoulder with an encouraging tone. ¡°You¡¯re so close I can feel it. You¡¯re tapping into it, you need to just go for it.¡±

    He nodded.

    What else could he do?

    Santiago was antsy about it, that was because he did not understand any of it. Clearly, Sylvia had a better idea of what they were dealing with, so he would give it another go. It was the closest he had come to harnessing his magic yet.

    Hand in hand once more he closed his eyes. The warmth returned.

    Santiago had an idea now of how to interact with it. He needed to go for it. Followed the flow of energy and he pulled back with everything he had.

    An electric crackle hissed and spat around the two teens'' palms.

    The sound caught Rosenia¡¯s attention. Her eyes wide. ¡°Santiago!¡±

    She was a moment too late as the boy attempted to push the flow of energy back as he had been told.

    Sylvia was jettisoned into the air several yards away into a bed of tulips.

    Khalil hopped over a bush to reach the girl. ¡°Oh shit! Rose her hands.¡±

    Rosenia glided past to help Khalil pull her from the flower bed.

    The girl was sobbing, hands cradled against her chest. The floral blouse reddened from her blood-soaked palms.

    ¡°Come get her inside.¡± Said Rosenia.

    Khalil scooped the girl up and followed quickly after the older woman.

    Unspoken judgments hung in the air. This misstep reaffirming the doubts about him. It would only further cement his place as an outsider.

    It did not matter the distance, his past actions left an indelible mark that served as a clear warning to anyone around him.

    Santiago was one to be feared and kept at arm''s length.

 Chapter 7

    NOT EVERYONE WILL ACCEPT YOU as you are. That was a hard truth Santiago had learned over and over again. People want to feel safe.

    Santiago was not safe, for anyone.

    He had done a lot throughout these years to keep his mother and himself above water. Santiago made friends and even more enemies. Whether in the schoolyard or on the streets.

    It did not matter if he did not go looking for a fight. A fight would find him one way or another.

    Santiago would never back down.

    It was hard to turn that off. Not to take every push as a challenge.

    Santiago had no problem hurting anyone who deserved it. Hurting those that did not deserve it, that did not sit well with him.

    It still did not stop it from happening.

    This power inside him, he could not control terrified him. As much as he tried to bury that fear, his dreams were plagued with fractured memories of the people he had harmed. He did not understand what was happening inside.

    How much worse would it get before he could control it?

    How many more people would be hurt in the process?

    It was always going to end this way. When they realized he would not be what they wanted him to be. Could not be. Santiago was discarded like a broken toy.

    These people did not understand him. Santiago did not understand himself.

    The only people who understood what that is like were across the bridge, back home.

    He would show up in the middle of the night without a call or an explanation tapping on the window to not wake up the whole house. They would welcome him in without a question or judgment because they knew that he would do the same for them.

    Except for maybe Marisol who would lecture him regardless of if he was right or wrong. It was how she showed she cared. There was a part of him that felt a sense of comfort getting back to them. Back to the only family he had ever known.

    Zipping up the bag he slung it over his shoulder. He flicked off the light, making his way quickly down the steps towards the door. He had a hand on the knob when he heard her voice from the doorway.

    ¡°Santiago, where are you going?¡± Rosenia¡¯s hair hung loosely around her shoulders. The floral ankle length nightgown peeked out from the rose colored bathrobe.

    This is exactly what he was trying to avoid.

    He didn¡¯t want to argue. He was tired. He wanted to go someplace where he wasn¡¯t the problem anymore.

    ¡°I don¡¯t belong here. I¡¯m not trying to hurt anyone.¡±

    ¡°I know that sweetheart. You are wrong about not belonging.¡± She glided over to him to rest her palms on his shoulders. ¡°What happened was not your fault.¡±

    Santiago could not help the incredulous expression at her nonsensical response. There was no way she could believe that when they all saw what he did. He blasted the poor girl across the yard.

    ¡°I did that. I was trying to do what she asked and it¡ª I couldn¡¯t control it.¡± Santiago bowed his head, ¡°If I don¡¯t control it, I hurt people. I try to control it, I hurt people. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m supposed to do.¡±

    Rosenia could see the turmoil behind the boy¡¯s olive eyes. He was too young to be shouldering the weight of a responsibility he did not ask for.

    ¡°It was unfortunate that Sylvia was hurt. She is on the mend. The wound was superficial. She¡¯s asleep in her room.¡± Rosenia trailed a finger down the chain to the pendant that hung down his chest. The brass circlet that had hung from his neck for so long. Every line of the rosevine cross carved as deeply into his memory as it was in the pendant. ¡°This is the problem, Santiago.¡±

    He stepped back. ¡°The problem, the hell does my chain have anything to do with my magic.¡±

    ¡°How long have you worn this?¡±

    ¡°Always, my dad left this for me.¡±

    ¡°Were you wearing it during the incident Thompson had you sent here for?¡±

    ¡°No, that was why¡ª¡± Santiago stopped, his hand resting over the pendant. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    There were times when he would take it off when he slept and showered. It was a simple piece of jewelry he had worn for as long as he could remember. His mother always told him it would keep him safe.

    Was that more than a mother comforting a son?

    Without it he always felt more on edge. The world around him seemed so much more. Anxiety is all it was and despite his knowing better the brass pendant was a placebo.

    ¡°Remember what we talked about, in how magic is obtained.¡±

    ¡°Inherited, gifted, or taken.¡± Santiago thought back on it. He had fought plenty. He had never killed anyone. Even receiving powers from another required effort and skills that he did not possess. Unless it was in his blood. ¡°My dad had powers.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and it seems he tried to protect you from them.¡±

    ¡°Protect me.¡± Santiago echoed.

    The world was spinning too fast for him to keep up. There was not too much that he knew about his father. It was always hard for his mother to talk about. The happy memories brought tears to her eyes, the bad ones were a hand around her throat.

    She never mentioned powers.

    ¡°There is always a danger Santiago for a power to be too much for one to control. Even if you inherit the power, it doesn¡¯t guarantee your body will be able to support it.¡± Rosenia gave his shoulders a squeeze, ¡°That pendant is a binding. It prevents you from being able to release the power within you outside of your own body.¡±

    ¡°When Sylvia tried to let me mold her powers. It triggered the binding.¡±

    She nodded, ¡°This is why you haven¡¯t been progressing.¡±

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    More akin to a shroud than a true binding which would have inhibited the boy''s powers and can grow to be painful as they bloomed. It did not interfere with the flow of magic with the child, only preventing any from spilling out.

    Rosenia had never seen anything quite like it though if anyone was capable of crafting such a binding it would have been Vicente.

    If it had not been for Sylvia¡¯s interference she would not have realized for some time.

    Unwittingly, forcing her energy past a barrier that was only meant to keep magic in circumvented the pendant''s purpose. Reaching through enough to allow Santiago¡¯s own energy to exit triggered the binding severing the connection and stemming the breach. The recoil of that disruption was what injured the girl. Neither one of them could have prevented that.

    ¡°I can learn to control it.¡± Said Santiago.

    Rosenia said. ¡°Yes, you can.¡±

    <hr>

    In this day and age there was no vanishing without a trace. When you had kids who spent their entire lives embedded in a city like Santiago there was always going to be breadcrumbs. Bennett intended to follow them.

    A boy vanished under his watch. Not only had Thompson signed off on Santiago¡¯s transfer to someone unknown facility he refused to provide any other details. HIPPA he said.

    Bennett did not trust the man. Anyone who could look upon a child and call them evil should not be allowed around children. Thompson was a superstitious coward. Bennett was not.

    Yes, he knew something was off with Santiago. The kid had some kind of wild magic in him he could not control. He had seen plenty of grown soldiers come undone with powers they never should have gotten their hands on. Bennett had seen the destruction left in the wake of those who lost themselves to the power inside.

    The Gulf War or as most knew it America¡¯s ¡°Good War" compared to the colossal failure of an invasion in 2003. Both wars were launched by a George Bush. Whether or not the senior was better than the junior might as well have been a debate between getting shot in the face or the back of the head.

    Both were built on lies fed to the public. Both prominently featured Saddam Hussein as the downfall of America. In reality the war amounted to yet another oil grab and an excuse to throw young boys into the throes of war.

    Depending on who Bennett talked to, Desert Storm was a resounding success in halting Hussien¡¯s invasion of the Middle East and expanding his tyrannical regime. Sure people could say he did not make it to Kuwait, but at the cost of thousands of young men and even more innocent Iraqi people. The only key difference between the two were chemical weapons and tank battles. Not many knew the 1990¡¯s were the last round of tank warfare.

    After what he witnessed, Bennett was content to sleep at night knowing eighteen year old knuckleheads could not get their hands on that sort of firepower in foreign countries.

    The old war vet could no longer remember the kids name but he sure recalled the vibrant light in his eyes and excitable boyish grin moments before ignition. All it took was one kid assuming he knew more than a weapons specialist and that he could make the incendiary rounds even more explosive with an augmentation spell.

    It did.

    With an 80 foot blast radius and a downpour of limbs laced with shrapnel. It took the crews CO a week to sort out the pieces and even longer to craft a thin heroic story of them dying in combat.

    Not that it mattered, the truth came to light eventually. The good American war heroes were nothing more than the victims of unrestrained access to weaponry, no oversight during training, and reckless friendly fire. If there had been survivors they all would have been slapped with dishonorable discharges and left to rot on the sidewalks with every other veteran in America.

    Santiago needed help. In the beginning he thought it was like the other boys from the dangers of the streets that brought them to the group home in the first place. However, upon Santiago¡¯s exit the old soldier was starting to see it was far more complex than that.

    None of it was real.

    All the documents he had on the kid had been forgeries. Good ones at that.

    Bennett leaned back in his chair, a mixture of surprise and concern etched on his face. For weeks he had been searching for Santiago. He needed to be sure the kid was alright. It was all too easy for kids like him to fall through the cracks when they had no one to look out for them.

    ¡°What do you mean he isn¡¯t real?¡± Bennett said, ¡°He has been a very real pain in my ass for the last few months.¡±

    ¡°I dug into it, Bennett. I went through all the channels I could access. There¡¯s no trace of a Raphael Santiago prior to his accident. His background, his history, everything seems to have been created recently.¡± Jack¡¯s computer chair creaked as he leaned back in his computer chair. ¡°Someone went through great lengths to fabricate an identity for this kid.¡±

    It explained the peculiar gaps surrounding Santiago¡¯s appearance. Of course no contact was made with the family, they were fictional. It also raised more questions than answers.

    ¡°Why would someone go through all this trouble to create a synthetic identity for a teenager?¡± Bennett said.

    ¡°I can do what I can to dig a bit deeper to see if I find anything.¡± Jack shrugged, a flicker of concern crossed his eyes. ¡°Whoever did this knows exactly what they¡¯re doing. It¡¯s not easy to get something like this done at the drop of a dime.¡±

    ¡°Takes a lot of greased wheels I imagine.¡±

    Jack snorted, ¡°You¡¯re not wrong.¡±

    This complicated things, without any concrete evidence to follow up on Bennett would have to build this case from the ground up. Operating under the assumption that everything on paper was fake Bennett would go to the one place where he might find something real. Santiago had been brought to the hospital. There had to be footage of his arrival and with any luck the person who brought him in.

    Bennett hunched in the small wheeled chair squinting up at the array of screens. ¡°I hate to bother you with this, but I appreciate it.¡±

    ¡°I know you wouldn¡¯t be asking if it wasn¡¯t important.¡± Sanjay flicked through the camera footage clicking his tongue, ¡°This could be a problem my friend.¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡± Bennett leaned in staring at the small windows on the screen that should have been displaying footage completely blacked out.

    ¡°Your boy was admitted before the cameras came back on during the black out.¡±

    Bennett cursed under his breath. He had seen it all over the news about faulty wiring catching fire in the basement of the hospital. It took out the power to the hospital and burned straight through the generators. For eighteen hours, four towers were left in the dark. Not even the emergency red phone was functioning. It had been absolute mayhem.

    Patients had been pulled from the middle of surgeries, life supports went offline, medical mission control was blind. Hospitals do not get the luxury of closing their doors when something goes awry. They have to sift through the chaos as best they can to save lives.

    For the most part they attempted to transfer patients to nearby hospitals. Still when people are brought through their doors they are attended to. Santiago was one of those few brought in with severe injuries. He was pronounced dead by a doctor who was likely overworked trying to determine who could be saved.

    Bennett understood the weight of such decisions. It was a painful truth that when worse came to worst limited resources had to be allocated where they would have the greatest impact. Conditions had to be assessed quickly and a choice was made that could be the difference between life and death.

    The memory of the scarlet ¡®X¡¯ Bennett had to strike down across charts of the broken and bleeding patients marking them for death made his chest tighten painfully.

    ¡°So there¡¯s nothing.¡± Bennett sighed, rubbing a calloused hand over his face.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t be of more help.¡± Said Sanjay. ¡°It might not be a total loss though. I reached out to our head of surveillance you remember, Sean Varney, a really techy guy. He has access to the back up drive of all the surveillance footage.¡±

    ¡°What did he say?¡± Said Bennett.

    ¡°As of right now. Nothing. He¡¯s on vacation for a month right after all this went down. I can¡¯t blame him.¡± Sanjay shook his head, ¡°He had the police and admins breathing down his neck when the accident happened.¡±

    ¡°Varney, I remember him. Super Bowl party, lives in Snohomish.¡± Bennett nodded.

    Another dead end.

    Bennett knew that this should be where he drew the line. It was done there were no more leads to chase at least not until Sean returned if it yielded anything. This did nothing to quell the voice in the back of his head that kept urging him to keep digging. There was still one more shot he had to get answers, but he would be crossing a line.

    Bennett held the phone tucked between his head and shoulder as he threw a microwave meal in. ¡°Hey Jack, question. If I bring you an encrypted computer would you be able to get in?¡±

    ¡°I could¡ª This is still about that kid?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡±

    ¡°This above board?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    There was a lingering pause filled only by the crackle of the phone line before Jack sighed, ¡°Call me when you have it.¡±

 Chapter 8

    SANTIAGO FELT A MIX of apprehension and resignation. He had to attend high school again and the thought filled him with dread. It always ended up the same way: detention, suspension, and expulsion. Then on to the next school. This would make seven since his freshman year.

    To be fair Santiago never actively tried to get thrown out of school. He attended class most days, turned in homework, and passed his tests. Grades were always up to par.

    It was people that were his problem.

    Santiago did not start those fights. He ended them.

    Teachers did not see it that way.

    Once a problem child, always a problem child. It did not matter if they provoked him, threw the first punch, or even when it was in defense of someone else. They wanted him to lay down and take it.

    Santiago did not have it in him to do that.

    It did not matter if he could not win. It was not about winning. It was about not losing.

    They never understood that either.

    ¡°Whoa,¡± Santiago peered out the window at the sprawl of buildings, ¡°That¡¯s a high school. Damn they be doing it up big in Bellevue.¡±

    Rosenia laughed, ¡°See you might even find something you like here. Meet some new friends.¡±

    He snorted, ¡°Doubtful.¡±

    Santiago did not need new friends, at least not the kind he would find in this place. Santiago had friends. Real ones.

    The ones that when everything fell apart they did not hesitate to pick up the pieces.

    Alejo used to run with him in the middle of the night to snatch and grab from the market so Santiago and his mom could have food in the fridge. Lola would sneak her parents pills so they could make a quick buck to keep the water on.

    He doubted a single one of these kids had ever seen a past due envelope. Never felt the pit in their stomach seeing a notice posted on their door. Watching their mother sob over having to choose between food or a roof over their head.

    Car door swung shut behind him and he did not bother to look back. Map printed on the back of his agenda notebook told him where to start off on his first day of class.

    With a mixture of awe and unease Santiago¡¯s eyes wander across the halls of the campus. Gleaming marble floors, towering windows, not a scratch or speck of graffiti in sight. Around him the students flowed by decked out in perfectly pressed uniforms.

    He did not belong here. They knew it too.

    Cautious eyes stole glances as they leaned in to whisper to one another.

    The bell rang. All the students filed into their designated classrooms. It took him a few minutes to find it.

    He held up his schedule for the teacher¡¯s inspection before she could ask. The usual core courses, a Spanish class make for a perfect midday nap, and a computer science elective which was the only one with any openings.

    Clad in a modest yet meticulously chosen attire, everything from her perfectly coiffed hair tucked into a neat bun spoke of a woman prim and proper. Down to her makeup applied with precision, a splash of artificial red on her cheeks to give her alabaster skin some life.

    ¡°Well then Mister¡ª¡± Mrs. Bell started.

    ¡°Santiago.¡±

    ¡°Santiago, would you like to introduce yourself to the class?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He replied flatly.

    There were a few audible snickers from somewhere in the back. Santiago had never seen so many white people in one place since the time his mother took him to a country concert. He liked the hicks much better than these uppity preps.

    ¡°Then please take a seat.¡± She replied gently, turning her attention back to the projector.

    Slung his bag on the back of the chair leaning heavily on the desk in front of him. The drone of the woman¡¯s voice blended into warbled gibberish while he struggled to stay awake.

    This was going to be a long day.

    ¡°Am I boring you Mister Santiago.¡± The nasally voice of the scraggly haired old man roused him from his nap. Behind a pair of old-fashioned spectacles, the teacher''s eyes peered down at him with a flicker of annoyance.

    Santiago straightened up in his seat. ¡°Yeah, little bit.¡±

    ¡°Then perhaps you¡¯d like to nap in the principal¡¯s office.¡± Worn-out corduroy pants and faded button-up shirt left wrinkled and untucked, the unkempt man¡¯s puce wrinkled face began to match his shirt.

    ¡°Whatever man.¡± Santiago shrugged.

    Mr. Gates tapped his index finger on the surface of the desk, voice rising. ¡°Coming in the middle of the year you think you¡¯d be a bit more concerned about paying attention. If you don¡¯t earn a B or above on your assignments, you¡¯re going to fail this class.¡±

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    ¡°Noted.¡± Santiago grabbed his bag and handed the man a few sheets of paper.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    Santiago pointed at the side of the white board with the teacher''s scrawl on the class agenda. ¡°This week''s homework.¡±

    The teacher flipped through the page¡¯s brows furrowed.

    Lunch time. The only part of school he liked. Sometimes.

    Cafeteria food was hit or miss. This school was more of a buffet restaurant. Now this was something he could get used to.

    Taking his tray, he made his way outside taking a seat on the concrete ledge that surrounded the base of a tree. It was quiet here and away from the raucous noise of hundreds of teenagers.

    Santiago was not oblivious to the looks he garnered as he meandered through this place. A part of him was amused by the attention.

    Santiago squinted, ¡°Oh hell.¡±

    Mia¡¯s strawberry brows pulled together over her brown eyes, the warmth of her hair brought out flecks of red in them. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Apparently I go here now.¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡± Mia¡¯s freckled nose wrinkled, ¡°I meant here, I sit here.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t see your name on it.¡±

    She rolled her eyes walking around the tree to sit with her back to him.

    They ate in silence.

    <hr>

    Santiago thought he had been doing a good job so far. He had not skipped any classes, been turning in all his work, and not a single fight had broken out. He kept his nose clean. That was the goal. Everything should have been good.

    Thompson had a very different opinion.

    Santiago slumped in his chair as he sat across from Thompson as he flicked through his notes.

    Sleeping in class, being openly rude to teachers, isolating himself and making no effort to befriend classmates. The blatant refusal to abide by the prestigious academy¡¯s uniform had also ruffled a lot of feathers.

    ¡°I need you to grasp the importance of your actions, especially in this new school environment,'''' the concern plain on Thomposon¡¯s face as he urged Santiago. ¡°We¡¯re working towards your emancipation case, and every positive step you take counts towards that goal. Your behavior at this academy can significantly influence the outcome.¡±

    Santiago let out a sigh, his hands rubbing over his face with an audible groan. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be here, Thompson. I¡¯d rather be in a regular public school. This place is all about appearances, I¡¯m not here for all that.¡±

    Thompson set his notepad aside, giving the boy his undivided attention, ¡°It is challenging to adapt to a new environment, especially one so different from what you¡¯re used to. But right now, being at this academy can work in your favor. If you can put your best foot forward, show that you can meet the expectations and get positive referrals from your instructors, it will help expedite your case.¡±

    Santiago eyed the man skeptically, ¡°You think it will really make a difference?¡±

    Thompson gave a reassuring smile, ¡°I genuinely do. By demonstrating that you can thrive in this environment, it will show that you¡¯re capable of adapting and making positive choices for your future. It will strengthen your case.¡±

    Santiago nodded. If he wanted the chance to have control over his own life he needed to prove himself. It still left a bitter taste in his mouth to swallow his pride and pretend to be something he was not. He fought his entire life for the right to exist as he was. Against all the guiding hands that tried to mold him into what they thought he ought to be.

    It felt like giving up.

    ¡°I do all this asskissing, blazer and khaki bullshit and find out you¡¯re fucking with me, Thompson,¡± Santiago sucked air through his teeth as he glowered at the man. ¡°I am going to beat your ass.¡±

    Thompson smiled.

    He could see it now, the determination that Bennett had talked about. For all his posturing and angry outbursts Santiago was driven. He would do what is necessary to achieve his goals. Getting back home to his mother could push him down a better path with enough guidance.

    Santiago was not giving up and neither was Thompson.

    <hr>

    In the quiet darkness the house stood proudly, a two-story structure with timeless elegance. Large windows with ornate frames adorned the front. Only vague silhouettes behind the glass were barely distinguishable with the soft ambient lighting that illuminated the walkway leading to the front door.

    Bennett had already scoped the place out during the day to assess the best point of entry past the security cameras. It made it easier that he had been here once before. He knew there were no cameras in the backyard. He cut through the lush well-tended gardens of the neighbor seated behind Sean¡¯s house whose only security came in the form of motion lights.

    Bennett vaulted over the brick wall that separated the two homes. Approaching the double patio doors he nimbly picked the lock. He had already given himself a small five minute window to get in and get out when the security alarm inevitably went off.

    It did not.

    This was the first thing that told Bennett something was wrong.

    The second was the smell.

    Thickly chemical scent of freshly poured gasoline and acetone combined with the foul bodily odor that hung in the air of vomit and feces.

    Flicking on the lights he followed the stench into the living room.

    Facedown on the tile was the corpse of Sean Varney bloated and discolored still in his uniform from work. Dark brown blotches peppered the wall beside him. Stab wounds littered his back, the hilt of the blade discarded on the floor after the blade had snapped off.

    They had caught him from behind before he could arm his security system.

    They had to have slipped in right behind him. The furniture was upended like a bomb went off and everything had been blown across the room. Bennett followed the trail of destruction down the hall every room in as much disarray as the last.

    Varney¡¯s study door was ajar.

    The mess in here told a different story. In all the rooms he had passed furniture had ended and drawers emptied in a scattered mess flung about in all directions. Within the study everything had been emptied but the contents of what was in the drawers had been tossed about in a small radius surrounding the furniture pieces.

    That told him that the mess out there was a display made to look as though a robbery occurred yet valuables like flatscreen televisions, costly appliances, and even jewelry had been left behind. It was much the same here except the computer upon closer inspection of the desktop it was evident the hard drive was removed. The laptop he had come for was discarded in the middle of the floor in a similar condition.

    Someone had beaten him to the backup drive..

    Back out to where Sean laid with his gloved hands he rifled through the computer bag. Aside from some paperwork there was nothing of interest to him.

    Grimacing, Bennett patted the corpse down flipping Varney over exposing the distended belly. Attached to his belt were the tools of his trade flashlight, baton, pepper spray, cellphone, a mini first aid kit, and a taser. His pockets held a couple pens, a notepad with melted scrawl of old statements, and the jingle of keys.

    One key caught his eye, it had no ridges and a blunt end. Not totally abnormal for a hospital key it was the flicker of gold at the tip that caught his attention. It was a USB.

    Slipping the key from the ring set he pocketed it.

    Tapping at the security system he armed it once more before he exited. He sauntered over to the nearest bedroom window pulling his leather jacket off and wrapped it around the bed of his arm. Bennett slammed his elbow into the glass shattering it.

    With that he leapt over the wall once more leaving behind the empty home as the alarm blared.

 Chapter 9

    THE MANOR WAS BUSTLING with activity. Cars lined down the road and the din of voices from downstairs carried up the staircase. A stampede of footsteps across the polished hardwood floors of the foyer.

    Santiago watched from the banister as the people paraded through some with gifts of food. The wafting of sweet baked pastries came through the clearest as the dining table was piled high.

    A familiar face tucked under a black hoodie peered up at him. Khalil quickly trotted up the steps to join him.

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see your manifest.¡±

    ¡°So that''s what all this is about.¡± Santiago raised a brow curiously, ¡°A lot of people come for this sort of thing.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, a lot of times it¡¯s kids but there are a good number of older witches with newly inherited powers that come here to get an idea of what they¡¯re working with.¡± Khalil bumped him, the dreaded ponytail swayed with the movement, ¡°Aren¡¯t you at least a little bit excited?¡±

    He shrugged, ¡°Whatever brand of bullshit this is doesn¡¯t matter. I just need to get a handle on it.¡±

    The two made their way out to the garden where dozens of tables were sprawled under the shade of ornamental trees and winding rows of blooming bushes.

    Rosenia, adorned in flowing garments embroidered with ancient symbols, stands before a table adorned with candles, incense, and carefully arranged offerings. Participants, seated in a circle around her, await the commencement.

    As silence descends upon the garden, Rosenia''s voice resonates with a mixture of reverence and ancient wisdom. ¡°Before we move forward we must always look back to those who paved the way for us to be able to be here today. The ones who fought for us, the ones who died for us, and the ones whose lives shaped ours.¡±

    ¡°I call upon the ancestors, By the blood that runs within my veins. By the spirits of those who came before,¡± She begins by striking a small handheld drum, its rhythmic beats filling the air. ¡°I call upon the wisdom of my kin, to guide me on this sacred floor.¡±

    The sound reverberates through the space each word echoed by the many witches surrounding. Some of the older ones sat with their eyes closed, hands reaching towards the sky.

    The aroma of incense, a blend of earthy herbs and sacred resins, weaving through the air, carrying with it a sense of connection to realms beyond the physical.

    Santiago could not differentiate the pounding in his ears from the heavy thrum of his heart or the drum. Thick earthy smoke filled his lungs making his head spin. He looked to his companion who simply watched the fanfare with barely concealed boredom.

    Khalil took notice and spoke to him but he could not hear the words.

    Santiago felt the brush against his neck as his chain shifted. His head snapped towards the hand coming face to face with dark eyes set in a face he saw each day in the mirror. Santiago lurched backwards landing on his behind.

    ¡°Oh shit.¡± Khalil whispered harshly, gripping him by the upper arms.

    ¡°I¡ªdid you see that?¡± Santiago breathed his eyes scanning the crowd.

    ¡°See what?¡±

    ¡°It was me.¡± He breathed, the somber smile and the rich mahogany brown eyes were not his own. Garbed in a loose fitting linen shirt was nothing he had ever worn. ¡°I think it was my dad.¡±

    ¡°You saw him.¡± Khalil rasped with excitement, ¡°Dude that is such a good omen.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Santiago was only half listening as he sought the familiar face in the crowd.

    ¡°It¡¯s the whole point of the ritual to reach out to the ancestors, invite them to give us their blessings.¡± Khalil looked at him with amused awe, ¡°I¡¯ve never seen any of mine all the time I¡¯ve done these and first go round see your dad. You¡¯re something else Santiago. Did he say anything?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He ran his hands absently over the pendant, ¡°He didn¡¯t say anything.¡±

    ¡°From realms unseen and far away, With open hearts, we gather here, To honor you on this sacred day.¡± Rosenia''s voice, filled with a depth of emotion, rises and falls as she recited the incantation, ¡°Blessed ancestors, spirits near, I offer gifts of love and grace, In this sacred space, we unite. Our bonds of kinship we embrace.¡±

    Rosenia''s hands gracefully move over the offerings placed before her, symbols of gratitude and respect for the ancestors. Fruits, flowers, and other meaningful items adorn the altar, signifying the interconnectedness of the present and the past. Each offering carrying with it the collective love and remembrance of the participants'' ancestral heritage.

    As the ritual reached its peak, Rosenia''s voice took on a tone of profound gratitude. She expresses gratitude for the lessons, strength, and resilience passed down through generations. She acknowledges the ancestors'' sacrifices and profound connection to their heritage, and offers heartfelt thanks for their continued presence and guidance.

    With a final strike of the drum, the ritual comes to a close, and a sacred silence lingers in its place. Participants gradually open their eyes, some weep kneeling onto the floor muttering in their mother languages.

    Santiago only caught a glimpse, if they did it again would he actually be able to speak to his father. Hear his voice for the first time. Chest tightened as he gave the bronze circlet a squeeze feeling the embellishments leaving an impression in his skin.

    Skylar sprung up from behind them swinging arms around the boys¡¯ shoulders. ¡°Come on, let''s get a better view.¡±

    Grateful she snapped Santiago from his reverie the boy let out an audible sigh of relief. He had been standing there long enough for the crowd to disperse. All had trickled to other elders of the group as they walked the congregation through varied rituals.

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    The flashiest was a vibrant display of elemental magic, participants learning to harness the power of the elements.

    ¡°Together we will explore their affinity for earth, air, fire, or water, deepening your understanding of your magical strengths and connections to the natural world.¡± Voice as weathered and deep as the lines etched by time in his deeply tanned skin. He was clad in robes of earthy hues. Fabric was worn but lovingly cared for with similar intricate symbols and patterns to Rosenia¡¯s own garbs. Yet these bore the distinct flavor of the man¡¯s Indian roots.

    Yash¡¯s eyes were bright and piercing, a long flowing mane of salt and pepper was braided down to his waist. In his hands a staff carved of a gnarled wood and adorned with crystals in the tangled branches representing the elements.

    Santiago was captivated by the display as the man molded stone as easily as clay.

    Further along were scads of floor level tables with cushions of every size and color tossed about. Perched in one he recognized the gentle waves of chestnut hair. Sylvia sat with her palm in the hand of an older woman whose withered fingers glided over Sylvia¡¯s delicate palm as she performed her reading.

    Nestled along the east perimeter of the property were small stands with bushels of herbs and pottery. Witches bartered and traded with each other as the kids weaved among the stalls. The air is thick with the fragrance of fresh cut herbs and perfumes.

    ¡°Come, come. ¡° A silky voice called, the Jamaican woman¡¯s large earring clinked lightly against the metallic ornaments in her tightly dreaded hair. Orange printed satin cardigan hung open loosely showing the smooth planes of her abdomen. Large lapis pendant laid flat between her full breast. ¡°Come here boy, tell me what you need. I have the cure for everything that ails you.¡±

    ¡°I am sure you do.¡± Santiago muttered, forcing his gaze up pointedly at the deep set eyes that studied him.

    ¡°Do you know what happiness tastes like?¡± Delyse said.

    Santiago replied smugly, ¡°Learned that when I was sixteen.¡±

    Skylar smacked the back of his head.

    ¡°Your friend is funny Khalil.¡± Delyse¡¯s laugh was rich and earthy as her complexion, flawless dark skin seemed to glow in the sunlight. Clutched in her between two painted nails was a small vial, ¡°This is one of my best sellers, Joy. Simple, sweet, and a wonderful treat. A good pain reliever and stress reducer with a lingering air of jubilance.¡±

    ¡°I drink it and-¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°Drops, my boy. Two will do three if you need a bit more in your coffee or tea if you don¡¯t like the bitter.¡± She flashed a pearly white smile, ¡°Take it all and you will have the best last night of your life.¡±

    ¡°Sold.¡± Santiago fished in his pocket. ¡°Now do you have anything else you can pawn off on me so I can listen to that musical voice of yours a bit longer?¡±

    Delyse wagged a finger at him, ¡°I like this one.¡±

    Khalil buried his face in his hand. ¡°Santiago, man what am I gonna do with you?¡±

    Skylar leaned in, ¡°Do you sell muzzles?¡±

    ¡°In my personal shop, yes, darling. Anything your heart desires I can procure.¡± She waved her hand in a fluid motion, ¡°Muzzles, leashes, whips, and chains. I peddle pleasure along with pain.¡±

    Santiago tucked one of the cards on the counter in his back pocket despite Skylar scornful stares. She pulled him along as Khalil pushed him from behind.

    ¡°Hurry up, we¡¯re going to miss it.¡± Skylar hurried ahead of them.

    Santiago did want to get an idea what to expect when his turn came around. They followed behind Skylar keeping the splash of pink and blue hair within sight as they weaved through the crowd.

    A loud bell rang out catching the attention of those gathered.

    Rosenia stood at the forefront to welcome them all, ¡°It is good to see so many familiar faces returning to us here at Coventry. Equally it gives me joy to welcome those who are visiting my home for the first time. For those of you new to Coventry we stand as a community to support witches from all backgrounds to provide guidance and aid to all those in need whether they be blessed with the spark or gifted in other ways. All in need are welcome here to grow and to learn.¡±

    ¡°Today we will be performing a traditional ritual to ascertain the base nature of your abilities.¡± She held up a sizable silver coin with the same sheen of the streaks of aging in her graying hair, ¡°We will be bringing you up in groups of three. Remember there is no need to be nervous. This is not a test nor a competition, it is merely a tool to help you better understand yourself.¡±

    ¡°It is definitely a competition, and I am going to crush you both into the dust.¡± Skylar whispered.

    Khalil snorted, ¡°Ten bucks says Sky gets up there and chokes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that bet.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°Seriously,¡± Skylar eyed him, annoyed.

    ¡°I''m putting money on you because I believe in you.¡± Santiago said, the corner of his lip twitched.

    Silver coins had been set along the table in front of each of the first group of which were young kids. They could not have been older than twelve.

    Each focused their attention on the coin. An older woman paced about occasionally leaned in to provide some instruction to those struggling.

    Coin reactions to magic were varied for each person that went up. Sometimes the coin flipped, bounced, rolled, and in Skylar¡¯s case shot off the table like a bullet blowing a hole through the roof of the wooden gazebo.

    A moment of silence was followed by applause for the impressive display. Skylar hurriedly returned to them her face a brilliant shade of scarlet.

    Santiago tucked the bill into his pants pocket giving his friend a pat, ¡°You did good.¡±

    Skylar groaned.

    Manipulation. One of the four core forms of magic. It allows someone to exert their energy over an object to control it according to their will. He thought it was like telekinesis. Khalil insisted there was more to it than that.

    Core forms were not so much a type of magic like elemental magic, divination, and illusions as they were a reference to the method behind how these wonders were performed. Someone with an affinity to manipulation had an easier time exerting their magic over another object or being. They could move things with their minds like telekinesis or altering people''s senses with a glamor.

    They watched as more filed up the steps and more coins were thrown, warped, and even broken apart. One of the most impressive feats was from a pudgy little girl whose coin transformed into the shape of a butterfly twice as large as the original coin. She gave an adorable curtsy to the cheering crowd before she ran back to her mother¡¯s side.

    Santiago made his way up to the table. He hadn¡¯t had much luck even when he slipped off the chain from around his neck.

    A good omen Khalil had told him.

    Santiago was hoping this would be different.

    Hand¡¯s hovered above the silver coin. He focused on the only successful attempt at manipulating energy he had that day with Sylvia. Trying to feel out the energy and redirect it into the coin.

    For a moment he thought he felt something, yet the silver coin laid flat.

    Nothing happened which should have been a good thing. A sign that maybe they were wrong about him. It was not a test. He did not win anything by succeeding. Yet, after seeing his father and knowing his presence was here in some form watching him it still felt like he failed.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright Santiago,¡± Rose reassured. ¡°You simply need more time.¡±

    He nodded.

    Khalil patted him on the shoulder, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. You¡¯ll get there.¡±

    Santiago was not so sure.

 Chapter 10

    SANTIAGO FIGURED IT WOULD stay like this for a while. He turned in his homework like a diligent student. He figured it would earn him some cookie points with Rosenia.

    Did not talk to anyone. Did not get involved with anyone. Cannot have drama if he knows nothing about no one.

    When he was called to the office at the start of class a few weeks in he was annoyed. Curious as to what it would be this time.

    At first he thought he had the wrong office when the woman at the desk led him to the door.

    The walls are adorned with tasteful artwork, posters showcasing quotes around success and achievement. A large mahogany desk occupied the center of the room, meticulously arranged with neatly stacked paperwork, a computer monitor the size of a TV, and the brass name plate with ¡°Laura Green¡± embellished in its glossy surface. Behind it was a plush leather chair and a grand bookshelf that stretched from floor to ceiling with a curated collection of academic and leadership literature.

    It was a far cry from the overcrowded cubicles of the overworked and underpaid counselors that doled out course registrations to students whose name they forgot as soon as their paperwork was filed away.

    Impeccably dressed in a charcoal blazer over a navy blue pencil skirt, with a royal blue brocade of their feathered mascot pinned to her breast pocket.

    Laura encouraged him to sit. ¡°Santiago, do you know why you¡¯re here?¡±

    He shrugged, ¡°Some lockers got broken into? Graffiti on school property? Someone saw me smoking?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Laura''s cerulean eyes bugged as she gripped the arms of her chair. ¡°Um, the placement exam you completed yesterday morning with Mr. Gates came back.¡±

    ¡°Wait for the placement exam¡ª I thought I was in detention.¡±

    Her pink lips pursed, she shuffled the papers in front of her blinking her heavily masquerade lashes as she tried to get the conversation back on track. ¡°Y-your teachers felt that you might be a bit advanced for their classes.¡±

    Delicately she handed him a manila folder.

    Santiago took it thumbing through the pages. A few score cards and a new schedule.

    ¡°They had you take an ACT placement test. This is your new AP schedule.¡±

    ¡°I passed this quiz and now I gotta take,--¡± Santiago squinted at the small print. ¡°Calculus. This is like the opposite of a reward.¡±

    ¡°Santiago I don¡¯t think you understand.¡± Her trimmed manicured hand patted the desk with a tight smile. ¡°You didn¡¯t simply pass, you scored top marks in every category. You had a perfect score. The highest score a student has received at this school.¡±

    Santiago looked at the paper and back to her flatly, ¡°So do I like to get a gift card¡­?¡±

    They stared at one another.

    ¡°Okay,¡± He tucked the folder under his arm. ¡°Uh, then, um¡ª If that¡¯s it I guess I¡¯m gonna go then.¡±

    ¡°About what you said before¡ª ¡° A finely plucked eyebrow raised.

    ¡°Joking, obviously. Kidding.¡± Santiago chuckled, ¡°If I ever did any of those things, I¡¯d never get caught.¡±

    ¡°What¡ª !¡±

    ¡°Anyways, thanks for this.¡± He quickly slipped out the door.

    He looked over the paper, Advanced Placement.

    Calculus. Physics. Comparative government and politics. Now he knew this was some kind of joke. He had to make a selection of a new language as they seemed to catch on to his ploy with Spanish classes. Chinese. German. French. Italian. Japanese.

    Santiago rolled his eyes, like he would ever need any of these.

    At least English class was still English class. How much more complicated could they make it?

    He knew his mother would frame his test scores and put it on the wall.

    Rambling on about how smart he was like she always did whenever he brought home some useless school certificate or trophy.

    These things didn¡¯t mean anything to him. They meant the world to her.

    Santiago thought it probably made her feel like she had less of a screw up for a son. It has been a couple months now. He had not seen or heard from her.

    ¡°I know you miss her Santiago but it¡¯s for the best.¡± Rosenia''s voice was gentle, her wizened eyes softened on the boy but her tone still had a finality to it leaving little room for discussion.

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    ¡°You keep saying that.¡± Said Santiago, ¡°I don¡¯t see the point of all this. Clearly whatever freak out I had was a one-off deal. Nothing like that has happened since. My chain keeps me in check. I don¡¯t need to be goddamn Harry Potter. I just want to go home.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not safe.¡± She repeated.

    ¡°What¡¯s not safe? If I never take it off, then I won¡¯t have a problem.¡±

    ¡°There is no guarantee that the magic in that pendant will hold. It is too much of a risk.¡± She said sternly now, brow furrowed she held out her hand for him beckoning him to her. ¡°I know that you¡¯ve waited a long time to go home. Longer than you should have.¡±

    ¡°I need to talk to her.¡± He said softly, ¡°I need to know she¡¯s okay.¡±

    ¡°You are a good son. For too long you have put your mother¡¯s wellbeing above your own. Santiago, let someone worry about you for a change.¡± Rosenia rested her hands upon his shoulders that carried more weight than a boy his age ever should. ¡°Your mothers failures are her responsibility alone.¡±

    He recoiled, ¡°You don¡¯t know anything. Not about me. Not about her.¡±

    ¡°No, my sweet boy.¡± She started.

    ¡°I am not a boy and I am not yours.¡± Santiago snapped, ¡°I¡¯m leaving. I¡¯m not asking. I¡¯m going home. I have no reason to stay here. I¡¯m done.¡±

    ¡°Santiago!¡± Rosenia called as he stalked down the hall, ¡°She won¡¯t be there.¡±

    Santiago stopped.

    He thought it was because he was locked up that he could not reach out. It never occurred that maybe she was too. He could not imagine CPS would overlook a shootout in the living room. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter I can figure shit out until she gets back.¡±

    ¡°No, Santiago.¡± Rosenia shook her head, the lines in her face pulled into a solemn expression, ¡°She¡¯s gone. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°Gone¡ª No.¡± He shook his head, ¡°No. You don¡¯t know where she screws off to. I do. I can find her.¡±

    Santiago knew that was not what she meant.

    He could not accept it. He would not.

    His mind raced as he tried to find a way out from the reality that was setting in.

    ¡°She tried to protect you.¡± Rosenia said gravely, ¡°I¡¯m sorry Santiago, she didn¡¯t make it.¡±

    <hr>

    Nothing can ever be simple. Bennett gulped down the last dregs of another cup of coffee as he drearily scanned the sped up footage. Even within the copious footage there was still a gaping hole where Santiago¡¯s arrival should have been. There were no cameras to capture the boy.

    Perhaps, Varney¡¯s murder was unrelated to Santiago. Still if he could help find answers behind why his friend was killed he would spend as long as it took pouring over hours of footage for some clue.

    ¡°I think I got something.¡± Jack smirked at his screen.

    ¡°You found footage?¡± Said Bennett.

    ¡°Better. His bank records.¡± Said Jack.

    ¡°His bank records. Jack, what is that going to tell us about how he died?¡±

    ¡°Money talks.¡± Jack said, turning the screen to him. ¡°Something tells me that¡¯s not his annual bonus.¡±

    Bennett¡¯s eyes widened at the generous deposit. ¡°Can you see who sent him this?¡±

    ¡°Doubtful. If he was getting a payoff it¡¯s likely not traceable.¡± Jack tapped the screen, ¡°That is not the important number. The date is.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s less than an day after the black out.¡± Bennett locked eyes with Jack, ¡°Sean died because of a cover up.¡±

    ¡°Now let¡¯s see what they didn¡¯t want anyone else to.¡± Jack gave him a wicked grin as he scrolled through the days of footage.

    Bennett followed suit. They started with the cameras outside of where the generators were kept. Yet while they watched up until the footage ended nothing approached the generators. He remembered his conversations with Sanjay when the incident happened about the firefighters'' struggle to make it down to the B-level where the fire had been the most intense.

    ¡°There was a lab in the basement levels that had most of the casualties. None of the lab techs made it out.¡± Said Bennett.

    Jack pulled up the footage dragging his cursor across until fifteen minutes before the blackout. They sat and watched carefully waiting for the first signs of the fire.

    Both men leaned in wide eyed as the calm of the laboratory was shattered by an explosion. Something propelled itself through the wall.

    Someone.

    ¡°Bennett,¡± Said Jack. ¡°Is that?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± Said Bennett, eyes glued to the screen, ¡°There¡¯s no way. I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Oh Jesus,¡± Jack grimaced. ¡°He¡¯s tearing through them like a paper mache. Crap let me see if I can pull another angle.¡±

    ¡°Can we see where he came from?¡± Bennett said as he squinted at the bottom of the screen as if it would pan the camera towards it.

    ¡°There¡¯s not many camera¡¯s down there could¡ª Hold on whose this now?¡± Jack said.

    ¡°I don''t think she¡¯s there to help.¡± Jack said and as if in response the last few surviving technicians were cut down. ¡°Did she hit them with something?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s down. She stopped him.¡± Bennett watched the svelte silhouette glide across the hazy screen.

    <hr>

    Bennett watched as the woman walked across the room placing her hands against the wall. A brilliant glow enveloped the screen before everything went black. ¡°She took out the generators.¡±

    It was all connected. Santiago. The blackout. Varney¡¯s murder.

    How the boy came to be caught in the center of this Bennett still did not fully understand. What he did know was that Santiago''s powers were far more out of control than he first realized. Now he was in the wind.

    Perhaps Thompson knew far more than he let on. He was the one who processed Santiago¡¯s case.

    Thompson could somehow be involved with the woman in the video.

    Whoever covered this up had a lot of money to throw around. To pay half a couple hundred grand to scrub some videos of a delinquent teenager''s violent murder spree was insane. Unless he had something worth more than that.

    Santiago was convinced he was the same boy who had been shot and killed. Thompson wrote it off as a coping mechanism. If that was true and Santiago had been murdered, shot dead in his home and rose again. The kind of power it would take to pull something like that off would be worth far more than what was kicked Varney¡¯s way.

    Bennett knew he had no time to spare to track down Santiago. Someone knew about his powers and was willing to kill to keep them a secret.

    How much time did the boy have left before they decided killing him was more convenient than hiding him?

 Chapter 11

    More pieces of the puzzle did not make the picture any clearer. Bennett knew now that Santiago had not been delusional. The kid knew who he was. A dead father, mother in the wind, and step father on the run left little in the way of those close to him to find.

    The knock at the door cut through the ringing in his ears.

    Bennett glanced at his phone again, still no word from Jack.

    Silently he made his way to the living room peering out the window to catch a glimpse of the figure at the door. Bennett grunted in annoyance as he swung the door open. ¡°He called you.¡±

    ¡°You look like hell.¡± Said Peter.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°Clearly you¡¯re the pinnacle of mental health and that''s why you haven¡¯t been coming to meetings.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t been drinking.¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t been sleeping either.¡± Said Peter.

    Bennett scratched absently at the irritated skin on the back of his neck. The rash had spread out across his shoulders in angry hives. It never truly went away, sometimes it was a small splotch of discoloration or it would flare up and stretch across his back. A fitting reminder of the gas attacks during the gulf war.

    ¡°What did Jack tell you?¡± Said Bennett.

    ¡°That you needed to talk.¡± Peter said, planting himself on one side of the two chair dinette table.

    Bennett was not avoiding his sponsor per se. Still he was not actively looking to rehash the past few weeks. Not with all that was left to be done. He did not need Peter trying to dissuade him. Bennett knew well enough from their years together that the man was not leaving without an explanation.

