Chapter 21 by AZ Sandoval

photo by annais

Chapter 21

Donde pone uno los ojos, el diablo mete su cola.

Where one puts his eyes, the devil sticks his tail.

On the top of a hill stood an old adobe house. It had been there for as long as anyone could remember. Inside sat an old woman, slowly rocking back and forth in her chair. Out of the grove of trees nearby came a young man, no older than twenty-one, wearing an old t-shirt and jeans. He looked messy, but not dirty. He walked slowly to the back door of the house and turned the knob quietly. Just like the older folks, leaving their doors unlocked. This will make it easier for me, he thought, but as he entered the house, something seemed to bother him. It was too easy for him to enter; it was like someone had removed all the protections that should have been around the house. Even for an old woman, she should have at least had that. He shrugged it off, thinking that it was just one less thing to worry about.

He had been traveling for days to get there, to get rid of this old woman, the best and last of her kind. No one would think this old lady to be a threat, but he knew better. She was more powerful than anyone he had ever encountered, or so the boss told him. Without her, the rest in league with her would surely fall apart.

He opened the door and crept slowly into the kitchen. It looked as if it had not changed in at least fifty years or more. The table, the chairs, the dishes, even down to the smallest knick knack looked antique. With each step he took, his heart beat faster just like it always did right before he did a job like this. He attributed it to a little bit of fear for what he would do and excitement in knowing that he was one step closer to bringing his enemy down.

The young man carefully stepped to the living without making a sound. He stood behind the old woman, who seemed oblivious to his presence. He could do it now, without the use of his powers, but what would be the use? He wanted her to know that they were the ones that were going to destroy her and her family, the cursed descendants of Alejandro.

“Sit down. There’s no use in sneaking around,” the old woman said calmly. He froze, startled by her words. Maybe she was talking in her sleep. He stood completely still, every sense intensely attuned to his surroundings.

“Well? Are you going to sit?” she asked again. She was obviously aware of his presence. With a sigh, he moved around her chair and perched on the sofa across from her.

“I expected someone else,” she said as he sat down. “I’ve never seen you before.”

He gritted his teeth. She was right; this wasn’t his job to do. It was the boss’s spoiled good-for-nothing son, Eric, who should have been here. He was the one who had discovered where she lived; he was second in command; it should have been his honor to get rid of this old bruja. Instead he was off chasing after some poor kid in Isidore, plotting his death, and for what? Because the kid had defended his ex-girlfriend, someone he’d treated like crap anyway. So he had volunteered to do the job in Eric’s place, much to the disappointment of the boss.

“You haven’t seen me, no,” he replied.

“You’re with the Malocchio, hijo?” she asked. The young man cringed at the term of endearment. How could she still call him hijo when she knew what he was about to do?

“Yes. You know why I’m here?”

She nodded. “I’ve had visions of you coming. Let’s get this out of the way. I had one hundred good years. I am ready.” She stared at him, peering directly into his dark eyes. He was shaken by her boldness. In the few years he had been with the Malocchio, he had never encountered this type of behavior. The people he had gone after in the past often begged, fought, and even cried. Yet here she sat, calmly asking him to hurry up. He studied her pale green eyes. She was tempting him. Did she know how easy it was for him to just think it, and she would be gone? He laughed nervously at the thought.

“You know I’m going to kill you,” he stated calmly.

“Yes,” she replied, not breaking eye contact with him. She was daring him to take action, making it easy for him. He could have done it right then, but something stopped him. “Give me your hand, hijo. This is what I will give you in return for ending the life of an old woman.”

She held out her gnarled old hand. Even though the skin was so thin he could see the dark veins pulsating, he knew that it contained immense strength. He stared at it, wary of her command. He had made that mistake before. That time he had nearly failed in getting rid of that stupid curandero. But this time, something in the back of his mind told him to do what she asked. Besides, this old woman couldn’t do anything to him that he couldn’t fight. He could take care of her without even using his powers, so what did he have to fear?

He slowly reached out his hand, placing it in hers. The woman closed her eyes, and went rigid. She didn’t move for a few minutes. The young man thought she might have died, but then she spoke.

“Think about your decisions. You are a murderer, but it doesn’t have to be so. Turn your back on them before it’s too late. Run away like your sister did. You are better off dead than being what she is now. She will never be forgiven for her wrongs, especially by her oldest son. If you do not turn away from this life, you will be worse than she is.” He started to pull his hand from hers, but she grasped it tightly. “You can find refuge in family. You have family you don’t even know about, and they will take you in if you truly turn your back on the Malocchio.” It was so quiet, the old grandfather clock in the corner could be heard tick-ticking as the pendulum swung back and forth.

“You are at a crossroads, young man. Choose one way and you will be saved, breaking the curse that has been put on your family. Choose the other and you will surely be lost forever, fulfilling the curse, never to find love, happiness, or even peace in your old age.”

A chill went through him. The young man forcefully pulled his hand away. His life wasn’t like she had made it sound; Alexandria had not done anything wrong. In fact, she had led a mild life compared to him. She was not worse than dead, and as for her oldest son, he was only three. What could she have done that he would never forgive her? And he knew he had no other family but his father, mother and Alexandria. Even if he wanted to leave, which he didn’t, he had nowhere to go, just like his sister, Alex. She had run away for years, letting everyone believe that the other side had gotten her, only to come back alone and afraid. That was the other reason he hated them; they had done this to his sister. That Santiago, he had kidnapped her and kept her from her family for fifteen years. He had deserved what he’d gotten. It was too bad