    ¡°Varney¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°I heard about that.¡± Peter replied solemnly, ¡°Robbed before he even made it to his cruise.¡±

    ¡°I found him.¡± Bennett said, ¡°He¡¯d been dead for a while. Multiple stab wounds. Blade snapped off in him.¡±

    ¡°Christ, Bennett, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Peter¡¯s brow furrowed, ¡°You called it in?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Bennett sighed, ¡°I broke into his place and found him.¡±

    Peter crossed his arms staring at him. ¡°Who else knows this?¡±

    ¡°Jack and yourself.¡±

    Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. It was obvious this was not the direction the old vet expected the conversation to go. ¡°Why?¡±

    Why?

    Now that was a loaded question.

    Why did he break in? Because he needed to get the footage that could have given some answers about Santiago and where he had gone.

    Why was Sean Varney killed? He was paid off to get rid of evidence and he was a loose end that needed tying up.

    ¡°This is all connected to that kid.¡± Peter''s eyes widened in disbelief, ¡°Things are going off the rails Bennett you sure this isn¡¯t best left to the police.¡±

    ¡°The ones who murdered him in the first place.¡± Said Bennett.

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± Peter clicked his tongue. ¡°The one that signed off on the kids transfer should know something about where he went, right?¡±

    ¡°He won¡¯t fess up. Legal reasons.¡±

    ¡°You think that¡¯s legit?¡±

    ¡°For his sake, he better hope that¡¯s true.¡± Bennett growled.

    Peter leaned back in his seat, ¡°I know this is important to you Bennett, but it¡¯s not an excuse for backsliding¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine¡ª¡±

    ¡°For now.¡± Peter said curtly, ¡°You need to stick with the program. Fixating on this and forgetting to check yourself is going to undo all the work you¡¯ve been putting in. It doesn''t matter how many years you have under your belt Bennett. It takes one bad day and you¡¯re back at square one.¡±

    Bennett had his share of bad days.

    He would be celebrating his ten years of sobriety come December.

    Bennett had spent twice as long spun out on anything he could get his hands on after his contract had finally ended. He came back home like so many others, broken.

    In the beginning it was to kill the pain. At least that is what he told himself. Pain likely would have been better than the numbness that settled in his bones. There were mornings when he woke up unable to move his limbs.

    Mostly it was to forget, if only for a little while. All the horrors that were seared into his memories more vividly than the world around him at times. Sometimes it becomes impossible to separate the past from the present.

    ¡°I know.¡± Said Bennett. ¡°I can¡¯t walk away from this either. I will stay above water and if I feel like I am slipping I will call.¡±

    Peter frowned, saying nothing for a long moment. ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that.¡±

    ¡°I know you will.¡±

    ¡°Jack did give me something else.¡±

    Bennett raised a brow curiously.

    ¡°He found a name. When the kid was in the morgue someone came to collect his belongings.¡±

    ¡°His mother?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Another piece of the puzzle that was bringing Bennett one step closer to finding Santiago.

    <hr>

    Large windows allow natural light to flood the room. The walls were plastered with educational posters and charts illustrating scientific principles and formulas. The large computer monitors were polished and sleek. The instructors desk had well-organized piles of textbooks. Models of molecules and circuitry decorated its surface.

    The interactive smartboard provided ample space for the teacher as they explained concepts, dragging up filled and stretching out diagrams with a few taps.

    Mrs. Bell was youthful in appearance for a teacher with an energetic aura that was captivating. She had a soft voice, with a clear and light laugh not unlike her namesake. Always in some sort of floral smock that flitted about her knees as she paced across the classroom.

    While planted in the seat Santiago was far from present. He was still stuck in the night now days ago listening to the old woman¡¯s trembling voice as she told him that Gudaelupe was dead.

    It was his fault. She had told him to go. Begged him to.

    He did not and everyone but the bastard that deserved it ended up dead.

    ¡°Santiago. Santiago.¡± Mrs. Bell called on the boy who did not respond.

    From behind a boy kicked at his chair, he caught himself quickly cursing under his breath.

    ¡°Kevin, that was inappropriate. Apologize.¡± She chastised.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Kevin mocked.

    Mrs. Bell deflated the petite woman did not have an ounce of sterness in her.

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    Santiago shrugged it off so she moved along with the lecture. With a flick of the screen a scramble of letters and numbers of an equation appeared on the board.

    ¡°Alright so can anyone name the thermal dynamic process that this equation calculates?¡± Mrs. Bell chirped, her bright eyes searching the rows of confused faces. ¡°A hint is that these processes can also be calculated through isothermal processes.¡±

    Only the dull hum of the heater filled the room. ¡°Anyone?¡±

    Santiago sighed, ¡°Entropy.¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± She lit up, her hands clapped together. ¡°That is correct Santiago. Someone¡¯s been doing their reading.¡±

    Santiago ignored the mumbling and snickers behind him, giving her a polite nod.

    Crossing the cafeteria he made his way out to the courtyard toward his usual place beneath the tree seeking the small slice of solitude it brought. Abruptly one of the boys talking in a group he was passing turned colliding with him.

    The tray of food ended up smashed all over the front of his jacket. Santiago was not upset over it at first, mistakes happen.

    ¡°Oh man, I¡¯m so sorry. Now you have food all over your shirt. I promise I¡¯ll pay for it. How much do you need five dollars, ten? ¡± Scott motioned in mock sincerity, he looked back at his friends. ¡°How many pesos is that?¡±

    The boys behind him cackled on cue.

    If Santiago had to guess the boy from earlier was among them, not that he would know the difference. Between the dirty blond cropped haircuts, navy blazers, and an abundance of khaki shorts there was no way he was holding a name to any of the plain faces.

    Santiago threw the tray in the nearby garbage can and the boy was going to go along with it if Laura had not swooped in like the bluebird pinned to her chest.

    ¡°Goodness Santiago, let¡¯s go get you cleaned up.¡± She pressed her palm between his shoulder blades guiding him along. ¡°You boys behave.¡±

    Santiago bundled his soiled jacket and shirt into the plastic bag. Exiting the restroom he grimaced at the faded loaner shirt in her hands. ¡°Ain¡¯t no way I¡¯m wearing that.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t go around school like this.¡± She motioned at the boy in a plain white muscle shirt. ¡°It¡¯s not appropriate.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not appropriate¡± Santiago echoed mockingly, ¡°Do I look like I care about appropriate?¡±

    Laura¡¯s mouth opened as though she was about to say something and simply shut it again.

    ¡°I got to go to the gym anyway. I¡¯ll just wear my P.E shirt. Don¡¯t get your panties in a twist.¡± He grumbled as the door swung shut behind him cutting off her indignant shouting.

    Physical Education was no longer a requirement for him but they had a weightlifting class listed for an elective so he was quick to get in. It was one of the many they had on campus. With his grades he could have got into any he wanted.

    Santiago preferred it because he could dial up the volume as high as the headset could handle and tune out the rest of the world for an hour.

    Though no marks could make up for his lack of talent in magic. It was still a part of the curriculum. With what he had seen of the ordinary classes here he could only imagine the kind of things they were taught.

    Magic was like a golden ticket back home. Only some schools offered formal education. If you had a gift a kid might have a chance of getting whisked off across the bridge or up north.

    He used to hope for that as a kid. A winning lottery ticket that could take them away to place without leaks, creaks, or freaks.

    It felt like another lifetime.

    None of it felt real anymore. When he died that night he was not sure all of him came back. Ever since he had felt hollow like a piece of him was missing. Now he knew why.

    Santiago flicked through his phone to queue up the music. It was time to quiet the noise in his head. The music blared as he set up for some reps.

    The weightlifting room was more well-equipped than any gym he had paid for downtown. Mirrored walls span one side of the room, reflecting the wall across with more of the endless motivational posters and slogans.

    A variety of equipment was neatly arranged throughout the room. Sturdy racks and benches holding an array of dumbbells, barbells, and weight plates of various sizes. Resistance machines and cable stations offer options for targeted strength training, while squat racks and power cages were set up for more advanced exercises.

    Gulping down the bottle he refilled it again at the purified water pump built into the wall of the gym. The audible complaint from his stomach whose hunger pains he had been pointedly ignoring grew louder.

    ¡°Go grab a bite Santiago.¡± Coach Russel barked, standing well over six feet the towering man pulled the weight plates of the bar to rest in a neat pile on the floor. He had a muscular physique emphasized by his form-fitting workout attire made exclusively of moisture wicking shirts and leggings. Not a hair sat atop his cleanly shaven head except for a thick pair of brows that matched the dark and well maintained beard. ¡°There¡¯s a burger joint up the street.¡±

    ¡°I got to be at my next class in like fifteen minutes.¡± Santiago slung the sweat rag over the back of his neck.

    Russel laughed gruffly, he pulled a money clip from his wallet and handed him a couple of bills. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I¡¯ll tell them you''re helping me out.¡±

    Never look a gift horse in the mouth, words Santiago took to heart as he jogged up the street. The cool air felt good on his bare arms giving off visible steam in the chilly air of the coming fall. The thin fabric of the tank top clung to his sweat soaked skin.

    Santiago groaned as he bit into the juicy burger. Bacon with the right amount of crunch. Patty fresh off the grill. The fried egg gave it a bit of richness and a dash of hot sauce for some kick. Motioning pointedly he called to the cook in the back, ¡°Damn, that¡¯s a good burger, man.¡±

    He could hear the thunderous laugh of the older man in the kitchen.

    In the parking lot he watched the four boys climb out of the ivory tesla.

    ¡°Great.¡± Santiago shook his head, turning back to his food. Stuffed the last pieces into his cheeks puffed up like a rodent hoarding nuts. Wringing his hands with a napkin he tossed his garbage before leaving.

    Outside his schoolmates had yet to make it to the restaurant he could hear their boisterous laughter out by the rows of cars cloistered around a girl.

    ¡°If you¡¯re new here I¡¯d be more than happy to show you around, babe.¡± Scott leaned against the hood of his jeep. ¡°We have a championship match at the Tacoma Dome next weekend. We can get you some tickets.¡±

    Kevin threw an arm around his friend''s shoulder, ¡°Tristans throwing a party at his place tonight.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be a hell of time, booze, swimming, and we can take my dads boat out on the lake.¡± Tristan chirped.

    A derisive laugh came from the girl as she pushed past them, ¡°Then tell your daddy to call me.¡±

    The gaggle of clowns continued to pursue her whining like puppies for attention.

    Santiago breath hitched, the dark heavily lidded eyes locked onto him behind feathered lashes. Features that were both sculpted and soft. The same could be said for her curves. The type of bombshell beauty you see in photoshopped magazines.

    ¡°Hey, we¡¯re not done talking!¡± Kevin called, catching her by the upper arm.

    Her head spun towards him so quickly her bleached blonde wig whipped against her cheek. A look was enough, the boys gripped slackened as she eyed him with disgust.

    ¡°Everything good?¡± Santiago called, as he ambled over hands tucked into his pockets.

    Scott spat at him, ¡°This ain¡¯t got shit to do with you beaner.¡±

    Santiago smiled darkly. ¡°We ain¡¯t in the schoolyard boys. You best watch your mouth.¡±

    The boy took a tentative step back towards his friends. ¡°You think we¡¯re scared of you, there¡¯s four of us and one of you. Or are you as dumb as you look?¡±

    With an amused grin the girl replied. ¡°Cuatro gallinas al lobo no es m¨¢s que una cena.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Said Scott.

    ¡°She says, ¡®you¡¯re fucked¡¯.¡± Santiago sneered charging headlong slamming scott into the side of the black Wrangler.

    Their hands pulled at his arms wrenching him off Scott. Once free Scott readied to swing back only to hit his knees as Santiago¡¯s foot collided with his solar plexus.

    Despite Tristians grip on his right arm he dragged the boy forward to grab Kevin around the throat. Reflexively the boy released Santiago¡¯s left arm to grasp at the hand now clamped around his windpipe.

    Releasing Kevin, he swung back with Tristian enough to get momentum for a left elbow straight to Kevin¡¯s chest.

    The boy hit the floor rolling about wheezing.

    Bryce, who had been the one landing flimsy blows on his back while the boys had him pinned, realized the fight had not turned out of his favor and ran.

    Tristan noticing his friend had abandoned him, crestfallen he released Santiago¡¯s arm. Backing away Tristian swallowed to clear the lump in his throat. ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±

    Santiago jab hit his face so quickly when the boy hit the ground his arms were still stiffly locked with his palms up.

    He looked around for the last one, the pretty girl appointed manicured nails at the car in the next row.

    Santiago sauntered over, peering through the window he could see the back of his shirt where he tried to lay flat under the seats of the Tesla.

    ¡°Bro, are you serious right now? I can see you.¡± Santiago knocked on the window, he rolled his eyes. ¡°Whatever.¡±

    ¡°Three out of four isn¡¯t bad.¡± She shrugged, ¡°Not great, but you tried.¡±

    Santiago laughed dryly, ¡°You think I should break in his windows. He ain¡¯t worth all that.¡±

    ¡°On that we can agree, but as my father always says, work smarter not harder.¡± She waved the black remote in her hand.

    Santiago smiled, ¡°No, that is not¡ª¡±

    She tapped the button, the car chirped and the locks clicked open.

    Bryce flailed about in the back seat in a scramble to lock the doors.

    Santiago opened the backseat, ¡°Scotty let¡¯s have a chat.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Bryce¡ª¡± The voice cut off by the door closing the two boys behind the tinted windows.

    A few passersby were headed to the restaurant eyeing the rocking car as the boy hollered in pain.

    The girl laughed and waved. The couple hurried along faster.

    Santiago exited the car to applause, he gave an exaggerated bow. ¡°Great?¡±

    She scrunched her nose, ¡°Good.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not easy to please.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°You have no idea.¡±

    His phone alarm chimed in his pocket. ¡°Damn, class. I gotta go.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to keep you from your education. Clearly peers of this caliber are not to be kept waiting.¡± She nodded sagely.

    ¡°She¡¯s funny.¡±

    ¡°She is.¡± The girl agreed.

    ¡°I¡¯m Santiago by the way.¡±

    ¡°Santiago,¡± She purred, his name rolled off her tongue in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. ¡°Have fun at school.¡±

    ¡°You gonna tell me your name?¡± He called after her.

    ¡°No.¡± She said as she walked without a glance back.

    ¡°Will I see you again?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Santiago smiled.

 Chapter 12

    THE FLOOR-TO-CEILING BOOKCASE stood as a silent sentinel filled with curated literature, art books, and academic journals. The plush seating area consisted of high-quality leather armchairs and a coffee table where a tasteful fresh floral arrangement sat. No doubt a gift from one of the many appreciative parents of the students.

    Santiago absently perused the titles tuning out the caterwauling of the parents as they ganged up on the principal.

    ¡°Expelled is the least of what this boy deserves for what he did to our sons!¡± The woman''s shrill voice reached a fever pitch, the chalky make-up hid the vibrant scarlet that creeped up her neck and tinted her ears.

    Scott and his cronies sat smirking from across the coffee table still bruised from the beating. Santiago could not put into words how little he was vested in the conversation transpiring around him.

    Santiago yawned.

    ¡°Oh am I boring you!¡± Scott¡¯s mother, Linda, spat at him.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Santiago said.

    Linda¡¯s ears lit up crimson, cerulean eyes bugged. ¡°Listen here you little degenerate, you have no place here.¡±

    Santiago yawned again..

    She let out a furious shriek.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am please take a step back.¡± John stood between the two, his arms extended in a flimsy barrier.

    It would be a lie to say he did not want to see if the wild Karen would actually come in swinging. Santiago was certain she probably hit harder than her weakling of a son.

    ¡°It¡¯s too early for all this, sign the paperwork already so I can bounce.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°On that we can agree.¡± Cynthia folded her arms tersely from where she stood between her husband and her son Kevin. ¡°Give the boy what he wants and send him on his merry way.¡±

    Rosenia stalked through the door, ¡°I do hate to disappoint you but nothing of the sort will be happening today.¡±

    No sign of her usually tranquil smile was present on her face today. Her decorative skirt whipped about her ankles as she spun on the parents.

    ¡°Rose, thank you for joining us.¡± Said John visibly the tension in shoulders lessened.

    ¡°You came in time to see him sign off on my lucky seven.¡± Santiago snorted. This was not his first rodeo when it came to disciplinary action. His only solace was knowing he only had a year left of this nonsense.

    ¡°This is madness, you¡¯re trying to get the boy expelled over a fight that was not even on school grounds.¡± Rosenia said.

    Tristan¡¯s father, Bill, spoke his voice as monotonous as his stoic expression. ¡°Regardless of whether the act occurred on campus or not is irrelevant. This boy has created a hostile environment and threatened the safety of our boys.¡±

    Rosenia looked to John who nodded, ¡°That is true and Santiago did swing first.¡±

    It was true enough that the boy could be punished for things that occurred outside the campus. As long as they could prove that his presence would have a lasting negative impact they could very well get what they wanted.

    ¡°They goaded him into that fight.¡± Rosenia said, ¡°Did your boys also tell you about their harassment of a young woman that took place in that very same parking lot.¡±

    Linda hissed, ¡°How dare you!¡±

    ¡°According to whom? Do we have a statement from this mystery girl?¡± Bill said, ¡°We have proof that this boy beat our children. We will press charges.¡±

    Proof is what they were after. It would make sense as they could clearly show the damage Santiago inflicted which told nothing of what led up to it. Everything before that first blow was contingent on Santiago¡¯s word which meant less than nothing to those who were already certain of his absolute guilt.

    ¡°I see, so this is how you want to play this.¡± Rosenia gave a terse smile, she reached in her bag handing over her phone to John.

    Principal Dugan gray brows knitted together.

    ¡°What is this now?¡± Cynthia motioned, her sharp nose scrunched in distaste.

    ¡°Text messages, from your boys.¡± John Dugan sighed.

    ¡°And? This changes nothing¡ª¡± Cynthia started.

    ¡°Regardless of how it happened, the boys intended to fight Santiago that day. They had texted their friends on the basketball team to join in. It was dumb luck that he ended the scuffle before they came along.¡± Said Rosenia. ¡°A peculiar thing when an entire sports team ditches class. I suppose they forgot to mention that part.¡±

    ¡°How exactly did you come by these messages?¡± Bill¡¯s face darkened.

    ¡°Simple. Not all those children are as cruel and violent as those boys of yours.¡± Rosenia snapped acidly.

    That much was true. It helped that Mia was friends with one of the boys on the team. She had been with the boy when he started receiving the texts. It took some pressure but she got the boy to fess up to what was going on. Unfortunately by then the damage had already been done.

    Cynthia took the phone from the principal scanning the screen before quickly hiding a smug grin, ¡°Well this has nothing to do Kevin, he didn¡¯t say anything according to this.¡±

    The room echoed with the overlapping voices as each parent tried to out shout the other. Now they had all begun to turn on one another to protect their own children. Hurling insults and curses blaming each other''s son for coercion.

    Dugan tried pitifully to wrangle the adults that were a hair away from a brawl themselves.

    Santiago let out a shrill whistle.

    All of them spun to look at the boy.

    He motioned to John, ¡°Go for it.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Santiago.¡± John cleared his throat. ¡°Listen, given the murky circumstances and for the sake of these boys I will suspend all parties involved for three days.¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    None were satisfied with that response. Though before any could argue John quickly and firmly asserted. ¡°That decision is final. Now please, I have a meeting I am now ten minutes late for.¡±

    <hr>

    One thing Santiago had to give to the old woman is that she had good taste in cars. She did not often pull the classic car out from the garage. Which he understood had he spotted the sleek flowing lines on the candy apple red Mustang done up with chrome accents he would not have hesitated to swipe it.

    Seats upholstered in supple black leather, polished wooden steering wheel with analog gauges keeping with the theme of accented chrome on the exterior. When the engine roars to life the 1965 Ford Mustang emitted a distinct and captivating rumble. A raw blend of a power and refinement which suited the woman behind the steering wheel well.

    Santiago knew that behind that carefully crafted mask of a matronly saint there was something far less tame.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do that.¡± Santiago said.

    He meant it too. It made little difference to him whether or not he had to mill about the polished halls for hours on end.

    Rosenia clicked her tongue, ¡°You won¡¯t be driven out of that school because of their bigotry. Those boys will get what¡¯s coming to them.¡±

    ¡°Not like it matters.¡±

    ¡°It does matter, Santiago. You deserve to be there as much as any of them.¡±

    It was never about deserve. People never got what they deserved, they got what they could afford. Whether it be financially or morally.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about them or this school. This crap doesn¡¯t mean anything.¡± Santiago glowered at the blur of evergreen, the breeze whipping his curls about.

    ¡°It matters for you future, you will be able to get into a good college¡ª¡±

    Santiago let out an obnoxious laugh, ¡°College? Be for real. I¡¯m not going to college. It¡¯s a waste of time and money.¡±

    There was nothing housed behind the brick in mortar universities he wanted. Nothing but a flood of directionless young adults hopped up on caffeine and an assortment of prescriptions to carry them through sleepless nights of preparing for exams. All to earn a piece of paper that said they learned something in four years they could have learned in four weeks on youtube. With the added bonus of spending the rest of their living days struggling to crawl out from under a mountain of debt.

    ¡°That is not true. Is there nothing you have a passion for that you might want to do for a living?¡±

    Santiago grimaced, ¡°No. I know how to make money.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I asked you. I asked if there was nothing you had a passion for.¡±

    Laying his head back against the seatrest he closed his eyes. He did not want to entertain this introspective psycho analysis outside of his state mandated therapy. Though he knew he could either play along or listen to a lecture on the importance of higher education.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I used to like boxing. Wanted to go pro when I was a kid.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°Well, I imagine you had quite the talent for it.¡± She chuckled, ¡°I could see that for you. You know they have a boxing team.¡±

    ¡°No, no, no. I see what you¡¯re doing.¡± Santiago smiled, ¡°I wanted that when I was a kid. I¡¯m not a kid anymore.¡±

    ¡°Why rob yourself of something that makes you happy. You have to move forward to Santiago. Start living for yourself and the bright future you have ahead of you.¡±

    Again with the spiel he hoped he would be put down permanently before he reached the age of harping on someone about their lost potential. Counselors, social workers, teachers, foster parents, even his own mother during her lucid moments. When they screwed up their lives everyone else never got to hear the end of it. It was not his problems they had regrets. If she wanted a degree she should be registering for classes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need you to save me Rose. I¡¯m not another one of your charity cases.¡± Santiago folded his arms over his chest.

    ¡°Charity.¡± She echoed, ¡°It is not charity what I do. In this world you know well enough that for people like us at every turn where others have a clear path carved out for their success we have mountains to move before we can reach the same. It doesn¡¯t have to be this way. There is no shame in accepting help.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want it.¡± He snapped.

    ¡°What don¡¯t you want, Santiago? Help or a future?¡±

    Santiago¡¯s jaw tightened as he stared at the woman.

    He hated that they always tried to force him look into the days yet to come. Santiago did not want to. What was the point about stressing about a tomorrow that was not promised. Building up to ambitions that would never come to fruition. His reality however grim was the reality.

    Santiago had already died once. If not for a miracle he knew nothing about, that was where his story would have ended.

    A surprise to none, not even himself.

    All he ever wanted was to live a stable life with his mother. Even that was reaching. He would have settled for her safe and recovering.

    None of that would ever come to pass.

    Now all that laid in his future was being hunted by people he did not know. Pulled deeper into a world he wanted no part of.

    If he had to choose. If he had to decide on what he wanted his life to be it would not be this.

    Santiago had never let himself consider a life steered by his own desires. There was a cold hollowness in him buried deep. The one that ached for things he could not have.

    Despite how he tried to starve it, her words caught a spark in the pile of cinders. However small something in him burned with a longing for something more.

    <hr>

    Thompson sat in his office, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Bennett wanted to meet with him face to face. The last time that happened did not go well for Thompson. The older man was livid over him signing off on the release of Santiago even more so when he refused to reveal any further details about it. The fury etched into the older man''s already dour face was permanently burned into his memory.

    He had made the decision driven by his own fear. A decision that upended a young boy''s life. Thompson struggled to form words to justify his actions.

    Bennett would hear none of it. His imposing figure casted a shadow over the room. He slammed the door behind him, the sound echoed in the small space.

    ¡°What the hell were you thinking Thompson?¡± Bennett¡¯s voice boomed, ¡°You know damn well that boy needed guidance, structure, a chance at a better life and you took it away from him!¡±

    Thompson swallowed hard, his throat dry. ¡°Bennett I don¡¯t believe that I had the skills or resources to help him. I thought it was best to send him to someone who could.¡±

    ¡°That boy needed our support, Thompson, not to be cast aside like some broken toy.¡± Bennett¡¯s voice lowered, ¡°People like you are the reason kids like him fail to get the help they need. You can¡¯t cherry pick which damaged child you feel like saving to feed your hero complex. These kids have been turned away by everyone else. We¡¯re supposed to be the ones they can trust to be there for them and guide them when they lose their way.¡±

    Thompson felt a pang of guilt pierce his heart at Bennett¡¯s words. He knew deep down that Bennett was right. He let his insecurities influence his decision making. It was too late to undo what he had done. Yet, there was still a chance he could make it right.

    It was what pushed him to continue with Santiago despite his own misgivings. Thompson was glad he had heeded Bennett¡¯s words. Still it brought him no comfort to be face to face with the man again.

    ¡°Bennett, good to see you.¡± Thompson cleared his throat, ¡°I am surprised you called.¡±

    Bennett stared at him flatly for a lingering moment before digging in his pocket to procure a slim black USB. He placed it lightly on the desk that separated him from the young therapist. ¡°You were wrong about Santiago.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Thompson eyed the device and Bennett. ¡°I don¡¯t follow.¡±

    ¡°Santiago was telling the truth. He was the boy who was shot and killed by the police. Raphael Santiago doesn¡¯t exist. It¡¯s all there. Including him breaking out of the morgue.¡± Said Bennett.

    Thompson''s mouth opened and shut again, unable to form words.

    ¡°Whether you decide to help me or not I am going to find him.¡± Said Bennett darkly, ¡°People are dying. Someone is after that kid. I don¡¯t know why or what they want but he is not safe. Call me when you pull your head out of your ass.¡±

    With that the door slammed behind him echoing in the small space much like before. This time the silence rang in Thompsons ears louder than Bennett¡¯s booming voice.

    Delicately he turned the USB over in his hands wondering what exactly was he going to find on it.

 Chapter 13

    THOMPSON KNEW HE COULD no longer deny the danger that seemed to follow the boy wherever he went. Still he could not have imagined how wrong he had been about it all. The knot of guilt in his chest from the realization that he had spent the greater part of Santiago''s first few weeks gaslighting his own charge. The boy''s unwillingness to back down had forced him to try and work with what he thought were the boy''s own delusions to guide him.

    Santiago had been nothing but honest with him which drove the knife deeper into Thompsons gut for what the boy must have been going through. Trying to play the game and simply bury his pain to feed Thompson the answers that would let him go home.

    After viewing the footage provided by Bennett as horrific as it had been to witness it put things into perspective. Rosenia was less surprised by it than Thompson was only watching with a solemn graveness that replaced the warmth in her cherubian features.

    ¡°It is worse than I thought.¡± Rosenia said, ¡°I thought he was fractured, this is a full split.¡±

    Bennett and Thompson shared a bewildered look with one another.

    Rosenia sighed.

    It was not something those without magic would understand. Most thought only of what the powers they had were capable of bringing forth into the world and thought little of what it could do to the one wielding it. In excess it could damage the body but there was another danger that only those with either immense powers or long lineages were susceptible to.

    The powers themself were shaped by the wielder, their thoughts, their emotions, their physical body all played a role in how these abilities manifested. Even when a person was not fully conscious of their abilities, their powers could become reactive without conscious thought.

    This was a fracture.

    It was more often seen in children with wild emotions, little impulse control, and magic too great for their growing bodies. Powers would often run off instinct to protect them and their host from perceived threats. With training this uncontrolled response could be quelled and the fracture remedied.

    Yet this was far more complex for those with externally acquired powers.

    Powers were shaped by the wielder and every generation that powers were passed down they carried with them the remnants of the ones who held them previously. The same was true for powers taken from another. Without proper training to mend this fracturing it could lead to a break or a split.

    A split was when the powers themselves formed a consciousness of its own independently of the witch they were being housed in. A being of raw power that could threaten to overtake a witch unable to maintain control.

    ¡°So these powers turn people into killing machines.¡± Bennett gaped at the woman.

    ¡°No, not necessarily. It is affected by the wielders as I said. Unfortunately for Santaigo he came from a family of soldiers. The Santiago¡¯s were known for their physical augmentations and destructive entropic spells.¡± Rosenia shook her head, ¡°That split is the embodiment of his family''s warrior spirits dating back to his ancestors within the Aztec empire. It is doing what it was made to do, eliminate enemies.¡±

    ¡°So it saw those hospital workers as enemies?¡± Said Thomposn.

    ¡°Enemies are those that are not his people. Outsiders.¡± She said, ¡°Given how embedded the boy was in his community it was likely why it stayed as dormant as it had all these years. It wasn¡¯t until he was fully removed from it that it fully manifested past healing his wounds. In the mind of a split after being wounded so severely it was likely perceiving it as being held captive. It fought to break free.¡±

    ¡°Wes'' threats against his mother stirred it up again.¡± Bennett said.

    ¡°It is a possibility. Now that it has fully manifested once, it is more likely to do so again. It will only be a matter of time before the medallion won¡¯t be enough to keep it subdued.¡± She said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand, if it wanted to kill everything around it, why did it stop that night?¡± Said Thompson.

    ¡°Splits tend to be task oriented. They are sentient but they don¡¯t think the same way we do. They function around what they were designed to do. If Wes¡¯s threat woke it up with the threat of Wes being gone it would have gone back to sleep.¡±

    ¡°So it wasn¡¯t that woman that put him to sleep. It was when she took out the rest of the folks he was after that stopped him.¡±

    Rosenia nodded.

    ¡°That means she knew about it enough to know what would stop him.¡± Thompson frowned, ¡°Is there a way we might be able to learn who she is?¡±

    ¡°Eliana Calaveras.¡± Said Bennett.

    Both heads snapped in his direction.

    ¡°She signed in to claim Santiago¡¯s possessions after he was declared dead.¡± Said Bennett.

    ¡°That woman cannot be trusted. We have to keep her away from Santiago.¡± Rosenia said sharply.

    Thompson scratched the back of his head, ¡°That might be difficult. She is in the process of legally adopting the boy.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± Said the others in unison.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been asked to attend the court proceedings as Santiago¡¯s therapist. She¡¯s trying to take custody of him due to his mothers negligence and claiming next of kin.¡±

    ¡°Is she related to him?¡± Bennett looked to Rosenia.

    ¡°Not biologically. His father was adopted by the Calaveras when he was young.¡±

    ¡°So legally she is next of kin. Which is how he ended up in our care. She fought them on returning him to his mothers custody.¡± Said Thompson.

    ¡°With his mother still doing god knows what, she might actually win this.¡± Said Bennett, ¡°What does she want with him? Why show up now?¡±

    ¡°Because his powers are in full bloom.¡± Said Rosenia, ¡°Now is going to be the best chance anyone has of taking them from him. The longer one has powers the more difficult it is to take it against their will. The Calaveras lost much when Vicente left them.¡±

    ¡°Now¡¯s their chance to get it back.¡± Said Bennett.

    <hr>

    The difficult part of therapy was acknowledging that improvement was not the only outcome. If it was easy to turn one''s life around with a good attitude and spunk the world would be a very different place. Thompson could not help the disappointment of his young charges backsliding in behavior. Especially with the improvement Santiago had shown at school.

    It was salvageable only if they addressed it.

    This is where the problem lies.

    Santiago lived in the moment. Never looking back or forward. It was a survival mechanism. Years under the care of a derelict mother and abuse at the hands of his stepfather made it near impossible for the boy to contemplate life outside of surviving each day.

    It was no way to live.

    In Santiago it bred little sense of remorse for his actions. His reactive tendencies and explosive outburst were usually washed away by the next one. Never lingering on anything long enough to contemplate the ramifications.

    ¡°Santiago, we need to talk about what happened.¡± Thomson began, his voice firm but compassionate. ¡°You¡¯ve made great progress and I am very proud of the positive changes you were making. But this fight with those boys raises concerns. Can you tell me what led up to it?

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    ¡°It does.¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°They were talking shit.¡±

    ¡°So that was it. They said something you did not like and you beat them in a parking lot.¡±

    Santiago shrugged.

    ¡°What were you doing there in the middle of a school day.¡±

    ¡°Grabbing lunch.¡±

    ¡°School food not satisfying?¡±

    ¡°School food is fine, I didn¡¯t eat because¡ª¡± Santiago growled as he caught himself.

    This was where the game of tug-of-war began. Thompson would give a tug and the boy would give a little then he would pull back. The therapist knew he had to keep pulling if he was going to get Santiago across the line and reveal what was really hiding underneath that cool facade.

    ¡°What happened at lunch?¡±

    ¡°Some kid bumped into me. Dropped my food. I got cleaned up. Got hungry later so I went to eat. That was it.¡±

    ¡°This student was one of the boys involved in the altercation.¡± That much was not a question Thompson knew from the tight set of the boy''s jaw he was headed in the right direction. ¡°You went to eat some time after lunch. I¡¯ve already spoken with Rosenia about the fact that they followed you there. If you were defending yourself Santiago there is no shame in that.¡±

    Santiago scoffed, ¡°Those punkasses couldn¡¯t have beaten me with a baseball bat if I was blind, deaf, and dumb.¡±

    If it was not danger that pushed him then was it simply the ego of teenage boys with too much testosterone?

    Thomspon did not believe that Santaigo would have let a couple of entitled boys goad him into a fight that would cost him what he cared for most dearly.

    ¡°You know this is going to be a setback in your case.¡± Thompson prodded. The boy was staring at him but was not really looking at Thompson. Santiago was someplace else and he needed to bring him back to the present. ¡°Is getting emancipated still what you want so you can go home to be with your mother?¡±

    Santiago glowered, his eyes flashed as he gripped the armrest of the table, ¡°I won¡¯t be. She¡¯s dead.¡±

    Thompson¡¯s pen slipped from his fingers, ¡°What? Santiago, when did this happen?¡±

    This changed everything. Santaigo saw himself as her protector. His need to get back to her had been the driving force behind his willingness to heal.

    ¡°Rose said she died that night.¡± Santiago breathed, his eyes glazing over. ¡°Trying to save me.¡±

    Thompson froze.

    That was right. If that was true that likely would have made the news with how closely the media was following this case. There was no way Guadelupe was dead without Bennett finding out about it. He would have told them.

    Did Rosenia know something Thomspon did not or did Rose bold face lie to the boy?

    If she had, Thompson could feel the heat rising up his neck.

    The blow to the boy''s already fragile mental state was going to be devastating. All the progress they had made had been centered around his desire to return home. Santiago¡¯s world had been knocked out of orbit.

    ¡°Do you want to talk about that grief?¡± Thompson prodded gently.

    ¡°Talk about what? She¡¯s gone. No amount of tears is gonna change that.¡±

    ¡°Are you still comfortable with remaining in Rosenia¡¯s care for the time being?¡±

    Santiago shrugged, ¡°I don¡¯t think they want me there.¡±

    ¡°Who? Rose?¡±

    ¡°No, some of the other kids. They¡¯re afraid of me.¡±

    ¡°Because of the fight.¡±

    ¡°No, because I hurt Sylvia.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Thompson frowned another thing Rose seemed to think he should not be privy to.

    ¡°She was trying to help me practice and¡ª¡± He raised his pendant, ¡°It reacted and sent her flying, hurting her hands.¡±

    ¡°That is not your fault, Santaigo.¡±

    ¡°If I was not there it would not have happened. How is that not my fault?¡± Santiago snapped, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath as he tried to steady himself.

    There it was. The first crack in the wall between Santiago and the most vulnerable emotions he hid away behind it. He genuinely believed his presence in the lives of people around him was the root cause of all the bad things that trailed after him like a shadow.

    ¡°Did you enjoy hurting Sylvia?¡±

    Santiago¡¯s eyes flashed, ¡°No! What the hell kind of question is that?¡±

    ¡°A pointed one.¡± Thompson said simply, ¡°Accidents happen Santaigo, if we could stop all of the unexpected misfortunes in our lives then they would not be accidents. You did not intend to hurt Sylvia. You did not want to hurt her. You did not enjoy it. There is no reason you are at fault for this.¡±

    ¡°Furthermore, you assume that the other kids fear you. This is because they told you they feared you? Or you assumed that they would because you believed you were at fault and that they would think the same.?¡±

    Santiago gritted his teeth, ¡°I guess I assumed.¡±

    ¡°Now I cannot give you specifics due to doctor patient confidentiality but I do counsel the others in the house.¡± Thompson smiled, ¡°None of them have made any negative mentions of you at all. So this assumed fear and animosity only exists within you Santiago.¡±

    Santiago sat back in the chair, arms folded. It made sense how the man knew about this place. Thompson had given him a tour of the house. It never occurred to him that it was because he had not been the first kid he brought in.

    ¡°Not even Sylvia.¡± Santiago said softly.

    ¡°Quite the contrary.¡± Thompson said.

    Thompson did not miss the flicker of a smile that had pulled at the boy''s lips or the slight ease in tension. It eased him to know that he was still welcome within the house.

    That was a good sign.

    ¡°Do you wish to remain in Rosenia¡¯s home? I could make other arrangements.¡±

    Santiago paused for a moment to contemplate. Knowing now that they did not despise him for what had happened was something of a relief. This house was not his first choice though he did not want to start all over again in a new one again.

    ¡°I can stick it out here for a little while. At least until I age out.¡±

    ¡°You want to shelve the emancipation.¡±

    Santiago nodded. ¡°I got no reason to rush anymore. Not like anyones waiting on me.¡±

    ¡°How has the difference in home life been?¡±

    ¡°About what you would expect living in the slums and moving into a mansion.¡± Santiago snorted. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s nice not having to worry about the bills or rent. Sleeping is hard. It¡¯s too quiet here.¡±

    ¡°Aside from the hiccup with Sylvia your interactions with the others¡ª¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Santiago said flatly, ¡°They aren¡¯t exactly the kinda people I would normally hang with. Khalil is cool people. Skylar is chill. Sylvia is¡­soft. And Mia is a bitch.¡±

    Thompson nodded, taking up his pen making a note of Santiago¡¯s colorful takes on his new housemates. ¡°Mia and you seemed to have gotten off to a rocky start.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s snotty little¡ª¡± Santiago bit back what he was going to say at Thompson¡¯s point stare. ¡°Witch. She¡¯s been on me since day one. I didn¡¯t even do anything to her.¡±

    ¡°That could be an opportunity. Maybe you could have a conversation with her to see what exactly is her issue with you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what her issue is with me.¡±

    ¡°So we cared about what they thought when it meant driving you out of the house but we don¡¯t care what Mia thinks.¡± Thompson nodded.

    ¡°Shut up you dick!¡± Santiago shook his head with a laugh, ¡°Okay it pisses me off that she¡¯s got beef with me and I didn¡¯t earn it. But why do I have to be the one to ask when she¡¯s the one with the problem?¡±

    ¡°That is true.¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯m right.¡±

    ¡°You are right, Santiago.¡±

    Santiago dug in his pocket pulling out his phone. ¡°Imma need you to repeat that one more time so I can set it as my ringtone.¡±

    Thompson chuckled. ¡°So let¡¯s talk about Sylvia. The soft one. Is it a good soft or a bad soft.¡±

    ¡°Good. She¡¯s nice. Very girly girl type.¡± Santiago shook his head, ¡°Lots of pink.¡±

    It was a good start to push the boy''s mind to other things. Thompson had a clear idea of Santiago¡¯s pain. He knew he would have to operate from a new perspective. He needed to hear what still sparked joy inside the boy.

    Santiago¡¯s friends were a pivotal part of the boy''s life. They carried him through his most difficult hardships. He was enjoying his time making new bonds that much was clear. Santiago was sociable despite his surly demeanor.

    Perhaps it was time to bridge the gap. Santiago¡¯s old life had effectively died along with him. Everything in his world was changing. That did not mean that he needed to leave everything in his past behind. Carrying with him the hidden gems he had found along the way could be beneficial for the boy to start looking to build something new.

    ¡°Uh, I¡¯m not sure they would vibe like that.¡± Santiago rubbed the back of his head, ¡°My friends can be rough around the edges. They don¡¯t always play well with others.¡±

    ¡°Which of your new friends do you feel is the most easily likable.¡±

    ¡°Hm,¡± Santiago looked up at the styrofoam tiled ceiling, ¡°Sylvia, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Which of your friends do you think would like Sylvia the most?¡±

    ¡°Lola.¡± He snorted, she loved petite pretty girls like Sylvia.

    ¡°Perfect, then you should have the two of them meet.¡± Thompson said, ¡°That¡¯s your homework for this week.¡±

    ¡°Wait, you want me to¡ªLola is a fucking predator I can¡¯t do that to Sylvia.¡± Santiago laughed. ¡°Oh man, you¡¯re killing me Doc.¡±

    ¡°How about this? You can call Lola and tell her you¡¯re going to meet up with her or we can get a head start on our next session by delving into the layers of grief surrounding your most recent loss.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.¡± Santiago muttered as he dialed Lola on the phone.

 Chapter 14

    NATURAL LIGHT OF THE MORNING sun flowed through the open window with a gentle breeze. Sylvia was rinsing off the last dish before setting in the machine. She gasped catching sight of him out of the corner of her eye.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to scare you, I wanted to see how you were doing.¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± She closed the machine setting it to start, she held up her palms for inspection. ¡°Not even a scar.¡±

    Santiago¡¯s expression remained unchanged. ¡°I should have stopped while I was ahead.¡±

    Sylvia hated that he blamed himself for what happened. She was the one who made the dumb mistake.

    Making her way around the granite top kitchen island as she wiped the already clean surface down to avoid his gaze. She didn¡¯t blame him for what happened.

    He looked so happy when he finally made some progress. Those mossy eyes alight with a spark of joy that was a rare sight since his arrival. She believed if they could push through it would have been fine. Neither one of them could have known they were going to trip a binding spell.

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t know that was going to happen.¡± She set the rag aside, her voice soft as she tried to console him, ¡°You don¡¯t need to beat yourself up over it.¡±

    ¡°At least let me make it up to you.¡±

    ¡°You really don¡¯t have to.¡±

    He held out his arms. ¡°Whatever you want, wherever you want to go.¡±

    Sylvia could not help the hint of a smile that pulled at her face. ¡°I don¡¯t even know any places to go. I¡¯m from Florida, I¡¯ve only ever been around town.¡±

    ¡°Florida?¡± He raised a brow, ¡°You¡¯re kinda chalky to be from the sunshine state.¡±

    ¡°Screw you, I don¡¯t tan well okay.¡± She slaps his arm playfully, withdrawing her hand quickly from the firmness of his bicep. Quickly turning up her nose and looking away to feign offense and hide the redness in her face.

    ¡°Can¡¯t relate.¡± He smirked.

    ¡°Must be nice to have beautiful sun kissed bronze skin.¡±

    He pinched her cheek, ¡°Aw thank you, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re an adorable little freckled lobster.¡±

    She slapped his hand away. ¡°You¡¯re the worst!¡±

    ¡°I feel like you really get me.¡±

    She laughed, ¡°If I had to pick anything, I would like to go to a real mall. I am missing shopping.¡±

    ¡°Wal-Mart chic is not doing it for you, unbelievable.¡± He replied, motioning her along. ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll hit the mall.¡±

    ¡°Like right now?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, like right now. Somewhere you gotta be?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She sputtered. There was not. It was just so sudden. Though it didn¡¯t really matter. She could stay home and do the usual nothing she already did or go out and have fun.

    ¡°Then come on.¡± He said.

    Sylvia sipped on the taro boba tea. Each sip of the purple blend was sweet and creamy. The entrance was paved with sleek marble leading up to the spacious atrium bathed in natural light streaming through the large glass ceilings. The hum of shoppers and soft background music fill the air, blending harmoniously with the sounds of laughter and conversation.

    Clean lines and polished surfaces were integral to the design of the modern mall. Walls not occupied with ads displayed contemporary artwork. DIgital displays provided a visual feast for the scads of people milling through the structure.

    Central walkways were wide and well maintained, lined with upscale boutiques, designer stores, and renowned fashion brands. Display windows showcase the latest fashion trends to entice passersby with elegant mannequins dressed in exquisite and expensive garments.

    Santiago followed a few steps behind her with a handful of bags swaying by his side. He insisted on carrying them for her. She was waiting for him to start huffing and puffing with boredom in the ways that boys always do on her long shopping hauls.

    She was in her element. For the first time in a while since she had come out here, she felt some semblance of normalcy.

    Skylar was not exactly a mall crawler and Mia did not want anything to do with anything outside of a bookstore. They were a far cry from her girls back in Miami. They were solitary gals which she respected.

    Sylvia definitely was not and she was in desperate need for human interaction outside of the solemn witches that floated about the manor like ghosts.

    Santiago was not much of a talker though he was a good listener.

    She honestly thought he was not paying attention. Whenever she piped down thinking she bored him he would chime in with questions.

    She considered calling it quits. She started to feel a bit bad to have dragged him around. She had money to pay for things still he insisted on footing the bill. Sylvia wondered where the line of accepting generosity and flat out using someone for money was.

    Did not help her cause with the audible gasp she let out as they passed the Chanel store. It would not do any harm to look at a few things.

    The most she had ever bought from here was a perfume. Sylvia liked to come in, browse some of the looks, and try to recreate it with far more affordable options.

    Turning over the golden cage Chanel purse in her hands she admired the adorable piece shaped like a heart. Setting it back down she could not even bring herself to look at the price tag.

    ¡°You want, get it.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°You¡¯re crazy, it¡¯s so expensive.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it''s a designer bag. They don¡¯t tend to come cheap.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything I can help you with?¡± One of the staff approached them with a tight smile. She looked over the boy with barely concealed distaste.

    ¡°No, we¡¯re just leaving.¡± Sylvia snapped at the woman.

    ¡°But first can you ring up the bag for us ma¡¯am.¡± Said Santiago politely extended the purse towards the woman.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to pay for this.¡± The woman replied disbelievingly.

    ¡°Yes, I am.¡±

    Sylvia waited for him to say it was some kind of joke.

    They approached the counter and her eyes almost fell out of her head when the woman rang them up as he asked.

    How far would he take this gag?

    Santiago did not pull out his wallet this time. He dug into one of the many pockets of his olive green sweat pants and pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills.

    Both her and the clerk''s jaw dropped.

    The woman did a double take looking him over once squinting at his jacket before she flipped like a switch to the bubbly sales attendant.

    She simply watched as he dealt with the lady up at the counter taking a moment to really look at the boy. At first glance he absolutely was not someone who looked like he had that kind of money. Sylvia was no better.

    Yet as she looked at him now in one of his many oversized jackets down to his plain black sneakers she realized he was hiding that wealth in plain sight. She was not as savvy with men¡¯s fashion as she was with women but the Rick Owens sneakers were quite popular when they first hit the scene.

    As they left the store she squinted as well at the small metal patch sewed into the breast of the sweater. Half the time it was never visible with how loosely it laid over itself. There it was a whole miniature placard with the Dolce & Gabbana logo.

    Sylvia walked out with the bag hung from her shoulder still dumbfounded by what happened.

    ¡°You¡¯re crazy. You¡¯re absolutely crazy.¡±

    ¡°You wanted the bag.¡± He said simply.

    ¡°I want a lot of things, that doesn¡¯t mean I can get all of them. Where in the hell did you get all that money?¡± She whispered leaning in.

    ¡°I worked hard.¡± He replied coyly.

    ¡°Doing what?¡±

    ¡°A little of this, a little of that.¡± Santiago shrugged, ¡°Had to keep the lights on. Ma, was never good at holding down a job.¡±

    ¡°You take care of your mom.¡± She smiled softly.

    ¡°I did, yeah.¡± He bowed his head, ¡°For all the good it did.¡±

    ¡°How do you mean?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s dead.¡± He replied simply not even skipping a step as he passed.

    Sylvia stopped. Watched him march ahead before she hurriedly rushed to his side as he left out the entrance to the parking garage.. A cold wave hit her like a bucket of ice water being dumped on her head.

    ¡°What? I thought you were going to go home.¡± Her voice echoed loudly in the open carport.

    ¡°So did I. Rosenia didn¡¯t want to tell me that wasn¡¯t gonna happen.¡±

    ¡°She let you think she was still alive.¡± Sylvia gaped, ¡°I can¡¯t believe she would do that.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t blame her. People look at me like a ticking time bomb. She probably thought I¡¯d snap and hurt someone.¡±

    Santiago really believed that.

    He was rough around the edges to be sure. Yet, from all Sylvia had seen of him he was a good person. While he was not a warm and welcoming personality, he was incredibly kind. ¡°No, you¡¯re not like that.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t I though? That¡¯s what got me here, it¡¯s what got my mom killed.¡± Santiago¡¯s jaw tightened, ¡°I lose my shit and people get hurt. I wish I would have stayed dead.¡±

    Wide eyed she froze as she stared at his back, unsure of what to say or do.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    What could she say? She did not know him. Or the depth of the loss he felt. There was so much pain bubbling under the surface it was palpable in the air like a thick miasma threatening to smother him.

    Her hands trembled as she reached for him. Delicate fingers brushed the palms of his clenched fist.

    At her touch he loosened his grasp to let the girl entwine her fingers with his.

    With her free hand she reached up to cup his face gently turning him to face her.

    She burst into tears before he did.

    How could she not? Looking into the face of a boy whose only hope of returning home had fallen apart. It felt like a knife in the chest to know she could do nothing to make it better.

    His hand gripped hers tightly, head bowed to rest on her shoulder as he wept. ¡°I can¡¯t¡ª I can¡¯t do this without her.¡±

    A strong arm pulled her closer and his whole body shook.

    She cried with him. She cried for him. Until neither one had any more tears left to shed. Until her hand ached in his grasp.

    Sylvia sniffled, wiping at the wetness on her cheeks, frowned as she looked at him.

    Santiago stared at her for a long moment before he snorted and looked away.

    ¡°What?!¡± Sylvia gasped, scuttling over to a rearview mirror of a nearby car. Eyes red and puffy from crying matched her blotchy red face that peeked out from the foundation that had muddy black mascara trails down past her chin. She stamped her feet as she wailed at him, ¡°Santiago! How dare you! I cried for you and you laugh at me. I look like a drowned rat!¡±

    Santiago had his back to her resting his head against a concrete pillar. He was trying so hard to hold himself together but the thought of how ridiculous she looked sent him into near hysterics. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡ª I can¡¯t.¡±

    They walked in silence until they reached the street. Sylvia''s face puffed in a pout as after she managed to scrub off what she could in the mall restroom. The redness had moved from her face to her ears.

    Syliva would get him back. No matter how long it took she would plot ways to get back at him for his mockery.

    ¡°That would probably go better if you didn¡¯t announce your plans.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°Hush! You do not get to listen to my evil monologue. You are my villain origin story, you bastard.¡± She bared her teeth at him.

    He stifled a chuckle.

    ¡°Stop thinking about my face!¡±

    Santiago cackled as the girl swatted his arm until she stood huffing and puffing. ¡°You done.¡±

    She glared at him smacking him one last time. ¡°Hmph, now I¡¯m done.¡±

    She stalked off looking quite proud of herself. He didn¡¯t have the heart to tell her she was mostly striking layers of fabric.

    After she got her tantrum out of her system Sylvia was back to her usual bubbly self. Rambling on about the time she tried to go blonde and half her hair fell out. She had not really been paying attention where they were walking as she did not know her own way around.

    They came to a stop at the bus station near the Mayden parking garage. The sprawling apartment complex was a block chain of brick red and white. Nestled beneath it was a corner store and coffee shop that left the air with a lingering hit of coffee grounds. The brick sidewalk was lined with shrub gardens each with a tree that was varying shades of yellow and orange.

    ¡°Hey, we¡¯re gonna need to take a raincheck on lunch. You head back home.¡± Santiago handed her the bags before she could protest. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up with you later.¡±

    ¡°Wha¡ª Hey!¡± Syliva stamped her foot, ¡°What the hell.¡±

    She watched him vanish through the crowd. In a huff she sat on the streetcar bench and when it arrived planted herself in a seat.

    <hr>

    When Thompson had said he was able to set up a meeting with the mysterious Eliana Calaveras none of them knew what to expect. Rosenia had dismissed the idea entirely saying that the wicked woman would doubtful even show up and was more likely to send some manner of henchmen in her stead. Thompson was insistent they should handle this by the book. The evidence they had was circumstantial, nothing they could take to the police.

    Bennett simply paid attention. People say plenty about themselves without ever speaking a word.

    Rosenia, a wise and proud woman, carried herself with grace. Swathed in vibrant robes and intricate jewelry of her Romani heritage. Her soft features held a gentle warmth yet there were moments when her dark eyes were hard like obsidian. The type of woman people often mistook kindness for weakness at their own peril.

    Thompson was intelligent and painfully optimistic. His obtuse dedication to everything he threw himself into was apparent in his piety and encyclopedic-like knowledge of psychology and sociology. It was obvious overcompensation for his lack of acknowledgement growing up. He had a need to prove himself to who or why was an answer only Thompson could give. For all his prying into other peoples past the man never once mentioned a single relative in all the time Bennett had known him.

    An unlikely pair and weirder still when you parked the burly war vet between the two of them. Even Thompson in his neatly pressed suit looked out of place in the lobby of the five-star hotel.

    Sleek paneled floors in neutral shades of gray and brown stone tiling the gloss so pristine the wide hall was mirrored in it. A gas fireplace was recessed behind a plush leather setting. The two concierges in their navy blazers perched behind the marble desk welcomed them with equally gleaming white smiles.

    ¡°We¡¯re here to meet with Ms. Calaveras.¡± Said Thompson softly as though someone in the empty lobby might hear.

    The girl with the neatly pinned bun hopped to her feet, ¡°Right this way. I¡¯ll take you to the Maple room.¡±

    The elevator hardly made a sound before depositing them on the second floor. A small hall behind which were numerous doors. They were led to the right, stopping before two double doors.

    Two men about the size and stature of Bennett waited silently outside. They did not look at them or say a word. The only acknowledgement of their presences was when they each took a handle and opened the doors for the party to pass through.

    Gracefully illuminated by sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling window the room was spacious along one wall, a banquet table laden with pastries and a colorful array of fruit. An attendant stood at the ready beside a cart loaded with ice buckets and bottles of everything from sparkling cider to champagne. A table was centered with one occupant seated facing them.

    Eliana sat with a practiced poise, her amber gaze followed them with the same bored intrigue a tiger would have for a mouse. Heavy earrings matched the thick gold collar embellished with turquoise, chains hung between the slope of her breast coiled around a gleaming gem. A delicate hand cradled the slender stem of her champagne flute.

    ¡°Please, have a seat.¡± With a sweeping motion of a manicured hand three chairs turned away from the table, she snapped her fingers pointedly.

    The attendant hurried over, ¡°What can I get you to drink?¡±

    ¡°Lemonade is fine.¡± Bennett said with a polite nod. The girl filled his glass with the pitcher.

    Rosenia simply raised a hand in a gentle declination.

    ¡°Oh, um¡ª¡± Thompson smiled bashfully, grateful for his deep complexion hiding the scarlet flush. ¡°I¡¯ll have what she¡¯s having.¡±

    ¡°Demi-Sec. Get him the tiramisu, they pair beautifully.¡± Eliana peachy painted lips pulled into a sly smile.

    When the attendant fluttered off back to her station across the room, silence fell once more.

    Eliana gave each a measured once over before her sharply lined eyes fell on the elder witch. ¡°Rosenia, you¡¯ve aged.¡±

    Rosenia''s withdrawn expression did not falter as she stared down the woman across the table. ¡°Why have you come here Eliana?¡±

    ¡°I despise when people ask questions they already know the answers to. It is a waste of your time and more importantly mine.¡± Eliana said.

    Rosenia and Eliana had a history that was certain. Rosenia had given little details but made no efforts to hide her disdain. She did not trust her nor her motives behind wanting to take Santiago away.

    ¡°Why do you wish to take Santiago from his home?¡± Thompson said.

    ¡°Home?¡± She scoffed, ¡°A curious word for that roach infested hovel that drunk druggie whore kept him penned in.¡±

    Bennett''s eyes widened, the malice behind those words spoke volumes. This was definitely personal for her. It made some modicum of sense given that Santiago¡¯s father was raised in her home. He supposed he would have little love for the person that allowed the things that happened to the boy.

    ¡°You will not abscond with Santiago to lock him away in the Calaveras house.¡± Rosenia replied coldly.

    ¡°You make it sound like a prison.¡± Said Eliana.

    ¡°It may as well be given what it costs.¡± Rosenia said.

    ¡°You speak so confidently of things you know nothing of. The boy would know more freedom there than he ever had here. Dropped from one cage to another.¡± Eliana sneered, ¡°At least I would offer him a choice which is more than I can say for you a lot.¡±

    Rosenia bristled, ¡°Don¡¯t play the selfless savior this has never been about his well being.¡±

    ¡°I would never dream of stealing your cherished false face, Rosenia.¡± Eliana feigned being appalled, ¡°You¡¯re correct it was never about his well being it was about honoring Vicente¡¯s wishes. Now that is no longer possible so I will bring Santiago back to the Calaveras home where he belongs.¡±

    ¡°He will never leave without his mother.¡± Said Thompson.

    ¡°I will deal with Guadalupe in due time.¡± She replied dourly.

    ¡°You will not harm¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t presume to tell me what I will or will not do.¡± Eliana snapped acidly. ¡°You have no place here hag. Mind your tongue.¡±

    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what all this¡ª¡± Bennett motioned broadly between the two women, ¡°¡ª Is and I really don¡¯t care. I am here about Santiago because I do care about what happens to him. I don¡¯t like the idea of handing him over to someone who murdered three people in cold blood and can sit here enjoying cakes like it¡¯s fucking Sunday brunch.¡±

    ¡°Four.¡± Eliana said.

    ¡°What?¡± Said Bennett.

    ¡°Four including your friend I carved up like Thanksgiving dinner.¡± She smiled smugly.

    Bennett¡¯s jaw tightened as he glowered at the callous woman. She did not have a shred of remorse. Sean had simply been in the way like another piece of upended furniture. There was no way Santiago would be safe with her all it would take is one mood swing and his blood would be an inconvenient stain in her persian rugs.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡ª Did you just admit to murdering four people.¡± Thompson gaped. ¡°We have to report this¡ª¡±

    ¡°To the police.¡± Eliana finished. ¡°Those badged buffoons are only competent at catching the clap. One you will never find concrete evidence. Two even if I handed you the blade I used to kill the man you¡¯d be dead before you could tap nine.¡±

    Thompson¡¯s jaw hung open as he stared at the woman. ¡°You¡ªYou can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°You can rest easy, if I wanted you dead you¡¯d be dead.¡± She replied simply. ¡°What I want is very simple. I want to bring Santiago to the home he deserves away from this sordid mildewing hellscape his mother dragged him off to.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Said Bennett.

    She was so adamant about wanting Santiago. Clearly she could have come for him any time. To wait until after he was dead and miraculously revived was strange. It was possible that she might not have known he had powers that were unlikely. If it was all about power then she could have simply stolen the boy when he was too young to fight or remember being taken.

    ¡°Because it¡¯s what I should have done in the first place.¡± For the first time an emotion flickered behind those topaz eyes, ¡°I digress, I was young and foolish. Santiago paid for that with his life. I intend to correct my mistakes.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about the kid if you think he¡¯s going to go along with this.¡± said Bennett.

    Santiago was not a pushover. Powers or no he would not make it easy for anyone who tried to force him to do anything.

    ¡°I can be very convincing.¡± Eliana said.

    ¡°I take it you know how to fix the split that is happening with his powers.¡± Said Thompson eager to get the conversation back on track. Arguing about why was pointless. The woman made it clear what she wanted and what she was willing to do to get it. They needed answers.

    ¡°I do. It is not easy. It requires balance. Energy integration. Physical conditioning. Mental discipline.¡± Eliana held up her glass as the attendant tipped the bottle refilling it with the bubbling liquid.

    ¡°We could help with that.¡± Said Thompson.

    ¡°You¡¯ve done a fine job of helping him thus far. He can barely handle normal issues, much less the battle of wills that will be gaining dominion over power that is centuries old.¡± Eliana laughed, her gaze falling pointedly at Rosenia, ¡°Your training is going to cause the boy to lose himself entirely. You couldn¡¯t even accurately identify his split. You¡¯re losing your touch.¡±

    ¡°We are all here because in some capacity we want Santiago to have a better life than what he has up until now. Can we all agree on that?¡± Thompson looked pointedly around the table at the unamused faces.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Said Rosenia.

    Bennett grunted.

    Elina gave a nod.

    ¡°That is a common ground. We can build off of this. Work together¡ª¡± Started Thompson.

    ¡°Absolutely not.¡± Rosenia snapped.

    Thompson rubbed his temples, ¡°Rosenia, please. This isn¡¯t about us. Whatever personal vendetta you have, you can lay it to bed for his sake.¡±

    ¡°You cannot trust this woman.¡± Said Rosenia.

    ¡°Why?¡± Bennett replied curtly. He did not trust Eliana at all but he only mistrusted Rosenia slightly less. Rosenia was wise and knew much but shared very little. Bennett did not like that.

    Rosenia sat silently turning away.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be shy, Rosenia, you can tell them the truth.¡± Eliana smiled, taking a long sip before setting down her empty glass. ¡°I killed her daughter.¡±

    Rosenia¡¯s eyes flashed as her gaze spun back to Eliana.

    ¡°Wha¡ªWhy?¡± Thompson''s voice cracked, he quickly drank down the contents of his own glass.

    ¡°You hope that she can mend Santiago¡¯s split, she has already failed once before. Her daughter was consumed by her own powers and even then after all the carnage she unleashed she still couldn¡¯t do what needed to be done.¡± Eliana stared back at the woman flatly, ¡°So I did.¡±

    Rosenia rose from the table and briskly stormed from the room.

    ¡°Always a pleasure Rose, I¡¯ll see you soon.¡± Eliana called after the retreating woman.

    Thompson tossed the cloth napkin on to the table trotting after the older woman. ¡°Rosenia wait!¡±

    Bennett sat for a lingering moment locking eyes with the woman across the table. ¡°This is not going to end the way you think it is.¡±

    Eliana rested her head in the palm of her hand, her eyes narrowed with the gleaming white grin that spread across her face. ¡°It¡¯s truly amusing that you believe that to be true.¡±

 Chapter 15

    DUMPING THE GIRL OFF in the middle of an unfamiliar city was not something he wanted to do. Still, Santiago needed to separate himself from her.

    Santiago knew a lot of people in this city.

    Sometimes that was not such a good thing.

    At first he had written it off when they left the parking garage. Across the street he saw a boy he thought he recognized. No words were exchanged, Santiago simply gave him a nod of recognition which the guy returned.

    Still he could not shake the nagging feeling that crawled up his spine.

    Walking side by side with his companion, Santiago thought he caught sight of the same man yet between the clusters of pedestrians it was impossible to distinguish.

    Brushing off the unease, thinking it was his imagination playing tricks on him. Afterall, he had been wound up over Rosenia¡¯s vague warnings.

    It was when they turned onto a quiet street that his heart skipped a beat. Again, there he was. Squat man with a slight hunch trailing far enough behind it evades suspicion.

    Santiago¡¯s first instinct was to confront him, but he thought better of it. There were a million and one things that could come of that and while he was ready to handle it Santiago had no intention of putting Sylvia in it.

    Santiago stole glances over his shoulder, every so often to catch a glimpse of his pursuer. Keeping him in sight the same way they were watching him.

    He kept the conversation light. Kept her laughing as he led her to the bus stop. She never noticed a thing. Santiago figured she would be upset with him. He would come up with a lie later, he needed her out of the line of fire.

    ¡°What¡¯s good Santiago?¡± Wesley¡¯s crooked teeth pulled into a smug grin, ¡°Told you I¡¯d see you on the outside.¡±

    Santiago tilted his chin up, ¡°Walk away Wes, you don¡¯t want none. I already put you in the hospital once.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well I got more than a brick this time.¡± He smirked as he flashed the gun tucked into his pants.

    Santiago laughed, ¡°Oh man is that why you got balls now. You got a gun. Go ahead, you better hit something vital ¡®cause if you don¡¯t I will.¡±

    Wesley brandished the pistol at him, ¡°I¡¯m gonna smoke your ass.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t threaten me with a good time.¡± Santiago sneered.

    ¡°Santiago!¡± Sylvia shrieked.

    All heads spun towards her.

    Any resemblance of a smile was gone now.

    In one quick lunge he caught Wesley¡¯s wrist in one hand and brought his elbow down on his shoulder forcing the gun from his hand.

    Santiago turned the gun over in his hands. ¡°Really? Broke ass couldn¡¯t even afford a clip.¡±

    Wes clutched his shoulder in pain. ¡°Fuck you, Santiago.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Santiago barked, ¡°Take your hands off her.¡±

    Sylvia cried out as the man grabbed her roughly by the hair. He was not too much taller than the girl enough to see over her head from where he stood behind her and he was twice as wide. His hands were large enough to cover her entire neck in one meaty palm. ¡°Oh hell no. I got a score to settle with you Santiago.¡±

    ¡°Who the hell is this guy?¡± He motioned to Wes.

    He jostled Sylvia as he hollered,¡°You fucked my girl!¡±

    Santiago stared blankly for a moment, ¡°I gotta be honest with you man that doesn¡¯t really narrow things down for me much.¡±

    ¡°You a hoe Santiago.¡± Wes sniped.

    ¡°Shut up, Wes!¡± Santiago ran a hand over his face, ¡°Look. She doesn¡¯t have anything to do with any of this. Let her go and you and I can handle this.¡±

    He pulled a silver pocket knife holding it to the girl¡¯s neck.

    Santiago made a step forward freezing when he pressed hard enough to draw blood.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Wesley hollered, ¡°The fuck is wrong with you. You got beef handle that shit don¡¯t hide behind a bitch. This not what we talked about.¡±

    ¡°These your people, Wes.¡± Santiago glared at him.

    A resounding crack echoed down the back street.

    Both Santiago and Wes jolted as the knife wielding assailant crumpled to the ground, the back of his head bloodied from where the bat hit him.

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    Lola between her darkly lined lips gum popped audibly, swinging the aluminum bat in her heavily ringed hand. Tinted carefully carved brows furrowed over her upturned eyes. ¡°Back from the dead and already starting shit. You good girl?¡±

    Sylvia nodded, rubbing the back of her head as she stared down at the unconscious boy.

    ¡°Lolo,¡± Santiago beamed affectionately, he gave the girl a half hug before he went to check Sylvia over. ¡°What are you doing here? I told you to go home.¡±

    ¡°I saw those guys following you.¡± Sylvia shot back her face had lost all its color. Her head buzzed, heart still pounding in her chest.

    ¡°And?¡± Santiago said, ¡°You¡¯re ninety pounds soaking wet. There ain¡¯t no heroes in the hood. Next time, call the cops.¡±

    ¡°Aw, this your girl now. Finally taking my advice to stop sticking your dick in crazy.¡± Said Lola procured an envelope from the pocket of her oversized dickies handing it over he tucked it away quickly.

    ¡°No, it ain¡¯t like that.¡± Santiago brushed her off, ¡°Sylvia, sorry about that. I was trying to keep you out of this mess.¡±

    ¡°Whatever,¡± She muttered miserably, her throat ached like she had been screaming the entire time though she had barely made a peep. ¡°I¡¯m thirsty and need a nap.¡±

    ¡°Right, I owe you lunch.¡± He said.

    ¡°You buying us lunch that¡¯s so sweet.¡± Lola smiled wide hoops in her ears and swung as she threw her arm around the slighter girl¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯m buying her lunch. I can¡¯t afford to pay for your fat ass.¡± Santiago ducked her swing.

    ¡°Yo! I want lunch!¡± Called Wes from the floor.

    ¡°Fuck off, Wes!¡± Santiago hollered as they left the boy behind.

    <hr>

    The interior of the diner was cozy and inviting. Walls adorned in vintage signs and photographs that told stories of a bygone era. The space was filled with an eclectic mix of mismatched tables and chairs, each with its own character and history. The worn-out wooden floors creaked gently underfoot, added to the charm of the place.

    Behind the counter stood a friendly and energetic staff, bustling about with a warm smile. The open kitchen allowed them to catch a glimpse of the cooks crafting burgers on a well-seasoned grill.

    Sylvia had a million and one questions as to what was going on.

    Who were those guys?

    Why did they want to hurt Santiago?

    What was in the envelope?

    Why was this girl carrying around a bat?

    She eyed the small pink line on the side of her neck in the reflection on the napkin dispenser. That was the most terrifying thing that had ever happened to her. Meanwhile, the two of them were sitting in a diner booth laughing like it was another Tuesday.

    She jumped feeling the tap on her hand.

    He raised a brow, ¡°Maybe we should get you home.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m good. I zoned out for a second.¡± Why she said that she had no idea. She should go home. What exactly was she going to tell Rose about this? Should she tell her at all?

    There would be no point all she would do is worry and it would get Santiago in trouble.

    None of them were really hurt after all.

    ¡°Everyone is going to lose their minds when I tell them you¡¯re back.¡± Lola stuffed another fry in her mouth all while managing not to smudge the darkly painted lips. ¡°I thought I was going crazy when I heard your voice on the phone.¡±

    Sylvia was thankful the girl pulled his focus away from herself.

    ¡°They still think I¡¯m dead?¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°Alejo saw you, man. He heard the gunshots. He got there before the paramedics.¡± She shook her head, ¡°He¡¯s been really messed up over it.¡±

    ¡°What happened to the house?¡± He asked.

    Lola grimaced, ¡°We took what we could, but that slumlord dick threw everything out after it happened.¡±

    Of course he did. No one left to line his pockets, not like he was going to hold it for anyone. They had no family with both of them gone. Santiago doubted he waited for the lease to expire.

    Alejandro, he had no idea what kind of a mess his friend had walked in on. Who would be around to tell any of them he came back from the dead and got whisked away from the hospital. ¡°I want to see everyone.¡±

    ¡°For sure, we¡¯ll have a kickback at my place tomorrow. Bring your bathing suit, freckles.¡± She snapped her fingers at Sylvia.

    Sylvia covered her mouth as she coughed. ¡°I¡¯m invited.¡±

    ¡°Of course, the more the merrier.¡±

    Towering trees line the streets, their branches reaching towards each other forming a verdant canopy overhead. Vibrant flowers in various hues dot the impeccably manicured lawns.

    The walk home was fairly quiet. The two were rather tired after the day''s events though the most exhausting part had been the bus ride home. A bad accident had back traffic up so bad they were stuck on public transit two hours longer than they should have been.

    The soft, warm glow as dusk settled with the aroma of freshly cut grass and blossoms was making it difficult for Santiago to keep his eyes open. A few yaps from a neighbor''s dog as he charged the iron gates all two pounds of furs bounced and growled with fury.

    Sylvia cooed over the feisty creature.

    Tucking his arms behind his head they walked up to the drive and both froze in place. A police cruiser was parked out front and the officers were on the porch speaking with Rosenia.

    The woman caught sight of them and she let out a sigh of relief pushing past the officers to meet them halfway up the drive. She pulled them both close whispering urgently. ¡°Sylvia go inside. Santiago say nothing.¡±

    Sylvia did as she was told, looking back at Santiago who gave her nod.

    There was no way the police knew what happened. Those guys were not the type to go to the police.

    Sylvia kept glancing back at the closed door as she entered the house.

    Mia sat in the living room glued to the television, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

    Skylar sat cross legged on the recliner gnawing on her thumbnail.

    Sylvia turned her attention to the screen and her blood ran cold.

    Faces etched with shock and disbelief at the news report unfolding before them delivering devastating news. Bellevue academy''s basketball team on their wait to the championship had been involved in an accident.

    Mia¡¯s heart sank, her eyes welling with tears. Her friend had been on that bus.

    No survivors. It echoed like a haunting refrain piercing the hearts of the girls witnessing it. An ongoing investigation was announced over the screen displaying the images of mangled wreckage.

    Sylvia leaned over the couch to wrap her arms around Mia¡¯s shoulders and the dam burst. The girl was racked with sobs gripping tightly on Sylvia''s arms.

    Skylar shut off the television. The screen faded to black leaving behind a lingering sense of emptiness.

 Chapter 16

    TAWNY STRANDS BRUSHED the wood panels of the floor from where it dangled off the bed. Sylvia laid across the mattress sunk into the plush duvet, head tilted back to stare upside at the bedroom door. Clutching the ruffled satin throw pillow to her chest she plucked at the fabric.

    The light through the pink sheer curtains bounced off the crystal chandelier that hung above her and bathed the room in a peachy starlight. She adored the antique furniture of Rosenia¡¯s home and was elated when the woman allowed her to have the pieces in her room repainted white. In the attic she had found gorgeous dust covered antique mirrors and candlesticks. With a bit of love and polish she had them sparkling and now accented the pastel florals that stretched the length of her walls.

    Despite the pride she took in every detail that embellished the first bedroom she did not have to share, it was not her decor that plagued her thoughts. There was so much to process about the outing with Santiago.

    She could have been killed. Though she was alive.

    She could have been hurt. Though she was unharmed.

    Sylvia struggled with the thoughts of what could have been. Meanwhile chiding herself for focusing on what never was.

    How can you be upset about bad things not happening?

    Shelving that inner monologue she focused on the questions she could answer. Or rather wanted to answer.

    What happened with the police last night?

    What was in that envelope?

    She could ask. She should ask.

    Though if it was something illicit he would obviously lie. Then she would never know.

    Given the wild situation with those thugs the envelope could have had something to do with it. It could be drugs.

    It would explain how he had so much money.

    She did not know him that well. All she knew was that he loved his mother very much and that he worked hard to take care of her. Which was strange in itself because a mother should care for the son. Unless she was sick.

    The very thought brought tears pooling in her eyes. Working so hard to get back home to take care of his mom and her dying of an illness.

    That could be it. Though if it was then he would not need to do what he did before.

    Raising her legs up past her head she rolled off the bed onto her feet. The sudden rush of blood from her head down threw her off balance and she fell into her closet door.

    ¡°Ow.¡± Sylvia rubbed her shoulder, suddenly the idea of sneaking into his room did not seem like the best idea. Giving up before she even started she toddled off to the restroom down the hall.

    She screamed, nearly colliding with him on the way out.

    ¡°Yo, it¡¯s just me.¡± Santiago held up his hands.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± She squinted at him suspiciously.

    Santiago pointed behind her, ¡°Was hoping to take a shower. If that¡¯s okay with you, Warden?¡±

    ¡°I guess, I¡¯ll allow it. ¡° She turned her nose up walking back to her room, arms crossed, the floppy ends of her oversized sweater swayed as she marched off.

    She had reached her bedroom doorway when she heard the water start running. Her heart pounded in her chest. Now was her chance.

    Scuttling down the hall tiptoeing despite the fact that she was in knee high socks on carpeted runners she reached his door. A jiggle of the doorknob to test if it was locked told her she was good to go.

    Quickly she ran in closing the door quietly behind her. She let out a long breath.

    ¡°Where would he keep it?¡± She whispered to no one in particular.

    She checked his drawers only finding socks and boxers. Some sunglasses, deodorant, and an abundance of perfume. She sniffed at one it smelled of jasmine, vanilla and that muskiness of men''s cologne.

    She set it back and pushed the door shut quickly. Sylvia had limited time and the boys showered fast. She had to get in and get out.

    The drawers were a no go. Nothing in his nightstand except for his chain and his wallet. Closet only contained his garments and shoes.

    She tapped her foot scanning the room. The bed.

    Getting down on her hands and knees she saw that there was a large duffle back under it. This was it.

    Dragging it out the whizz of the zipper made her heart race as she pulled it open. Inside she found a make-up bag. Or what looked like one of her make up bags. Squared with a strap to sling around your shoulders. it was all black a far cry from her floral print.

    There was not makeup in the bag. It was a camera.

    Turning it over in her hands she did not know anything about cameras but she knew that the ones that had the long lenses took great photos and cost a lot of money.

    Santiago was into photography. He had not mentioned that. Perhaps he was shy about it.

    She could not resist the urge to see what the boy''s artistic muse was. Landscapes? People watching? Maybe animal photography?

    Turning it on she clicked through photos. There were people definitely though the angles were not exactly flattering of the couple. She never understood how old ugly men ended up with such pretty girls. Flicking through the photos of the pair around town going to fancy restaurants, designer shopping, expensive cars.

    Well, Sylvia supposed that answered her question. Still there was not enough money in the world that could make her love a wrinkly old prune that was old enough to be her grandpa.

    She gasped covering the camera screen with her hand. The next photograph had been taken through a window. She could have gone the rest of her life without seeing as much of that man as was now burned into her retinas.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± Sylvia croaked, as she flicked through the photos in quick succession. There were more than those two. Couples being followed and very personal photographs. She clicked the button taken in a dimly lit club.

    Eyes wide she held it up closer seeing the man snorting what she assumed was cocaine.

    She clutched the device between her palms expectantly as it was going to chime in and explain what any of this meant.

    Looking ahead she screamed, dropping the camera back into the bag.

    In the floor length mirror on the wall was Santiago standing behind her. Arms folded over his bare chest, a navy blue towel tucked around his waist as he stared disapprovingly down at her.

    ¡°Find what you were looking for?¡±

    Sylvia smiled apologetically. Frantically she wracked her brain for an excuse for what could possibly explain why she was rifling through his personal belongings that was not she assumed he was a criminal and was hoping to find proof.

    She could tell him the truth and then he would hate her forever. Or she could lie and he would hate her forever.

    He snapped his fingers beside her ears bringing her attention back. ¡°I¡¯m not a snake. I can still see you if you don¡¯t move.¡±

    ¡°Sorry. I panicked¡± Sylvia laughed.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing in here?¡±

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Sylvia said.

    ¡°Are you high?¡±

    ¡°Maybe?¡±

    He stared at her flatly. ¡°Get up.¡±

    She groaned, clambering to her feet. ¡°I just¡ª I was trying to¡ªWHAT WAS IN THE ENVELOPE?!¡±

    Santiago eyed the girl with blatant annoyance. Moving around her he crouched down to reach in the bag and pulled out the envelope handing it to her. ¡°There. Happy now?¡±

    She squeezed the thick envelope, it was not sealed so she flipped the lip to reveal a band of hundred dollar bills. ¡°Money.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t sound so disappointed.¡± Santiago sauntered over to his bedside squirting lotion into his palms rubbing down his arms. ¡°Were you hoping for weed? Or something harder?¡±

    She gaped, ¡°I don¡¯t know what I was expecting. I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Needed to be nosey.¡±

    She pouted, ¡°I wanted to make sure you weren¡¯t doing anything bad.¡±

    ¡°And if I was, what would you have done?¡± Santiago shrugged, ¡°Snitched on me to Rose. Or were you going girlboss me onto the straight and narrow?¡±

    She stiffened indignantly resting her hands on her hips. ¡°You don¡¯t know. I could have told you very sternly not to do it.¡±

    ¡°If only anyone had ever given me a stern talking to.¡± Santiago chuckled, ¡°You¡¯re on to some groundbreaking shit here.¡±

    ¡°I needed to know okay!¡± Sylvia stared at her feet, her faint reflection stared back at her in the rich polished wood. ¡°It didn¡¯t matter what was in it. I needed to think about something else.¡±

    Santiago stared at the petite girl curling in on herself. ¡°Still shook up from the alley.¡±

    She stiffened her soft brown eyes locked with his.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, you know. To be scared.¡± He said, ¡°It¡¯s why I was trying to keep you out of it. You¡¯re not built for that shit.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not weak.¡± She snapped.

    ¡°I never said you were.¡± Santiago replied. ¡°If you asked I would have told you. I don¡¯t got a reason to lie.¡±

    Sylvia chewed her lip, ¡°What¡¯s the deal with those pictures?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s one way I make money. Rich people do dumb shit. Cheat on their spouses. Have secret families. Do drugs. Pick up hookers. They think they''re untouchable.¡± Santiago smiled, ¡°I like to remind them that they''re not.¡±

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    ¡°So you¡¯re like a private eye.¡±

    He gave a dry laugh, ¡°Something like that. It¡¯s safer than some other stuff.¡±

    ¡°What if someone sees you? What if they tried to hurt you?¡± Her nails bit into the palm of her hand beneath the knit sleeves.

    ¡°To people like them I¡¯m invisible.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s horrible.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good business.¡±

    Sylvia had her answers and a thousand more questions.

    Santiago was nothing if not interesting. There was still so much she did not know about him. Unlike the rest he was actually willing to open up. It felt good to finally have someone that wanted to talk without feeling like an annoyance.

    Sylvia smiled.

    He did say all she had to do was ask.

    <hr>

    It seemed as though the chaos that had started since Santiago¡¯s return to life was spreading. Thompson knew it was not the boys fault by any means but it was undeniable that he was a catalyst. Thompson was unsure that this particular calamity had anything to do with Santiago despite the accusatory fingers that were being pointed at him.

    Thompson was truly baffled that grown adults were accusing Santiago of something so heinous. It was insane to think the boy could have caused a pile up on one of the busiest highways and slipped away without anyone noticing. The boy could not skip class without them hearing about it.

    When tragedies happen people seek something to blame. It was easier than accepting that terrible things do happen.

    ¡°I don''t think this was an accident.¡± Said Bennett, ¡°It was too clean.¡±

    ¡°Clean,¡± Thompson echoed, his breath hitched. ¡°What about a bus full of dead children is clean?¡±

    Bennett had looked into it especially when he found out Santiago was being accused of involvement. The bus had been a husk with nothing left but blackened warped bars of the steel frame that had clung together. While the vehicles surrounded were only damaged by ramming into one another trying to evade the explosion that engulfed the bus.

    He had seen what explosives were capable of when set off in a vehicle. The carnage left behind.

    Not a drop of blood escaped the inferno. Not a piece of shrapnel. It was like the fire erupted around and swallowed them up like gasoline soaked kindling. The level of heat it would take to do something like that in such a brief few moments was impossible to have been accidental or natural.

    ¡°It was an incineration spell for sure.¡± Rosenia breathed looking over the photographs, running her finger along the bottom of the photograph tracing the blackened ring. ¡°That warping of the asphalt that is a trace of the ignition boundary for the spell.¡±

    ¡°So magic could do this.¡± Thompson said in awe looking over the photos to try and pick out some of the details they seemed to find so naturally amongst the mess of scorched metal.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Rosenia frowned her gaze far off.

    Bennett snapped his fingers, ¡°None of that. Bring it back Rose, what are you thinking?¡±

    She swatted his hand away with a smile, ¡°It¡¯s not an easy thing. People think magic, they think bippity boppity boo and it¡¯s done.¡± She shook her head, ¡°The amount of power for a spell of that size to take effect that quickly is a feat in itself. The skill and the intelligence is another.¡±

    Fire is capable of devouring anything if the flames burn hot enough. The fire used to light candles is not the same flame you would use to weld metal. An incineration spell is meant to do exactly what it sounds like. It was simple enough when you have a basic target. Typically one would direct at say a pile of wood or perhaps even a human being. The intensity needed to burn one or the other differs.

    Each layer would require a different level of heat to incinerate the material being burned. Fabric, flesh, plastic, rubber, steel. To consume them all and scorch them to cinders simultaneously was a truly impressive bit of spell work.

    ¡°Do you think Eliana could have done it?¡± Thompson said, ¡°You said she is powerful.¡±

    Bennett said, ¡°Not possible. We were with her when the bus went up.¡±

    ¡°She is powerful and I wouldn¡¯t put something like this outside the realm of her capabilities.¡± Rosenia chewed her lip, ¡°The part that unsettles me is that we know it is not her.¡±

    Thompson buried his face in his hands.

    The thought of another witch running amok in the city who was perfectly fine with wholesale murder made him feel ill. Seattle had enough problems without a bevy of murderous magic users. Thompson was unsure if even working together would make a difference if people like this were going to try and come after Santiago.

    They all wanted to protect the boy, but Thompson had a stone sitting heavily in his belly of fear that it was not going to be within their power to do so. Santiago was too young, too inexperienced, and absolutely too mentally fragile to handle being hunted down by trained killers. For as long as he possibly could Thompson wanted to preserve what little peace the boy had come to know for as long as possible.

    ¡°We need to tighten things up without alerting Santiago that something is wrong. There are too many unknowns we need to keep him close.¡± Bennett said, ¡°Communicate with the schools and have them send check-in emails after each class.¡±

    Thompson said, ¡°If you try to send a chaperone with him, he will know something is up.

    ¡°If he¡¯s going to go out without you, Rose, call me. I will tail him.¡± Bennett tapped the table, ¡°If they are going to approach him it¡¯s going to be when he¡¯s most vulnerable. These people are not going to care about cutting down the other kids to get to him.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± Rose said, ¡°I will reach out to the members of Coventry. We need to know more about what we are up against. When I learn more I will reach out.¡±

    Bennett wanted to see the kid, but for now it would be better to put that reunion on hold. As long as he was in the back of Santiago¡¯s mind he would not think anything of seeing him out and about. If there was a moment when he needed to step in it would be easier to play it off.

    The old soldier was not happy with the idea of keeping the kid in the dark. Still with what little they knew it would do more harm than good to tell him anything. That would not be the case forever, soon he would need to know the truth. As long as he could be made to understand the severity of the danger Bennett knew the boy would do what he needed to protect the people he cared about.

    For now, Santiago could rest easy.

    Tall windows, dressed in rich, flowing drapes, bathed the room in natural light. Intricate floral patterns in muted tones of navy and emerald, stretched across the walls. The impressive fireplace is framed by a magnificent mantelpiece intricately carved with ornate motifs. A crackling fire dances within, casting a comforting warmth throughout the room.

    Sylvia trotted in with the silver serving tray piled on it were three separate piles of marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. Setting it atop the brick lining the base of the fireplace she wiggled with excitement as Khalil pulled back the spark guard.

    The girl had been bouncing off the walls all week when Rosenia said they had gotten some logs for the fireplace. Santiago was not opposed to smores. He liked the sweet treat well enough. They did have a different texture from the ones he used to make with Lupe over their gas stove.

    There was something satisfying in the soft crackle of the flames.

    Santiago stretched across the length of the sofa, a plate rested on his abdomen as he watched Skylar click through the endless array of streaming options. ¡°There is literally nothing to watch.¡±

    Sylvia perked up, ¡°Oh there¡¯s this hallmark movie¡ª¡±

    ¡°No!¡± All three of them replied in unison.

    Sylvia crossed her arm, her eyes narrowed. ¡°You are just rude!¡±

    ¡°They got some comedy shows.¡± Santiago bit down and the brittle cracker crumbled in his mouth.

    Khalil said. ¡°Or a horror movie.¡±

    ¡°No! I don¡¯t like scary movies.¡± Said Sylvia.

    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t.¡± Skylar rolled her eyes.

    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Sylvia said.

    ¡°Nothing, you are just such a standard prissy girly girl. Knee high satin socks and everything.¡± Skylar sneered.

    ¡°Oh sorry, not all of us can be cookie cutter manic pixie dream girls.¡± Sylvia clapped, ¡°FYI it¡¯s not a flex that your entire wardrobe came from Hot Top.¡±

    Santiago coughed, sending out a spurt of graham cracker crumbs.

    Khalil shook his head, turning over the blackened s''more on Sylvia¡¯s plate. ¡°Damn, Sky she roasted you worse than she did this.¡±

    Skylar could not help but laugh, ¡°Okay point taken, pinky. I won¡¯t insult the socks.¡±

    ¡°Hmph,¡¯ Sylvia nodded triumphantly, biting into her charred s¡¯more and immediately spitting back onto the plate. ¡°Ew, what the hell. Why would you let me eat that?¡±

    Khalil looked at Santiago as he was being scolded, ¡°Why am I getting blamed for this.¡±

    ¡°Best not to ask questions.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°I¡¯m not finding anything good. We can just play a game. I''ll set up the console. ¡± Skylar rolled over the arm of the couch to dig around in the entertainment center. ¡°Change the output.¡±

    Khalil flicked the remote and the first screen was blank. Another click was live TV.

    Khalil grimaced. ¡°This shit again.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only been a couple of days.¡± Sylvia said soberly, ¡°Everywhere is covering it. Even on the radio like that boy that got shot a few months back.¡±

    Khalil nodded in agreement.

    Santiago paused, they had heard about him too it seemed. They did not realize that Santiago was that boy.

    ¡°Did they say what happened?¡± Skylar sat cross legged untangling the web of cords.

    Sylvia said, ¡°Nothing confirmed. I¡¯ve been keeping an eye on Twitter. Some think the driver fell asleep behind the wheel or that there was some kind of engine failure. It¡¯s so crazy.¡±

    ¡°I thought there were freeway cams.¡± Khalil said.

    ¡°In some areas to monitor traffic.¡± Santiago replied, ¡°They might learn something from the bus cameras, if it survived that mess.¡±

    ¡°Buses have cameras?¡± Said Khalil.

    Santiago stared at him flatly, ¡°Yes dumbass buses have cameras. Inside to watch the drivers and kids. On the outside to catch people that illegally pass buses.¡±

    Santiago knew that because the footage from both types of those cameras had been used as evidence for a couple of his expulsions. Not that they needed to know that.

    ¡°I want to know what¡¯s going around the school though.¡± Skylar said, grabbing the remote from Khalil and flicked it to the proper channel. ¡°People have to be talking about it..¡±

    ¡°They are.¡± Santiago said. ¡°Apparently popular consensus is that it wasn''t an accident.¡±

    Sylvia¡¯s eyes bugged, ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because the cops came sniffing around to see if it was me.¡±

    She paused, ¡°The other night. The cops, that wasn¡¯t about those guys from the alley?¡±

    ¡°What guys from the alley?¡± Said Skylar.

    ¡°Uh, ¡ª¡± Sylvia laughed, ¡°You know it was like¡ª We were shopping ¡ª Yeah.¡±

    They all stared at the girl in silence who settled in her seat with a defeated squeak.

    The front door banged open and shut clumsy foot falls could be heard from the hall. Mia called loudly, ¡°I¡¯m okay!¡±

    ¡°Anyways,¡± Said Santaigo, ¡°Apparently they were checking to see if I had an alibi. After the basketball team bus went up in flames the parents were quick to point the finger at me.¡±

    ¡°Yo, that is some racist bullshit. Why is the only brown kid in school getting accused of murder?¡± Said Khalil.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying.¡± Santiago chuckled dryly. ¡°I beat up a couple of the racist pricks but that''s about it.¡±

    ¡°Oh that¡¯s right those were someone of the dudes, fuck those guys.¡± Khalil said.

    ¡°They weren¡¯t all like that!¡± Mia shouted from the entryway.

    All heads turned towards the girl, her round face was rosier than usual. Eyes bleary as she pouted, already on the verge of tears. ¡°Mike wasn¡¯t like that.¡±

    Sylvia swung her leg over the couch, to make her way to the girl taking hold of her arm. Mia was unsteady on her feet, the sour smell of alcohol leaked from her pores.

    ¡°Why did you do that?¡± Mia screamed, ¡°WHY DID YOU DO THAT?¡±

    Santiago¡¯s brows furrowed as the watery brown eyes glared at him. ¡°Mia, I didn¡¯t do anything.¡±

    ¡°You liar! I know it was you!¡± She staggered forward, ¡°It wasn¡¯t an accident. I read your file. You hurt people Santiago. You killed those people. It has to be you.¡±

    ¡°Mia you are drunk, shut up.¡± Skylar snapped, hurried around the couch grabbing her by her other arm jerking her back. ¡°It¡¯s time for bed.¡±

    ¡°No! I know he did! I know he did!¡± Mia screamed.

    ¡°Mia!¡± Rosenia called sternly.

    All heads turned towards the woman who stood at the foot of the stairs.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough. Come.¡± Rose beckoned.

    Mia burst into tears ambling over to Rose who embraced her.

    ¡°Sylvia take her up to her room please.¡± Rosenia said.

    Quickly Sylvia dragged the heavier girl up the steps.

    ¡°Santiago, Mia is not in her right state of mind right now. When she has sobered up she will be apologizing for those accusations.¡± Rosenia said softly. ¡°She is angry and hurt about the loss of her friends. Anger is easy to misplace.¡±

    Santiago nodded.

    Rosenia glided up the steps disappearing down the hall towards Mia¡¯s room.

    ¡°Do not listen to a word that crazy bitch just said.¡± Skylar whispered harshly to Santiago, ¡°Mia is nuts.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Khalil shrugged in disbelief, ¡°It doesn¡¯t even make sense¡ª like how would you have even.¡±

    ¡°It doesn''t have to make sense. Bad shit happens and people want someone to blame. It¡¯s easier than having to sit with the pain.¡± Santiago said, ¡°You can put a person in jail you can¡¯t get justice for a ¡®horrible accident¡¯ you get to live with the grief.¡±

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t get to make you feel like shit because she¡¯s hurting.¡± Skylar rested a hand on his shoulder, ¡°It¡¯s not right.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Santiago bit his lip with a bitter smile, ¡°When you¡¯re blinded by pain, right and wrong don¡¯t look any different.¡±

 Chapter 17

    CALL HIM OLD FASHIONED but Bennett still believed honesty was the best policy. People will always choose to give a pretty lie over an ugly truth. Still lies will always come to light. The only thing it does is show which people cannot be trusted.

    This was no different.

    Eliana was clearly a psychopath. The woman was callous and calculating. Santiago would be another pawn in whatever games she was playing at. The boy had no idea what was coming to him. If they told him the truth they could prepare Santiago for what came next.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s best.¡± Said Thompson.

    ¡°At some point she is going to reach out to him. You know that.¡±

    ¡°I do. I still think with everything that has happened and knowing that Eliana is not the only person involved we might need her¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Bennett¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuck no.¡± Bennett said, ¡°People are dead, Marcus. It¡¯s nothing to her. That means more people are going to die and she is still not going to care. Not if it¡¯s you. Not if it¡¯s me. And not if it¡¯s Santiago.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to work with her, but we can use her. She has resources and connections that we don¡¯t.¡± Said Thompson, ¡°We never have to let her near him but to best protect him we have to take advantage of what she has to offer while we can.¡±

    Thompson understood she was dangerous. Like a poisonous spider that crept into the house Eliana was far more dangerous out of sight. It would be safer to have her as an ally than an enemy even if they kept her at arm''s length.

    If it was up to Thompson she would be in prison. It was not.

    As it were Eliana was the most knowledgeable regarding the threats out there to Santiago. Likely one of the most adept at protecting him from them. He did not think Santiago should be in her care by any means. Yet if they spurned her help completely if she did succeed in legally taking Santiago they would never see the boy again.

    This was the safe bet.

    ¡°The only way that works is if we lie to the kid about the fact that she¡¯s murdered people to keep him a secret. From the sound of it she is probably going to try to murder his mother.¡± Said Bennett, ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Than maybe it is for the best that you keep your distance.¡± Said Thompson.

    The glacial stare washed over him. Thompson held his breath, he knew there was a high likelihood that Bennett would beat him to a pulp for it. Still it was not about his own safety. Thompson knew he had to do what was best for the boy.

    All three of them had distinctly different ideas of what that looked like.

    Rosenia thought it was keeping him in the dark and pretending as though nothing was wrong.

    Bennett thought it was putting the boy in his own version of witness protection.

    Thompson believed that it was removing the underlying threats to the boys safety that made those measures his companions were implementing null. He did not like the idea of working with Eliana. He did not like the idea of Eliana at all. Her power and influence might be what they needed to keep other dangerous parties at bay at least until they had a better option.

    He was afraid. Thompson was not so big that he could not admit to it. He was afraid for all of them.

    Bennett could have wrung his scrawny neck and it was most certainly tempting. He could see the reasoning as thin as it was behind Thompsons suggestion. He would never agree with it but he understood.

    Though Thompson threw it in his face that he would not provide any details about where the boy is located, that was a low blow. Bennett intended to take that bit of leverage off the table. He never stopped looking for Santiago. Now that he knew about Rosenia it was only a matter of time before he had an address.

    Then he looked forward to seeing how brave the younger man thought he was then.

    Until that happened Bennett would play by his colleagues'' rules.

    <hr>

    A part of him dreaded these meetings. It seemed as every time Thompson took his eyes off this boy mayhem was waiting right outside the door. Since their last session alone Santiago has been held at gunpoint by a former group home mate, interrogated by the police, and accused of murder in his own home. Thompson was starting to wonder if he had made the right call in placing him in Rosenia¡¯s care more with each passing day.

    Collecting himself internally admittedly his sessions with Santiago truly put his ability to maintain composure to the test. The things this boy told him so nonchalantly were enough to traumatize most fully grown adults.

    ¡°Well, I am happy to see you are able to empathize with Mia given the situation. It is a difficult thing to deal with grief as you well know.¡±

    Santiago recalled his outing with Sylvia. His emotions were spilling out every place he did not need them to.

    ¡°Yeah, I broke down with Sylvia the other day.¡± Santiago buried his face in his hands, ¡°I thought I was good.¡±

    ¡°Santiago, you lost your mother.¡± Thompson reiterated, ¡°There is no way to simply be good with that.¡±

    ¡°What am I supposed to be?¡± Santiago''s shoulders slumped.

    ¡°Whatever you need to be. Angry, sad, afraid. You loved your mother. Put her before yourself for most of your life.¡± Thompson tapped his desk, his eyes locked with Santiago¡¯s in earnest. ¡°You deserve to feel those emotions. You¡¯ve earned that. ¡±

    Interlocked fingers his hands clasped together in front of him where he rested his head. ¡°I feel all of it.¡±

    ¡°Walk me through it. The sadness. The fear. The anger.¡± Thompson said, ¡°What does it feel like? If you could see it, what would it look like? A sharp pain or numbness. Is it hot or cold? Anything you have inside, let''s bring it out into the light.¡±

    Sadness. What did sadness look like?

    In the movies it was rainy weather and somber music.

    Sadness was empty. It was memories that he clung to once for comfort that echoed in her absence. Memories of pillow forts and baking disasters. Lullabies after nightmares and warm embraces when he was sick and tired.

    It was cold in the sense of it being the absence of warmth.

    Fear was never far away. Always lurking like a silhouette in his peripheral, waiting. Every bit of brightness that touched his life was dimmed by its shadow. It whispered things to him. It was never wrong. A prophet of his own personal failings.

    It was the breath Santaigo did not realize he was holding. The skip of a heartbeat. The numbness that washed over before the pain set in.

    The knowledge that this was not the end. There would always be worse to come.

    Anger was his oldest friend. Its fire brought with it a warmth to burn out all the sadness. Its blinding light chased away all his fears. It was safe. It was strength. It pushed him forward when he was paralyzed by doubt.

    Its flames did not discriminate. It would devour love just as easily. Twisting it into something dark and twisted.

    Santiago loved his mother more than anything. She loved him too. Yet, nothing filled him with rage more than she did either.

    He was not blind. Santiago knew that as a mother she had failed. She failed him time and time again.

    Santiago hated her for it.

    He hated her weakness. He hated that no matter how much she loved him, she would always love the drugs more.

    Most of all he hated that he loved her and she was not here to love him.

    Without that love, all he had was rage that burned up everything inside him leaving nothing behind but empty and dark.

    Thompson crossed the room settling into the seat beside the boy resting an arm across the boy''s trembling shoulders. He did not say a word.

    There were none for this.

    Like a fractured bone that had healed wrong, the boy needed to break so he could heal.

    So Thompson held him as the pieces fell apart. A jagged jumble of raw emotions. Piece by piece he would guide Santiago as long as it may take. The boy would never be as he once was.

    Of one thing Thompson was certain, that in this soul that held so much hurt and so much love Santiago was capable of becoming something incredible.

    <hr>

    Guilt washed over her, a knot forming in her stomach. Rose had opened her home to them, providing a safe haven and a sense of belonging. Yet, here she was invading her privacy with no one to blame but herself. Her mother did always tell her she would win gold in mental gymnastics for jumping to conclusions.

    Still she was not alone in her suspicion.

    Santiago was the one who had first voiced the doubts. Some things about the old woman simply did not sit right with him. That night the two had come home to the police on the porch she had told him to say nothing. He did as she asked.

    Rosenia lied to the police and told them that during the time the incident happened she had been enjoying a meal with the kids before she let them on their own for the day.

    That never happened.

    It could have been a lie to ensure Santiago''s protection. The officers were less likely to believe two teens story over someone with as pristine a reputation as Rosenia.

    This itself was not a whole lot to go on. The one thing that stuck in his mind was something she had said in their car ride home.

    Those boys will get what¡¯s coming to them.

    While this was not proof of anything it still bothered him. Rose was a kind woman yet Santiago could not help but to feel that there was something hidden behind that warm smile. Maybe not a murderer, but she definitely had her secrets tucked away in this sprawling estate.

    No one gets this kind of wealth without a skeleton or two in the closet.

    Santiago was none to judge. He simply needed to know more about the person whose roof he was under.

    Sylvia was not exactly part of the plan. He had been rambling about some of the things that had been bothering him lately. The mysterious danger Rose was so keen to remind him about, the kids that died in the freak bus accident, lying to the cops.

    The girl was sure there was a connection. That Rose was hiding something big.

    Sylvia was prone to overreact.

    They decided the best way to put the doubts to bed was to get confirmation of Rose¡¯s innocence. Neither wanted the matronly woman to be guilty of something sinister.

    As if expecting them the lights flickered to life through the stained glass shades. Candles flickering flames casted dancing shadows on the wall.

    The two looked at each other. ¡°Rose?¡±

    They were met with silence.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably a charm.¡± Sylvia whispered.

    Bedroom was filled with warm and earthy tones imbued the space with a cozy and inviting ambiance. Ornate wallpaper with intricate patterns upon closer inspection were not simple decorative designs but runic symbols. Across the rune covered walls were an array of photographs, shelves brimming with mementos that capture memories of the many children Rose had cared for throughout the years.

    The alluring aroma of burned incense held hints of sandalwood, myrrh, and exotic spices that mingled with the scent of dried herbs that hung in delicate bundles from the ceiling. A grand, four poster bed stood as the centerpiece draped in sumptuous fabrics in deep reds, and burnt oranges that the Romani woman was so fond of.

    Sylvia examined the elder witches'' altar laden with crystals, candles, and tools for handling herbs. In the center was a rather large leather bound book field with hundreds of brown parchment papers. Rosenia¡¯s grimoire, the girl''s delicate hands reached out to take a peek inside.

    ¡°Sylvia, focus.¡± Santiago warned, without turning to look at her as he pulled open the many drawers of the antique furniture.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± She whispered, Sylvia started on the other half of the room.

    She came across a great many things. Stunning pieces of jewelry in deep golds set with rubies and topaz. A drawer of neatly organized bills and receipts. A small phone book filled with handwritten names in Rosenia¡¯s delicate script.

    ¡°Oh another Santiago.¡± Sylvia giggled.

    ¡°What?¡± Santiago said.

    She held up the small book for his inspection. ¡°Do you know him?¡±

    Vicente Santiago

    (206)918-2132

    Santiago smiled, ¡°He was my dad.¡±

    Sylvia''s mouth curved into a silent ¡®O¡¯. ¡°That is so crazy. Rosenia knew him. We should call it.¡±

    ¡°Call it.¡± Santiago raised an eyebrow, ¡°He¡¯s been dead for years. He¡¯s not picking up.¡±

    Sylvia smacked his arm. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I was trying to be helpful.¡±

    He chuckled, ¡°Check the closet, I¡¯ll put this up.¡±

    Tucking the book back in the drawer Santiago¡¯s fingers tapped along the edge of the wooden lip.

    There was no way. Not after all this time.

    Santiago pulled out his phone scanning the page quickly before flipping it closed. The phone rang in his ear.

    It went on and on for what seemed like hours. His shoulders fell with disappointment. Of course there was no answer he knew that and still¡ª

    Despite the soft spoken tone, the deep rasp of the man¡¯s voice carried clearly through the receiver. ¡°You¡¯ve reached Vicente, I¡¯m unable to take your call right now. Please leave a message and I will get back to you. Good-bye.¡±

    The line beeped.

    Santiago stood there for a lingering moment simply only his breath crackling through the phone before he clicked it off. Santiago had seen the man in photographs in his mothers dwindling collection. He knew his face but not his voice.

    Santiago had never heard it. Or at least never remembered it. His fathers voice.

    He was about to dial again when Sylvia urgently waved him over. ¡°Santiago, you need to see this.¡±

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    He sighed, tucking the phone away.

    The girl had wasted no time digging through the numerous containers that were neatly stacked in the walk in closet. Santiago was about to ask what was so urgent until he caught sight of his own name.

    Sylvia as her thin brows furrowed as she scanned the details. ¡°She has the death certificate of another Santiago.¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s me.¡± He said.

    Her eyes bugged as she looked at him and back at the paper. ¡°Are you a zombie?¡±

    Santiago snorted with laughter.

    ¡°Stop laughing, I''m serious.¡±

    ¡°I know you are, that''s why I¡¯m laughing.¡±

    ¡°So wait everyone calls you by your last name, that¡¯s weird.¡±

    ¡°You want to try pronouncing that shit.¡± He tapped the page.

    She scanned the paper, shaking her head, ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Santiago pulled out more paperwork manila folders.

    ¡°Wait, okay. So this is you. Then who is this?¡± She held open the folder various documents including a social security card, birth certificate, vaccination records for a Raphael Santiago.

    ¡°I mean the info is right but that¡¯s not my name.¡±

    Santiago thought about it for a moment. When was the last time he saw his name in print. It had to have been on his school itinerary. It was not like he paid it too much mind though he knew there had been some clerical error on his medical records. This, however, was more than that all of his identifying documents had been doctored.

    This is why everyone thought he was dead. Because on paper he was.

    ¡°I think Rose is trying to adopt you.¡± Sylvia said softly as she flipped through some of the paperwork, ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s weird.¡± Santiago said. ¡°I¡¯m going to age out in a year. There¡¯s no point to this and I ain¡¯t changing my name.¡±

    ¡°Okay, no need to bite my head off. I thought it was a good thing that someone wanted to be family.¡± Sylvia pouted, ¡°Rose never tried to adopt me.¡±

    ¡°Adopt¡ªWhat about your parent¡¯s?¡±

    ¡°They''re gone.¡± Sylvia said not meeting his gaze. ¡°They were killed years ago. Rose knew them so she brought me out here when¡ª I had to get out of Florida.¡±

    Santiago closed his eyes of course they were dead. He did not own the rights to have dead parents. Sylvia was always so happy he never thought that she was hiding she was an orphan. ¡°Sylvia, I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±

    ¡°Look.¡± She reached in the box plucking a USB out from where it was wedged in the side of the box. ¡°What do you think is on it?¡±

    ¡°I guess we¡¯re going to find out.¡± Said Santiago.

    <hr>

    ¡°We¡¯re screwed if it¡¯s encrypted.¡± Sylvia said.

    Santiago laughed, ¡°Yes, the woman who had to call Skylar at school to help her change the input on the TV is going to have an encrypted drive.¡±

    ¡°She could have taken a computer class, you don¡¯t know her life.¡±

    He rolled his eyes plugging the drive into his laptop.

    Rose would find her room exactly as she left it. Well almost exactly. The only piece they took with them was the drive. Santiago intended to have it back before she ever noticed it was missing.

    ¡°You look like you¡¯re enjoying this.¡±

    Santiago said, ¡°Sitting there acting like you don¡¯t love being a nosetta.¡±

    ¡°A wha¡ª¡± She said.

    ¡°In.¡± Santiago scoffed, ¡°She didn¡¯t even have a freaking password.¡±

    ¡°Well yeah, this is her house. I imagine she doesn¡¯t usually have a couple of creepy thieves digging through her personal belongings.¡±

    ¡°Positive self-talk, Sylvia, we need to work on that.¡± Santiago mocked his own impersonation of Thomspon¡¯s counseling voice.

    ¡°Shut up.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s gotta be this one.¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°Bluebird.¡± Sylvia raised a brow.

    ¡°School mascot.¡±

    Santiago was right on the money. Schedules, school records, screenshots of their social media accounts, and even some of the boys'' text messages. Rose had been keeping close tabs on them.

    ¡°She was stalking them.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eyes wide, unable to believe what she was seeing. ¡°Wait ,wait! Go back to the other one. It¡¯s a video.¡±

    Santiago flicked back, ¡°It¡¯s like 3 seconds long.¡±

    Hitting play he quickly tapped the volume button in quick succession as the static and screams blared through speakers.

    They both looked at each other it had been so quick that they had not made anything out. Santiago let it play again. Blinding light flashed as the loud crackled that mixed with screams that cried out that they realized it was not static but fire.

    Checking the video data the file was made on the same day of the accident. This could have been the last thing they saw before they died.

    Light and a blur of shapes. Nothing discernable Santiago frowned, replaying the clip over and over. ¡°I need all the frames of this. I can¡¯t pause to get a good look.¡±

    ¡°Of what?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re about to die in a fire and you¡¯re pulling out your phone to record it.¡± Santiago said, ¡°They were trying to catch whatever caused it on film.¡±

    Sylvia watched the boy pull up a program on his screen filled with all manner of sliders and dials. Quickly turning the video into an audio clip he ran it through.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be able to hear something with this.¡± She said in wonder.

    ¡°Maybe. I use this to fix up recordings I take of people when I can¡¯t get in real close. It¡¯s for music but my mom showed me how to use it.¡±

    ¡°She makes music?¡±

    ¡°She used to sing. Like night clubs and bars. Stuff like that.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯d help her make songs sometimes.¡±

    ¡°You know how to make music!¡± Sylvia gave his sleeve an excited tug. ¡°Do you know how to sing?¡±

    Santiago chuckled, ¡°Kind of, I know enough to carry a tune.¡±

    Sylvia stared at him with glee.

    ¡°No, I am not going to do that.¡±

    She frowned, ¡°We¡¯ll see about that, Santiago.¡±

    Santiago tuned the audio while they bantered trying to bring those voices out of the fire. ¡°Okay, maybe we¡¯ll be able to hear something now.¡±

    Sylvia pressed on the ear of the oversized headset opposite Santaigo.

    They both winced, as one voice boomed. ¡°IT¡¯S ON FIRE.¡± Over him it sounded like a man¡¯s voice, ¡°GET OUT THE BACK.¡±

    It was what they expected. Of course the panic and need to escape would be heard in the last moments.

    The last frantic cry, from the cameraman as he had tried to catch a glimpse of something in the flame called out. ¡°WHAT IS SHE¡ª?¡±

    ¡°She?¡± Sylvia murmured, ¡°There was a she on an all boys basketball team.¡±

    Santiago shook his head.

    ¡°I know, I was just hoping that I was hearing wrong.¡± Sylvia whined, ¡°What does any of this mean? Did Rose do this? Why?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t even know how she has this.¡± Santiago paused, ¡°Mia. Her friend on the team. He probably sent it.¡±

    ¡°What if he was trying to warn her?¡± Sylvia breathed, ¡°And she handed the evidence right to his murderer.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know that.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t not know that.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Santiago waved her off, ¡°Calm down. We need to be sure. If she was involved there is going to be evidence. We need to figure out where she was that night. I can get a hold of her phone to see if it checked in anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Checked in¡ª oh my god I hate how phones do that. Everytime I pass by a restaurant it always asks me for reviews!¡±

    ¡°Exactly, if you don¡¯t know how to turn it off. Your phone can tell a story about where you¡¯ve been.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s terrifying.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t though.¡± Santiago smiled. ¡°What else is on here I wonder.¡±

    She bumped shoulders with him, leaving to see what he was browsing through. ¡°Oh that¡¯s my file click on that.¡±

    Santiago tapped the file under Sylvia, some digital copies of paperwork not unlike what she had for him. There was another folder with photos labeled simply:

    7201 NW 27TH AVE

    ¡°That¡¯s my old address.¡± Sylvia frowned. She pushed Santiago¡¯s hand off the trackpad, clicking it open.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think¡ªOh shit!¡± Santiago gaped at the flood of crime scene photos.

    Sylvia slammed the laptop shut turning to face away from him. The girl curled in on herself, her voice trembling. ¡°This isn¡¯t fun anymore.¡±

    Santiago rested a hand on her back gently. ¡°It¡¯s okay you don¡¯t have to do this with me. I am so goddamn sorry. I had no idea¡ª¡±

    ¡°Why are you sorry!¡± She caught hugging her knees to her chest., ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to snap at you. I should have known. I¡¯m so stupid.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not stupid.¡± Santiago snaked his arms around the girl, turning her towards him. ¡°Hey, look at me. This is not your fault. We didn¡¯t know. Now we do. You don¡¯t have to look at that. I¡¯ll get it off the screen, give me a second.¡±

    Sylvia nodded, closing her eyes tightly.

    ¡°There you¡¯re good. Now you can go if you want, I don¡¯t know what else we¡¯re going to find here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± She nodded leaning on his shoulder, ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡±

    Santiago perused through the folders, many with obscure labels. Alki. Beltane. Calaveras. De Sangre. Emerald. Keres. Ozul. Reaper. Salem. Shen. Whidbey.

    ¡°You passed it, scroll back up.¡± Sylvia tapped the screen.

    Santiago. A quick click and the list of items populated. A lot of it they had already seen in his box were digital duplicates from the thumbnails. There were a couple of folders inside the one at the top of the list staring him down.

    Morgue.

    ¡°You probably aren¡¯t gonna want to see what''s in here.¡± Santiago looked down at the girl.

    ¡°If it gets crazy I''ll close my eyes.¡± She assuredly on hand gripped his forearm. ¡°You¡¯re not doing this alone.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Said Santiago, he could not express how much he appreciated the sentiment. He really did not want to face what was in here by himself.

    What he saw was not a surprise. From what he had heard from Alejo it lined up. It was pretty obvious now why the boy had spiraled the way he had.

    Sylvia gasped, her eyes closed and she turned her head to face the wall.

    It was so much worse than he had first thought. Reflexively his hand pressed against his abdomen. The shot that hit him in the back blew a hole through his belly.

    Santiago¡¯s head was a bloody mess. Somehow the photos of him still splayed on the scarlet tile were better than the ones on the autopsy table. He could see the layers inside his own skull as if someone had crudely gouged out half of it. Missing an eye and everything down to his lower jaw had been blown to bits.

    ¡°Damn that motherfucker shot me point blank.¡± Santiago sucked air through his teeth, a phantom pain shot through the left side of his head. ¡°How did I come back from that?¡±

    ¡°Oh god, you¡¯re zooming in.¡± Sylvia winced, pulling her gaze back towards the wall. ¡°No one needs to be that familiar with their insides. You¡¯re really smiling right now!¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Santiago had not registered his own expression, it was less a smile of amusement and more of a sudden revelation. From the crime scene photos to the one on the autopsy table side by side they were not the same. The same corpse, yes, but by the time he had hit the table it was obvious the jagged protruding bits of skull had not been there before. ¡°I didn¡¯t die. Not completely. I was already healing. Wicked.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s one word for it.¡± She said.

    ¡°There¡¯s a video.¡± He said.

    ¡°I really want to be here for moral support but if that is your autopsy I will literally puke.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t look. I don¡¯t think it has any sound.¡± Santiago hit play.

    For the first couple minutes he simply watched a tech bustle about the room organizing samples. Put a new body into the drawers. Play games on his phone. Santiago pushed the video ahead. Slowing when he noticed a change.

    The tech was standing in the middle of the autopsy room staring at the steel wall of drawers. The man jumped back. Something startled him.

    Santiago squinted, the video was a bit too grainy for fine details he was just barely able to make out the bit of movement on the square panel.

    Something was rattling around inside that drawer. His drawer.

    ¡°No. No. Dude, do not open it.¡± Santiago murmured to the man on the screen who could not hear the warning.

    The man flipped the latch. Stepping back a moment before pulling the drawer out quickly.

    Santiago could see the visible relief wash over the man, his shoulders slumped as he stared at the still body under the sheet. Rubbing his head clearly laughing at his own paranoia.

    He grabbed a hold of the drawer ready to close it when he paused.

    Santiago in the same moment realized what was off. There was no divot in the sheet where he was missing half his skull.

    The man pulled back the sheet and stumbled backwards onto the floor.

    Santiago sat up on the steel table, swinging his legs over the side. The flimsy sheet hung loosely off the table as he sauntered over to the man who scuttled backwards until he hit a wall.

    The video flickered and blurred, he smacked the screen as if that would help it.

    Santiago amidst the grainy gray haze raised his leg bringing his foot down against the man''s face. Again and again and again.

    Santiago winced. ¡°Fuck.¡±

    ¡°Wha¡ªOh, Oh no.¡± Sylvia pressed a hand over her eyes.

    ¡°I killed that guy.¡± Santiago murmured.

    ¡°You?¡± Sylvia looked at the screen her hand pressed to her lips. ¡°No. That cannot be right.¡±

    The doors opened as another worker came to deliver a body in the tarp covered coffin. They were dead before they turned around. Santiago smashed the man''s head into the size of a steel box repeatedly flinging him and his cargo across the room before bolting down the hall.

    The video ended. There were two files remaining he had yet to see. Clicking the next they were now looking into some kind of lab. A number of people in lab coats typed away at their computers. The room filled with large machinery was blotted out by a cloud of dust.

    The boy had barrelled in like a wild animal smashing and flinging anything he could. He was rabid.

    The same glitch was affecting this camera. Santiago thought perhaps his murderous doppelganger was the source of the distortion.

    The staff fled trampling over one in their haste to escape. Some were not so lucky. Santiago threw them around like they weighed nothing. Watching himself force a man''s head off his shoulders with his bare hands should have been the very worst of it.

    Sylvia and Santiago were unable to tear their eyes away from the carnage.

    Then he stilled. Fist still held the severed head in his grasp. Santiago turned and stared straight back at himself.

    A light glowed naturally in the hauntingly dark eyes. Not for a moment did he break his gaze as he approached. The way he moved was wrong.

    It was his face. It was his body. But it was not him inside.

    Nimble as a cat Santiago leapt lightly to stand atop the counter close enough to clearly see his own countenance staring back at him through the growing static haze.

    Sylvia¡¯s nails bit into his arms through the flannel. Locked in place by the hypnotic eyes that bore into them.

    Behind the static that began to blur out the face, Santiago saw a grin stretch across his face as he waved before the screen faded to black.

    The knock at the door sent both of them lurching back.

    Sylvia shrieked, letting go of him. She flailed wildly as she tipped too far off the side of the bed while she grasped for a hold she took the lamp down with her to the floor.

    Santiago¡¯s head hit the wall behind him, he bit into his clench fist to muffle the pained yell.

    ¡°Dinners ready, you freaking weirdos.¡± Skylar called from the other side.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Santiago leaned over the bed where the girl laid sprawled.

    She cradled the lamp to her chest, the lampshade lopsided and bent. ¡°Define okay.¡±

    Santiago sighed sagging onto the mattress. What he saw he could not explain. He murdered those people brutally and did not remember a thing. Everything from the moment he got shot to when he woke up in that hospital bed was blank.

    That is what Rosenia was trying to warn him about. What Thompson had sent him here for. Santiago had a monster inside him.

    <hr>

    The plan was simple. All they needed was confirmation from Rosenia¡¯s phone. Santiago was going to have a conversation with Khalil. He was the one who usually helped Rose manage her phone because she did not know how to update or download apps. He could get the woman''s phone without raising suspicion.

    The key part was how to approach him.

    Sylvia thought they should come right out with the truth. As long as he understood that it was to prove her innocence it would be okay.

    Santiago told her that he would handle Khalil.

    Khalil had known the woman his whole life. She was like a grandmother to him. They could not simply tell him they suspected her of being involved with murder or he would flip out.

    Took him a bit to contemplate his approach, but Santiago figured it out.

    Skylar¡¯s birthday was coming up in a month or so. He would ask Khalil if he could help Sylvia and him plan a party for her. Rose¡¯s phone had everything in it. Photos of everyone, phone numbers for them, relatives, friends, and half the witch community on the western seaboard.

    In the time it would take them to organize a party Santiago would be able to rifle through Rose¡¯s phone and get everything they need and more. Easy.

    Yet, before it could ever be put in motion the plan fell apart.

    ¡°ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?!¡± Khalil boomed.

    Sylvia pleaded. ¡°No! Khalil you don¡¯t understand¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand? Rose took you into her home and put a roof over your head and still you have the audacity to think she would even be capable of something like that!¡± Khalil said.

    ¡°We just need to know for sure.¡± She said.

    ¡°Khalil! Calm down!¡± Said Skylar stepping between the two, ¡°Look let¡¯s drop it okay.¡±

    ¡°Drop it! She¡¯s accusing her of murder and we should just drop it!¡± Said Khalil.

    Santiago entered the room Skylar shoulder slumped, ¡°Good, can you help me here. These two are acting crazy.¡±

    Santiago rested his hands on Sylvia¡¯s slender upper arms. ¡°Hey, you good?¡±

    She nodded, sniffling. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to lie, and he just got so mad.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°The fuck it is!¡± Khalil tried to side step Skylar.

    Santiago turned toward him, ¡°You need to back off Khalil.¡±

    ¡°Who are you to tell me to back off?¡± Khalil stomped forward, his shoulder slammed into Skylar sending her back falling over the arm of the sofa and onto the couch.

    Santiago lunged forward catching a handful of the boy''s sweater slamming Khalil into the living room wall sending a mirror cascading to the floor.

    Santiago glowered down at the boy inches from Khalil''s face. ¡°I said back off, man. You leave them the fuck alone and walk way.¡±

    ¡°Stop it!¡± Both Skylar and Sylvia yelled.

    Khalil sneered, ¡°I ain¡¯t scared of you Santiago.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to be scared, for me to beat your ass.¡± Santiago shot back.

    Skylar having righted herself wedged her arms between the two of them. ¡°Both of you need to stop.¡±

    Sylvia tugged on the back of Santiago¡¯s shirt, he released his hold on Khalil turning back to the girl. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go.¡±

    Skylar let out a sigh of relief as the two made to leave.

    Khalil scoffed, ¡°Rose should have left your snake ass back in the swamp!¡±

    Santiago punched him twice before Skylar planted herself between them, both palms pushing back against his chest.

    Santiago seethed, ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m done.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t look done.¡± Skylar hissed, ¡°Go upstairs.¡±

    ¡°Hey westside!¡± Santiago glowered past Skylar to where Khalil sat on the floor holding his jaw. ¡°A lesson from the south, don¡¯t run your mouth if you can¡¯t run them hands.¡±

    Skylar shook her head as Santiago disappeared with Sylvia up the steps, blowing a piece of stray hair from her face.

    Upstairs Sylvia paced her room, her arms flapping as she tried to keep from crying. ¡°I messed everything up again!¡±

    Santiago caught the girl by the arm as she made another lap around her room. ¡°Shh, you¡¯re fine. I¡¯ll figure something out, don¡¯t worry about him.¡±

    Sylvia let out a shaky breath, ¡°He hates me.¡±

    ¡°So, fuck him.¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°Santiago!¡± She whined, ¡°I don¡¯t want him to hate me. He¡¯s my friend.¡±

    ¡°He needs time to cool off. So do you.¡± Santiago took her face into his hands. ¡°Remember Lola?¡±

    ¡°Mm-hm.¡± She nodded, rosy lips still pulled into a pout.

    ¡°That party she invited us to is tomorrow. I think some time out of the house would do you some good.¡± Santiago brushed the moisture pooling in one eye from her face. ¡°Bring your swimsuit and an appetite.¡±

    Sylvia closed her eyes tightly as she gave a small nod.

    Tomorrow would be better, the girl assured herself.

 Chapter 18

    IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR, Sylvia meticulously adjusted her off the shoulder cuff of the blouse to make sure it was exactly even. Behind her a mountain of rejected outfits spilled off the edge of the bed. She wanted to make a good impression. Santiago was introducing her to his friends, she was going to be the first one in the house too. He told her she was charming and likable. They would love her.

    Doubts crept in as she wondered if she would fit in.

    What if he was wrong?

    What if they did not like her?

    She did not want to embarrass Santiago by acting like a weirdo. She could tell him she was sick. That would work. He would go without her and she would have enough time to think of a hundred more excuses for why she could not meet his friends.

    It was a party. Sylvia loved parties.

    Santiago was her friend. He would be with her the whole time so even if things got awkward she could lean on him. It was no big deal.

    Knocking on the door nearly sent her flying through the ceiling. ¡°I¡¯m ready! I¡¯m ready!¡±

    It was a pleasant surprise that Sylvia tagged along for the trip. With how long she had taken to get dressed he thought she might have been having second thoughts.

    Santiago would be surrounded by his friends. He knew they would take to her well.

    Maybe too well.

    He would set his boys straight on that quickly.

    She was a sweet girl.

    Nosy, but sweet.

    She did a better job cross examining him than any lawyer ever had. Santiago figured it was morbid curiosity that compelled her to ask questions she did not want the answers to. Regardless, she opened up to him. Kept her mouth shut about the fight. Mostly.

    Least he could do was be honest with her.

    At least now he could show her a part of his life that was not dangerous or painful.

    The smile crept across his face as he walked down the familiar street. Lola¡¯s family had lived in this house for as long as he had known her. Santiago had more memories in this house than any place he ever called home.

    The weathered fa?ade was brightened up with colorful pots filled with blooming flowers. The porch was lined with mismatched chairs, a small table top whose legs were lost long ago now perched atop a stack of plastic crates.

    They hadn¡¯t made it up the drive when the boys barreled out of the house. Jesus leapt over the chain-link fence, cap flew off as he collided with him.

    ¡°Santiago! You bastard!¡± He rocked him in an attempt to swing around the much larger boy as he laughed.

    Santiago ruffled the coarse mahogany waves even Jesus¡¯s annoyed nose scrunch could not dim his toothy grin. Santiago embraced the other boys as they came to him. Some of the girls wiped at their eyes before they embraced him tightly.

    Marisol full lips trembled, doe brown eyes glistened, ¡°Don¡¯t you ever do that shit again.¡±

    Santiago chuckled, ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±

    The raucous laughter died down as Alejandro stood on the porch staring stone-faced at him. Dark circles under his eyes. His features were sharper than usual making the boy who was always about the same size as him look gaunt and small.

    Santiago¡¯s eyes trailed down to the boy¡¯s forearms splotched with bruises.

    Lola nudged Sylvia along to follow the others inside leaving the boys alone.

    Santiago felt a lump in his throat. Lola had told him it was bad. It still didn¡¯t prepare him for it. ¡°Alejo.¡±

    Alejandro was breathing heavily, his expression pained.

    ¡°I saw you. I saw you on the floor.¡± He shook his head, tapping the side of his temple. ¡°You were gone. Half your face was splattered on the floor. How the fuck are you here?¡±

    His shoulders trembled as he tried to choke back sobs.

    Santiago grabbed a hold of the weeping boy as his knees buckled. He felt so frail as he clung to him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how. I just am.¡± Santiago let out a shaky breath, ¡°I¡¯m here, I got you.¡±

    <hr>

    Photographs filled every wall. Some looked like they had been hanging there for longer than Sylvia had been alive. Plastic mats that were cracked in places rested on the floor worn from years of foot traffic. The sofas were filled with endless amounts of colorful throw cushions, arranged around a well-loved coffee table. Handcrafted ceramics and glass figurines were cloistered on every horizontal surface.

    Sylvia even spotted a younger Santiago amidst the scads of photographs.

    The whisk of the front screen door caught her attention. Santiago returned alone.

    ¡°He went home to get some sleep.¡± Santiago said, ¡°I¡¯ll check in with him again tomorrow.¡±

    Lola nodded.

    Nestled into a svelte pink armchair a knit blanket rested over Tia Gloria¡¯s lap where she sat watching the TV.

    Santiago gave the woman¡¯s hand a squeeze muttering to her in Spanish he gave her a kiss on the cheek. The old woman grinned and patted the hand that rested over her own.

    ¡°She¡¯s your Aunt.¡± Sylvia whispered curiously to Lola the woman looked old enough to be a grandmother.

    ¡°No, she¡¯s my grandma¡¯s aunt. So we all call her Tia.¡± Said Lola.

    Sylvia¡¯s eyes were wide as they approached the withered woman.

    ¡°Tia, this is Sylvia.¡± Lola pulled the girl forward.

    Bleary eyes looked over her with a smile. ¡°Parece una bonita chinita.¡±

    Sylvia deflated. ¡°She thinks I¡¯m Chinese.¡±

    Lola snorted. ¡°Kinda of she like is saying you look like a pretty Chinese girl.¡±

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°I¡¯m Korean.¡±

    ¡°Ella es Coreana.¡± Lola repeated.

    ¡°Una vez sal¨ª con un hombre Coreano.¡± Tia nodded sagely, ¡°H¨¦ctor es totalmente mexicano o medio Coreano.¡±

    Santiago burst into a fit of laughter.

    ¡°Tia! Oh my god. Let¡¯s go. Let¡¯s go.¡± Lola ushered them out of the living room.

    Sylvia was at a total loss. She looked to Santiago. He simply shook his head saying he would explain later.

    As the back door opened the waft of charcoal smoke, sizzling carne asada and freshly made tortillas was thick in the air. There were even more people in the backyard that were waiting to greet Santiago. Some were Lola¡¯s family as the girl went through and introduced her to everyone while Santiago was whisked off someplace else.

    Tears mingled with laughter as he was clutched tight by Lola¡¯s mother, Lucia. The most pious among them surrounded him to whisper a heartfelt prayer of gratitude over the boy. Lucia bowed her head in reverence as one of the women recited the blessing. Santiago stood silently gently running his thumb over the old woman¡¯s hands. Gnarled from arthritis and Lucia¡¯s years behind a sewing machine selling handmade goods to keep the family afloat. No matter how little their family had they always welcomed him to their home as if it was his own.

    The children circled him with laughter as they fought for their turn to swing from his arms.

    The vibrant, sun-drenched backyard of the Rodriguez family buzzed with anticipation for the prodigal son¡¯s return. Under the canopy of a sprawling oak tree, the family had transformed the space into a lively fiesta to celebrate Santiago¡¯s return.

    Sylvia sat under the shaded overhang with some of the other women.

    ¡°You thirsty mija,¡± The older woman asked. ¡°You want tea, soda, beer?¡±

    ¡°Beer?¡± Said Sylvia.

    She nodded and went to dig in one of the coolers.

    Sylvia looked to the girl beside her who laughed. ¡°I can¡¯t drink.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t ask for beer, dummy.¡± Lola laughed.

    ¡°Are you drinking?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°They let you do that.¡± Said Sylvia disbelieving.

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s not much they gonna be able to do to stop us from getting it. So, we all chip in to get better booze.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Sylvia took the frosted bottle from the woman. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Her face screwed up as the bitter liquid burned her tongue.

    The woman around the table laughed.

    ¡°You can get something else, girl, you don¡¯t have to drink that.¡± Said Lola. ¡°Go and grab a plate.¡±

    ¡°Oh, thank god.¡± She went up to the table groaned under the weight of delectable dishes lovingly prepared by the Rodriguez matriarchs. At the center of the buffet table was a platter piled high with succulent carne asada, marinated to perfection with a blend of spices and citrus juices. The tender charred meat beckoned Sylvia with its smoky fragrance.

    Nestled beside it was a steaming pot of arroz con frijoles the rice sauteed with onions, garlic and tomato while creamy pinto beans simmered to perfection offering the perfect hearty accompaniment to the savory meats.

    Nearby, a tray of golden empanadas with their flaky, buttery crusts made it onto her plate. Crescent-shaped delights had a filling of seasoned ground beef, spinach, onion and cheese.

    Naturally with her sweet tooth she found her way to the cake. Fluffy tres leches, soaked in a decadent blend of milks and topped with a cloud of whipped cream offered a delicate sweetness.

    Sylvia returned to the table with a plate piled high and a cup of punch.

    It was a little intimidating to sit there with a bunch of people she did not know. The older generation of aunts and uncles filled with vivacity and an infectious zest for life. These married couples drank and turned the concrete patio into a makeshift dance floor.

    Cousins of all ages run freely through the halls, their laughter an energy filling the air. The older children too grown to run and play and too young to want to converse with their boring elders sat beneath the shade of an umbrella on a small patio set engrossed in their cellphones.

    She ate quietly trying to keep up with the conversation that would bob between languages.

    Sylvia scanned the yard looking for signs of Santiago.

    ¡°That is such a cute outfit.¡± Marisol plucked at Sylvia¡¯s blouse as she sat down at the table.

    ¡°Oh this,¡± Sylvia smiled. ¡°I thrifted this. It was a tablecloth that I sewed into a top.¡±

    ¡°No, you didn¡¯t! You make your own clothes.¡± Said Marisol.

    ¡°Sometimes.¡± That was all it took to get her going she started blathering about clothes with the girls. Then it was TV shows. Then it was food.

    When she felt the palm on her shoulder she looked up. ¡°There you are.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to leave you like that¡ª¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Sylvia laughed, ¡°I¡¯ve been talking to the girls.¡±

    Santiago smiled, his head tilted. The girl was bubblier than usual, her cheeks flushed.

    She took a sip from the red solo cup.

    ¡°Uh, Sylvia.¡± Santiago leaned close to her ear, ¡°How much of that you had?¡¯

    ¡°Huh, the punch.¡± She raised a brow, ¡°I¡¯ve had a few cups. It is super good.¡±

    ¡°I know. You know there¡¯s alcohol in it?¡±

    She gasped, taking another sip she smacked her lips, ¡°What? No! It doesn¡¯t even taste like it.¡±

    ¡°Oh jeez you are white girl wasted.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, make sure you eat.¡±

    ¡°I did. The food is sooo good.¡± She chirped.

    <hr>

    Sylvia had the best time. She danced with Marisol sung loudly and off key to some of their favorite songs.

    They spent a few hours splashing around in the pool. She played volleyball in the pool. Failed to score a point though she did manage to pelt the ball hard enough to knock down the neighbor¡¯s bird feeder that dangled from the tree.

    As the party wound down people trickled out the door until only a handful of Santiago¡¯s friends were left.

    They sat around in the jacuzzi chatting with one another.

    ¡°We have to head out.¡± Marisol said sorrowfully, ¡°We got my cousin''s birthday party tomorrow.¡±

    She waddled through the water to give Santiago and Sylvia a hug good-bye.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be a stranger, girl.¡± Marisol slapped Santiago¡¯s shoulder. ¡°And you. I better see you soon.¡±

    Jesus and him exchanged a quick half hug before the couple left.

    Lola climbed out with them, ¡°I¡¯m going to see them out and take out the trash. I¡¯ll be back in a few.¡±

    Santiago leaned his head back enjoying the heated jets beat against his back. The cool night air chilled his bare shoulders.

    Sylvia cradled the cup in her palms as she watched the boy. His soaked hair dripped down and followed the angles of his collar bones down his chest. She hadn¡¯t realized he had a couple of tattoos.

    ¡°Always towards better things.¡± Santiago said.

    She blinked, ¡°What?¡±

    He ran his thumb across the Latin inscription under his right collar bone. ¡°It¡¯s what my dad had inscribed on this.¡±

    Santiago turned over the crucifix pendant in his hand leaning in close. She set aside her drink to take the round metal in her hands to examine it.

    Sylvia looked up at him, breath hitched when she realized how close they were.

    Rose tinted cheeks warmed to a deep scarlet. Gaze locked with him. Under the warm glow of the hanging lights, she could see the flecks of brown in his green eyes.

    Setting the pendant back down her fingertips brushed against his chest. His eyes never left hers and she couldn¡¯t look away.

    He leaned lips gently brushing against hers.

    The feeling was electric, butterflies fluttered in her belly. Between the buzz in her head from the drink to the heat of the water everything spun. She gripped onto him for dear life.

    His arms wound around her waist. Her hands knotted in his hair.

    Leg¡¯s wound around his hips. She moaned into his mouth.

    He pulled her tight against him.

    Sylvia could still taste the bitterness of alcohol and fruit that lingered.

    Santiago¡¯s hand glided up her back brushing past the thin string that held her bikini top on. It took every ounce of his willpower not to pull it loose and feel what was underneath.

    He pulled away to trail kisses down the column of her throat, listening to her breath catch.

    Sylvia gave a tug on his hair. He found his way back to her parted lips.

    He was content with this. The warmth of her skin against his. The way her nails bit into his skin as she clung to him.

    Then as abruptly as it started it came to an end.

    She pulled away from him sharply. ¡°Wait, no!¡±

    Santiago froze looking her over, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t do this.¡± She slunk back against the tub walls wrapped her arms around herself. ¡°I want to go home.¡±

    Santiago blinked, slicking his hair back and he sat back against the jacuzzi. ¡°Okay.¡±

 Chapter 19

    THEY SAT IN SILENCE ON THE BUS. Santiago stared out the windows at the blur of lights as they bounded down the city streets. Well past curfew with the hum of insects and crunch of gravel underfoot they marched the rest of the way home.

    He did not know what to say. Did not help that he was so drunk he had to focus on putting each foot in front of the other in order to stay upright.

    Arms tightly crossed over her chest as if forming a barricade against further discussion. Shoulder slumped and the normally animated girl sat rigid in the seat beside him the entire ride.

    When he tried to mention the incident with the kiss, a flash of discomfort flickered across the girls to which he decided it was better left alone. Discussing her own emotions was a territory she was unwilling to explore.

    Her silence spoke louder than any words she could have uttered.

    Maybe he misread things after all why would someone like her want anything to do with someone like him. Not even a few drinks could make Sylvia that foolish it seemed.

    The door opened before they had made it up the porch steps.

    Rosenia was no stranger to rebellious teens and the trouble they always seemed to find. Though Santiago had a way of surprising her. The two teens stared at the woman who stood there in her nightgown. With hair still dampened from their late-night swim the kids stared back at her.

    Sylvia¡¯s make-up was a melted mess.

    Santiago¡¯s eyes were still bloodshot.

    He knew he was in for it. It was one thing for him to go off and get into a mess. Sylvia mixed up with his nonsense was a whole other story.

    If anyone could find the end to the saintly patience of Rose it would be him.

    Rosenia¡¯s brows furrowed, ¡°Where have you two been?¡±

    Before Santiago could open his mouth the girl beside him doubled over and vomited onto the wooden deck.

    The thick stench of bile and alcohol filled the air.

    Rosenia¡¯s eyes widened with shock looking from the girl to him for an answer.

    ¡°Fuck.¡±

    <hr>

    Standing on the porch, the front door ajar, Santiago waited. Should he stay? Should he go? Honestly, he was so exhausted by this point that if she did not want him here, he was going to sleep in the woods. After what happened he expected an earful from Rosenia. She had quickly whisked Sylvia upstairs to look after her and had yet to return.

    Mia appeared at the top of the stairs, ginger strands a tousled mess and eyes puffy from sleep.

    Her fuzzy slippers slapped against the steps as she came down. ¡°Is that¡ªon second thought don¡¯t answer that. Grab the hose. I¡¯ll get something to scrub off the mat.¡±

    Santiago waved the hose over the areas she scrubbed up with dish soap.

    The girl grimaced at the pool of sick and scrubbed harder.

    ¡°Why you helping me with this?¡± He said.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need a reason to help someone.¡± Mia said.

    ¡°I thought you hated me.¡±

    Mia raised a brow, ¡°Hate¡¯s a strong word.¡±

    ¡°Well, you aren¡¯t very friendly.¡±

    ¡°Well, who all am I very friendly with?¡±

    Santiago stopped, ¡°Fair point.¡±

    ¡°I thought you were a dick okay. You showed up late with a crap attitude the first day you came here.¡± She waved the scrubber pointedly, ¡°Rose has always been good to me so¡ª¡±

    ¡°Me being disrespectful rubbed you all the wrong ways.¡± He finished.

    ¡°Look. I know I¡¯m not sugary sweet like our pink puke princess, but I¡¯m not a wicked witch. At least, not all the time.¡± Mia said.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a delinquent dickhead most of the time.¡±

    She pulled off the latex gloves to drop in the bucket. ¡°Good to know.¡±

    While he seemed to mend one bridge, he had two more collapsing around him. He expected shouting or grounding or something. He would have preferred it to the silent treatment both women were giving him.

    Rosenia was nowhere to be found.

    Sylvia was not leaving her room.

    His knuckles rapped against the door. He paused to listen. Nothing.

    Santiago knew she was in there. She refused to come out.

    ¡°Sylvia, I get it, you don¡¯t want to talk to me. That¡¯s fine.¡± Santiago rested his forehead against the wood panel, ¡°I am sorry. I keep screwing up with you and I know I¡¯m always apologizing.¡±

    Pressed his eyes shut tightly, ¡°I mean it though. I promise this will be the last time. I¡¯m not going to bother you anymore.¡±

    He could take a hint. Whether anyone wanted to say it or not. He was not welcome here anymore. Santiago walked away with a bag slung over his shoulder as he made his way out of the house.

    It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d been off on his own. He doubted it would be the last.

    <hr>

    Santiago knew it was only a matter of time before they turned on him. A part of him had hoped things would be different with them. He had grown fond of the little group he had come to know during his time with Rosenia. Now, all but Skylar hated him.

    By now Rose knew about their little investigation. He left the USB behind in his bedroom. At least if she would not speak to him, the least he could do is return it to her.

    Rose was not a murder but Santiago was.

    He killed those people whether he recalled it or not. That blood was on his hands.

    Rose must have covered it up somehow. Protected him.

    The thanks she got was him stealing from her.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Santiago did not know why he was this way. Or why he simply could not have sat down with the woman and talked about it. He did not know why he punched Khalil for something so trivial. He did not know how he could have misread the entire situation with Sylvia.

    There was a lot he did not know.

    He did not have the answers and the people that were supposed to be there to ask were dead.

    ¡°We all have things to learn. Unfortunately most of the wisdom we garner in life comes as a result of our mistakes.¡± Thompson said. ¡°Our basic instinct in response to stress is fight or flight. Now that looks different for everyone. In your case your natural response is to fight and when you can¡¯t fight you run. Which is why we''re here now.¡±

    Where they were now and Santiago sincerely doubted he was going to be able to progress much farther. This entire therapy saga has been the equivalent of walking up a down escalator.

    ¡°Handling conflict is a skill, I know. I pay attention, I just suck at it.¡± Said Santiago. ¡°I need the cheat code for after you¡¯ve dropped the ball and imploded all your relationships with people¡±

    Thompson laughed, ¡°Don¡¯t we all.¡±

    Santiago had caused enough damage. Staying in that house was only going to lead to more fights. He was not going to be the reason anyone felt unsafe in their own home.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to crash at a friend''s place. I guess if I can¡¯t stay there, you can find a different spot for me.¡±

    ¡°Is that really what you want?¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t really matter anymore. No one wants me there.¡±

    It was a cyclical issue with Santiago, his counselor was quite familiar with by now. The boy was adamant that his wants and needs were irrelevant compared to others. That his own desires should not be a consideration in the choices he made.

    Santiago did not value himself. So he could not comprehend that others could either.

    ¡°We talked about making assumptions. Now I will approve of you staying with this friend for now. Some space would do everyone some good with tensions running high.¡± Thompson raised a finger to halt him, ¡°You need to start implementing some of those techniques we talked about.¡±

    ¡°I know what I am supposed to do.¡± Santiago said he gestured pointedly with his hands, ¡°Except in the moment everything I know goes away and I black out. Like I¡¯m on autopilot. I don¡¯t always mean to throw punches as stupid as that sounds.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s actually a lot simpler than you think.¡±

    ¡°Enlighten me.¡± Santiago frowned, mimicking the man''s stiff posturing.

    ¡°Let¡¯s review some of the situations where you ¡®blacked out¡¯. The alley, the parking lot, and Rose¡¯s house.¡± Thompson held up a finger for each, ¡°What is the common denominator.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± If Santiago had, he would not even need to ask. Those situations were totally different aside from him punching people in the face.

    ¡°These situations you were in control of at the start. You were even able to deal with those boys'' harassment several times before you finally came to blows.¡±

    ¡°Yeah because they were messing with some girl¡ª¡± Santiago stopped and glared at Thompson.

    ¡°It¡¯s a trigger. You spent most of your life in a very abusive household with a terrible man who hurt your mother who hurt you. You didn¡¯t care if he hurt you, but you cared if he hurt her.¡±

    ¡°Because she couldn¡¯t defend herself!¡± Santiago snapped, ¡°It¡¯s not the same.¡±

    ¡°It is. Your confrontation with Wes even as far back as the incident that got you removed from the group home. You were not uncontrollably aggressive until¡­¡±

    Santiago ruffled his hair with a growl. ¡°He threatened my mom.¡±

    He was right. Santiago hated that he was right.

    But if being okay with people harassing or hurting people that could not fight back was wrong then he did not want to be right.

    ¡°The alley, you were fine. In control until Sylvia was in danger. The parking lot, a girl was being harassed by four boys. The fight with Khalil you were in control right up until he hurt Skylar.¡± Thompson smiled, ¡°You think that you are a violent person who hurts people. You are a protective person who reacts aggressively because that has literally been how you survived.¡±

    ¡°How do I fix it and get control?¡±

    That much he needed. If he could get a handle on his reactiveness maybe things don''t always have to end in blood.

    ¡°Recognizing is step one. You need to think about past situations and how you felt before you blanked. Headaches, muscle tension, things like this is your body warning you that it¡¯s ramping up for what is coming.¡± Thompson said, ¡°Then the hardest part. You have to try when you can to separate yourself from these situations.¡±

    Santiago gritted his teeth, ¡°I can¡¯t not do anything. I won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Normally I would advise never going to physical violence as a solution. For you I know that is not realistic.¡± Thompson said. ¡°If in a situation we want to exhaust all other options before going to physical violence. Can you at least attempt the next aggressive encounter you have?¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    ¡°Good, we will start with that. Take time to think about it. Your homework will be figuring out what your warning signs are. If you encounter another conflict all you have to do is try , then we will discuss what we can take away from it.¡± Thompson smiled, ¡°Simple enough?¡±

    Santiago nodded.

    He knew there was no way he was not going to mess this up. Still he would try. If not for himself then for the people around him that he cared for.

    Out in the lobby Santiago spotted the familiar fiery red mane of his former housemate in the waiting area flipping through a magazine. It made sense they all did see Thompson and this was not his usually scheduled session.

    ¡°Hey, Mia.¡± He said.

    Her warm chocolate eyes lit up, ¡°Hey, wasn¡¯t expecting to see you here. How are you?¡±

    ¡°Good. I¡¯m crashing with a friend.¡±

    ¡°You know, you didn¡¯t have to leave. I know Khalil can be a dick but¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not because of him.¡± Santiago sighed, ¡°I mean I screwed up with Sylvia. She completely shut me out. I don¡¯t want to make her any more uncomfortable.¡±

    ¡°How did you screw up?¡±

    ¡°I kissed her.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Mia smiled, ¡°That bad a kisser huh?¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Santiago laughed, ¡°I thought she was feeling me. I guess I was wrong.¡±

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have to leave home because of something like that. She¡¯ll get over it, she''s just super sensitive.¡± Mia rolled her eyes.

    ¡°Also the thing with Rose.¡±

    ¡°Rose doesn¡¯t care about any of that Santiago, she¡¯s worried about you.¡±

    ¡°Is that why she was avoiding me?¡±

    ¡°Santiago, you thought she killed a bus full of kids. In the same way you don¡¯t want Sylvia to be uncomfortable with your presence, she didn¡¯t want to scare you with hers.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± He said. ¡°Why do you gotta make sense all the time. That shit is annoying.¡±

    ¡°Get used to it.¡± Mia said.

    Santiago bit his lip, ¡°So Sylvia is good.¡±

    Mia whacked him with the magazine, ¡°Look I¡¯ll talk to her tonight. See how she¡¯s feeling. I¡¯ll text you.¡±

    He nodded, ¡°Than¡ª¡±

    ¡°Santiago,¡± Khalil said, hands tucked in the pockets of his torn black hoodie. ¡°Thought you ran back to Beacon.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t run from nothing.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°Guys, really we are in a therapist''s office. Chill.¡± Mia whispered harshly.

    ¡°Mia, you can¡¯t be serious. You know what those two were up to.¡± Khalil said.

    Mia shrugged, ¡°And? Let it go Khalil. We all have done and said stupid shit. It was a misunderstanding. It¡¯s done now.¡±

    ¡°Why did you even think something like that could be true?¡± Khalil''s eyes narrowed at Santiago. ¡°Rose took you in¡ª¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for that so don¡¯t make it sound like she was doing me a favor.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°Yeah, because you were so much better off being raised by a junkie.¡± Khalil said.

    ¡°Santiago!¡± Mia hollered too late to grab a hold of the boy before he lunged at Khalil.

    Santiago slammed him back into the wall beside forearm pressed across the boy''s chest pinning him there.

    ¡°Santiago, let him go. ¡° Thompsons said from the doorway.

    ¡°He started this shit¡ª He¡ª¡± Santiago seethed.

    ¡°Remember what we talked about. Violence as a last resort.¡±

    Santiago¡¯s breathing was heavy as he tried to level himself. Glowering down at Khalil¡¯s smug face.

    Begrudgingly Santiago released Khalil taking a step back.

    ¡°Now what is all this about?¡± Thompson folded his arms.

    ¡°Khalil is still harping on the thing with Rose.¡±

    ¡°I wanted to know why?¡± Khalil threw his arms out nonchalantly.

    ¡°Because she had more information on those kids than the cops. Evidence that she withheld from an ongoing investigation where she lied to the police.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± Thompson frowned.

    Santiago shrugged, ¡°I wanted to see if she had a legit alibi. That¡¯s it. I didn¡¯t want her to be guilty of something.¡±

    ¡°FYI Rose was having dinner with my mother and I at Jak¡¯s grill.¡± Khalil said, ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    ¡°It was good seeing you Mia.¡± Santiago said before he left the office.

    Mia shook her head, slugging Khalil in the arm. ¡°You¡¯re such a dick.¡±

    Khalil scoffed, ¡°Oh so now I¡¯m the bad guy.¡±

 Chapter 20

    DUST AND GRIME ACCUMULATED in neglected corners and crevices. Remnants of forgotten meals and unwashed dishes left a pungent stench in the air. Countertops were cluttered with empty liquor bottles, pill bottles, and scattered remnants of fast food.

    ¡°The place is a mess, but you know I got you Yago.¡± Alejo slapped his hand.

    Santiago tossed his bag onto the floor beside the dilapidated sofa. ¡°Feels like home.¡±

    Laid back on the sofa, the hum of the broken fridge that struggled to keep perishables cool lulled him to sleep.

    Retching from down the hall woke him. Santiago squinted in the dim light from the coming dawn. Walking over to the sink Santiago turned the faucet on. An annoyed grunt escaped him as he shoved aside the filthy dishes, sending roaches scrambling to escape the wet.

    Entering the bathroom, Santiago squatted next to his friend.

    Alejo leaned heavily one arm against the rim of the toilet seat.

    Santiago handed him a glass of water.

    Alejo drank it down and set the empty cup down.

    ¡°I found some rice in your cabinet. I¡¯ll boil some, that''s probably all you¡¯ll be able to hold down for now.¡±

    Alejo nodded between shaky breaths.

    His friend was a couple years older than him and had his own place. Not that his age was the reason he was on his own. Alejo left home before their freshman year.

    In the beginning if someone had told him Alejo would have been one of his best friends Santiago would have punched them in the throat. The first day they met was when Alejo came sniffing around for his mother because she owed the thug he worked for money.

    Alejo snorted. ¡°Man when he told me to watch out for Lupe¡¯s pitbull and my dumbass was looking for a dog.¡±

    Santiago used to hate when people called him that. Had Oscar to thank for that since he used to introduce them to his friends, or the closest thing a degenerate like him could have, as his bitch and her pup. Once Santiago was grown enough to start dropping men twice his size they realized really he was not the little pup they could kick around anymore.

    Alejo did not deserve the beat down he got that day. Though Santiago did not walk out of that fight any better than he did. Or rather crawl, his mom had to drag him bloodied and bruised back in the house. He always wondered how Alejo managed to limp his way back home that night.

    For a while with them it was on sight. Everytime they were on the same block they were throwing blows. Everything Santiago dished out Alejo gave it right back.

    It would have continued to go on like that if it had not been for one night.

    ¡°Where were you even going at that time of night?¡± Alejo was slumped into the lopsided armchair.

    Santiago smirked, ¡°Alyssa¡¯s place.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡ª Wait.¡± Alejo held his hands over his chest in a dramatic display of emotion, ¡°You gave up tapping Alyssa for me.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you, I should left your ass on that bench to freeze.¡± Santiago threw a balled up napkin at him, ¡°She never let that go.¡±

    ¡°I love you bro, but if it was me. I woulda left your ass.¡± Alejo threw his head back letting out a wheezing laugh..

    Santiago could have. No one would have known and if they did, they would not care.

    It did not matter that he could not stand to look at Alejandro¡¯s face, if Santiago left him there he could have frozen to death. He made a choice that night and has never regretted it a moment since.

    He brought Alejo home.

    When he realized Alejo had no place to go they gave him one. Alejo lived with them for years until he was old enough to sign a lease.

    Alejo didn¡¯t go far. Renting out a place across the street.

    Santiago did not want to think about how close he was to home. Or what used to be home. A part of him hoped the slum lord who owned the place had a hell of time scrubbing his blood off the floor.

    Salvaged some usable dishes and tossing the rest, Santiago started to carve his way through the mess. He swung the last few bags into the dumpster. He inhaled the chemically sweet fragrance of the Fabuloso.

    Alejo was knocked out for most of the day. Only rousing when Santiago woke him to eat.

    Alejandro crunched on a bowl of cereal slumped on the sofa as he watched a rerun of a soccer game. Santiago was counting out pushups on the floor beside when the knock at the door came.

    Both stiffened looking at one another.

    Alejo shook his head.

    Santiago was not expecting anyone either.

    Santiago ignored his friend motioning towards the bedroom where Alejo kept his gun. He peered through the blinds seeing the slight figure looking about nervously.

    Santiago pulled the door open, ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here. Get in.¡±

    Sylvia scuttled in quickly her eyes roamed over the place the shock flashed plainly on her face before she caught herself. ¡°Lola told me you were here.¡±

    Naturally, Lola for as much as he adored her had a bad habit of butting into his love life. It was welcome when it came to chasing off clingy exes less so when she was trying to play matchmaker.

    ¡°She shouldn¡¯t have.¡± Santiago frowned, ¡°This is not a part of town you want to be by yourself.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what my Uber driver said.¡± She shuffled awkwardly.

    Santiago¡¯s brow furrowed with confused annoyance. First she did not want to talk and now here she was. He could not understand the logic behind it.

    ¡°I wanted to talk to you. In private.¡± She said.

    Alejo shrugged, ¡°Alright I can take a hint.¡±

    He slunk back to his room, closing the door for all the good it did. With no doorknob and half of it caved in Alejo would hear the conversation as clearly as if he was beside them.

    Santiago took a seat and motioned for her to do the same. ¡°Look, I meant what I said. I¡¯m sorry, but you really shouldn¡¯t have come here.¡±

    ¡°I know¡ª and you shouldn¡¯t be apologizing. I should.¡± She gulped her face pulled together solemnly.

    ¡°For what?¡± He asked genuinely curious. Replaying the night over and over he found a thousand and one ways he screwed up. He did not account for where she might have made a misstep.

    ¡°What happened, shouldn¡¯t have. I should not have kissed you.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because, it¡¯s like¡ª It¡¯s not that you¡¯re not good. Because you totally are.¡± She laughed, clearing her throat, ¡°You¡¯re kind. You¡¯re charming. You¡¯re so much fun to be around.¡±

    Santiago sat stumped wondering if he was an idiot or she simply was not making sense.

    Santiago paused. ¡°That¡¯s the reason why you shouldn¡¯t have kissed me? Because those all sound like good things.¡±

    Running a hand through her length hair she let out a breath. ¡°Like you¡¯re not the issue. It¡¯s a me thing.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay if you¡¯re not into me like that. That¡¯s not a big deal.¡± He shrugged.

    ¡°No that¡¯s not it. I mean it is¡ª but not like I don¡¯t like you.¡± She blubbered, ¡°It was a stupid thing to do! It¡¯s not like we¡¯re ever going to be anything.¡±

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Tell me how you really feel?¡± Santiago snorted, ¡°I get it you were having a little too much fun slumming it and you¡¯re worried I caught feelings. It ain¡¯t that deep. Just take your ass back to your little satin and lace dollhouse alright I really don¡¯t need all this.¡±

    ¡°What? ¡ª No, that''s not what I meant at all!¡± She stamped her foot.

    ¡°Then what the fuck do you mean?¡± Santiago shouted, burying his head in his hands when her eyes welled with tears. ¡°Oh for fucksake.¡±

    ¡°Stop yelling at me.¡± She whined trying to hold back tears, wrapping her arms around herself. ¡°I¡¯m trying to apologize.¡±

    ¡°Well you¡¯re not doing a very good job.¡± Santiago said.

    Sylvia burst into tears.

    Santiago sat down on the couch, fingers tapped on the armchair as he stared at the girl in silence.

    ¡°You¡¯re not even going to say anything.¡± She cried.

    ¡°What do you want me to say Sylvia? I don¡¯t even know why you¡¯re here. You said you want to apologize but you never said what you did wrong.¡± He motioned with one hand and then the other, ¡°It was a mistake but I¡¯m not the problem. If you didn¡¯t want me, why did you kiss me back? It¡¯s not like it was a little peck on the lips and you told me to fuck off. You were on me like I was on you.¡±

    ¡°I know and I shouldn¡¯t have been because I have a boyfriend!¡± She screamed.

    ¡°So, wait, uh, are you apologizing because you didn¡¯t want to kiss me or are you apologizing because you wanted to kiss me and you knew you shouldn¡¯t.¡±

    Sylvia''s shoulders slumped in defeat. ¡°Is there a difference?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a difference.¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°No. No. This is¡ª You are¡ª you¡¯re trying to confuse me!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t really need to. You do a great job of that all by yourself.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± She screamed.

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± He screamed back.

    ¡°You¡¯re terrible!¡± Sylvia said.

    ¡°I¡¯m terrible? You¡¯re the one who cheated on your man and I¡¯m terrible.¡± Santiago laughed, ¡°You¡¯re a piece of work you know that.¡±

    ¡°I know I messed up okay! I¡¯m trying to fix it.¡± She said.

    Santiago said, ¡°Are you really? So you called this boyfriend of yours and told him what you did? What¡¯d he say?¡±

    Sylvia shuffled where she stood saying nothing.

    ¡°Yeah that¡¯s what I thought.¡± Santiago scoffed, ¡°You came here to apologize for yourself. So you didn¡¯t have to feel guilty that you fucked up.¡±

    ¡°You act like you¡¯ve never made a mistake!¡± Sylvia snapped.

    ¡°If I¡¯m with someone I¡¯m all in. I¡¯m not a coward.¡± He said, ¡°I¡¯ve been on the receiving end of it enough that I¡¯d never put someone through that.¡±

    She grabbed the cup off the coffee table, splashing the contents of the iced tea all down his shirt. ¡°You¡¯re a fucking asshole!¡±

    Santiago hopped up, ¡°Better than a whore!¡±

    Sylvia slapped him.

    Santiago scowled.

    She clamped a hand over her mouth in shock. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. I shouldn''t have done that. I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay he has that effect on people.¡± Alejo said as he passed to put his dirty dish in the sink. ¡°Y¡¯all gonna wrap this up soon. The games are coming on in a few.¡±

    ¡°Alejo, shut up man.¡± Santiago waved him off. ¡°Sylvia, just go¡ª¡±

    Her phone chimed as she stared at the screen, her dark eyes watering.

    ¡°That him?¡± Said Santiago.

    Sylvia nodded.

    Santiago snatched the phone from her, swiping up to answer the call.

    ¡°Santiago what the hell¡ª¡± She started.

    ¡°Yo, Sylvia¡¯s boyfriend we haven¡¯t met yet. This is Santiago, I wanted to let you know that you are a dumbass. You know what happens when you don¡¯t treat your girl right? She finds someone who does.¡± Santiago laughed dryly, ¡°Don¡¯t worry if you ever decide to pull your head out of your ass I¡¯ll be here with our girl. Pull up!¡±

    Santiago hung up the phone and tossed it back to Sylvia.

    She stared at him horror-struck.

    Alejo howled with laughter.

    ¡°Why would you do that?¡± She breathed.

    ¡°Because I felt like it.¡± He snapped.

    She screamed angrily grabbing up everything she could find to fling at him. Pillows, the tv remote, her cellphone, his cellphone.

    ¡°Goddammit!¡± Santiago swatted the projectiles away as he circled around the coffee table. ¡°Knock it off!¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Sylvia screamed back, when he caught her by the arm she slapped him again. Her dainty palms smacking every part of he could reach until she caught her other wrist.

    She strained futility against his grip hollering and kicking at his shins.

    ¡°ENOUGH!¡± He boomed.

    Sylvia stopped, her eyes wide.

    ¡°Imma let you go. Don¡¯t fucking hit me.¡± Santiago growled through gritted teeth.

    He released his hold on her and she took a few steps back wiping at her tearstained face.

    ¡°Guess Lola was wrong, she is your type. Fucking crazy.¡± Alejo laughed plopping onto the recliner flicking the TV on.

    Sylvia stormed out of the apartment and the door left ajar.

    Santiago sighed.

    Alejo shook his head with a smile, ¡°God, I missed you man.¡±

    <hr>

    Bennett¡¯s head pounded, he tossed another pair of Excedrin back with a swing of water. All they had to do was keep the boy from running off. Not on house arrest, not with a permanent chaperone, just within their line of sight.

    Apparently that had been too big an ask.

    ¡°You were supposed to be watching him. Instead you decide to ignore the kid and are sitting here wondering how he slipped out from under you.¡± Bennett threw his arms up, ¡°And you! You send him off with a pat on the back like this is a good idea.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like I could handcuff him to a chair.¡± Thompson shot back. ¡°I still have to be his therapist first and honestly being in Rosenia¡¯s house as of late has not been doing well for him. No offense.¡±

    Thompson did not like the game of passing the buck. Though he could not hide his disappointment in Rose¡¯s behavior in more ways than one.

    Rosenia sighed, ¡°I thought he was frightened of me, Santiago and Sylvia have it in their head that I might be responsible for the bus.¡±

    That was an Olympic level feat of mental gymnastics. It really did not seem like something Santiago would have just reached on his own. Though kids did manage to come up with some convoluted nonsense Bennett had heard enough of them spew from Alex.

    Bennett¡¯s shoulder slumped as he leaned in pointedly, ¡°Why do they think that?¡±

    ¡°They found my USB with all of the evidence I had been compiling.¡± Rosenia said.

    Perhaps it had been remiss to not secure her room better. It had never occurred to her that within her home she needed to hide things away. She supposed the fact that it had never happened before did not mean it was not a risk. Though she could not have anticipated they would react the way they had. Given the sensitivity of the information she held it was irresponsible not to secure it better.

    ¡°Now these kids are hackers¡ª ¡± Bennett did not miss the flash of guilt across her face, ¡°You did have a secure USB. I know you did not leave evidence of a potential murder on an unsecured USB drive that you left lying around.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t lying around, it was in my bedroom.¡±

    ¡°For fucksake, it was in her bedroom. Of course.¡± Bennett rubbed at his temples with one hand. ¡°Okay, I tried to do this whole group effort thing¡ª No. You all don¡¯t know how to communicate a goddamn thing so I am going to tell you how this is going to go.¡±

    Bennett steadied his breathing trying to reel in the booming Sergeant. He did not want to be domineering but given how off the rails things went so quickly when leaving them to their own devices he would have to be firm in getting them back on track.

    At this point keeping a lock on where the boy is would be the focal point of the plan. There was a simple enough way to do that. Give Santiago what he wanted.

    Bringing him home to his mother was their best course of action.

    Now hinging the plan on a drug addict was not ideal. However, it offered them more control. They track down Guadalupe they could arrange to have her set up in a place. Bennett knew his apartment manager for years would be simple enough. This would put him in close proximity to watch the boy and his mother.

    Santiago would continue with therapy. Bennett would help the kid deal with his mother. He knew the life. He knew the recovery. It was not easy.

    Santiago was unwilling to accept help for himself but his mother was a different story. He would never stray too far from her either, especially during the difficult process of detox.

    With Bennett offering support with his mother and Santiago receiving treatment with Thompson it would alleviate the boy''s stress enough to focus on his studies both ordinary and extraordinary. With the added bonus of putting a stopper in Eliana¡¯s custody battle. It was simple and would be the best way to quickly reign the boy back into a space they could manage.

    ¡°That is a fantastic plan Bennett, however, there is one problem.¡± Thompson arms were folded tightly against his chest, his brows furrowed as he looked to Rosenia.

    Bennett looked at the woman, ¡°Rose, what¡¯s he on about?¡±

    She closed her eyes letting out a long breath. ¡°Santiago thinks his mother is dead.¡±

    Bennett slumped into his chair, ¡°Thinks. Why would he think something like that?¡±

    ¡°Because that is what she told him.¡± Said Thompson with an unusually curt edge to his voice.

    ¡°You told him his mother DIED!¡± Bennett boomed, ¡°What in gods name possessed you to do that?¡±

    ¡°He was going to leave to go find her. I had no other recourse.¡± She threw her hands up..

    ¡°You could have hit him over the head with a two by four at least he would have let that go.¡± Bennett scoffed, ¡°He finds out the truth. That¡¯s it. He¡¯s never going to trust you again.¡±

    ¡°I saw you in that room with Eliana, all that anger, all that pain. You¡¯ve held onto it for years and to get what you want you would inflict that pain on a kid.¡± Bennett slammed his hand onto the table, ¡°You said she is vile. You say she can¡¯t be trusted. Yet, here you sit playing the same games with peoples lives and think you have the moral high ground.¡±

    ¡°Good deeds don¡¯t erase sins.¡± Said Bennett.

    Rosenia said nothing.

    ¡°Thompson, it¡¯s going to take me a few days to make some arrangements for them and I¡¯ll track down his mother.¡± Bennett set a meaty palm heavily on Thompson''s shoulder, ¡°I am trusting you to keep a lid on things until then.¡±

    Thompson did not know if he should be happy or terrified that now Bennett was willing to rest his faith in him. He supposed the man had very little options at this point. Regardless they wanted the same thing.

    Thompson nodded. ¡°I will do my best.¡±

 Chapter 21

    THE MARKET SIGN PAINT FADED from years of rain. Barred windows and a worn-out welcome sign invited the boys in. Across the concrete wall that faced the four car parking lot was a vibrant mural but it was not the one Santiago remembered.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± Santiago muttered.

    Alejo snorted, ¡°Forgot about that, yeah Mrs Kim missed you boy.¡±

    Across the wall was a mix of vibrant flowers surrounding an oversized painting of himself, beside which bold letters spelled out ¡°No Justice. No Peace.¡±

    ¡°Oh fuck me, no wonder everyone still thinks I¡¯m dead.¡± Santiago said.

    Behind the counter the older Asian woman perked up catching sight of him and she let out a shrill scream.

    ¡°Whoa, Whoa Mrs. Kim it¡¯s okay.¡± He ambled over.

    ¡°Oh Santiago! Is that you?¡± She pressed a hand to her chest, ¡°They said you died!¡±

    Alejo took the basket from his hands and wandered down the aisles to gather up some groceries.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been getting that a lot.¡± He leaned over the counter giving the woman a quick hug, her flowery perfume and cigarette smoke clung to her knit cardigan. ¡°Good to see you Mrs. Kim.¡±

    ¡°People were saying they saw them take you from the house. I don¡¯t understand.¡± She shook head in disbelief.

    ¡°I know, I surprised the doctors too.¡± He chuckled, ¡°I¡¯m good though. Thanks for the, uh, tribute.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± She breathed, ¡°You¡¯re such a good boy. Always taking care of mom. I remember when you were this big¡ª¡± Lowering a hand to her hip, ¡°Coming in here to steal bread and milk.¡±

    Santiago loved this little shop. If it was not for this little corner store he probably would have died a lot sooner. The first time Mrs. Kim caught him stealing and she was livid. Dragged him all the way home by the scruff of his shirt to tell his mother what he did.

    Then she saw the state of their home. Saw Lupe laid up on the couch knocked out cold having not bathed in days stinking of alcohol, cigarettes. None of the cabinet doors were intact to hide the bare shelves. One look in the fridge finding only beer and a single lunchable.

    She left without a word. Came back a few hours later with groceries. Every week she would have a couple bags for him to take home of some essentials. Eggs. Milk. Bread. Along with a random sweet treat she tucked in just for him.

    Once he finally started making money he did his best to pay every cent they owed back.

    She beamed at him, patting his cheek. ¡°You come to settle mama¡¯s tab.¡±

    He chuckled, ¡°Yeah, I should probably do that. How much?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a lot this time. I had to cut her off last week.¡±

    ¡°Last week.¡± Santiago echoed. ¡°My mom was here last week.¡±

    ¡°Of course, she always comes for her smokes and some beer. Lately she¡¯s been trying to get harder drink, but I didn¡¯t like it.¡± She shook her head, ¡°I worried for her if you weren¡¯t there with her.¡±

    Ears rang so loud he barely heard a word of it. He laid some money on the counter and left the market quickly.

    His phone rang in his pocket, ¡°I¡¯m in the middle of something.¡±

    ¡°Middle of something¡ª where?¡± Alejo said the rustle of paper bags crackled through the phone.

    ¡°My mom¡¯s alive.¡± He said.

    ¡°Yeah man¡ª wait, you thought she was dead.¡± Alejo said. ¡°You didn¡¯t say anything!¡±

    ¡°She told¡ª Nevermind!¡± Santiago snapped.

    ¡°Who?¡ª Yago,¡± Alejo¡¯s tone hardened, ¡°Where you going?¡±

    ¡°I gotta go.¡± Santiago hung up as he approached the yard of the small apartment complex. A few men stood smoking outside eyeing the boy suspiciously as he walked up.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t no way. Santiago.¡± One of them looked him over with a sneer. ¡°Thought you got smoked a few months back.¡±

    ¡°Is she here?¡± He barked.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t realize I was supposed to be keeping track of your fast ass mother.¡±

    Santiago clocked him swiftly against the side of his temple and the man hit the floor knocked out cold. He turned to the other that sat on the steps.

    Pushing past he stormed into the apartment, Santiago bellowed. ¡°OSCAR!¡±

    His best bet to find out where his mother would be to ask him. Since she never went back to the apartment after that night no one had exactly been keeping tabs on her except for Mrs. Kim. Which told him Lupe was still in the neighborhood.

    Oscar appeared in the doorway gray flannel covered the heavily inked sleeves underneath. Deep age lines from his perpetual scowl, there was a crook in his nose from their last encounter.

    His eyes locked with Santiago¡¯s.

    In that moment the rationale behind his meeting with Oscar was drowned out by the unbridled rage that erupted from laying eyes on his mother¡¯s abuser.

    Oscar froze in fear the same chill one would get from spotting a massive hound wandering off its leash.

    Santiago bared his teeth.

    Oscar ran.

    The older man swiftly dove into an apartment door he could hear the residents within hollered as he barreled through.

    Santiago ran out the back entrance and heard the retreating footsteps down the alley. He leapt over the fence.

    Then the chase was on. Santiago sprinted after the man as he weaved through the residential streets throwing garbage cans to slow the boy down.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Oscar plowed through two teens as they walked along the street and knocked the girl to the floor.

    ¡°Ay, what the hell!¡± Marisol screamed, throwing a rock in a futile attempt at retaliation.

    Jesus helped the girl up and jolted as Santiago flew around the corner past the two of them.

    ¡°Was that¡ª?¡± She started.

    Jesus bolted after him, ¡°Yago! Man, wait!¡±

    Marisol threw her arms up in annoyance.

    Jesus joined in the pursuit and had his friend in his sights until Santiago turned a corner. The boy was gone. Jesus cursed as he scanned the area.

    Following the sounds of angry hollers and car honks Jesus saw the older man flee down the street.

    ¡°Oscar!¡± Jesus called.

    The man looked back and ran a few feet before he realized his pursuer was no longer behind him. ¡°The fuck did he go?¡±

    Jesus shrugged, ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Santiago flew from the back street colliding with Oscar. The two rolled into the street.

    Cars tires squealed as they slammed on the brakes.

    Jesus tried to grab a hold of his friend who was a lot taller and a lot heavier doing little else than making him miss a few strikes. ¡°Santiago, STOP!¡±

    People came out of their cars to yell at the two men in the street. Out of one of the cars despite his mother¡¯s protest Khalil jumped out of the passenger seat.

    There was no way it could be the Santiago he knew of all people thought Khalil. People crowded around the scene, Khalil shoved his way through. In the middle of the pavement there he was.

    It was not a secret that Santiago had a violent past. He told Khalil himself he put people in the hospital. Khalil did not think too much about it, he assumed it meant he fought a lot.

    Seeing him now, Khalil had been wrong.

    No trace of the laid back companion that he would smoke and vibe to music with to be found.

    Jesus tried to pull the boy back only succeeded in clinging to Santiago¡¯s back. Knuckles bloodied, Santiago snarled like an animal as he beat the man into the pavement with no signs of stopping.

    Khalil knew he had to do something before he actually killed the man. Darting forward Jesus caught him by the front of his jacket shoving him.

    ¡°Get the fuck back!¡± Jesus snapped.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to help, man.¡± Khalil said, ¡°I know Santiago.¡±

    Jesus eyed him suspiciously, nostrils flared.

    ¡±Look whether you believe me or not we gotta stop him before he kills him!¡±

    Jesus looked back at his friend, cursing under his breath. ¡°Fine, you grab one arm, I got the other.¡±

    The two boys lunged and locked on to Santiago¡¯s arms. Khalil held on with all his strength as the boy swung which knocked Khalil on his behind.

    ¡°You are way stronger than you look.¡± Khalil wheezed.

    ¡°Get off me!¡± Santiago hollered, swinging his arm back he elbowed Jesus in the gut.

    Jesus hit the pavement doubled over. Santiago flung Khalil off, he rolled catching himself on the bumper of the car.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to have to do this man.¡± Khalil''s hands glowed before he clamped them together. A massive boom echoed through the street as he fired off a sound wave launching Santiago several yards back onto the hood of the car.

    ¡°Khalil!¡± Kibra ran over grabbing her son by the arm. Thick braids snapped like a whip behind her. ¡°Get in the car! NOW!¡±

    ¡°Mom, I have to help him. He¡¯s my friend.¡±

    The woman eyed him incredulously, ¡°The one you just sent into a car.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± Khalil grimaced, he looked back towards the whine of sirens signaling the police''s approach. The boy looked to his mother''s eyes pleading.

    Clicking her pearly teeth, that stood starkly against her midnight complexion. she snapped at Jesus on the ground, ¡°Quit messing around get up.¡±

    ¡°Wha¡ª¡± Jesus groaned as he forced himself to his feet.

    ¡°Get him in the car.¡± Kibra snapped at the boys, she shouted at the crowd in French forcing them out of their way.

    Kibra looked at the boys now piled into her back seat and back at her son. She whispered to Khalil the displeasure plain on her face, the East African lilt came through stronger when she was upset. ¡°How do you know these boys?¡±

    ¡°Rose,¡± Khalil said.

    Her face softened minutely. Of course, the woman had a way of finding the most wild of children. She knew this all too well as many years ago she had been one of them. Near black irises held a maternal warmth as she peered at the boys through the rearview mirror. Kibra shook her head in disbelief before she backed up to turn the car around.

    <hr>

    Bennett did not know whether to be upset or impressed the kid managed to track down Oscar before the police did. Not that the police department was going to share any of the credit. This was exactly the type of thing he was worried about. Without supervision the kid could run headlong into trouble.

    Oscar could have been armed. They could have got mowed down on the city street where they decided to have their brawl. So many things could go wrong.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to sit down with him and explain this to him. This doesn¡¯t work if we don¡¯t know where he is.¡± Said Bennett.

    Rosenia knew he was right. She had tried to make the choices she thought were best of Santiago. She treated him like she did all her children yet she realized now that was her mistake. Santiago had never truly been a child. Her efforts to comfort him pushed him further away. The strong willed boy rejected what felt like coddling.

    Thompson had already made his stance clear on working with Eliana. He was alone on that front as neither colleague offered any support to incorporating her help.

    Bennett knew where to look for Santiago now so he was not going to engage in the cyclical bickering with Thompson any longer.

    ¡°What is the plan after you find him?¡± Said Thompson, ¡°If you bring Guadalupe and Santiago back safely that is fantastic. The problem is keeping it that way once Eliana realizes we have chosen to side against her.¡±

    ¡°Whatever it takes. I¡¯ll get them out of this city if need be.¡± Said Bennett. ¡°Whether it is witches or Santiago himself the clock is ticking. Something is going to give. Doing nothing is not going to cut it.¡±

    Even after Bennett left the two sat in a pensive silence.

    ¡°If worse came to worse and Eliana decides to take him by force would you be able to stop her?¡± Said Thompson.

    Rosenia straightened in her seat, ¡°I can take Eliana in a head on fight. It wouldn¡¯t be easy but I have no doubt in my ability to subdue her. It would not end with her though.¡±

    ¡°The Calaveras.¡± Thompson murmured, staring at his reflection in the dark liquid in his mug.

    ¡°The more people that know about Santiago the bigger the threat. The kind of power he has inside him is enough for an upstart coven to climb the ranks.¡± Rosenia shook her head, ¡°He hasn¡¯t even scratched the surface of what his powers can do.¡±

    ¡°Which do you think is safer for him in the long run removing his powers or learning to use them?¡±

    Rosenia would always advocate for a young witch to hone their powers. They were a part of someone. Like the blood that pumped through their veins the powers that resided in them were something that carried the history of their ancestors.

    Yet, if it was a question of safety. Santiago would be safer without the powers he held. Though even she could not speak to the danger of those powers in the wrong hands.

    ¡°Surely there has to be someone else. Another family that we could petition for help.¡± Said Thompson.

    ¡°Not without a cost.¡± Rosenia frowned, ¡°Though perhaps there may be some witches I can reach out to on Santiago¡¯s behalf. People I know who owe his father a debt and have enough honor to repay it.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to need to cash in all of our chips if we are doubling down on facing the Calaveras.¡±

    Rosenia nodded.

    Thompson''s words were truer than he could even grasp. It was hard for those who did not live within their world to understand the meaning behind facing a major family such as the Calaveras. They were more than blood relatives. Hundreds of smaller families had sworn loyalty to them. The Calaveras were not simply a family, they were an army.

    Defying them would lead to bloodshed of that much Rosenia was certain. The only bit in question is whose blood it would be.

 Chapter 22

    ¡°HOW IS IT THAT YOU get into a fight and I¡¯m the one that¡¯s got to ice.¡± Jesus leaned back along the sofa where he held the ice filled rag to his ribs.

    Santiago rubbed absently at his swollen knuckles. Watching the TV screen intently. Oscar was caught by the police having spent the greater part of the last few months on the run. The newscaster listed off his crimes like a grocery list..

    Assault and battery. Assault of a police officer. Resisting and evading arrest. Domestic abuse. Murder.

    Santiago¡¯s brows furrowed; they were pinning his own murder on the man. It should not surprise him that they would use the scum bag as a scapegoat. He deserved it.

    Oscar was getting a life sentence without parole there was no doubt in anyone''s mind about that.

    It still bothered him though that the ones who actually killed him were still out there somewhere. He did not even know their faces.

    Wooden legs screeched as Alejo dragged the chair over to where Santiago perched on the end of the couch. ¡°I get you¡¯re pissed and as much as that asshole deserves that beat down it¡¯s not going to do anything to fix what¡¯s actually wrong.¡±

    ¡°Like I need advice from a junkie¡ª¡± Santiago snapped. ¡°Figure out your shit before you stick your nose in mine.¡±

    ¡°Ay, man! Shut up!¡± Jesus said, ¡°You wanna act like you ain¡¯t to blame.¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯m the one who stuck the needles in his arms? Don¡¯t put that shit on me!¡± Said Santiago.

    Jesus winced as he got to his feet flinging the rag to the floor sending ice shards scarting across the vinyl floor. ¡°You let us think you were dead!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know!¡±

    ¡°Well good for you asshole!¡± Jesus yelled back, glowering up at Santiago as he shoved at him. ¡°We had a funeral for you, we cried for you, and when you came back we were exactly where we¡¯ve always been right here! You think you get to treat us like shit because you¡¯re caught up in your feelings. Fuck you, man.¡±

    Santiago leered down at the boy, not backing down an inch.

    ¡°Jesus,¡± Alejo chided, a hand on his chest pushing him back. ¡°Let it go.¡±

    The boy was half Santiago¡¯s size in every direction. Alejo knew he had to step in. He knew both of the boys well enough to know that if Jesus pushed Santiago far enough he would end up with a few less teeth.

    It was far from a fair fight.

    ¡°No! Fuck that, you talk all that shit about Oscar and here you are acting just fucking like him!¡±

    ¡°HEY! ENOUGH!¡± Alejo shoved Jesus back onto the sofa, Santiago¡¯s right hook catching only air. He gripped onto the boy¡¯s shoulders forcing him back.

    Alejo knew right now if Santiago really pressed him, he would not be able to hold him back. Quitting cold turkey did not do wonders for his health. Being so high he almost never ate and definitely was not lifting any weights. He was always exhausted. Now was half the size he used to be and only a fourth as strong as when Santiago died.

    ¡°Alejo back off. He wants to run his mouth, he better run them hands.¡± Santiago seethed pushing forward.

    ¡°Truth hurts doesn¡¯t it?¡± Jesus said.

    Santiago lunged past Alejo who locked his arms around his chest dragging him back.

    ¡°Jesus shut up!¡± Alejo hollered, beads of sweat forming on his brow as Santiago thrashed in his hold.

    ¡°Why are you telling me? You know I¡¯m right!¡± Jesus laughed.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing?!¡± Marisol slammed the front door shut behind her, ¡°I can hear you guys from the parking lot.¡±

    ¡°Your man needs to stop running his mouth.¡± Santiago snapped.

    ¡°Knock it off, both of you!¡± She threw the bags in her arms on the couch. Marisol could not let them out of her sight without them getting into some kind of trouble. Whenever she lost track of them all she had to do was follow the sirens. ¡°What is this even about?¡±

    ¡°Him!¡± Jesus motioned to Santiago, ¡°Boy who lived over here thinks he¡¯s better than us now. Want to get mad because I¡¯m calling him on his bullshit.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t put words in my mouth.¡± Santiago growled.

    ¡°Babe, stop.¡± She said exasperated. ¡°This is crazy.¡±

    ¡°You think I¡¯m lying, Alejo trying to talk him down and tell him to get bent because apparently he''s just a junkie now.¡± Jesus laughed.

    Marisol shook her head in disbelief, her eyes widened seeing Santiago turn away from her gaze. ¡°Did you¡ª Did you tell Alejo that?¡±

    ¡°Answer the question Yago!¡± Jesus hollered banging on the sofa armrest.

    Alejo tentatively ease his hold on the boy to catch his breath.

    ¡°Santiago!¡± Marisol snapped, ¡°Did you say that?¡±

    ¡°I was pissed, okay¡ª¡±

    ¡°No! Not okay. He is one of your best friends.¡± She waved his excuse off with a finger, her voice reaching a fever pitch. ¡°He got beat to within an inch of his fucking life trying to save you!¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Santiago looked at Alejo who faced away, setting the overturned chair upright.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell him?¡± She smacked Alejo¡¯s shoulder who simply shook his head. ¡°You are all so hard headed! So focused on this bullshit machismo. Every time you get an emotion that isn¡¯t hungry or horny you gotta fight somebody!¡±

    Alejo had not mentioned anything to Santiago. The only thing he said was that he saw his body. It was hard enough to think about for him.

    He had made the call. Told Santiago knowing full well he would come to take Oscar out. Alejo did not know how far he was going to take it. Had no idea that Santiago was out for blood. He had been across the street watching from his apartment window. Debating whether or not to get involved in dragging the old leech out.

    When he saw the cops coming Alejo booked it downstairs. The cops made it in before he did. Hitting the street he heard them yelling. Could hear Gudelupe screaming for them not to shoot.

    One. Alejo¡¯s sneakers hit the curb.

    Two. He leapt up the steps to the door.

    Three. Alejo slid into the hall in time to see Santiago¡¯s skull come apart.

    There was so much blood.

    He grabbed the first one, slammed his head sending out a blast of insulation and plaster dust. The second one wrenched the glock from their hands and beat them into unconsciousness.

    Stumbling over his friend''s corpse, Alejo laid his head on the bloodsoaked fabric clinging to Santiago¡¯s back, sobbing over him until more came to drag him from the scene. Alejo was certain he would be joining his friend soon enough. In lock up they took turns beating him for what he had done to the other officers.

    There was no way they were letting him out alive. People died in lock up all the time. Who would care about someone like him? The only one who did was dead too.

    ¡°Someone posted bail for me.¡± Alejo¡¯s brow furrowed as he stared at the notches carved into the thrifted coffee table. ¡°I don¡¯t know how or why. Ain¡¯t never seen so many pigs red in the face, they were all staring me down as I walked out.¡±

    Santiago¡¯s chest felt like a snake coiled around his lungs crushing him from the inside. ¡°I didn¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t ask.¡± Alejo chuckled, burying his face in his hands. ¡°Thinking about it was hard enough. Kept replaying that shit over and over. I needed it to stop.¡±

    Marisol rubbed his back, ¡°It¡¯s okay Alejo. It¡¯ll take time, but you¡¯ll get there.¡±

    The soft brown eyes in a flash turned to hardened topaz as she glowered at the two of them. ¡°If you two don¡¯t stop acting like a couple of dogsI i''ll cut your balls off like one.¡±

    Santiago and Jesus locked eyes with one another.

    They had both said and done stupid things that much was true. Jesus knew he had hit a sore spot for Santiago. That was the point. Jesus had not realized how betrayed he had felt by his friend until it all started to spill out at once.

    Santiago could not believe how badly he lost sight of the most important thing in the world to him. His family. The one he chose.

    He had hurt them so badly and had been so blind to it. Santiago was angry but it was not at Jesus. The boy had been right, the truth hurts.

    ¡°We good?¡± Santiago said.

    Jesus'' nose scrunched, but he relented. ¡°We good.¡±

    Marisol walked over, slapping them both in the back of their heads. ¡°Now look, the nachos are spilled out in the bag. Go get some more before I get mad!¡±

    ¡°Ay,¡± Jesus grumbled as she threw the car keys in his lap. He pointed at Santiago, ¡°You''re paying for this shit.¡±

    ¡°When am I not?¡± Santiago said.

    Jesus laughed.

    <hr>

    Wooden door with foggy inlaid glass had been propped open allowing Bennett to enter the apartments lobby. The crimson patterned carpet stretched the length of the winding maze of hallways. Each hall with its own uniquely unpleasant odor, a mix of stale cigarette smoke, weed, or cooked fish. A faint echo of raised voices and sporadic bursts of laughter accompanied the symphony of booming music and televisions volume dialed up to max.

    Reaching the apartment door with its chipped paint and hastily patched up crack, evidence of previous forced entries. A few solid knocks that resonated down the dimly lit hall.

    He could hear the muffled sounds of shuffling footsteps and a faint television playing in the background. The walls were paper thin, allowing the neighboring apartments noise to sleep through.

    Alejo swung open the door, a scowl plastered on his face as he looked the man over. ¡°Whatchu you need homie?¡¯

    ¡°I¡¯m looking for, Santiago.¡± Bennett said. ¡°I¡¯m Bennett Gauthier¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re Bennett,¡± Alejo¡¯s face cracked into a smile, ¡°He told me about you. You look exactly how he said.¡±

    Bennett did not know if that was a good or a bad thing and had no intention of asking. He knew a little about Alejo from his rap sheet which was impressively longer than Santiago¡¯s. It was part of the reason he was annoyed with Thompson for allowing Santiago to stay here. It is a lot harder to keep out of trouble when the people around you are neck deep in it.

    ¡°Is he here? I need to talk to him.¡± Said Bennett.

    ¡°Nah, he was gone when I got home. Probably out looking for his ma again.¡±

    The unfocused glaze in his eyes and the inability to keep his head up straight was enough to tell him something was not quite right. It was definitely more than the stink of alcohol leaking from his pores.

    Bennett studied the boy, ¡°Your friend hitting the streets looking for his missing mother and you posted up here.¡±

    Alejo clicked his teeth, ¡°He ain¡¯t here so you can go.¡±

    It made sense, with as tight a community as Santiago had it was strange that he had not gotten a line on his mother. The only way that would happen is if they either weren¡¯t looking or were making sure she was not found.

    ¡°You know where she is.¡± Bennett scoffed, ¡°Some friend you are, letting him run around like a fool because you are too much of a punk to tell the truth.¡±

    Bennett knew that a lot of his own anger was misplaced. Unfortunately for Alejo, he managed to hit a nerve in the same way Bennett did with him. Misery loves company afterall.

    ¡°Hey fuck you!¡± Alejo launched through the door.

    Bennett caught the boy pinning Alejo with his forearm. ¡°You''re gonna tell me where he went or I am going to call up your PO and tell him you need a drug test. You¡¯ll be back in a group home by morning.¡±

    Bennett¡¯s patience for games was running razor thin. This kid had no idea how much danger he was putting Santiago in by having him hunting all over the city by himself. All the while lying to Santiago¡¯s face.

    Alejo sucked in a breath through his teeth. ¡°I don¡¯t know nothing.¡±

    ¡°We both know that''s bullshit.¡± Bennett said, ¡°You don¡¯t want to tell me that¡¯s fine.¡± Letting him go roughly the boy stumbled back bracing against the doorframe. ¡°If something happens to that kid because of you, I will have your ass. Know that.¡±

    That much was true. Bennett had about hit his limit with everyone and their secret agendas. Things never should have gotten this out of hand. Trusting the wrong people was another thing he shared with Santiago.

    Bennett stalked down the hall.

    Alejo¡¯s breathing was unsteady as he glowered at the man retreating back before he slammed the door shut.

 Chapter 23

    WORN SIDEWALKS FRAMED the streets alongside buildings that bear the marks of all the years past. Facades displaying a mix of faded paint, peeling posters, and stories etched into the walls inside and out. Some of them were made by Santiago¡¯s own hand.

    The small shops ran and owned by families from all over the world having brought a piece of their past and rooted it into the neighborhood garden of cultures. Proud displays of wares and every type of cuisine offered a sense of familiarity and warmth to the boy who grew up. The streets were alive with the rhythm of different languages, laughter, and animated conversations.

    The park was a place where memories were made, gatherings were had, and children could run and play. Their jubilant laughter echoed off the backdrop of surrounding buildings.

    Yet not everything was as he remembered. Weathered doors and layers of dust blanketed what remained of the window panes obscuring the view inside. The forgotten establishment had been envisioned as a safe haven, a place where the young kids could find solace, direction, and escape from the dangers that lurked outside its walls. If only for a little while.

    For a time it was. It was within these walls Santiago learned to throw a proper punch. Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the boarded up windows casting a dim, melancholic glow upon the decaying interior. The boxing ring, what had once been a place of solace. A place where hunger, poverty, or drugs could not reach him as he lost himself in visions of winning championship belts in front of a cheering crowd. Now stands dilapidated, its ropes frayed and canvas torn.

    Heavy bags hang limply, their surfaces worn and weathered from countless rounds of training. Faded posters peel away revealing patches of bare brick. Layers of graffiti from the transient visitors who have sought shelter within these crumbling walls to escape the elements.

    Outside the remnants of the old boxing gym rested a collection of photos and withered flowers. Depictions of a young boy''s infectious smile carefully arranged, held together by colorful ribbons adorned with heartfelt messages.Beneath the photos, a weathered wooden altar takes center stage. Adorned with personal mementos a soccer ball, a pair of boxing gloves, a stack of books Santiago had read dozens of times. and a collection of rainstained handwritten letters of heartfelt condolences rested underneath the weight of a couple votive candles.

    Santiago crouched over the altar flicking through the pages. A peculiar feeling swelled in his chest as he stared at the altar memorializing his death. Notes from teachers, old classmates, former friends, shopkeepers and restaurant owners of his favorite haunts, people all over the neighborhood who have been a fixture in his life growing within the confines of the city reminiscing on memories they shared of him.

    As the tears hit the page, Santiago raised his head letting out a long breath. He pocketed the letterers and began to dismantle the altar and dispose of what couldn¡¯t be salvaged.

    ¡°You leave that alone!¡± A gruff voice boomed from the man appearing in the shattered window. Followed by the yowling and bounding of a hound as the pit mix clambered out the door.

    The dog came to a screeching halt stiff as a board, only the moist pink nose wiggled as he took a whiff of him. Tail fluttered behind him like a whip as the dog leapt up into the boy''s arms yipping and licking every bit of Santiago it could reach.

    ¡°Easy Lady, I missed you mamas.¡± Santiago cradled the dog wriggling so wildly with excitement he could barely maintain the grip.

    Santiago recognized the homeless man hastily limping towards him. ¡°Frances, what¡¯s up man?¡¯

    Frances gasped, stumbling onto his rear. ¡°Santiago! Are you coming to take me to the other side?¡±

    Santiago chuckled, setting down Lady. ¡°No, you¡¯re not dead and neither am I.¡±

    ¡°Oh, kid I thought they got you.¡± Behind a tangle of matted hair and overgrown bear the bleary eyes welled with tears.

    ¡°They tried.¡± Santiago said. ¡°What are you doing over here? I was wondering why I wasn¡¯t seeing you two on the block.¡±

    ¡°Damn bastards kept coming to try and take it down outside your place. I took everything. Brought it here.¡± Frances nodded clearly, quite proud of himself. ¡°I remembered when you were this big¡ª¡± France beamed as he held up his hand to waist height. ¡°All you boys would come over here to Alex¡¯s place. Used to tell me all about your sparring matches.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that.¡± Santiago absently rubbed at the top of Lady¡¯s smooth fur. ¡°You''ve been holed up here, the weather''s turning you should be at the shelter.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been hard. The ones that let me take Lady fill up quick around this time of year.¡± Frances said.

    ¡°I got you, man.¡± Santiago dug in his pocket with the other, ¡°Take that get you guys a room. Get Miss Lady here something tasty.¡±

    Francess nodded tears leaving streaks on the man¡¯s dusty cheeks. The dog gave a soft woof of approval, Santiago knelt to give the tawny dog a hug as she gave a satisfied whine.

    Santiago gave the man an encouraging pat. ¡°I¡¯ll be checking on you two soon.¡±

    An unexpected but not unwelcome turn of events had lessened the tension that settled in. His first stop was to meet with an old friend of his mothers, Sydney. She was once upon a time their neighbor in one of the many complexes Santiago had lived in. Syd and his mother were often partying together. Both women had their vices and both women had terrible taste in men. Putting them together in a club was a cocktail for disaster with a guarantee of a three day hangover..

    Nestled along a rundown street stood a row of seedy outlet shops. Neon signs flicker sporadically casting an eerie glow on the faded facades. Each establishment is an emblem of indulgence.

    At one end a dimly lit liquor store beckons those seeking solace in the embrace of alcohol. Shelves lined with an array of spirits, labels worn and stained from years of neglect. Broken beer bottles litter the sidewalk outside, remnants of hasty indulgence and forgotten nights.

    Beside it a smoke shop lures in customers with its garish display of tobacco products and paraphernalia. Window splattered with posters of exotic hookahs and alluring vaping devices in every size, shape, and color. The thick acrid scent of smoke wafted from the place intermingling with the perfume of frying oil and onion of the fast food joint nextdoor.

    The hole-in-the-wall fast food joint which offers a greasy respite from hunger. A cramped space filled with the sizzle of fryers and aroma of cheap, hastily prepared food fresh from the freezer.

    A disheveled clothing store with a motley assortment of second hand garments. Racks crammed with mismatched and worn-out apparel, colors faded and seams frayed. Not even bargain hunters were brave enough to come there to sift through the disarray among the forgotten garments. Clientele existed entirely of the vagrants or neighborhood families in desperate need of clothing and shoes to carry them through until payday.

    Adjacent to the thrift shop was a dimly lit massage parlor with promises of respite from the outside world. A gleaming neon sign advertises ¡°relaxation¡± and ¡°stress relief¡±, behind it windows concealed by heavy curtains veiling the secrets within. As he passed the parlor the fragrance from exotic oils crept out from behind the tinted doors.

    Rain or shine down these streets there would always be an array of flashily dressed women loitering outside the row of outlet shops. The nearly full parking lot of heavily tinted windows outside the storefronts with nary a soul to be found behind the hazy glass displays spoke to the true nature of this place and the people that frequented it.

    Long legs bare in the wintry air, the sequins of her blouse cast a shimmer of turquoise across the pale white of the car door she leaned against. Bleached blonde hair was tucked into a messy hairspray stiffened bun. With the practiced giggle of a woman entertaining a man that was far from amusing Sydney arm rested against the open window of the prospective patron behind the driver''s seat.

    ¡°Syd.¡± Santiago said.

    Sydney¡¯s electric blue eyes bugged, the length faux lashes nearly brushing her eyebrows. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ªHow? ¡ª Lupe said¡ª ¡±

    ¡°I know. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. I¡¯m trying to find her so I can bring her home.¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°Titi, I missed you baby!¡± She failed to keep her shrill voice from cracking. Her arms coiled around him eveloping him with the thick sweet citrus of her perfume.

    ¡°I missed you too.¡± He gave the woman a pat.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen your mama in a hot minute.¡± She bit her overglossed bottom lip. ¡°I can reach out to some mutual friends to see if they¡¯ve seen her lately.¡±

    Friends. It was a term that was thrown around a lot. As far as Santiago was concerned, if you had to pay them to keep them, they were not really friends. Still Santiago knew if any one would have tabs on his mother it would be here dealers.

    ¡°Syd, the fuck you doing. Get back to work.¡± Andre ordered.

    ¡°Sorry baby, this is my friends son¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do I look like I care who the kid is?¡± He snapped.

    ¡°No.¡± She shook her head, giving Santiago¡¯s shoulder a squeeze. ¡°It was good seeing you. Tell your mom to call me. We can grab dinner or something.¡±

    Santiago nodded, hands tucked in his pockets he ambled up the cracked sidewalk. He brushed shoulders with the older man as he passed, jaw clenched and eyes of hardened mossy agate in a silent challenge.

    Andre turned away. He would not raise a hand to Santiago. No, he was a pitiful excuse of a man that would only beat on those that could not fight back.

    Santiago could have done it. He did not need a reason to pulverize someone like Andre.

    Still it would do more harm than good as insane as it sounded. Santiago could beat the man senseless and despite Andre¡¯s horrible treatment of her, Sydney would crawl back to him. Andre would make her suffer for any hurt Santiago inflicted.

    It ate Santiago up inside to do nothing, it went against everything he believed in.

    A hard lesson learned was that what he believed did not change reality. The reality was this was the way things were, the way they had always been, and always would be. .

    The car door clunked shut behind Sydney.

    <hr>

    Returning to the apartment for a bite to eat and determining where to look next he was surprised to find Marisol outside their front door. Her arms folded tightly over her chest, her dark brown eyes narrowed as he approached. That was never a good sign.

    Marisol was petite in every definition of the word. They used to joke that she stopped growing in the fifth grade, usually earning a round of slaps for all of them in turn. She was five feet even which she proudly proclaimed last year. Slender and strong from her years as a dancer. Small and full of spite enough to keep the lot of oversized hoodlums in line.

    ¡°Where is Alejandro?¡± She said.

    ¡°I¡¯m not his keeper.¡± He said.

    ¡°He was supposed to help build my entertainment center.¡±

    ¡°Have your man do it.¡± Santiago said, knowing good and well she would never ask Jesus. Little fool insisted he could build anything without ever having to look at the instructions. Turning even the simplest projects into a days long endeavor including all the repairs to fix his handiwork.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°He¡¯s not answering anyone¡¯s calls.¡± She said.

    Santiago stopped as he passed through the door way.

    Alejo had not been back since last night. After dinner with Jesus and Marisol and the matter with Santiago and Jesus settled, his roommate slipped out in the middle of the night. Santiago did not want to read too much into it. It was not his place to hound him every minute of the day.

    Still there was something that had been lingering in the back of his mind. The same tug of anxiety when his mother left home for a trip to the corner store and been gone for a few hours.

    ¡°He¡¯ll turn up. He always does.¡± Santiago busied himself at the counter top grabbing a few slices of bread.

    Marisol¡¯s flip flops slapped against her heels as she stomped after him. ¡°You need to go and get him.¡±

    Santiago waved the mayo covered butter knife in her direction.¡°I don¡¯t need to do anything, he¡¯s a grown ass man.¡±

    ¡°He needs help.¡±

    ¡°I know he does but what do you want me to do if he doesn''t want to get right I can¡¯t make him.¡±

    ¡°He does want to get right!¡± Marisol snapped, ¡°He never would have relapsed if it hadn¡¯t been for¡ª¡±

    ¡°Me dying?¡± Santiago shrugged, ¡°I¡¯m here now so¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not because you died.¡± She stared at the wall behind him, peachy painted lips set in a dour pout.

    That was news to him. Santiago had been certain that was the reason for his relapse and what Jesus and Lola told him was the grief had done the boy in.

    Slapping the slice of bread to top off the sandwich he looked to her, ¡°You going to elaborate or I gotta keep fishing.¡±

    ¡°They said it would be better if you didn¡¯t know. That it would just upset you.¡± Marisol sat poised on the barstool. ¡°I thought you had the right to know.¡±

    What exactly she was getting at Santiago did not know. It was very plausible he missed something important in his time away. He could not imagine something that they would see fit to keep from him that would have driven Alejo back to substances.

    ¡°He was miserable. Heartbroke¡ªwe all were. He was trying to pull through it. For you, you know.¡± Her dark eyes were far off as she examined the peeling countertop. ¡°He was trying to look after her. He wanted to make sure she was okay without you there.¡±

    The blood ran from Santiagao¡¯s face. Before she even said it he knew. His mother.

    It had crossed his mind before why no one knew where she was. Admittedly it hurt him to think his friends had just abandoned her once he was gone but he accepted it. She was no one''s responsibility except his own.

    Of course Alejo would have stepped in. She was like a mother to him too.

    He did not want to believe it. Did not want to think she would do something like that after how hard it was for the boy to quit after so many years.

    Misery loves company.

    ¡°She got him to use it again. We tried to talk to him. He wouldn¡¯t listen. Alejo was so insistent he had to make sure she was okay.¡± Mariso shook her head, ¡°He¡¯s not like you Santiago. Waving that stuff in his face he was going to crack eventually she knew that.¡±

    Santiago knew what she said was true. Guadalupe had made many mistakes while she was so far gone on whatever cocktail of substances she had in her system. She was how he got his first taste of it. Normal parents taught their kids how to ride a bike, change a car tire, and open a bank account. His mother taught him how to roll a joint, to snort a line, and how to tie a tourniquet.

    Santiago never took to it like she did. He did not like the feeling of being out of his own head.

    The few times he did was not because he wanted to get high. He just wanted to feel closer to her.

    Santiago buried his face in his hands. ¡°FUCK!¡±

    His fist split the cabinet door in half. The loosely glued in shelf fell to the bottom sending a cascade of plastic seasons rolling across the floor.

    Marisol said nothing only watched him behind heavy dark lashes. ¡°I¡¯ll be in the car when you¡¯re ready.¡±

    Alejo was a lot easier to find than his mother. Guadelupe had the gift of beauty and charisma. She was able to charm her way into the hearts of strangers. It got her into exclusive clubs, free drinks, and a lot of gifts from admirers.

    Alejo was not by any means a social butterfly. He had a small friend group and made no efforts to add to it. The boy had a hard time trusting people and for good reason. His time on the streets taught him that the only person he could rely on was himself.

    Still Santiago knew when Alejo was down and out where he would go to lick his wounds. He would never understand the correlation between drug addicts and their toxic exes.

    Santiago knocked on the door.

    A little boy answered with a scowl pants were torn from roughhousing, once white shoes were a graying brown laces askew, his dinosaur shirt covered in an assortment of stains. The stench of cigarette smoke and weed wafted through the open door. He could hear the raucous screaming of other children and the cries of a baby over the blaring music.

    ¡°Where¡¯s your ma?¡± Santiago said.

    The boy looked him over leaving the door wide open as he stopped back into the house. ¡°MA THERE''S A GUY AT THE DOOR!¡±

    Gabirella appeared in the doorway the sobbing baby on her hip. Hair pinned up in a loosely pinned bun stray. Her tank top rolled over the distended pregnant belly.

    ¡°Santiago, I heard you were back.¡± Her scowl melted as she spotted him, ¡°You look good.¡±

    ¡°Hey Gab¡¯s, that little Alana?¡± Santiago smiled at the teary eyed baby, ¡°Hi mamas, you got so big.¡±

    Gabriella handed him the girl with a sigh of relief. ¡°She is on one today. I about had it with these damn kids.¡±

    ¡°Then maybe stop having them hoe.¡± Santiago laughed, as she flipped him off. He bounced Alana in his arm making the baby giggle with delight.

    She slumped on to the worn sofa, littered with dark spots and cigarette burns. ¡°He¡¯s upstairs sleeping it off.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t cause of a fuss did he.¡± Santiago knew that there were plenty of things that could go wrong when both Alejo and Gabrielle were in a room together sober or not. What he did not care for was neither one of them cared about showcasing their problems in front of the kids.

    ¡°No, just turned up drunk and crying talking ¡®bout he misses me and he loves me.¡± She rolled her eyes, ¡°The usual bullshit.¡±

    ¡°He high?¡±

    She tilted her hand to say so-so, ¡°Not on his usual. Probably some benzos. He¡¯s been buying them off my mom.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of him.¡± Santiago nodded, ¡°Otherwise, you good?¡±

    ¡°Oh baby, when you¡¯re around I¡¯m golden.¡± She blew a kiss at him.

    Santiago handed her a few bills. ¡°Get them some damn winter clothes. Running around like it¡¯s the middle of summer. It¡¯s November.¡±

    ¡°Si Papi chulo,¡± She laughed as he flipped her off, trotting up the steps.

    Marisol had launched into her usual tirade about how irresponsible he was before the boy had even clambered into the back. In the car Alejo groaned, squinting against the daylight from where he slumped in the backseat. Santiago smirked through the rearview mirror as his friend shrunk away from the shrill voice.

    ¡°Should have known you would be at that messy house!¡± Marisol scoffed, her face twisted in disgust. ¡°How that girl still manages to have half the neighborhood lining up at her door is beyond me.¡±

    ¡°Well it ain¡¯t for her personality.¡¯¡± Santiago chuckled.

    ¡°You¡¯re disgusting and I hate you.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Now, you better be here when I come tomorrow Alejo or I swear to god¡ª¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright. I promise, I¡¯ll be here.¡± He waved her off, eyes still straining under the shade of his hood.

    Alejo collapsed onto the sofa growned into the cushions. ¡°Man, you suck.¡±

    ¡°Hey it was either me or you and it wasn¡¯t gonna be me so,¡± Santiago threw his jacked across the back of the recliner. ¡°Sp when exactly were you gonna tell me you knew where my mom was?¡±

    Alejo stiffened, he took a moment before he sat upright. ¡°Sorry, I guess I was hoping I could get her presentable beforehand.¡±

    ¡°Guess she hasn¡¯t been cooperative.¡±

    Alejo¡¯s eyes were wide with a terse smile, ¡°I see where you get your stubborn ass shit from that''s for sure. I¡¯ve been trying to tell her you¡¯re back but anytime I try to talk about you she flips out.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s never really been good at dealing with things.¡± Apparently it was genetic, Santiago thought. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with her. But first, what¡¯s going on with you?¡±

    ¡°With me? Nothing.¡± Alejo said.

    ¡°You on pills now from what Gabby said.¡±

    ¡°Gabs needs to stop running her mouth.¡± Alejo groaned.

    ¡°You can¡¯t cure one addiction with another Alejo.¡±

    ¡°I know that.¡± Alejo snapped, ¡°It¡¯s just too much sometimes. I need something to take the edge off.¡±

    ¡°Look I¡¯m not going to sit here and try to tell you how to deal with your shit. If I had the answer to that my mother wouldn¡¯t be running the streets.¡± Santiago said, ¡°I worry about you man. You¡¯re my brother. With everything going on. I need you in my corner. So whatever you need from me you got it. You got me and I got you.¡±

    Alejo let out a shaky breath. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do it cold turkey. That shit was getting rough. I can¡¯t do rehab.¡±

    ¡°You did good with NA. I think you should reach out to your old sponsor.¡±

    Alejo hung his head.

    ¡°He¡¯s been through this shit a hundred times man, he¡¯s not gonna judge for this shit.¡±

    ¡°I know. I just hate it. I thought I was past this shit. I¡¯ve been clean for 3 years.¡± Alejo clenched his eyes shut tightly, inhaling deeply. ¡°Now I¡¯m back at square one.¡±

    Santiago nodded, ¡°I could go with you.¡±

    ¡°You want to sit in a meeting with a bunch of dopeheads crying about their problems?¡±

    ¡°Nah, but I¡¯ll go if it makes it easier.¡± Santiago said, ¡°I¡¯ve been doing the therapy shit. Sometimes it helps to get it out.¡±

    ¡°Therapy. You''ve been going to therapy?¡± Alejo failed to stifle the laugh. ¡°I mean I know you¡¯ve been ordered by the court to go to anger management but like therapy, therapy.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, no one was as surprised as I was. Thompson, uh, he¡¯s been helping me work through some shit.¡±

    ¡°Like freaking dying.¡±

    Santiago laughed, ¡°That among other things. It¡¯s been a lot. Dying, these powers, my mom, and my dad.¡±

    ¡°Your dad.¡± Alejo tilted his head.

    ¡°Been learning a lot about him lately. Hasn¡¯t all been good. He wasn¡¯t who I thought he was.¡± Santiago shrugged, ¡°Not sure how I feel about that.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t really help you fix things with your pops, at least not without a ouija board. I can help you with your moms though.¡±

    For now, Santiago knew that was going to have to be enough.

    The outside of the once proud structure bore the scars of time and abandonment. Cracked windows, boarded-up entrances, and crumbling bricks told the tale of a home being left behind and forgotten.

    Faded graffiti adorned the walls, a lingering stench of urine and mold in the air. Discarded needles, empty bottles, and trash were scattered down the length of the hallway.

    Darkness enveloped him, pierced only by the dull glow from upstairs.

    Down the halls he could see that candles and dull electric lanterns provided the only sources of illumination. Makeshift beds of worn-out mattresses and tattered blankets were scattered throughout the rooms.

    Flipped the covers over a few. Bleary and bloodshot eyes looked at him without really seeing.

    Guadalupe was laid up in a broken recliner arm still resting limply on the rest with the makeshift tourniquet hanging loosely.

    Santiago pressed his fingers to her throat finding a pulse, slow and erratic. It was enough to ease the tightness in his chest. He folded her arms into her lap to lift her.

    Her eyes fluttered open, ¡°Vic?¡±

    ¡°No ma, it¡¯s me.¡± Santiago murmured as he cradled her head in one hand.

    ¡°No,¡± Lupe shook her head pressing back into the torn cushion away from his touch. ¡°It can¡¯t be.¡±

    ¡°I know it doesn¡¯t make a lot of sense right now. I promise I¡¯ll explain. I just need you to let me take you home.¡± He leaned in not flinching when the hand came across his face.

    ¡°No! You¡¯re not. You¡¯re not. My baby is gone. He¡¯s gone.¡± She wailed, ¡°Stay away from me!¡±

    Santiago gripped her arms firmly and pulled her up as she flailed futilely in his grasp. Hefted her up over his shoulder she shrieked and clawed at the walls as he carried her out.

    ¡°Great.¡± He hissed seeing the flash of lights as he reached the yard. He closed his eyes against the harsh light.

    ¡°Sir, I¡¯m going to ask that you set the lady down and put your hands up.¡± Said the officer.

    ¡°This is my mother. I¡¯m taking her home.¡± Santiago motioned with one hand, ¡°As you can see, she is not well.¡±

    His partner looked at him, ¡°We¡¯ve received a call about vagrants in the area.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll find plenty of them in there.¡± Santiago replied.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to need to check out your story, put the lady down.¡± Said the first officer again.

    ¡°She¡¯s going to run. You realize that.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll handle it.¡± Said the officer.

    Santiago smiled tightly, shifting her weight and he set her on her feet. The officer nearest lightly took her upper arm.

    Lupe was a sobbing shaky mess.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am do you know this man?¡±

    ¡°No! He¡¯s trying to take me! He¡¯s not my son!¡± Lupe screeched.

    ¡°For fucksake.¡± Santiago rubbed his head.

    ¡°Sir, I¡¯m going to have to ask you to put your hands up and turn around.¡±

    Santiago did as he was told, the cuffs clicking tight around his wrists. The first officer guided him to the car, closing the door.

    One stood and talked to his mother while the other went inside to investigate.

    The officer with his mother leaned into her radio and caught a message from her partner about the mess inside. The lady officer had turned her attention away to call into the radio requesting more help to deal with the others inside not noticing Guadalupe as she slunk away.

    Santiago hollered through the glass his shoulder bumped the door.

    The officer looked back annoyed, then to where the boy was pointedly trying to direct her attention.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am! I¡¯m going to need you to¡ª! Ma¡¯am¡± The officer ran as Guadalupe broke into a sprint.

    The cop chased her down the street for a few blocks before she lost Lupe. Her breath fumed white as the officer caught her breath.

    Walking back, she made her way to the car. The door hung open the unlocked handcuffs laid on the asphalt.

    She threw her arms up in disbelief at her partner who came upon the scene.

 Chapter 24

    STREETS WERE A KALEIDOSCOPE OF COLORS as the cars streaked by. Skyscrapers formed a constellation of sparkling windows that cast a warm glow against the night sky. Towering arches stretched out ahead, the silhouette outlined by the illuminated sky.

    Rushing traffic filled the air with the audible hum of engines that rumbled down the road. The lights of cars and skyscrapers cast an unnatural glow across the surface of the dark rushing water of the ship canal beneath.

    Cool night breeze brushed against his face as he moved swiftly across the bridge. Eyes focused on the slim figure up ahead the lights flashed against her blonde hair as she fled.

    Guadalupe was still a distance away.

    Between the adrenaline and drugs, she was not feeling any of the pain and exhaustion that was taking hold in him.

    If it was not for the unfortunate woman who was on a late-night stroll that his mother collided with he would not have been able to close the distance. They tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

    Lupe flailed like a wild animal as she attempted to extricate herself from the stranger.

    She spotted his approach and clambered over the railings.

    ¡°MOM! STOP!¡± Santiago boomed.

    ¡°No! Get away!¡± She wailed and scooted along the railing. ¡°You¡¯re not real. You¡¯re not real.¡±

    ¡°Mom, please.¡± Santiago¡¯s voice cracked, ¡°Look at me!¡±

    Guadalupe pulled her gaze away from the water. She trembled as she gripped onto the metal banister.

    ¡°You know me.¡± Santiago urged, ¡°I know what you saw. I know about dad. I know he had powers. It¡¯s what saved me.¡±

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    Lupe¡¯s mind raced.

    Santiago could see as the gears turned.

    Desperately she tried to understand.

    Guadalupe breathed. ¡°He protected you.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Santiago smiled, tears welling in his eyes, extending his hand. ¡°Now let¡¯s go home.¡±

    She steadied herself and leaned back immediately regretting the glance at the water below.

    Turning back to face him Guadelupe gave a shaky nod.

    In an attempt to make a move back over the railing she lost her footing.

    Guadalupe fell back, hands grabbed at the metal bar. The woman lacked the strength to hold it.

    He lunged forward to grab her and missed by inches.

    Without a second thought he dove over after her.

    Guadalupe¡¯s screams were drowned by the wind.

    Santiago¡¯s hand clamped onto her wrist to pull her to him as they plummeted into the depths of the canal.

    If the frigid water was not enough, the fall from the bridge made it feel like a cement block to his back. He blacked out. For how long he did not know except it was not long enough for him to run out of air.

    Still pressed against him was Guadalupe limply. He knew he had to get them back to the surface. He knew he could not let go of her or he would never find her in the endless void that surrounded them.

    Santiago¡¯s body would not move. Could not move.

    The water was frigid. Numbed every part of him, freezing him into place. Paralyzed.

    His only thought was to not let go. Even then Santiago was not sure if he still had her once the feeling left his hands.

    He could not see. He could not feel. He could not breathe.

    Icy water burned in his nostrils like battery acid. Pressure against his chest sent stabbing pains through his lungs that begged for oxygen. Ribs caved under the pressure and forced what little oxygen he had left out. In came the salt water that forced its way down his throat harsh as sandpaper.

    Desperate for air all that came was more water which filled his lungs until they were fit to burst.

    When the pain finally began to ebb as the blissful sensation coursed through his body. A last ditch effort of his nervous system to send him into a painless sleep.

    Santiago knew it was over.

 Chapter 25

    WHEN YOU DIE PEOPLE ALWAYS TALK about seeing a light at the end of a tunnel. Santiago had died once and did not see anything. Maybe it meant he was going someplace else.

    It wouldn¡¯t have surprised him.

    Santiago never held much stalk in heaven or hell. Never cared enough to earn a place in either. It was hard enough to keep his head above water in his time on earth. As for what happened after, he would take it for what it was.

    Except this time was different.

    He saw it.

    In the depths of the icy black.

    The sun. Golden warmth enveloped him and his mother who still floated limply in his grasp.

    Blood burned as it pumped through his icy veins.

    There was something that swam towards him, reaching. A figure in the light.

    Santiago was not afraid anymore.

    If this was the end for them. At least they were not alone.

    Santiago came into the world with his mother. Seemed fitting to leave it with her.

    Santiago took the warm hand into his own and closed his eyes one last time.

    Senses gradually came back to life, heavy lids struggled to open bringing the world around him into focus. The soft floral designs on the paper curtains blocked the harshness of the fluorescent bulbs. A dull murmur of voices mixed with the hum and chirping machinery.

    The medical equipment and monitors stood as silent sentinels watching over him for any signs of change. Plastic crinkled loudly as he shifted on the inflated mattress and grabbed the small plastic pitcher filled with water.

    Anyone who said water had no taste had never truly experienced thirst.

    Cool fluid spread through his chest and belly.

    He slumped back, wiped the excess from his face.

    Santiago did not bother with the button. He swung his legs over the side of the bed pulling his IV pole along with him. Sauntered out of his patient room the nurse jumped from behind the desk.

    ¡°You should be resting.¡± Tracy said.

    ¡°Where¡¯s my mother?¡± He said.

    She sighed, ¡°Santiago. Please, get back to bed.¡±

    ¡°You know me well enough to know that¡¯s not going to happen.¡± Santiago stared back at her evenly, ¡°You going to call the orderlies, now because I got time.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a pain in the ass.¡± She sighed and motioned him along, ¡°She¡¯s down the hall.¡±

    He ambled along with her to the patient room. He let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.

    She was lying there. Pale as a sheet, eyes sunken in, cheeks hollowed which stood out starkly in the well-lit room. Guadalupe was a shell of herself.

    His mother looked up at him, a light flickered in her eyes, her face contorted. ¡°Oh baby, I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    Santiago leaned over, he held her with his arm free of tubing. She clung to him tightly sobbed into his shoulder.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m okay.¡± He rubbed circles on her back, the feeling of the ridges of her spine under his palm put a pit in stomach.

    She laid back breathing heavily, ¡°I promise you, I¡¯m going to get right this time. I promise I¡¯ll be better.¡±

    Santiago smiled, kissing her forehead, ¡°Get some rest.¡±

    She nodded and gave his hand a squeeze.

    Outside the room his smile faded as Santiago made the way back to his own. Those words did not really mean anything to him anymore.

    It was always the same.

    She would apologize for all the trouble she caused and try to get better. She would succeed for a few weeks. On the rare occasion a few months. Then she would go off the rails and the cycle would start over again.

    For now she was safe and that is all that mattered.

    Tracy fussed about him as she set the equipment back in order.

    ¡°How did we get here?¡± He said.

    ¡°Ambulance brought you in.¡± She flipped through his chart, ¡°Near drowning, hypothermia. We don¡¯t know much else.¡±

    ¡°We fell off the Aurora bridge.¡± He said.

    Her eyes bugged, ¡°What¡ª The water is freezing this time of year. You would have gone into shock.¡±

    That made sense. As soon as he hit that water, he could not move an inch. Like he was stuck in an ice block. He was sure they were dead.

    ¡°You might be a little confused. It can happen with the lack of oxygen.¡± Tracy looked over concerned.

    ¡°You¡¯re probably right.¡± He said.

    <hr>

    Santiago absently stared at the television and the volume lowered to a faint hum in the dim hospital room. He was alone for now. His roommate was discharged a few hours earlier.

    Santiago winced against the fluorescent lights as the curtain was yanked back.

    Lola glowered at him.

    ¡°Ay!¡± He brought his arm up to block the first punch that never landed. He peered up at her, fist still raised.

    ¡°Shut up! You dumb dick!¡± Lola¡¯s lip quivered, her face pulled together trying to push back the tears as her voice cracked. ¡°How many times are you going to do this shit? You need to stop.¡±

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Lolo, I¡¯m okay.¡± Santiago said softly.

    She slumped over him screaming into his chest as she was wracked with sobs.

    He had been prepared for her throwing hits. It was her terrible way she expressed her emotions. Lola was not a crier. She hated it more than anything, even more in front of people. It did not matter what it was. He remembered when she fell out of a tree and broke her arm she did not shed a tear. Yet here she was unable to stop and it was his fault.

    What she must have thought when she got another call that said he was in the hospital.

    Being back he thought that negated his absence. He was dead, now he was not. He did not think about all that happened while he was gone despite the lingering traces he had come across.

    They had set up memorials for him. Marched for him. Grieved over him.

    None of them knew he would have come back. It was the end.

    He had experienced it enough with all the friends that never made it this far. Dying within the same confines of the neighborhood they were born in. It was never easy, every place had a memory attached to a person they loved that they lost to soon.

    They had gone through all of that for him. It had never occurred to him that his return meant that one day they might have to go through it all again.

    Santiago pulled her close. ¡°I''m sorry, I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    He rested his chin atop the thick mane of colored hair. Santiago held her for as long as she needed at least this time he could. He did not want to think about how close he was again to never seeing his best friend again.

    Her breathing was still shallow, as she rested her head on his chest. She blotted at her damp face with the tissues that had been left at his bedside in a halfhearted attempt to preserve what was left of her make-up.

    ¡°I can¡¯t do this shit again Yago.¡± Her voice trembled, ¡°I can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡± He gave her a squeeze. ¡°I¡¯ll do better. I promise.¡±

    He had to do better for them. For the people who had made space for him in their hearts. The ones who stayed by his side through the worst and never looked at him any different. He loved them more than he did himself.

    Since he had learned his mother died he had been reckless. He did not care what happened. He had been so overwhelmed with guilt and grief. Stupidly he thought he could disappear and no one would care.

    Had he truly become so selfish to not pay any mind to all the people who had mourned his loss and celebrated his return.

    He loved Lola. She was the sister he never had.

    Alejo, Jesus, Marisol were some of the few people that had brought so much laughter and light into his life. Santiago refused to bring tears and darkness into theirs.

    Santiago understood now what Thompson and Rose had been trying to push on him about his future. He hated to think about it because he knew it was not promised. He never let himself imagine what type of future he wanted.

    Santiago knew now what he wanted.

    Whatever happened from here on out it was not about him, or even Guadelupe. It was about his family. The one that he chose. The one that chose him.

    No matter the cost he would keep them safe.

    <hr>

    ¡°You got the luck of the devil, Yago¡± Alejo clapped the boys back as they embraced.

    ¡°Something like that.¡± He said.

    Both boys stopped at the concierge desk when they reached the lobby. ¡°I was checking to see what room they moved my mom to. We were admitted at the same time.¡±

    ¡°Her name?¡± Said the Concierge.

    ¡°Guadalupe Santiago.¡±

    ¡°She was released this morning.¡±

    ¡°Released to where?¡± Santiago snapped.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have that information.¡± She replied apologetically.

    He pinched his brow as he silently cursed. Of course, this would happen. Now he had to find her. Again.

    ¡°Perhaps, I can shed some light on the situation.¡± A velvety voice came from behind.

    Both turned, eyes wide.

    An older woman, honeyed eyes that matched the cascading waves of hair that fell to her waist.

    Santiago remembered the billowing silhouette, the delicate features that had been traced by golden light.

    It was her.

    The boys sat quietly watching the woman sip her coffee. Delicately licking the foam from her rosy, pink tinted lips.

    Alejo side eyed his friend as he whispered. ¡±This is the lady who bailed me out.¡±

    Santiago¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Um, I appreciate the drink and I don¡¯t mean to be forward, but how do you know my mother?¡±

    ¡°I grew up with your father, Vicente.¡± Eliana¡¯s manicured nails tapped the porcelain cup, ¡°After he lost his parents at a young age my family took him in.¡±

    ¡°My mom never told me that.¡± He said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think she knew. His family wasn¡¯t a subject he mentioned a lot. It was painful for him.¡± She reached across the table giving his hand a gentle pat as she slid a manila folder to him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about your mother. I¡¯ve seen to it that she¡¯s been transferred to Zinnia, a lodge in Lake Arrowhead. All the information regarding her treatment and such is included. You can reach out to the facility though they do require two weeks of no contact for detox.¡±

    There was so much he did not understand.

    This woman he had never met or heard about whose apparently like family to his father appears out of nowhere to whisk his mother off to rehab states away like some sort of fairy godmother.

    What was so different now versus all the years they could have used the help.

    ¡°Your mother and I are not friends.¡± She replied bluntly, ¡°After your father passed, she made it clear she didn¡¯t want anything to do with me. Being that I was not a blood relative I had no say in the matter. I wanted to respect your father¡¯s wishes to keep you out of the chaos that comes with having powers like ours.¡±

    ¡°How did you know I got my powers?¡± He said.

    ¡°You don¡¯t remember.¡± She frowned, ¡°I supposed that makes sense the first awakening after something like that would probably lead to some gaps. You don¡¯t have control of your powers and you black out.¡±

    He nodded.

    ¡°When you came back to life for the first time. I had come for that.¡± She pointed to his pendant. ¡°It was your fathers. It was purely a selfish reason wanting the last memento of his. You woke up and tore your way out of the morgue drawer. Caused quite a stir. I subdued you and dealt with the cleanup. Had the miraculous return to life written off as simple malpractice.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Confusion plain on his face.

    ¡°To preserve what little safety anonymity had left to provide you.¡± Said Eliana.

    Santiago scowled out the window. This again the ever-impending doom everyone kept on about. ¡°My powers are kept in control by this. I haven¡¯t had any problems with it.¡±

    ¡°And you won¡¯t as long as you keep it on.¡± She straightened up in her seat, ¡°Did your mother never explain to you why you couldn¡¯t use your powers?¡±

    ¡°She never even told me I had them.¡±

    ¡°And Rosenia?¡±

    ¡°Of course, you know about her. No, she didn¡¯t.¡± He replied flatly.

    ¡°You¡¯ve really been flying by the seat of your pants with this.¡± She scoffed in disbelief, ¡°It¡¯s not about you Santiago or your lack of control. The danger comes from that power getting into the hands of someone who knows what to do with it. What is inside of you is what cost your father his entire bloodline.¡±

    Santiago stared at her, unable to even form the question.

    ¡°You know about the core magics.¡±

    ¡°Creation, augmentation, manipulation. Yeah read the pamphlet.¡±

    ¡°There is another. It is the rarest of them to be born with a natural affinity. Difficult to wield and as dangerous to the user as it was to others. Entropy.¡± She moved her fingers fluidly and from thin air it seemed a coin weaved its way between, she held it up for inspection. ¡°You¡¯ve seen these no doubt. It¡¯s simple. All the magics are interconnected. They exist together and in opposition. Two halves of a coin. Augmentation with manipulation. The ability to change and the ability to control. Creation and Entropy exist in opposition to one another. The ability to bring form and order versus the ability to deconstruct or disrupt.¡±

    Interconnected. That meant he might be able to learn the other magics as well. He would settle if he could figure out why his own never worked when he wanted it to.

    Eliana watched the boy¡¯s intent expression with fondness, ¡°There is so much you have yet to learn.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ll teach me.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°If you are willing. Yes.¡± Elliana tapped the folder, ¡°My card is inside as well. It would be best if you were to come with me back to my family home. I have more resources there. Take some time to think about it.¡±

    California.

    Santiago knew he was born there. Though he had no memories of it. He was still a baby when his mother brought him out here.

    It was doable now. With his mom taken care of in rehab. He could spare a couple of months to go learn about his powers. About his father.

    There was so much he wanted to know. Questions that had simmered in his brain for years that he might actually get answers to.

    What did he have to lose?

 Chapter 26

    PHONE RATTLE AGAINST THE COFFEE TABLE, he squinted through the morning light grabbing it from the surface. A quick skim of the screen and he was on his feet. Alejo ambled blindly out of his room to the restroom finding a fully dressed Santiago as he tucked the house keys in his pocket.

    ¡°It¡¯s early man, what are you doing?¡± Alejo rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

    ¡°Sylvia texted me¡ª said it was an emergency.¡± He replied the door swung shut behind him.

    Alejo shrugged, toddled into the bathroom.

    Legs bounced as he sat in the back of the rideshare that moved agonizingly slow. She had not said what happened, whether that was better or worse he did not know.

    Eliana had said the danger would be from others looking to take his power. If they followed his trail, it would lead them right to Rosenia¡¯s front door.

    He jogged up the steps prepared for the worst. Still the well-maintained property remained as serene as ever. The flora glistened with morning dew.

    Doorbell sounded inside and he heard footsteps. Through the curtained glass he could see a silhouette that was much too tall to be Khalil.

    Santiago did not recognize the boy who stared back at him. He assumed another knew resident of the house. He could not have been much older than himself. Though he was tall enough Santiago had to tilt his head back to meet his gaze.

    Etienne looked him over, before asking in a thick southern drawl. ¡°Who you?¡±

    ¡°Santiago.¡± He said.

    Etienne smiled, ¡°Ga lee you got here quick boy.¡±

    ¡°Wha¡ª¡± Santiago did not finish the question before the fist caught him on the side of his jaw. Sent him tumbling back down the steps.

    Santiago shook his head and rubbed at his jaw. Quick footsteps approached and a strong hand grabbed him up by the front of shirt.

    The second blow had white spots dancing in front of his eyes. Only person that had ever hit him this hard was Alejo.

    He admittedly was caught off guard. Santiago expected these thieving witches would come at him with spells.

    Was not expecting a straight up brawl.

    Santiago blocked the third strike bringing his arm up. He snaked his other up and locked up the arm to grapple the boy. Swung his head forward butted him square on the nose.

    Etienne staggered back, dabbed at his nose with an amused sneer. ¡°That the best you got?¡±

    Santiago glowered, stepping forward.

    ¡°Etienne stop!¡± Sylvia ran down the steps to latch on the boy''s arm.

    ¡°Stop? This what he wanted innit?¡± Etienne waved at him, ¡°I¡¯m here, now. What¡¯s good?¡±

    Santiago stopped, ¡°Oh that¡¯s right. The boyfriend, forgot about you.¡±

    That was true enough.

    Admittedly it was a petty act to stir the pot. He was a little hurt being used by the girl he genuinely liked, not that he would ever let her know that.

    ¡°You won¡¯t forget these hands.¡± Etienne replied heatedly, he stood steadfast under the delicate palms of the girl in front of him.

    ¡°Etienne.¡± Rosenia called sternly. ¡°That¡¯s enough of this nonsense. Remember whose house you¡¯re in.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Ms Rose.¡± The boy looked back casting a venomous look at Santiago before he marched back inside. He murmured softly. ¡°We ain¡¯t done.¡±

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    Santiago dabbed at his bleeding brow.

    He could have left. He did not.

    Not without a word to Rosenia about her deception. There was no way he was going to let that slide.

    ¡°Come on let¡¯s get you cleaned up.¡± Said Sylvia softly.

    <hr>

    Mahogany cabinets clicked close as the older woman moved about the kitchen. Granite countertops were littered with bloodied gauze, cotton balls, and rubbing alcohol. The crystal chandelier had starlight¡¯s dance across the richly colored walls.

    Ice stung against the swelling on the side of his face. It was worth it to see the purplish red splotch form across the center of Etienne¡¯s face.

    Santiago¡¯s gaze was locked onto Rosenia.

    ¡°You got a staring problem.¡± Etienne said.

    Sylvia chided him as she delicately rubbed a numbing ointment across his face.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about what I do.¡± Santiago shot back.

    ¡°Enough.¡± Said Rosenia.

    ¡°You don¡¯t tell me shit.¡± Santiago snapped.

    Etienne growled, ¡°Watch that damn mouth.¡±

    ¡°Or what?¡± Santiago replied.

    Etienne stood up.

    Sylvia grabbed the front of his shirt. She looked back at Santiago. ¡°What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?¡±

    ¡°Am I supposed to be chummy with the woman who lied to my face.¡± He slammed the ice pack onto the table sending shards scattering across the stained wood floors. ¡°You let me think my mom was dead.¡±

    A heavy silence fell.

    Sylvia waited expectantly for Rosenia to deny it. There was no way she would do something like that. Not when she knew how much the boy cared for his mother.

    Rosenia sighed, ¡°Give me a moment with Santiago.¡±

    Etienne looked like he wanted to argue, instead he sent a glare at the boy as he sulked out of the room.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re angry with me, Santiago. Perhaps, it wasn¡¯t the best course of action, but I always had your best interest at heart.¡±

    Of course, it was always in his best interest. Not an exploitation of his vulnerabilities.

    Rosenia had lied to him from the very beginning. Everything she said or did came with an ulterior motive attached.

    ¡°Of course because Saint Rosenia knows what¡¯s best for everyone. Live in a perfect house. Go to a perfect school. Be a perfect child and you might just get a treat.¡± Santiago mocked,

    ¡°All I wanted is for you to have the opportunity to do something more with your life.¡±

    More. It was always something more.

    He had to do better. Be better.

    Had to be worthy.

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who looks down on me and my life like it¡¯s worth less than yours.¡± Santiago snapped. ¡°Did it ever occur to you that I was happy? Yeah my life was a shit show, but it¡¯s my life. My friends. My family. My home. I don¡¯t want more. I want what you¡¯ve been keeping me from.¡±

    Rosenia''s hands folded in front of her as she watched the boy with pity in her eyes, ¡°I was only trying to protect you.¡±

    ¡°And what about her? Who was protecting her?¡± Santiago said.

    Rosenia said. ¡°I can¡¯t control what your mother does¡ª¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t control me either.¡± Santiago snarled, ¡°You¡¯re so used to puppeteering everyone around you. They bend over backwards to kiss your ass. I don¡¯t give a fuck about you.¡±

    ¡°Santiago¡ª¡± She gasped. With the audacity to be offended yet the boy was wholly unapologetic.

    ¡°No.¡± Santiago snapped, ¡°I don¡¯t need your money. I don¡¯t need your protection. I don¡¯t need your mentoring. I don¡¯t need you.¡±

    ¡°I know you are upset with me and it¡¯s understandable if you don¡¯t feel comfortable training under me.¡± Rosenia spoke gently, ¡°I can make arrangements¡ª¡±

    ¡°No arrangements necessary. I have a new teacher. One who cared enough to help my mom.¡±

    ¡°What¡ªSantiago, please tell me you aren¡¯t talking about Eliana.¡± Rosenia replied, taken aback. ¡°You need to stay away from that woman.¡±

    ¡°Why? Because she doesn¡¯t listen to you.¡± Santiago could feel the heat rising in his face. How she could still stand there and talk like she was somehow doing the right thing made his blood boil.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t about me. Whatever she told you, whatever she promised you. Forget it, she is dangerous.¡± Rosenia urged.

    ¡°Dangerous like how?¡±

    Rosenia stared at him soberly.

    ¡°See, that''s what I hate about you. You only tell me what you decide I deserve to know and it¡¯s never the truth. You string people along with little kernels of half-truths and make it seem like you¡¯re doing them a favor.¡± Santiago glowered at her.

    ¡°Santiago, she¡¯s the reason your father is dead.¡±

    ¡°And you think I¡¯m going to believe that?¡± He shot back.

    At this point of course she would say anything to poison him against Eliana. She was losing her hold and Rosenia could never allow that.

    ¡°Whether you do or not doesn¡¯t make it any less true.¡± Rosenia replied solemnly.

    ¡°You think she sent your mother away for her well-being? No.¡± She frowned, ¡°She sent her away so Guadalupe couldn¡¯t protect you from her manipulation. If you don¡¯t believe me then at least believe your mother. Talk to her.¡±

    Santiago had heard enough.

    He ignored her calls as he stormed through the estate gates without a backward glance.

 Chapter 27

    THE VIBRANT RESTAURANT was adorned with colorful papel picado banners, intricate tile-work, and flickering candles on every table. The air was thick with the aroma of sizzling fajitas, spicy salsa, and freshly made tortillas.

    ¡°What if it is the truth,¡± Lola stirred the milky drink. ¡°You don¡¯t know Elena.¡±

    ¡°Eliana.¡± Santiago repeated, ¡°She saved my life. I think I owe her the benefit of the doubt.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. How much does she really care about you if she came to steal an heirloom off your corpse?¡± She said.

    ¡°Well, I ain¡¯t dead and she didn¡¯t take anything.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°Of course, Rose is lying. I¡¯m sure she¡¯d have said anything to stop you from leaving.¡± Alejo took another bite of his burrito mumbling through a mouthful, ¡°Bonus points for Eliana being fine as hell.¡±

    Santiago rolled his eyes.

    ¡°Great so you¡¯re thinking with your dick as per usual.¡± She flicked Santiago¡¯s forehead, ¡°You can¡¯t trust every pretty girl who bats their eyes at you.¡±

    Santiago failed to stop the grin that spread across his face. It was not the reason. Though it was a bonus.

    ¡°Are you really someone who should be giving that advice?¡± Santiago said.

    She brushed him off pretending to act insulted. ¡°Listen this isn¡¯t about me, it¡¯s about you.¡±

    ¡°Look I promise, It¡¯s not because she¡¯s an attractive woman¡ª¡±Said Santiago

    ¡°Drop dead gorgeous with a nice rack.¡± Alejo interjected.

    ¡°I think she¡¯s telling me the truth and that¡¯s all I want.¡± Santiago shrugged, ¡°If she turns about to be like Rose, I¡¯ll cut her loose too.¡±

    Alejo sighed, ¡°Damn I want your kind of problems.¡±

    A loud bang caught everyone¡¯s attention as the door slammed open and the entry bell rattled. A person did not walk through the doorway. Instead, a steady stream of orbs floated in like dandelion seeds in the wind.

    They glittered beautifully and as they floated over the tables people looked at them in awe. Some were able to grab a hold of the bubbles as they settled on surfaces. The children poked at them with curious wonder.

    The atmosphere shifted.

    Santiago saw the elation that filled everyone''s faces yet every hair on his body stood on end. Silver strands hung between the bulbs thin as spider silk.

    The chain around his neck burned red hot. He cursed and ripped it off.

    His companions looked at him like he had gone insane as he tenderly prodded his skin. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong.¡±

    As if in response the orbs glowed brilliantly letting out a shrill whistle.

    One blew and sent splinters of wood scattering across the room.

    In succession the others started firing off.

    Santiago dove to grab one from the hands of a small child who panicked trying to shake off the screaming bomb.

    Without warning everything around him stopped. No, not stopped. Slowed down to the point where it looked as if time stood still.

    First a wave of euphoria hit as the rush of heightened perception filled him with an exhilarating energy. Colors appeared more vibrant, each hue more intense and saturated. Every object, texture, and detail had become crystal clear.

    Santiago felt the heat of the energy under his palms, the child¡¯s weeping face frozen. Tears glistened as the skin reddened underneath the heat.

    Once when he was a child, he had unknowingly plugged a damaged vacuum into a socket. His body locked up. Every cell in his body was vibrating.

    It was not painful. It was simply unnatural.

    The orb vibrated in his palms.

    He could feel every atom of the structure within. These glowing orbs were simple store-bought light bulbs charged with enough energy to light a building. He plucked at the silvery string, and it dissolved.

    The radiance dwindles instantly leaving only an echo of the enchantment of lingering warmth.

    Santiago could perceive the very flow of magic within spells. The interplay of arcane energies weaving and pulsating currents that guide and shaped the spells. The thin strands which appeared now thick cords woven across the room connecting each orb. The trail stretched out through the door.

    Santiago lurched forward to grab hold over the thickest point of the rope and gave it a tug.

    Like someone hitting the play button there was a flurry of motion around him. The bulbs in midair shattered on the floor. Some wobbled idle on the surfaces of the tables.

    People screamed and scrambled for the exit. Some of the workers were helping up injured customers who bled from the wooden shrapnel.

    ¡°Yago! How did you get all the way over there?¡± Alejo shouted from the opposite side of the restaurant.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± His heart thudded in his chest. Everything was different.

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    He couldn¡¯t explain it. The things themselves had not changed. What he could see was more. He had been seeing the world in standard definition and now his vision was ultra-HD.

    ¡°Oh, your eyes!¡± Lola came to an abrupt halt. The familiar hazel had been replaced with a luminescent silver. The penetrating gaze sent a chill down her spine.

    ¡°Get down!¡± He lurched forward and both fell to the floor as the entire glass paneled wall shattered.

    He raised himself off her and slowly checked for cuts before she replied. ¡°I¡¯m good.¡±

    ¡°Alejo!¡± Santiago called, pressed a hand over his burning eyes. His vision was clear yet after what he had seen moments ago, he felt half blind.

    Hot needles danced through his eyes and sockets pulsating through his temples. Even the air that brushed his eyes with each blink felt like sandpaper.

    ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± He popped up from behind a booth wall. ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°Santiago! Come on out, no one else has to get hurt.¡± Louis called.

    The three of them peered out the open frames.

    Three witches stood in the parking lot. Louis stepped forward, his blond waves cascaded past his shoulders, he looked to be in his early twenties. Strong jawed with somber eyes the same shade of pale yellow of his hair. A chain dangled from his neck with a golden pendant, a symbol carved into it.

    It was not ordinary though Santiago did not think this pendant served to suppress his powers.

    ¡°You¡¯d do well to come with us. There¡¯s no need for this to get messy.¡± Louis said with a charming smile that did not touch his eyes.

    ¡°What do you want with me?¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°Me, nothing.¡± Louis shrugged, ¡°My employer would like to meet you.¡±

    ¡°You could have asked.¡± Alejo sniped.

    ¡°Make no mistake, this is not a request. Santiago will be coming with us. Whether he comes peacefully or in pieces makes little difference to me.¡± His hollow smile did not flinch as he looked over the boy.

    ¡°You guys need to go.¡± Santiago murmured.

    ¡°Shut up.¡± Alejo replied flatly, ¡°You really think we going to leave you after he threatened to cut you up.¡±

    ¡°They have a reason to want to keep me alive. That doesn¡¯t extend to you.¡± Santiago hissed.

    ¡°He¡¯s right, you know.¡± Amani murmured in Alejo¡¯s ear. The boy jolted back, hitting the wall. As quickly as she came, she melted away into the air.

    ¡°Y¡¯all saw that right.¡± Alejo said.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see anything.¡± Lola said, her face blanched.

    A massive tarantula crawled over her friend¡¯s shoulder. She screamed, whacking him with a nearby pitcher. As the arachnid hit the floor it exploded into hundreds more scuttling towards her.

    ¡°Lola!¡± Alejo hollered as the girl scrambled back screaming at the top of her lungs.

    ¡°They¡¯re all over me, get them off!¡± She shrieked, flinging her jacket off she clawed her inked arms raw.

    Alejo grabbed a hold of her wrist to pin her between him and the counter. ¡°Lola you gotta stop, it¡¯s not real.¡±

    Santiago made a move to help his friend and a scream from outside pulled his attention. ¡°Mom!¡±

    Santiago ran outside. His mother in Louis¡¯s grasp, a hand clasped around her throat. ¡°Let her go. You want me fine. Just let her go, please.¡±

    Louise beckoned him forward.

    ¡°Santiago! It¡¯s not real!¡± Alejo called, he held steadfast on to the writhing girl. ¡°They¡¯re in your head man. Focus man!¡±

    Santiago looked back at the man who held his mother. His head throbbed and his eyes stung but the light returned. This time it was a heavy veil over his eyes Santiago pulled it away from his face.

    The woman in his arms was not his mother, it was a slim woman with rich dark skin, she smiled at him.

    ¡°You can see through my illusions. That¡¯s impressive.¡± She leaned to look past him, ¡°And for kindling like you to be able to resist, equally so.¡±

    It was not strings this time. Over his friends and himself was a translucent cloth that altered their vision.

    Before he could reach his friends the ground under Santiago shifted and slid back towards the witches. He nearly stumbled on the earthen treadmill.

    Alejo watched helplessly as his two friends were at the mercy of the witch¡¯s magic. He had no way to stop it.

    He froze.

    Alejo let go of the girl and bolted across the restaurant. He had no idea if it would work. At this point it was all he had.

    Santiago struggled against the ground as it shoved him every which way as he tried to get away.

    The witches laughed amused by the pitiful attempts to escape. Diallo lazily waved his hand as he orchestrated the trick floor.

    They were playing with him.

    ¡°Hey asshole! Catch!¡± Alejo pitched the pendant straight at Diallo¡¯s head.

    He caught it easily with a bemused expression. Raising his other hand to whisk away the glass pitcher Alejo sent rocketing towards him, only brushing air. The glass shattered against Diallo¡¯s face.

    Louis and Amani watched in shock as their companion hit the floor clutching his bloodied face.

    Louis turned right into Santiago¡¯s fist.

    Alejo jumped on top of Diallo and pinned him to the floor, the pendant pressed against the back of the neck.

    Amani raised a hand towards Alejo. Lola roared as she caught the woman by her thick mane of hair slamming her to the concrete.

    Santiago grinned as he punched Louis in the gut making the man wretch as he doubled over.

    Santiago was not by any means a gifted spellcaster. In a fight with magic, he was all but useless.

    Now a street fight. That he could handle.

    He knew magic took focus. Beating them senseless to prevent them from being able to cast was about the best they could muster.

    The sirens echoed down the street and skidded to a halt. Officers exited their vehicles ordering them all to stand back with their hands up.

    Santiago had Louis in headlock bending his arm back painfully.

    His friends looked at him.

    Louis raised his free hand. The lights of the cruisers grew to be blinding before the two cars exploded.

    The shockwave sent all of them in a tumble across the asphalt.

    Santiago¡¯s ears rang, his lungs burned from the smoking blaze a few yards away. His head felt like it was splitting in two.

    A hand grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him to his knees. Louis grabbed him by the throat cutting off his airway.

    Blood trickled down his face past his Cheshire grin, ¡°Pieces it is.¡±

    There was a flicker and Santiago fell face first into the pavement. He groaned as the pressure had eased around his windpipe.

    Louis screamed in agony, clutching the bloodied stump.

    ¡°You never said whose pieces it would be.¡± Eliana said icily.

    Santiago fumbled backward and flung the severed hand off himself.

    She stalked over, manicured nails digging into his cheek ignoring the pool of blood that formed under her feet. ¡°Who sent you? I¡¯d answer quickly, you only have a few minutes left.¡±

    Louis trembled in her hands, ¡°Please, don¡¯t kill me.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t, the blood loss will.¡± She smiled tenderly, ¡°Now don¡¯t make me ask a second time you still have another hand.¡±

    Her claws tightened around his jaw eliciting audible pops.

    ¡°Eliana, stop.¡± Santiago breathed.

    She raised a brow, ¡°He tried to murder you and your friends. You want me to show him mercy.¡±

    ¡°People are hurt. Innocent people. We need to get help. We can question them later.¡± He struggled to his feet.

    She sighed letting Louis slip from her grasp on to the soaked asphalt. ¡°Very well.¡±

 Chapter 28

    THE LIGHTS FLICKERED TO LIFE with a dull hum as the group trudged into the apartment. Alejo sauntered to his bedroom collapsing onto the worn bare mattress not even bothering with the pile of clean sheets he swore he would make the bed with.

    Lola rifled around in the fridge for something to drink.

    The humble apartment was far better off than when Santiago first arrived. The dirt and grime had been scrubbed away. The stench of rotting food and mold had been replaced by the lingering chemical fragrance of cologne. Most of the dilapidated furniture had been replaced with thrifted pieces carefully curated by Marisol.

    Still, it was obvious Eliana was not impressed.

    ¡°This is your home.¡± Finely plucked brows raised over scrutinizing eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s Alejo¡¯s place, I¡¯m crashing here for now.¡± He stretched out across the sofa, he motioned to the recliner. ¡°You can have a seat.¡±

    She pointedly ignored the offer, ¡°Our window to question them is closing Santiago.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re in police custody.¡± Santiago did not understand the urgency they had blown up cop cars, injured the police. The boys in blue did not take too kindly to anyone turning their people into kalua pork.

    ¡°Those weren¡¯t some random vagrants, they belonged to one of the families.¡±

    ¡°The families.¡± He repeated, glancing over he spotted Lola with a similarly confused expression.

    She looked at him pitifully, ¡°They didn¡¯t tell you anything did they.¡±

    Tersely she circled around the recliner, crossing her legs and raised hand snapping to get their attention. ¡°Come, I don¡¯t like to repeat myself.¡±

    Alejo groaned rolling off the bed. Lola wedged herself between Santiago and the end of the couch closest to the woman.

    ¡°The hell,¡± Santiago scooted, he leaned over to whisper. ¡°Thought we couldn¡¯t trust her.¡±

    She murmured back. ¡°I may have misjudged the lovely lady.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s thinking with their dick now.¡± Santiago smiled smugly.

    ¡°The families are a loose term that those of us born into magic understand. It is in reference to the numerous lineages that stretch back centuries in all corners of the world. What sets them apart is their power, wealth, age, and influence. It will only be a matter of hours before they exit holding without so much as a slap on the wrist.¡± Eliana plucked at a snag in the fabric of the armrest, ¡°Those of the families are not subject to the same rules that define the lives of those without. They live in a different world entirely. One that even those with magic are not necessarily privy to.¡±

    The Gujarati with their illusions and the Aripho tribes mastery of elemental magic being foiled by a couple of children was not going to go without recourse. While law enforcement would do little, the punishment they would face at the hands of their family for their failure would be more than enough to humble them.

    It made a little more sense to Santiago why Rose was so adamant about secrecy and some looming danger. At least if she had given him something to go on, he could have known what to look out for.

    Santiago sighed, ¡°Great a bunch privileged rich assholes with magic.¡±

    ¡°Guess we better get to the hospital. I can ask my sis if she can find his room.¡± Said Lola.

    A loud rap at the door quieted them all. In one brisk move Eliana glided over to the door. Pulled it open to reveal the stout older woman. ¡°Rosenia.¡±

    ¡°Eliana if you hurt him¡ª¡± Rosenia started.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Santiago was exasperated by the woman¡¯s insistence.

    Rosenia shoulders slackened in relief, ¡°You¡¯re alright. I heard about the attack.¡±

    ¡°You need to leave.¡± Santiago said flatly.

    Eliana smirked.

    ¡°You find this amusing.¡± Rosenia snapped harshly, ¡°He is in real danger and instead of pulling him away from it you¡¯re letting him run headfirst into it.¡±

    Rosenia knew that she had lost the boy''s trust yet it did not mean she had no responsibility to protect him from Eliana. He did not know the true nature of the woman Rosenia knew all too well. The Calaveras only understood one thing. Violence.

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be a danger if the boy had been trained properly.¡± She spat acidly at Rosenia, ¡°What¡¯s done is done. Now is not the time for cowering and hiding. Leave now.¡±

    Rosenia tilted her chin up defiantly, ¡°You¡¯ve already killed one Santiago, I won¡¯t let you take another.¡±

    Santiago staggered forward and caught himself on the doorframe as the woman blew past him.

    Rosenia knew she would take the bait. She was as ill-tempered as she ever was. Unable to control her rage like a child throwing a tantrum.

    In a blink the two had made it across the corridor. Eliana had the stout woman by the throat, she growled. ¡°How dare you, if it hadn¡¯t been for your meddling he¡¯d still be here.¡±

    ¡°Is that what you¡¯ve told yourself all these years?¡± Rosenia smiled up at her, ¡°You wicked vapid girl you haven¡¯t changed one bit, still bitter he didn¡¯t choose you.¡±

    Eliana was beautiful and charismatic. It was hard enough for wizened adults to resist her charm. Santiago was a boy who was seeking answers that she dangled in front of him like a rabbit with a carrot.

    Rosenia had to make him see her for what she was.

    The crimson glow in Eliana¡¯s eyes pulsed under the skin of her face. She squeezed tighter even as her palms began to sizzle against the woman¡¯s scorching skin.

    She snarled as she flung Rose away to fan her scorched hand away from the heat.

    Rosenia stood unfettered by the outburst. ¡°Santiago, please. Her selfishness and lust for power cost your father his life. I can¡¯t stand by idly and let it take yours.¡±

    ¡°You withered old hag, speaking on things you understand nothing of.¡± Eliana hissed, she stalked the space between Rosenia and Santiago like a feral cat. ¡°Where was the selfless Rosenia when Vicente fell? That¡¯s right you holed up in your hovel, cowering from the fight. You claim to have been his friend but when he sought out your aid you betrayed him!¡±

    ¡°Lies!¡± Rosenia snapped a burst of flame across the carpeted hall and sent Eliana darting out of its path. ¡°A black widow like you spins them as easily as breathing.¡±

    The energy exuding off of the elder witches was palpable. Potted plants resting out on the window sill withered, the edges darkened and some ends started to catch. The lights both inside and out flickered erratically the televisions audio began to warp with a static buzz.

    ¡°They gonna burn this shit down man. I ain¡¯t got insurance.¡± Alejo fanned at the fire alarm in the hall.

    Santiago''s gaze moved between the two, ¡°You say it¡¯s her fault. She says it¡¯s your fault. Who killed my father?¡±

    Their attention turned back to the boy whose hairs once stood on end began to settle. The flames evaporated leaving behind a line of blackened rug.

    Rosenia replied. ¡°The Calaveras.¡±

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    He looked at Eliana, she let out a long breath. ¡°That much is true. It was my blood that ended his life but know one thing, I never would have done anything to hurt Vicente.¡±

    ¡°How can I believe that?¡± Santiago¡¯s features softened, looking every bit the hurt boy that he was.

    ¡°Because even though he was gone. I respected his wishes. I stayed away from your family. From you.¡± She replied earnestly, ¡°If I wanted to take you like some child snatching monster, she makes me out to be, then I would have. Do you think your mother could have stopped me? Rosenia knew nothing of you until now. If using, you was all I needed, what purpose would it serve?¡±

    Eliana walked over to the boy.

    Santiago shrugged her off, ¡°I need both of you to go. I need time to think.¡±

    He was not sure there was enough time to process what he had heard. Both of them were full of nothing but lies and secrets. It felt like he was simply a pawn in their game of petty vengeance against one another.

    He refused to take any part in it.

    Santiago disappeared back into the house. Alejo closed the door behind him.

    <hr>

    Santiago groaned in the man¡¯s rib cracking embrace. It had blindsided him when Alejo told him Bennett had come looking for him. He expected to get chewed out by the burly man. He was not sure he liked this much better.

    ¡°Clearly the whole ¡®if someone jumps off a bridge¡¯ metaphor did not land with you.¡± Bennett slapped his back sending the boy staggering forward. ¡°You ever do some shit like that again I¡¯m going to break your legs.¡±

    Santiago shrugged, ¡°At least this time I didn¡¯t die. I call that growth.¡±

    ¡°Come on, kid. Let¡¯s grab a bite.¡±

    Rich wood furnishings dominated the space from the polished oak floors to the sturdy tables and chairs, lending a sense of timeless charm. The walls were adorned with vintage photographs and art pieces that celebrated the history of the establishment. Soft, dim lighting casts a warm glow from the wrought iron chandeliers that dangle from the ceiling.

    Booths along the walls offered a sense of privacy even amongst the bustle of the central area filled with larger tables and families filling the seats. The staff moved seamlessly around the room to attend to patrons.

    The unmistakable aroma of seared steaks permeated the space. The smoky charred fragrance intermingles with the sizzling butter and herbs wafted from the open kitchen.

    Santiago tilted his head back taking in the notes of roasted garlic, caramelized onions, and a hint of freshly cracked black pepper making his mouth water.

    Soft background music played a blend of jazz and soulful melodies with the din of conversation and laughter from other patrons.

    All jokes aside Bennett was overjoyed the kid was there standing in front of him. When Bennett had learned he took a swan dive off a bridge, it gave him a panic attack. Bennett could not even bring himself to see him like that in the hospital.

    The shock of the kid nearly dying, again, woke Bennett up. He had been so driven to find the kid and whisk him away from the dangers that abounded. He was as delusional as Rosenia and Thompson.

    It was not within his power to stop the journey the kid was on now. It never was.

    Acknowledging Santiago¡¯s strength was not an admission of his own weakness. It was difficult to wrestle with that truth. Yet it was the truth.

    He needed Bennett.

    Santiago did not need someone to fight his battles for him. He needed someone to show him how to fight. To show him how to protect himself and the people around him.

    Bennett would help him in any way he could. Then he would have to trust that Santiago learned well enough to do it on his own.

    Afterall the kid wouldn¡¯t be a kid forever. That was more apparent than ever now that they were face to face.

    A few months had passed since Bennett saw him. All the roundness in his boyish face has nearly gone, replaced by a defined jawline with patches of freshly shaved stubble. He was taller now, his lean build filled out.

    He looked good. He looked healthy.

    Santiago rubbed at the back of his neck. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be looking for me.¡±

    Santiago felt bad. He honestly thought Bennett would have been glad to be rid of him. He did not do much else other than give the old man a hard time

    ¡°I never stopped looking for you, kid.¡± Said Bennett.

    Santiago chuckled, staring down at the table. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    There wasn¡¯t much else he could say. He was still annoyed that Thompson had not mentioned anything about Bennett looking for him. Santiago would have at least given the man a call instead of having him spend months tracking him down like a missing person.

    ¡°I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re okay.¡± Bennett leaned across the table, his voice low, ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    Santiago frowned, the boy always had sad eyes and Bennett could see the turmoil in the depth of forest green. ¡°I don¡¯t know anymore. I¡¯m just tired.¡±

    ¡°Of the powers or the people?¡±

    ¡°Both, I guess. Nothing good has come of having these damned powers. It¡¯s like no one can tell the fucking truth. Everybody is so full of shit!¡± Santiago said, lowering his head behind his hand realizing the restaurant had quieted with his outburst catching other diners'' attention.

    ¡°Y¡¯all can mind your business. Okay, he¡¯s a brooding teen let him get through his bit.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Santiago laughed, ¡°I¡¯m being serious.¡±

    ¡°I am too. Kid, I''m going to tell it to you straight. Everything, and I do mean everything at this age feels so much bigger than it is.¡± Bennett plucked an onion ring from the basket crunching into it. ¡°Now to be fair most kids don¡¯t have to live sixteen of General Hospitals storylines at once, but you¡¯ve always been an overachiever. ¡°

    ¡°You watch General Hospital.¡±

    Bennett pointed a finger at him, ¡°Don¡¯t screw around about my soaps boy.¡±

    ¡°You get what I mean though.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Said Bennett, ¡°I also know you got a big choice ahead of you.¡±

    ¡°I am guessing you have an opinion.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    Everyone did. They all thought they knew what was best for him. Santiago only ever heard people telling him what he should or should not do. No one cared about what he wanted.

    ¡°Let¡¯s hear it.¡±

    ¡°Fuck ¡®em both.¡± Said Bennett flatly, shoveling another scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

    ¡°Damn, tell me how you really feel.¡±

    ¡°Rose means well but she''s a compulsive liar. Eliana does not mean well and should be in a padded cell somewhere.¡± Bennett shook his head, ¡°Ultimately the choice comes down to what kind of future you see for yourself Santiago.¡±

    ¡°I guess I never really thought I¡¯d have one.¡±

    It was not like he was suicidal. He liked being alive just fine.

    The rest of the world, not so much.

    The number of times he had nearly died even before actually dying was a lot more than what Santiago figured a normal person would experience.

    ¡°I know. I also know how scary it is to look forward when you could barely deal with the present. That¡¯s all about to change, kid.¡± Said Bennett, ¡°I want you to think about something for a second.¡±

    Santiago met his gaze, his brow furrowed as he waited expectantly.

    ¡°Everyone has been talking about what could happen with those powers. Everyone is saying that they are too much for you.¡±

    Santiago nodded.

    ¡°Fuck what they say you know why?¡± Bennett reached across the table and tapped the medallion. ¡°There was a man who came before you. Who held that power. A man that commanded fear and respect that has people shaking because of what he gave to you. He chose you. He gave up his life so you could have it. To keep you safe. To give you a chance at life.¡±

    Bennett said, ¡°Do you think he did that so you can have someone else decide how you live it?¡±

    Santiago remembered the warmth in those brown eyes on the face that was not his own, the warm smile as he looked at him. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Whoever if anyone you decide to side with, know that I am still going to be here.¡± Bennett extended his fist across the table.

    Santiago¡¯s mouth curled into a small smile before he raised his own fist. ¡°Hope you don¡¯t regret that old man.¡±

    ¡°I regret a lot of things, kid. Being there for you ain¡¯t one of ''em.¡±

    <hr>

    Santiago laid across one end of the sofa on his stomach absently watching Alejo flip through channels. On the other end Lola sat nails clacked against the plexiglass screen of her phone, her legs draped over his. They had all spent the day melting into the furniture. For his companions it was to avoid aggravating the scrapes, bruises, and swelling they had from the fight.

    Santiago was fine.

    He had always healed fast. Never thought anything of it. He realized now all those times he had fallen out of trees, crashed out on his bike or skateboard, and gotten into a consistent stream of brawls only to walk it off was far more unnatural than he once thought. After a nap any aches and pains would vanish.

    Never could remember a time when he got sick.

    While he had not been aware of it his powers had always been there. It protected him.

    There was one thing that bothered him about it.

    Santiago¡¯s powers had brought him back from the dead. His father would have had the same powers.

    How did he die? Why didn¡¯t the power protect him? Why did he decide to give these powers to Santiago instead of saving himself?

    Clearly there was a limit to what these abilities could do.

    Santiago wished desperately that he could ask his father.

    A stinging spread through his face and a tightness formed in his chest.

    He pushed himself upright to lean against the back of the sofa.

    Lola kicked him lightly for moving. ¡°He¡¯s thinking.¡±

    Alejo shook his head, ¡°That¡¯s never good.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking,¡± Santiago smiled, ¡°Road trip.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Alejo¡¯s confusion stood in contrast to Lola¡¯s excitement.

    ¡°I¡¯ll call Marisol. Alejo¡¯s bucket can barely make it up the block.¡± Lola said, as she hopped to her feet.

    ¡°You don¡¯t even know where we¡¯re going.¡± Alejo called as the girl ran to the room and slammed the door. ¡°When did she move in? Who says she could stay here? I didn¡¯t.¡±

    Santiago patted his shoulder, ¡°Lake Arrowhead.¡±

    ¡°He says, like that explains anything.¡± Said Alejo.

 Chapter 29

    JESUS DRUMMED HIS FINGERS on the outside of the car door to the beat of the music. Santiago was in the passenger seat and watched the vibrant greenery blend together as they whizzed past. Alejo sat by himself in the second row while the girls had commandeered the entire back row and half of his for their mobile movie set up.

    Alejo reached beside him to grab from one of the chip bags resting on the folded chair.

    Marisol slapped his hand away, ¡°I asked you if you wanted some when we were at the gas station pendejo. You¡¯re not getting mine.¡±

    ¡°Come on, Jesus get your girl.¡± Alejo waved at his friend.

    ¡°Mari!¡± Jesus called. The girl gave him a dour expression. ¡°Enjoy your chips, baby.¡±

    ¡°Screw all of you.¡± Alejo waved his hand dismissively, as they laughed.

    They were about six hours into their road trip, the California border fast approaching. Marisol did as she always did and took full control of the event planning. Before they had even loaded up the car she had their travel route, driver rotation schedule, and hotel reservations.

    It would be insane to anyone else to throw everything in the car and take a nearly entire day to drive to have a conversation.

    This was not something he wanted to do over the phone.

    Aside from that he was not sure who he could trust. Santiago was not asking either Eliana or Rosenia for their help anytime soon.

    At the very least if this did not help him find the answer he needed they would still get a much needed vacation out of it.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Marisol said far too loudly as she half hung out the window. ¡°We can go with you.¡±

    Her face screwed up in suspicion.

    She meant well, she always did. Someone had to be concerned about the reckless fools.

    Santiago used to call her the nanny much to her chagrin. Ever since elementary school she would chase them around to scream at them for breaking one rule or another.

    ¡°I¡¯m good. I¡¯ll meet you guys at the hotel.¡± He gave a two fingered salute and trudged up the rocky path.

    The forest teemed with life, birds sang and insects chirped in a discordant yet oddly peaceful symphony. The wood paneled buildings resembled some modern minimalist attempt at a cozy lodge. Door gave a ding as he entered the building. The polished woman behind the counter gave him a smile.

    ¡°Hi, how can I help you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to see my mother. Guadalupe Santiago.¡± He said.

    ¡°We don¡¯t usually take visitors.¡± She said apologetically, ¡°It¡¯s part of the detox program.¡±

    ¡°I know, but, uh, It¡¯s a family emergency.¡±

    She chewed her lip for a moment before she turned to her screen. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll let it slide this time but next time you¡¯ll have to wait until the end of the two weeks. You can always leave a message for the staff to pass along.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am.¡±

    He followed her across the property and they passed by a rather large pool where a couple of folks enjoyed the sun. Behind the glass panel of one building, he saw a pair playing at the billiard table.

    They reached the door of Lupe¡¯s room. The receptionist gave a polite knock. ¡°Mrs. Santiago, you have a visitor.¡±

    There was silence for a lingering moment before the door cracked open where her green eyes peeked out. When she spotted Santiago she flung the door open and pushed past the woman.

    Guadalupe threw her arms around the boy''s shoulders. He laughed and hefted her up so her feet no longer touched the ground. ¡°My baby boy, I missed you so much. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay mom. I know.¡± He held her gently as she wept into the crook of his neck.

    Most of that night she had tried to blot from her memory with drugs and drink. Nothing could wash away all that blood. Twice now she was helpless to save the ones she loved. She had promised his father she would protect him. Yet she was the reason he was never safe.

    It all happened so quickly. A blur of fighting and broken furniture.

    Her screams had drowned out their approach. When they came bursting through the door strong arms had clamped around her pulling her away. In a blink he was gone.

    She did not know when they had let her go though she remembered her back against the wall. The flick of the TV sent a shimmer of colors over the growing pool of blood. Alejo was there. He wept over the body of her son.

    Yet here he stood now. Alive. Those deep green eyes with flecks of brown alight with joy.

    She stepped back to steady herself and get a good look at him.

    It had not been a week yet, Santiago already saw the difference. Her skin no longer had the deathly pallor. There was a brightness in her pale green eyes.

    ¡°Come in, Sheryl is out at the pool.¡± She beckoned him into the room. Reminded him of a hotel suite with two twin beds neatly made. She pulled out a chair beside one the small desks they had and the other for herself. ¡°I¡¯m so happy you¡¯re here.¡±

    That was the truth.

    How could she not be overjoyed to see her son alive and well.

    ¡°You been doing good.¡± He said.

    Lupe smiled, ¡°I have. Been going to therapy.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, me too.¡± He snorted. ¡°Was looking everywhere for you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I had known¡ªI couldn¡¯t go back to that house.¡± She swallowed to dislodge the lump in her throat.

    ¡°No one told you I ended up in a foster house? I thought they had to at least tell you that much.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t staying at any one place for too long after¡ª¡± She stopped short, turning her attention to straightening the stationary.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°They tried to put me in a psych ward after I tried to kill Oscar.¡±

    Santiago laughed, she glared at her son. ¡°Sorry, not laughing at the psych ward. How¡¯d you try to take him out?¡±

    Guadeloupe back pressed against the wall the sickening scent of copper heavy in the air. The blue and red flash through the window cast distorted dancing shadows of the disarray within. Alejo sobbing and the dull static nose from the television filled the silence.

    Oscar fumbled to his feet, eyes bleary as he looked over the scene through his bloody and swollen eyes. For a moment, there was a brief flicker of emotion across the beaten face.

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    His voice a low rumble. ¡°Lupe, I didn¡¯t mean for this¡ª¡±

    The whine of sirens neared. Oscar shook his head ambling through the kitchen towards the back door.

    ¡°Oscar.¡± She croaked as she staggered to her feet after him, ¡°Where are you going?!¡±

    ¡°I got three strikes, Lupe. I can''t be here when the cops show. I was never here.¡±

    ¡°You¡­were¡­never¡­here.¡± She murmured as she watched him shuffle aside the overturned kitchen table.

    Santiago was dead. The son she carried in her belly for nine months. Taught to walk and talk. Cared for when he was sick. Wiped his tears when he cried. Was dead.

    He laid there beaten and bloodied ridden with bullet holes and this was all he could say. This man she had let into their lives. The man she thought she loved despite his transgressions against her. Who had helped raise her son. He saw Santiago laying there and could not even muster a word of apology.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t mean for this.¡± She echoed, breathing erratically as she walked over pulling a knife from the wood block. She crossed the kitchen as he opened the door his back to her. She shrieked as she buried the knife into his back.

    Oscar hollered in pain as he tumbled down back steps into the lawn.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t mean for this!¡± She shrieked, kicking him soundly in the ribs. ¡°My son is dead! MY SON IS DEAD!¡±

    Grabbing up the skateboard propped against the stairs she smashed it over his head. Flinging the pieces the man reeled on the floor as she clambered across the yard for something else to strike him with.

    ¡°I LET YOU INTO OUR HOME! I BELIEVED ALL YOUR BULLSHIT!¡± She dragged over the large terracotta planter hefting it up high enough she could slam it into his back with a heavy thud.

    Oscar forced himself up to his knees and it rolled off him as the fold up chair collided with his head.

    ¡°YOU BASTARD! YOU KILLED MY SON!¡± She swung wildly until he caught the chair wrenching it from grasp, catching her by the throat.

    ¡°You stupid bitch!¡± Oscar hissed constricting both hands around her windpipe.

    Guadelupe swung her leg up kicking him between the legs. As he doubled over she wrenched the knife still buried in his back out taking another swipe at him.

    Oscar stumbled back over the planter and she fell on top of him. Both hands clasped around the knife as she tried to bring it down. His hands were clamped over her own. Sweat streaked down his bloodied face. Even in the shape he was in with the wound in his back bleeding profusely she knew he might still overpower her.

    Guadelupe did not care.

    Screeching like a wild animal she bore down on him with every bit of strength she had.

    The officer ripped her from on top of the man, her legs thrashed about in the air as she fought in the grasp. ¡°NO! NO! NO!¡±

    Two officers fought to wrench the knife from her hand. Oscar did not hesitate he leapt over the fence disappearing down the darkened alleyway.

    Lupe was cuffed in the back of the police cruiser she wailed as she thrashed about kicking at the doors to no avail.

    ¡°The rest was a blur. I guess they let me out and I went and got numbed up.¡± She bowed her head, unable to meet his gaze.

    ¡°So you¡¯re where I get that psycho from.¡± Santiago nodded sagely.

    Lupe scowled up at him, ¡°That¡¯s not funny!¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t joking. You were always either high and happy or sad and sober. Never really seen you get pissed.¡±

    She laughed dryly, ¡°You might not have seen it, but it happened plenty. I can¡¯t sit there and pretend I was any less toxic than he was.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re nothing like him, mom.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m worse because I kept letting him back into our lives.¡± She shot back, ¡°I should have been better for you. I was weak and you suffered for it.¡±

    ¡°Ma,¡± He rested a hand on her shoulder. ¡°You did what you could.¡±

    ¡°I should have given you up. I should have given you to a family that could have given you the life you deserved. I was so selfish.¡± She buried her face in her hands.

    ¡°Shut up!¡± He snapped.

    Guadeloupe startled and looked up at him..

    ¡°Don¡¯t fucking say that.¡± Santiago growled, ¡°We¡¯re family. Doesn¡¯t matter how bad shit gets. We stay together.¡±

    ¡°What did I ever do to deserve a son like you?¡± She smiled warmly, running a hand along the soft line of his jaw. The youthful roundness of his face as she remembered has started to give way to the pronounced cheekbones and square jaw.

    ¡°You loved me.¡± He said simply.

    She smiled, ¡°That was the only thing I ever did perfectly.¡±

    He nodded, eyes clouded as his mind began to wander.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Her smile melted into concern, ¡°Did something happen?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I promise, but some things have happened.¡± He said.

    Santiago did not know why it was so difficult to talk about all the things that had changed. It had such a finality to it. As soon as he acknowledged it there was no going back to things as they were before. That should have been a good thing.

    ¡°You got your powers.¡± She said softly, ¡°I remember the bridge.¡±

    ¡°Mom, you know I never ask you for anything.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± She teared up, taking one of his hands into hers.

    Santiago did not care for the idea of pushing his mother like this especially given her progress. He did not want to be the reason behind yet another mental collapse. All he wanted was for her to come out on the other side of her sickness but this was about more than just them now.

    ¡°I need to ask you about some things, and I need answers. It¡¯s important, people are getting hurt because of me. So, I need you to tell me the truth. No shutting down.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a fair ask.¡± Lupe let out a long breath, ¡°Tell me what you need to know.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s about dad, about how he died.¡±

    She bowed her head, ¡°I don¡¯t know all the details.¡±

    ¡°Tell me what you do know.¡±

    The first bit he already knew. The Calaveras were a powerful family of witches who raised his father. He left them at some point, and they were not happy about it.

    ¡°The kind of life he had, he didn¡¯t want it for you.¡± She gave his hand a squeeze, ¡°It didn¡¯t have anything to do with him. He shouldn¡¯t have even¡ª¡±

    She stopped biting back tears and closed her eyes for a long moment. ¡°The things these people do for power. After the former head of the family passed without choosing a successor. It turned into a bloodbath.¡±

    ¡°They came after him.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°No,¡± Her expression somber as she stared at his chest no longer seeing him. ¡°He went after them.¡±

    ¡°Brother turned against brother. Even parents turned on their children in hopes of gathering enough power to take control of the family. Eventually the scales would tip, and one was set to take the seat.¡± She shook her head as if to shake off the thought, ¡°I didn¡¯t know much, except that he was despicable. Murdering his own children and wife. But they all feared him.¡±

    ¡°Dad stopped him.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°More than just him.¡± She nodded. ¡°To set things right he wiped out all those who had been so vile as to turn on their own. For as strong as Vicente was, it was too much for any one person. He restored the balance to the Calaveras, but it cost him everything.¡±

    ¡°Rosenia and Eliana have both reached out to me. They want to train me to use my powers to protect myself.¡±

    Her eyes widened, ¡°Eliana came to you.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s the one who saved us on the bridge.¡±

    Lupe could not help the laugh that came at the thought. ¡°I don¡¯t know what saved us that night, but I can assure you it wasn¡¯t her. She¡¯d have cut my arm off to let me drown before she¡¯d even think of saving me.¡±

    ¡°She said you two weren¡¯t friends.¡± Santiago for a moment saw the flicker of the lively woman he had such fond memories of. ¡°You two used to fight?¡±

    ¡°Fight?¡± She said with disbelief, ¡°I mean I could throw a punch. But fight Eliana? The only reason she never disemboweled me was because of your father.¡±

    ¡°That bad?¡± Santiago leaned in a devilish smile, ¡°What did you do to her that she hates you so much?¡±

    She buried her face in her hands, unable to keep a straight face with his adorable grin. Lupe leaned in close to whisper as though Eliana might hear. ¡°I stole your father from her.¡±

    ¡°Mom!¡± He gaped, ¡°You homewrecker.¡±

    ¡°Ay!¡± She slapped him playfully, ¡°I didn¡¯t do it to spite her. The heart wants what the heart wants.¡±

    ¡°I guess I should consider myself lucky you stole her man otherwise I wouldn¡¯t be here.¡±

    She laughed cradling his face, ¡°I guess so. I can¡¯t bear to imagine a world where you are not my son.¡±

    He rested his forehead on hers, ¡°You know she¡¯s the one who brought you here.¡±

    ¡°I figured when I woke up in California. My guess is this is where she¡¯s going to try to bring you.¡± She folded her arms across her chest, ¡°Rosenia is a good woman. Your father trusted and respected her. Coventry is neutral ground recognized by the families. You¡¯d be safe with her.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d rather I go with her then.¡± He said.

    ¡°I would, yes.¡±

    ¡°She lied to me. Told me you were dead.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Lupe gasped.

    ¡°You might think highly of her but the feeling isn¡¯t mutual. She had no intention of bringing us back together.¡± He said.

    Everyone had their own hidden agenda. He was no better. Santiago did not trust either one. Still he knew that at some point he was going to have to make a choice in who he wanted in his corner with all that was coming.

    ¡°Now let me ask you this,¡± Santiago met her gaze evenly. ¡°If dad was here. If he had to choose someone to put his faith in, with the fight that¡¯s coming to me. Who would he choose?¡±

 Chapter 30

    WARM MUTED LIGHT BATHED the space walls adorned in tasteful artwork. Plush upholstered seats were arranged in clusters around marble-top tables. The bustling caf¨¦ sat on the water¡¯s edge. From the window one could see the waves that lapped at the shore below.

    Freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air with the delicate smell of artisanal teas.

    It was not a place he would frequent. Eliana looked quite at home in the upscale caf¨¦.

    "I¡¯m surprised you called, yet I am happy you did.¡± She said.

    ¡°I put a lot of thought into it.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°I hope your mother didn¡¯t frighten you too much with tales of my wickedness.¡±

    ¡°Enough. She¡¯s still terrified of you.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    ¡°You know jealousy isn¡¯t a good look.¡±

    ¡°A few negative emotions cannot mar perfection.¡± Eliana flipped her hair over her shoulder.

    Santiago laughed, ¡°She didn¡¯t say anything about a sense of humor though.¡±

    ¡°You cannot maintain the attention of a Santiago by being a dullard.¡±

    Santiago paused for a moment, realizing he could not really deny that. Thinking about all his quirky companions. There was not a normal one in the bunch. Except maybe Mia and they weren¡¯t exactly friends.

    ¡°After my dad died, who took control of the Calaveras?¡±

    There were many answers to that question. In a perfect world after Vicente¡¯s death, order would have been restored. Their world was far from perfect. So many tried to take the mantle and only fell into an early grave. Yet this was not something the boy needed trouble himself with. Afterall to him they would only be a list of names.

    ¡°Straight to the point. I like it.¡± Eliana smirked, ¡°My mother, Jimena. Rightfully so.¡±

    ¡°Are you next?¡±

    It was never so clear cut. If her mother chose someone to replace her as the head of the family it would not be Eliana of that much she was certain.

    ¡°To lead the family.¡± Her gaze drifted off as she took a moment to respond, ¡°No, it is not likely.¡±

    That felt like a loaded question.

    There was a flicker of emotion in her eyes somewhere between fear and sadness.

    Now did not feel like the time to broach the subject. He made a mental note to circle back to that at some point. She had a wealth of knowledge to offer him about a world he hardly knew.

    ¡°Why did my dad leave the Calaveras?¡± He said.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been searching for that answer for a long time, Santiago.¡± Eliana smiles somber, ¡°Only Vicente could truly give it.¡±

    Santiago was no fool. Beauty did not mean she was not dangerous.

    Tigers were beautiful yet it has never stopped them from tearing someone¡¯s face off.

    Eliana had a hair trigger temperament with no reservations about killing someone. If he was being honest when she had that witch in her grasp, it seemed like she enjoyed toying with him.

    Cold, but not heartless.

    Eliana had loved his father that much everyone seemed in agreement on. Santiago was not his father.

    ¡°Do you hate me?¡±

    ¡°What¡ª?¡± For the first time she looked caught off guard, ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°It would make sense if you did. I¡¯m the child of my dad and the girl he left you for. Which clearly, you¡¯re not over.¡±

    A sharpened nail wound its way across the lip of her mug.

    It might have crossed some lines into dangerous territory to press on a sore spot. Santiago needed to know where he stood with her.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯m very fond of you at this moment.¡± She smiled tersely, ¡°But I don¡¯t hate you. You¡¯re the only piece of Vicente that I have left. Before we were lovers, we were friends. Inseparable since childhood. Never making amends with him while he lived will always be my greatest regret. At the very least I can protect his son.¡±

    That felt genuine. Her moods were erratic that much was obvious. It was clear to Santiago that Eliana wore her heart on her sleeve. For better or worse.

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    Her rage. Her sadness. Her compassion.

    Eliana expressed herself plain as day. Regardless of who it might hurt.

    She was not a good person.

    Neither was he.

    Santiago nodded, ¡°So California.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll like it there. The sun comes out, unlike this miserably moist place.¡± She scoffed.

    ¡°I like the rain.¡±

    ¡°Of course, you do.¡±

    <hr>

    Santiago had made his choice. Still he had loose ends to tie up and questions that needed answering. At least he would make the attempt to clear the air and see if the woman was capable of being honest with him.

    ¡°I can understand why would chose Eliana. It¡¯s unfortunate and it saddens me to see you go, but I will respect your choice.¡± Rosenia said.

    ¡°I still had some things I wanted to ask you.¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°Very well.¡± She nodded.

    ¡°How did you know my father?¡±

    Vicente. Rose had met him when he was still years younger than Santiago was now. Yet even then Vicente¡¯s name was one that those in their world knew well. An enforcer for Calaveras and an effective one at that.

    Back then someone foolish enough to cross the family sought sanctuary with her. Another boy too young to be called a man scared for his life begged for her protection. It was not long after Vicente came for him.

    He was so powerful for one so young.

    Even in her prime Vicente proved to be too much. Unable to overpower him, she tried to reason with him. She begged for him to show mercy on the boy.

    Vicente said a life was demanded. So Rosenia offered hers instead.

    She had thought he was going to kill her. Instead he left them both unharmed.

    ¡°Out of respect for my honesty and compassion for someone truly undeserving he not only spared us but acknowledged the neutrality of Coventry.¡± Rosenia smiled, ¡°In those days, the protection found in Coventry was hard fought. Vicente was a respected member of the Calaveras and those allied with them. When he made that choice several other prominent families took notice and followed suit.¡±

    ¡°He was a big deal then.¡± Santiago said.

    She nodded, ¡°He commanded a great deal of respect and even more fear.¡±

    Santiago had a difficult time seeing it in his mind''s eye. All his life he had this vision of a kind man who loved his family. Now he has been learning that there was a darker side to the man. They seemed like two distinctly different people and he could not seem to rationalize that they were simply one. His father.

    ¡°So you took me in because you knew my dad. Like with Sylvia.¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°Not exactly. I had not known about you. Vicente never mentioned he had a child. At least not to me.¡± Rosenia sipped from the porcelain cup, ¡°Thompson seeking me out was simply because he knew you were a troubled child with unbridled magic. The moment I saw you I knew.¡±

    Rosenia felt the air leave her lungs when she entered that hospital room. He was the spitting image of his father. What a strange feeling after so many years to see the face of an old friend. It had brought tears to her eyes for more than one reason.

    When she had learned the story of Vicente¡¯s son. How he had suffered and struggled while being only a short drive away.

    She was heartbroken. None of it had to happen.

    Rosenia felt guilty, she should have done something. She should have known.

    The elder witch had never met Gudelupe though she had heard much about her from Vicente. Rosenia had encouraged the boy to pursue his blossoming feelings for the girl. He deserved the chance to pursue the life he wanted for himself.

    ¡°My mom is the reason he left the Calaveras.¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°It¡¯s not quite that simple. I see now the real reason he left was you.¡± She said, ¡°He had been teetering on that edge for sometime. Vicente was an unparalleled combatant but he did not enjoy the fight. He was a peaceful man at his core. Vicente longed for a simple life, free of the violence that shrouded the Calaveras. He wanted a family.¡±

    ¡°So the Calaveras are really that evil.¡±

    Rosenia laughed, ¡°No, not evil. At least not all of them. It¡¯s not only them but all the families.¡±

    These lineages that spanned centuries building empires. They did not see the world in the same way as others. Despite their abundance of power, wealth, and influence it was never enough. They always wanted more.

    Rosenia could not deny that they had over the many years been reasonable and granted petitions from those in need. Charitable acts from these families had the ability to transform entire communities.

    Yet, to them life was a game to be won. People were simply pawns in those games. To be used and discarded when they no longer served a purpose.

    They were not so much evil as they were out of touch with the world around them.

    ¡°That¡¯s pretty much what Eliana said. From what I¡¯ve seen of her, I could see that.¡± Santiago said, pausing a moment he reflected.

    ¡°Did she tell you she was the one who arranged for you to be sent to a group home instead of back to your mother?¡±

    Santiago¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°I take that as a no.¡± Rosenia sighed, ¡°She had already opened a petition to adopt you. I supposed she got what she wanted in the end as you will be returning with her.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I guess that makes sense because she hates my mom. Weren¡¯t you trying to adopt me?¡±

    ¡°I was, yes. I knew it wouldn¡¯t have succeeded because of your mother but I thought I could at least force some distance between you and Eliana with the court proceedings.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s where you kept disappearing to.¡± Santiago chuckled. ¡°She¡¯s been pulling strings from the beginning. Can a witch change their appearance to look younger or older?¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡± Rosenia raised a brow, ¡°It is possible, yes. There is a difference between a simple glamor to make it appear as though they are a different age versus causing their body to age. It is still possible for an advanced enough witch. Why do you ask.¡±

    ¡°No reason, just curious.¡± That much was a lie. He had to wonder if that girl he met in the parking lot might have been Eliana in disguise. She had been everywhere and nowhere all at once.

    ¡°I am sorry that I lied to you, Santiago. You are so young, I didn¡¯t want you to have to shoulder burdens that should be the responsibility of an adult. You deserve to enjoy your youth.¡±

    ¡°I know you meant well, but from now on I¡¯ve got to make my own choices.¡± He said.

    ¡°I understand.¡± Rosenia said.

    Santiago was glad he decided to come here. He thought he would still be angry. As he sat there he felt a sense of calm. He was more sure of himself and the decision he made.

    Rosenia was a good person and he would always appreciate that for as sour as things turned she did genuinely care for him. Santiago hoped that he could find it in him to trust her the way his father did.

    Stranger things have happened.

 Chapter 31

    ADMITTEDLY SANTIAGO KNEW he had wasted precious time to get answers from his attackers. Like Eliana had said two of the witches had been released from custody. Insufficient evidence. Louis had been dubbed the scapegoat and was to take the fall for the entire debacle.

    Which meant it was not a total loss. He was still within the confines of the hospital.

    Lola¡¯s sister was a medical assistant in the ER she told them what room they could find him in. Santiago tried to thank her profusely knowing the kind of trouble she could get into for giving out that kind of information. Lola¡¯s family had always felt like his family too.

    Aside from his mother they had no one else. Lupe¡¯s parents died when she was a teenager. Vicente¡¯s family earlier than that.

    The two got their visitor stickers up at the front desk where they claimed to visit someone else on the same floor.

    Louis was still in police custody. They were not about to allow visitors.

    Elevator chimed and in his hurry to enter it Santiago nearly collided with the cleaning cart.

    ¡°Yo, watch where you¡¯re¡ªOf course it¡¯s you.¡± Wesley scoffed, ¡°You stalking me now. Didn¡¯t realize you swung that way, Santiago. I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m just not that into you.¡±

    Santiago flipped him off. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°What am¡ªMotherfucker, I work here.¡± He motioned at his royal blue scrubs, his usual wiry mess of blond hair tucked into a paper cap. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Visiting.¡±

    Wesley¡¯s eyes narrowed, ¡°Is that right.¡±

    Lola grabbed Santiago, ¡°Look it¡¯s been great catching up, we gotta go.¡±

    The doors slid shut and the two let out a sigh of relief as they watched the counter dial up to the floor.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll keep watch.¡± Lola said, adjusting the dark wig that hid her brightly dyed azure hair. This was the first time in five years he had seen the girl without a nose ring.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to look suspicious if you¡¯re walking around.¡± Santiago pointed out.

    Lola waved her clipboard. ¡°Power of the clipboard, baby. Am I a department supervisor? Am I with the DNV? Who knows. They are two understaffed and underpaid to care.¡±

    Santiago bumped fists with her as they hit the floor.

    He walked a few paces behind her to remain out of sight from the nurses across from the room. Lola walked up to a few of them to pointedly inform them there was a patient bed blocking an electrical panel.

    She left out the part about her pushing it there.

    Santiago slipped into the room.

    The familiar hum of machinery clustered around the man stirred up some unpleasant and numerous memories of this place.

    From the looks of it they were able to reattach the hand. Fortunately, the wound was wrapped in thick gauze. Thoughts of the severed limb as it hung around his neck made his stomach turn.

    ¡°Louis,¡± Santiago murmured, as he smacked his face lightly. ¡°Wake up.¡±

    Louis¡¯s eyes fluttered open. Shock was quickly replaced by anger.

    He moved to sit up.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Santiago whispered harshly, shoved him back against the mattress. ¡°Listen to me. Your friends abandoned you. They are letting you take the fall for the whole thing. They sold you out. You¡¯re not getting out of here.¡±

    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that.¡± He hissed, ¡°It¡¯s only a matter of time before they come for me.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    Even knowing that they had sold him out he was still being loyal. No, Santiago thought this wasn¡¯t loyalty. This was fear.

    Louis laid back against the pillows and stared straight ahead.

    ¡°Hey if you¡¯re already dead, why don¡¯t you take the one chance you got of actually getting even with them.¡± If he could not appeal to his sense of self-preservation he could at least exploit his anger.

    ¡°It¡¯s not going to do you any good. He wants your power. There¡¯s not a place far enough for you to run to.¡± Louis¡¯s dark brows furrowed, he shifted uncomfortably, his breathing shallow. ¡°You can¡¯t trust any¡ªany.¡±

    The monitor beeped loudly as his vitals began to drop.

    ¡°Louis.¡± Santiago cursed, he called out. ¡°We need a doctor!¡±

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    ¡°You can¡¯t let him take it.¡± Louis grabbed a hold of him with his uninjured arm, he wheezed. ¡°You can¡¯t. Please¡ª¡±

    Louis collapsed on him Santiago leaned him back against the mattress, as the nurses flooded in.

    ¡°Code Blue. Eight East. Stat. Code Blue. Eight East. Stat.¡± The monotonous overhead voice chimed as the medical staff were in a flurry to resuscitate him.

    It was too late. Louis was already gone.

    <hr>

    ¡°That was the dumbest possible choice you could have made.¡± Eliana scolded, ¡°I can¡¯t believe you didn¡¯t even have the sense to run.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t kill him.¡± Santiago said.

    ¡°Well, he was fine until the fentanyl killed him. It is unlikely a stranger standing in the middle of his hospital room had anything to do with it.¡± Her tone dripped with sarcasm, ¡°Thankfully Lana has more sense than you.¡±

    ¡°Lola.¡± Lola corrected from the couch.

    ¡°The tapes were scrubbed and none of the nurses had a viable description. For now, we¡¯re fine.¡±

    She jabbed a pointed nail between his collarbones, ¡°Next time you get a brilliant idea, take it, and put it in a box where it will never be looked at again. And then you call me so I can handle it.¡±

    ¡°I get it, I messed up.¡± Santiago frowned, ¡°I can take care of myself.¡±

    ¡°Yes, because you¡¯ve done a phenomenal job so far.¡± She pressed her hand against her forehead, ¡°Tomorrow morning. Airport. 10am. Do not be late. The more distance we can put between you and this place the better.¡±

    They all sat in silence for a few minutes after she left.

    ¡°Holy crap, you¡¯re really leaving Yago.¡± Alejo said in soft disbelief.

    Lola wrapped her arms around his shoulders, ¡°I¡¯m going to miss you.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not dying. I¡¯m going to be a three-hour flight away. I¡¯ll come visit and you all can come visit me when I get settled in.¡± Santiago rubbed her back. ¡°It¡¯s only temporary. I¡¯ll always come back home.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t even have time for a farewell party.¡± Lola whined, ¡°Mari is gonna be so pissed.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting to go so suddenly either. Things are getting out of hand.¡± Santiago said.

    No one else would get hurt because of him.

    It was going to hurt to leave behind all the people who cared about him. In the end it was for them. They would be better for it.

    At least that is what he kept telling himself.

    He could have called them. All his friends. Told them he was leaving, and they would pull together a wild grab bag of a farewell party.

    Any other time he would have been down for it.

    Right now, Santiago needed the quiet.

    Everything was going to change. Not only his home. The people that surrounded him. The life that he led up until now was going to turn on its head.

    The kind of life he had, he didn¡¯t want it for you.

    Was it worse than living out of a car in the frigid Seattle winter?

    Was it worse than picking his mother up out of a pool of her own vomit?

    Was it worse than burying friends that never grew old enough to buy a beer?

    There were so many nights when he stayed up unable to sleep because of the nightmares that waited when he closed his eyes. In those moments of fear, he thought of his father. Wished more than anything he would be there to protect him from the pain.

    What would he think of Santiago?

    Would he be proud of the man he had become?

    Or would he even be able to bear the sight of him?

    The stories his mother used to tell him stuck with Santiago.

    He always imagined a man with a kind heart and gentle demeanor. His mother would show Santiago the poetry and love letters he had written for her. The photographs of them with smiles and laughter in all the places they had traveled together. Vicente would read bedtime stories to him even while Santiago was still in her stomach.

    How could that have been the same man who murdered over a dozen people in a single night?

    Something inside him was breaking. The precious illusion of one perfect piece of goodness that existed inside him was tainted now.

    Pain seemed to be the only gift his parents gave freely.

    Pounding on the door jolted him back into consciousness. Santiago sat up and rubbed the wet from his eyes.

    A quick glance at the time made him groan. It was barely six in the morning.

    Alejo had not even budged where he laid. He snored away behind his room door.

    Pulled the door open roughly squinted through the morning light at the New Orleans native. ¡°You want to do this now.¡±

    ¡°Is Sylvia with you?¡± Etienne¡¯s face pulled together in a mix of anger and worry as he barged in brushing past Santiago.

    ¡°No.¡± Santiago said, flinging the door shut behind him. ¡°She¡¯s at Rosenia¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°No, she¡¯s not.¡± Etienne ran a hand through his black hair, eyes still darting about the place hoping to find evidence of the boy lying. ¡°Yesterday, she went for a jog with her pup. I should have gone with her. I promised Rose I would work on her car. She was gone too long¡ª I went to look for her. I found the dog wandering by himself. She¡¯s not answering anyone¡¯s calls.¡±

    Santiago¡¯s chest tightened, there were a million and one things that could have happened to a girl alone out in the woods. The police would not do a thing if she had not been gone for even a day.

    His phone buzzed on the coffee table. Santiago nearly flipped head over heels on the sofa back when he saw the flash of pink on the screen. ¡°Sylvia? Where are you?¡±

    ¡°Santiago¡­¡± Sylvia murmured into the phone her voice trembled, ¡°The Broadway Performance Hall¡­If you don¡¯t come in an hour he¡¯s¡ªHe said, he¡¯s going to kill me.¡±

    ¡°Sylvia!¡± The line clicked. Santiago stared blankly at the screen.

    ¡°I got to call Rose.¡± Etienne muttered dialing on his phone.

    Santiago swung the door open with such force Alejo flubbed out of bed scared half out of his skin.

    ¡°Yago!¡± He fought with the blanket coiled around his legs.

    ¡°They got Sylvia waiting for me at the theater.¡±

    ¡°Wait, Broadway?¡± Alejo squinted. ¡°Ay, don¡¯t go alone, man. Let me call some boys, we''ll handle this together.¡±

    ¡°No. No one else is getting hurt because of my shit.¡± Santiago snapped as he put his shoes on. ¡°Stay here Alejandro.¡±

    Santiago stalked out the front door, he called Etienne. ¡°Keys!¡±

    ¡°You ain¡¯t going nowhere without me.¡± Etienne shot back.

    ¡°This doesn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Involve me. Anything to do with Sylvia involves me.¡±

    ¡°Rose okay with that.¡±

    ¡°I ain¡¯t waiting for permission.¡± Etienne growled.

 Chapter 32

    DOORS HAD BEEN LEFT UNLOCKED that led into the performance hall. It was quiet. That unsettled Santiago. In the early hours of the morning staff would be bustling about to prepare the theater for the catalog of shows set to perform.

    At the very least noise from rehearsals and sound checks would be audible. Their footsteps were the only thing that echoed in the empty space.

    ¡°Definitely has a taste for the dramatic.¡± Etienne¡¯s brow furrowed, ¡°Needed a stage and everything.¡±

    That was not the reason.

    Santiago knew this place.

    Some of his earliest memories were here. This was one of the only places his mother had ever held a job. She had been friends with the owner, an elderly woman. He never knew her name, he always called her Grandma though they had no relation.

    She let them stay here when they had no place else to go. One of the dressing rooms served as their makeshift apartment.

    In exchange Lupe would keep the place tidy and make sure everything was accounted for.

    Grandma would always have a seat reserved for herself if she ever decided to attend a show. She would tell Santiago to save it for her.

    He would spend hours in the balcony seat hanging over the rail to watch an endless stream of performances from choirs, dancers, and actors.

    When the old woman eventually passed, they lost the only place that had ever felt like home.

    ¡°How many people know about this place?¡± Etienne said.

    That was the thing. No one except him or his mother would have known. Maybe there were friends of hers who had been aware he was too young to remember all those details. It sent a chill through him to think that one of their family''s long time companions would participate in this sick game.

    The lights flickered from an old chandelier and created eerie silhouettes, distorting the familiar surroundings. Every creak of the floorboards beneath their feet seemed to have his breath caught in his throat. Every noise amplified in the eerie silence.

    ¡°This place is creepy as all hell.¡± Etienne muttered.

    As if in response what little light there was cut out abruptly plunging them into darkness.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Etienne,¡± Santiago fumbled for his phone to cast enough light for them to see each other. ¡°I know the way.¡±

    The air crackled echoing off the empty hallways. Flickering light outlined an approaching silhouette. Etienne was likely the first person Santiago met with a shorter temper than his own. Without hesitation the boy barreled forward into the dark towards the shadowy figure.

    Something caught hold of the boy dragging him into the shadows. Santiago waved his phone about looking for any sign of him. He tried to call out and nothing came out.

    Or rather he could not hear it. He could feel the vibration in his larynx as he shouted yet there was nothing. No creak, crackle, or clatter. Not even the ringing that filled his ears to fill an empty silence. His phone flickered like a dying candle until he was plunged into the silent dark.

    Santiago¡¯s attempts to feel around him blindly failed as he began to lose sensation in his limbs. All his senses cut off he felt as only his consciousness floated in absolute darkness.

    A brilliant light flashed burning his retinas everywhere around him. Straining against the numbness he could see his own body now. Consciously focusing he puppeteered his own limbs to move pushing through the blanket of light.

    As he pushed through he fell to his knees clutching his head as the flood of input overloaded his senses. Even the sound of his knees colliding with the wood paneled resounded in his skull like a thundercrack.

    A boot caught him in the ribs sending him rolling across the floor.

    Santiago squinted as the world around him had somehow flipped into grayscale. There were two figures, one who loomed over etienne with crackling palms sending jolts that rocked through the boy sending him into fits of convulsions. The other was readying to strike Santiago once more.

    He caught the leg, Santiago saw the whites of the man''s eyes grow in shock before he yanked him to the floor. It did not take much two hits and the witch was out cold.

    Pain shot through every neverending with his bones vibrating under his skin. Santiago blinked and his cheek was pressed against the cool floor panels limbs trembled uncontrollably as he willed them to move. He could see the approach of the other witch coming for Santiago with lightning in his hands.

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    He clenched his eyes shut tightly ready for the next wave of pain.

    A massive snap of wood resounded as the heavy sofa collided with the witch.

    Etienne¡¯s hand fell back to the floor, the boy drenched in sweat panted where he laid on the ground.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Santiago groaned.

    ¡°We ain¡¯t out of the woods yet.¡± Etienne breathed, shifting slowly to one side.

    Ambling down the halls the residual sting remained spiking with any sudden moves. Santiago led the way through the darkened theater.

    Through the doors that brought the stage into view the singular ghost light at the center cast an ominous glow across the theater. The tiered row of plush, velvety red seats surrounded the stage in a perfect formation. Each one bore the mark of countless performances, the upholstery worn from the weight of spectators past.

    The focal point of the hall commanded attention with its grandeur and craftsmanship. Imposing presence with its size and height loomed over the arena. Intricate molds, delicate carvings, and elegant arches stretched along the walls in the timeless elegance of the old woman who used to hold it so dear.

    A spotlight flicked on aimed up towards the balcony seat where a bound and gagged Sylvia sat slumped.

    ¡°Sylvie!¡± Etienne boomed.

    Santiago motioned to a side door, ¡°Take that exit, there¡¯s a stairwell down the hall it¡¯ll take you up there.

    Etienne nodded and darted down the row.

    The singular applause from the stage pulled his attention. Wes stood there with a grin before he threw his arms out wide. ¡°Do you like the choice of venue? It¡¯s not really my style, but the customer is always right.¡±

    ¡°Wes,¡± Santiago scowled. ¡°What is this?¡±

    ¡°First off, my name¡¯s not Wes but that is neither here nor there.¡± He shrugged, ¡°I am a performer of sorts. For the right price I put on a show, and I always deliver. I¡¯m the guy you call when you don¡¯t simply want someone dead. You want them broken.¡±

    He snapped his fingers and the theater lit up to show the captive audience.

    Lola. Jesus. Marisol. Skylar. Khalil. Mia.

    Even Guadalupe was slumped over in one of the front row seats.

    Khalil was missing his signature oversized hoodie and headset. Skylar had lost a shoe amidst the scuffle it seemed.

    Marisol only clad in a satin teddy looked as though she had been snatched from under the safety of her covers at home. Jesus was still in his work uniform, the cooking apron still tied around his neck.

    Lola had given the man trouble that much was evident. The girl was bloodied and bruised. One of her eyes swelled shut and dried blood congealed on her chin from where her lip was busted. Unlike the rest her hands and feet were both tightly bound where she slumped heavily in the seat.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy, luring the old bat out of that house with little Sylvia so I could snatch and grab. Admittedly the hardest part.¡± He shook his head, he pointed at the blonde woman up front, ¡°I owe you one. She¡¯s the cherry on top. Never would have found her if it hadn¡¯t been for your little road trip. Led me straight to her.¡±

    Santiago hands trembled his fists tight at his side. ¡°I¡¯m here. You got what you wanted. Let them go.¡±

    ¡°No, not yet.¡± Wes reached behind him pulling a knife, the blade twisted into a fine point. He tilted it face down running a finger along the hilt up to the round crystal at the base. ¡°These are not easy to come by my friend. When I kill you, this is going to hold your power and I get my payout.¡±

    Wes held up a hand, ¡°Santiago, it¡¯s nothing personal. Purely business. Hope you can understand.¡±

    A loud crack could be heard, Santiago spun around as a figure flew off the balcony landing in a heap on the seats below. Etienne appeared on the balcony a little worse for wear than when he left.

    ¡°Oh he¡¯s strong.¡± Wes nodded appreciatively and he called up to the boy. ¡°How many did you get?¡±

    ¡°I got all four of ¡®em you prick.¡± Etienne quickly untied Sylvia, lifting her into his arms. He looked down shocked at the others in the seats. ¡°Merde!¡±

    ¡°Get her out.¡± Santiago called without looking back, ¡°I got things here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back.¡± Etienne said and vanished with the girl.

    Santiago walked down to the stage.

    Wes waited patiently as the boy made it up to his level.

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who killed Louis.¡± Santiago said.

    He smiled, ¡°Guilty.¡±

    You can¡¯t let him take it.

    The rasping last plea of a dying man.

    ¡°Get away from him!¡± Skylar shouted, having finally roused to see the scene playing out on the stage in front of them. Struggling against her restraints she tried to pull the bindings loose.

    ¡°How do I know that once you get what you want, you¡¯ll let them go?¡± Said Santiago.

    ¡°Simple, they didn¡¯t pay me enough to bother with them. They¡¯re here to keep you in line. After you¡¯re gone, they have no value to me.¡± Said Wes simply.

    ¡°You can not trust him, he¡¯s a murderer!¡± Skylar screamed, thrashing against her restraints and the theater''s chairs began to tremble and creak.

    Wes closed the distance pressing a firm hand on his shoulder. ¡°Look, I like you. So, despite what they asked for, I¡¯ll make this quick.¡±

    Santiago looked to Skylar whose calls were drowned out by the pounding in his ears. All his loved ones were trapped in this place, their only crime having been being in proximity to him.

    If not now then when?

    How many of them would die before one of these psychopaths finally got what they wanted?

    What choice did he really have?

    He couldn¡¯t risk their safety.

    If he was the only one who had to suffer then it would be worth the price.

    Santiago closed his eyes to wait for the end.

 Chapter 33

    A PART OF HIM KNEW he should care more about dying. A part of him was relieved.

    He was tired. More tired than a boy his age should ever be. His existence had only seemed to cause problems for the people foolish enough to stay around him. This was better for everyone.

    A thunderous gunshot that shatters the tense atmosphere.

    Gripping firmly on the pistol as he takes aim, Alejo¡¯s eyes were locked on his target as the stream of bullets trailed after the fleeing assailant.

    Wes cursed and darted across the stage as Alejo fired off at him.

    ¡°Alejo!¡± Santiago called, it did not surprise him that his friend disregarded his warning. He was now more appreciative of his friend''s inability to listen than ever before.

    ¡°Be for real, you thought I was letting you do this without me.¡± Alejo shouted back a grin spread across his face.

    While he did not have magic, Alejo knew most witches were not bulletproof.

    There was no way Alejo was going to lose his friend again. It did not matter if he had to fight them with a gun or a pitcher if it meant saving the people he cared about he would make do.

    Etienne burst through the doors, his shoulders dropped as he saw the man. ¡°You scared the hell out of me.¡±

    Santiago hopped off stage and ran to his mother to find a steady pulse. The tightness in his chest eased, Santiago turned to the boys. ¡°Get them out of here.¡±

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Alejo said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have my hands tied anymore.¡± Santiago growled, took off after Wes.

    Santiago followed the sounds of Wes as he fumbled through the backstage hall. The light from the back entrance flashed as he passed through it.

    Santiago swung it open and bolted down the back alley after him.

    On the city sidewalk Wes roughly barreled through bystanders on the street.

    Crossed the street headed towards Anderson park, Santiago hot on his heels. Wes realized he would not be able to outrun him.

    Wes plucked a kid off his skateboard by the scruff of his neck.

    The injured witch panted heavily, hand around the kid''s throat was red with his own blood. ¡°I guess it¡¯s improv night.¡±

    ¡°Stop. You want to walk, fine you walk. Leave the kid.¡± Santiago¡¯s jaw clenched tightly.

    Passersby ran. Some pulled out their phones to call for help or record the situation as it unfolded. Others called out trying to plead to the man to let the kid go.

    ¡°You made me bleed. It¡¯s about time you learned this, Santiago. In our world, we have one rule. Blood for blood.¡± He raised the blade ready to bury it in the kids chest.

    Santiago did not think. He just moved.

    In a blink Santiago had a hand around Wes¡¯s throat and hand clamped around his wrist.

    He could feel the surge as it ran through him like electrified adrenaline.

    Wes sent him soaring back with his damaged hand.

    A brave stranger quickly grabbed the boy and whisked him off into the safety of a nearby shop.

    Fear and adrenaline filled the air as people scrambled for safety. Screams and cries echoed through the streets as people fled in every direction.

    Some level headed individuals stood out from the pack to take charge and try to heard the crowd away from the scene as it unfolded. Amidst the chaos some resourceful bystanders took up improvised weapons and projectiles and started pelting them at Wes.

    Wes grabbed at the chain-link fence and pulled it free like it was made of paper. Each line unbraided itself flattening into razor thin blades.

    No. Santiago thought there were too many, moving too fast. He would never get them all out in time.

    Their screams were like knives in Santiago¡¯s ears.

    There were kids.

    They would all be torn to shreds.

    Hurricane winds from behind made him stumble forward. The blades thrown back were buried into green grass churning up mounds of soil.

    Santiago caught sight of the familiar pastel blue and pink of Skylar¡¯s hair behind her raised palms.

    Throngs of people fled into the open doorways of the nearby shops. Some ducked for cover behind cars.

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    Before he could express any gratitude, she screamed for him to look out for the car Wes had ejected at him.

    Santiago dodged it.

    Even though he severed the magic weaving, the massive thing was too large for him to stop. Santiago dove only able to scoop Skylar out of the way.

    As fast as his powers could push him, Santiago knew he would not make it to the others in time.

    Etienne raised his hand. Santiago could see the energy emanating from the boy''s chest down his arms and it spring out in millions of tiny strands. The vehicle came apart. The individual pieces wove around the fleeing bystanders and snapped back together in the middle of the empty street.

    Santiago''s eyes bugged as the taller boy marched forward.

    ¡°Damn,¡± Alejo said as he caught up to him. ¡°They be feeding you good down in Orleans. Throwing cars around like Legos.¡±

    Etienne smirked. ¡°That ain¡¯t all I got.¡±

    Khalil called out to them, ¡°Incoming!¡±

    Metal squealed as it was bent. Wires snapped as the streetlights upended, the ground crackling loudly from the exposed wires.

    ¡°We need to get these people out of the line of fire.¡± Khalil said.

    ¡°He needs to go down first.¡± Etienne barked.

    The two started arguing and Skylar screamed at both.

    ¡°SHUT UP!¡± Alejo said all of them turned to his friend, ¡°He¡¯s thinking.¡±

    Before any of them could ask Santiago started, ¡°Etienne can you take the pieces of the things you make and shape them how you want.¡±

    Etienne nodded.

    ¡°We need cover.¡± He turned to the others, ¡°Alejo and Khalil run point on getting people out. Skylar anything that gets passed Etienne¡¯s wall you send it packing. I¡¯ll keep him busy and draw his fire. When we get everyone clear we hit him with everything we got.¡±

    They all split up.

    Etienne crouched, his chest glowed with a blue light as he reached out. He pulled forth everything that was not bolted to the ground. He had never pushed himself to work with this many moving parts. Still, Etienne had no intention of losing before he got his pound of flesh.

    Santiago ran.

    He moved through the array of debris Wes had unleashed. Piece by piece he severed the ties chipping away at his enemies¡¯ defenses.

    Santiago could tell the connections were getting weaker with each wave. Wesley was burning out.

    Wes knew it too.

    A shooting pain ran through Santiago, he stumbled onto the asphalt. He clutched his head, vision blurred.

    Santiago¡¯s first thought was that Wes had gotten to him. Through the roar in his ears, he could hear him laughing.

    ¡°See you can¡¯t control this power, Santiago.¡± He mocked, ¡°It was never meant for a nothing like you.¡±

    Santiago blacked out.

    In the middle of the street, he sat up. He was alone now.

    The sky was dark, not the dark of night. Pitch black. Not a star in the sky save for what appeared as a silvery haloed sun.

    A growl emanated from the darkness. Two pinpricks of light stared back at him.

    The harsh roar deafened him like a choir of thousands that screamed into his ears all at once vying to be heard.

    Wes saw an opportunity and made his way to the boy. Santiago fell over limply as he was rolled over.

    Blade poised he plunged it into his chest.

    Wes blinked at the peculiar silver dust that wafted through the air. Not a drop of blood came from the wound. Pulling back the hilt there was no longer a blade attached to it.

    Santiago was gone.

    Wes staggered to his feet, turned quickly and found himself face to face with the boy. It was the hand on the back of his neck Wes felt before the one that had plunged itself into his chest cavity.

    A garbled wheeze escaped him as his punctured lung filled with blood.

    From the boy an unnatural growl of a voice that was more than his own. ¡°Blood for blood.¡±

    Santiago gripped onto the column of his spine and severed it. The man folded as he hit the floor.

    It all came to a halt as Wes fell dead. Etienne peered from behind the cars spotting Santiago.

    For a lingering moment those silver eyes stared into his. Etienne felt the gaze through every fiber of his being freezing him into place.

    He couldn¡¯t speak. He couldn¡¯t move.

    Santiago lunged at Etienne.

    Reflexively the boy pulled part of the wall to shield himself from the attack.

    A hand grasped frantically for him where it was wedged between the wall of debris. Santiago pounded each blow and blasted a hole Etienne struggled to seal.

    Etienne fought for control. He could feel his hold being pried off of the manipulated objects. Sweat beaded on his brow, his muscles were on fire. He could see the darkening of skin spreading down his arms like burns from the overuse.

    One heavy blow sent Etienne on his back on the asphalt.

    Santiago leapt bringing his foot down a moment after Etienne rolled away the black ground cracked under his sneakers.

    Etienne blocked one blow, the reverb as Santiago blasted through the meek shield he brought up sent him backwards into a tree.

    Etienne screamed in pain as the foot came down on his leg and snapped his femur.

    Santiago hands grasped for his throat.

    He was thrown across the field. As he made a move to stand Santiago was brought back to the floor, crushed by an invisible force.

    Skylar gritted their teeth, palms faced the ground as they struggled to pin the boy down. ¡°I can¡¯t¡ªhold him!¡±

    Santiago strained against the weight as he forced himself upright. Each weighted step inched him closer to Etienne.

    ¡°Santiago!¡± Guadalupe screamed from down the street.

    The light flickered and Santiago¡¯s head turned towards the woman.

    ¡°He¡¯s not in his right mind. Stay away from him.¡± Skylar shouted urgently.

    Guadalupe walked forward towards him despite the girls warning.

    ¡°Look at me!¡± Guadalupe ordered.

    Gleaming eyes homed in on her. He made a move forward and Skylar pushed against him.

    Santiago growled as he pushed onward towards her.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to hurt me. Do you know why?¡± She smiled, ¡°Because my son, like his father before him, has a heart that can¡¯t be beaten. Not when it comes to the people they love.¡±

    ¡°No amount of rage and pain can change that.¡± Her fingers brushed the boy¡¯s cheek as his arms coiled around her.

    ¡°No!¡± Skylar screamed.

    Santiago slumped heavily on his mother, face buried in her hair he murmured, ¡°Mom, I don¡¯t¡ªI didn¡¯t mean¡ª"

    Skylar rushed to Etienne and leaned his head back against the tree bark unconscious.

    Guadalupe cried as she embraced him. ¡°Dot, I love you so much.¡±

 Chapter 34

    THE MANOR RESTS IN SERENE STILLNESS. While conversation was scarce the silence was far from empty. The gentle rustle of a breeze made its way through the partially open windows it carried in the sweet fragrance of flowers from the garden. The occasional crackle of embers in the fireplace, where a dwindling fire emitted a warm comforting glow.

    Weary and worn out the witches found solace within the manor. Sylvia and Santiago rested in the bedrooms upstairs.

    Etienne had yet to leave Sylvia¡¯s side and could be heard from time to time limping down the hall on his crutches to check in on the boy as well. Most of the others had returned home after the police finished questioning them.

    Settled into the breakfast nook in an upholstered chair Guadalupe stirred her coffee with a quick word of thanks to the red-haired girl for bringing her more sugar.

    This was the safest place by far to regroup.

    Rosenia had made no complaints about welcoming them into their home. Even when Eliana appeared on her doorstep she did not voice any opposition.

    The woman stopped in the door as Rosenia led her to the kitchen.

    Lupe met the gaze of her former rival. ¡°Eliana.¡±

    ¡°Guadalupe.¡± She replied flatly, her heels clicked against the hardwood as she settled in opposite her on the round table. ¡°How is he?¡±

    ¡°Resting. He¡¯ll recover, he always does.¡± Lupe cradled the warm mug in her palms. ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have to deal with this mess. He¡¯s just a kid.¡±

    ¡°From what I¡¯ve seen of Santiago, he hasn¡¯t been a child for a long time.¡± Eliana said.

    Lupe¡¯s eyes watered.

    ¡°Hey, give her a break.¡± Alejo said sternly.

    ¡°She¡¯s a grown woman who can fight her own battles. It¡¯s about time she started to.¡± Eliana gaze fixed sourly on her.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine Alejo. She¡¯s right.¡± Lupe said, ¡°I¡¯m not a good mother. I¡¯ve failed him in so many ways. He suffered more than he ever should have had to because of my pride.¡±

    No matter how bad things got. Guadalupe had always told herself that in keeping Santiago away from the world his father tried so hard to escape that she was doing right by Vicente. Now as her son laid upstairs after nearly dying a third time there were no delusions or substances that could change the reality of how badly she had failed.

    Mia set a cup in front of Eliana, filling it with the steaming liquid. Before she pulled up a chair next to Rosenia.

    ¡°This is only the beginning.¡± Rosenia interjected soberly, ¡°If we are to protect him in the inevitable battles yet to come, we need to work together. For the sake of these children, we need to put aside our differences.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m perfectly capable of despising you both and still working competently as a team.¡± Eliana shrugged, ¡°I digress, for the children I will at least act as those I don¡¯t want to skin the two of you.¡±

    ¡°The devil you know, and all that.¡± Alejo snorted.

    Eliana frowned.

    ¡°I think we¡¯re going to need something stronger than coffee.¡± Mia quickly excused herself.

    ¡°We need to look into the benefactor for these witches.¡± Rosenia said.

    ¡°Benefactors.¡± Eliana corrected. ¡°The three stooges were all pledged to the Shen.¡±

    They were an old family, with a reach that extended across the continent. Even out in the states their name held enough weight to make a threat. They have long been set in their ways. Never started a conflict yet were quick and efficient in ending one. Further down the line Eliana knew they would either be a hindrance or an ally depending on how Santiago was able to leverage his fathers ties with them.

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    Louis, however, was a turncoat. He had spurned the Shen in favor of a generous offer given by the same person who hired Wes. That in itself was interesting to Eliana. The pool of potential enemies dwindled significantly in the face of convincing anyone to turn on the ancient family.

    ¡°Shen? Vicente was always on good terms with them.¡± Guadalupe said clearly taken aback.

    ¡°And they remain so. Apparently, they were under orders to refrain from using lethal force to bring Santiago in. Clearly Louis didn¡¯t follow those instructions.¡± Eliana said dismissively. ¡°I reached out to Hong-Chie about it, and he fessed up quickly. They were going to bind the boy.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Alejo asked not even fully understanding what binding meant.

    ¡°To take away the threat while also not murdering the son of a former friend.¡± Said Eliana. ¡°Shen family¡¯s memory is long. Make a friend in them, you and your kin will never cease to receive their blessings. Make an enemy of them and they will ensure your bloodline ends.¡±

    ¡°How did they even know about Santiago?¡± Guadalupe said.

    ¡°When he awakened for the first time. They have their ways of sensing these things.¡± Said Eliana.

    Without the shielding of the pendant that power was likely felt by others. It was a hard truth all of them understood far too well.

    Rosenia sighed, ¡°Then this Wesley was hired for the simple purpose of stealing his powers.¡±

    Worse still was the very public show that became of the battle. Footage of the incident was all over the internet. Santiago¡¯s face plastered for the world to see. A face anyone who had ever known Vicente would recognize.

    The difference was Santiago did not command the fear and respect that his father did.

    From what Rosenia could tell of Eliana¡¯s demeanor they shared the same fear.

    His burgeoning power would invite challenge. Not all of which he was capable of handling. Some not even they would be able to.

    ¡°As soon as he wakes up, we¡¯re going to be on a flight back home.¡± Eliana said.

    ¡°No.¡± Santiago said, leaning heavily in the doorway.

    Lupe rushed to him. The boy winced as she looped an arm around him to support his weight. ¡°You should be in bed!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. A little sore, but I¡¯ll live.¡± Santiago ambled over easing into the seat, ¡°I¡¯m not leaving. I can¡¯t protect anyone if I¡¯m a thousand miles away. Whoever is after me, knows me. Knows things about me that I never told anyone.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Eliana said.

    ¡°The seat he had Sylvia in wasn¡¯t a random chair. It was grandma¡¯s chair.¡±

    ¡°Grandma.¡± Eliana repeated with skepticism for all her knowledge neither one paternal or maternal grandparents were still living.

    ¡°She wasn¡¯t his grandmother, we called her that.¡± Lupe sat in stunned disbelief who could have known something so obscure. It was years ago.

    ¡°Whoever it is, still got what they wanted.¡± Eliana said to Santiago, ¡°You out in the open. The blood is in the water now and the sharks will be circling.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware.¡± Santiago replied coolly, ¡°I need to get a handle on these powers. I won¡¯t be able to focus on what I need to do if I¡¯m worried about everyone here. You said you¡¯d be willing to teach me. I need you to do that here.¡±

    ¡°I can have people sent to look after your friends, that is no issue.¡± Eliana said dismissively.

    ¡°I don¡¯t trust you.¡± Santiago said.

    Eliana¡¯s honeyed eyes flashed with indignation. ¡°Have I not proven myself enough?¡±

    Santiago smiled, ¡°You¡¯ve got a hair trigger temperament Eliana and you have a vendetta against my mother. I can¡¯t trust you. Not completely.¡±

    ¡°At least you are finally beginning to see sense.¡± Said Rosenia.

    ¡°I don¡¯t trust you either. If anything less than I do her.¡± He motioned at Eliana who let out a smug laugh, ¡°You¡¯ve done nothing but lie to me since I got here. I am definitely not entrusting the well being of the people I care about most to either one of you.¡±

    ¡°Rosenia is good¡ª¡± Lupe said.

    ¡°Mom, you''re a shit judge of character.¡± Santiago said.

    She gaped at him.

    ¡°As I said. I¡¯m not leaving.¡± He turned to Eliana, ¡°That¡¯s the way it is.¡±

    She crossed her arms clearly dissatisfied with his request, ¡°Very well. I will not be able to offer you the same level of protection here as I would there. Be aware of that.¡±

    ¡°Noted,¡± Santiago said. ¡°There¡¯s one more thing I need from you.¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°I need you to train my friends too.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not.¡± Eliana snapped, ¡°I¡¯m not going to waste my time on these defunct witchlings.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m down for that.¡± Alejo gave a shrug, the happiness of seeing his friend coming back into his own had him swelling with pride.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure that would be best or even safe.¡± Guadelupe said.

    Eliana¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°The things I will teach you are not a game to be played. It will involve hard work, discipline, and an endurance that not everyone is capable of.¡±

    ¡°Maybe not where you come from.¡± Alejo said, ¡°But we ain¡¯t built to break.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s all or nothing Eliana. You¡¯re either all in or you¡¯re going home.¡± Santiago stared at her unflinching.

    He had no intention of playing by anyone else¡¯s rules anymore. If it was the people he loved on the line. He was going to call the shots.

    She gaped at him, full lips curled into a smile. ¡°Very well Santiago. I¡¯m all in.¡±

 Chapter 35

    THE AIRPORT WAS A HIVE of activity as travelers rushed to their gates. Luggage wheeled across the polished floors, and the hum of conversations in a symphony of different languages. Santiago hung back against the wall of the baggage claim area. Waited as a crowd of folks that had been dropped off came to gather around the carousel to find their bags.

    Guadalupe spotted the boy as he flagged her down, she let out a relieved sigh.

    The mother beamed as she held his face between her hands, ¡°When did you get so tall?¡±

    Santiago patted the top of her hair. ¡°I think you¡¯re just shrinking with old age.¡±

    ¡°You little brat.¡± She pinched his cheeks roughly.

    Outside Alejo ran up arms out, to give the woman a hug. ¡°Mama Yago, I missed you. This boy¡¯s been driving me crazy.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for always looking out for him, mijo.¡± Lupe said warmly.

    ¡°Just returning the favor.¡± Alejo lightly punched his friend in the shoulder, taking her luggage to the trunk.

    After a couple weeks things started to get back to normal or close to it. Santiago was not sure that he had ever really had a normal life. The last piece was finally falling into place in being able to bring home his mother.

    He had moved back into Rosenia¡¯s house, it was safer.

    Also, Alejo deserved to have his space back to himself despite his insistence on Santiago being able to stay as long as he liked.

    It would be better for his mother too. Out here she would be further away from all the people that would get her back into the same trouble. Under Rosenia¡¯s watchful eye Santiago knew that he could trust she would be okay.

    While his faith in Rosenia had not fully been recovered, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she would never turn away a soul in need. Also, if Eliana snapped and decided to go after his mother, he had thought it best that Rosenia could be there to keep her in line.

    She held onto his arm as they walked up the steps to their new home. ¡°You ready ma?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± She said softly.

    Alejo followed them in closing the door behind him, he threw an arm over Santiago¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Hey, man I forgot to tell you something.¡±

    Santiago raised a brow.

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    ¡°Nah, you should tell him.¡± Alejo waved at Lupe.

    She brushed a stray curl from his face as they walked into the den, ¡°Happy Birthday.¡±

    ¡°Wha¡ª¡± Santiago started.

    ¡°SURPRISE!!!:¡± They all shouted in unison.

    Party poppers blasted him with confetti as the whine of the kazoo¡¯s rang out.

    Marisol toddled over to him with a mischievous grin, party hat in hand.

    ¡°No, absolutely not.¡± Santiago swatted her hand away, stifled a laugh as his mother wrapped her arms around him in a flimsy attempt to pin him.

    A parade of hugs and birthday wishes came as he made his way around the living room.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen you outside of a suit Doc.¡± Said Santiago. ¡°You look different.¡±

    ¡°A good difference I hope.¡± Thompson smiled, ¡°Congratulations, you made it through your mandated therapy. You¡¯ll be free of me.¡±

    Santiago shook his head as he embraced him, ¡°Nah, you ain¡¯t getting rid of me that easy.¡±

    ¡°There he is!¡± Bennett boomed, the two exchanged a peculiar handshake before the older man gripped his shoulder. ¡°Here. This is for you.¡±

    Santiago opened the card his eyes scanning it before he opened the folded over slip of paper inside. His eyes bugged as he tried to hand it back to him. ¡°No, I cannot¡ª¡±

    ¡°Nope. It¡¯s yours.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t take this man. That¡¯s a lot of damn money.¡± He whispered as he leaned in, ¡°I don¡¯t need all that.¡±

    ¡°Remember that future we talked about?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°This is where it starts. You got choices now Santiago. You decide what comes next.¡±

    Santiago let out an shaky breath and gave a nod.

    Bennett patted the kids back before he threw an arm over Thompson''s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t think I forgot about you¡ª¡±

    Santiago missed what Bennett was about to tell his counselor when Sylvia pulled him into a tight embrace.

    Santiago chuckled, ¡°Hey now, don¡¯t start something you not going to finish.¡±

    She punched him in the chest, ¡°Don¡¯t be an ass.¡±

    ¡°Santiago!¡± Ettiene called he sauntered over in his boot, bumped knuckles with him while taking a sip from a red solo cup.

    It was an unexpected friendship to say the least. While they got off to a rocky start, Etienne quickly embedded himself in with the rest of his boys. He was as brash and reckless as the rest of them.

    Fortunately for Marisol some level heads managed to worm their way into his circle as well. Sylvia and Mia were quick to calm and put them in line when need be. He still was not sure if Mia and him were exactly friends though he figured he would wear her down eventually.

    For the first time in a long time Santiago could say he was happy.

    It felt good to be in a house full of people who loved him. People who fought for him. People that made the life he held little value in, worth something.

    The streamers, gifts, and food didn¡¯t mean anything if they were not here to share it with.

    As the off-tune song rang out in the candle lit room. They all surrounded him and the round tiered cake. Santiago watched the wax drip from the numbered candles marking his eighteenth birthday.

    Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. He did not make a wish. He did not need to.

    This was enough.

    Santiago did not always believe he would make it to this moment. Still, he was glad that he did.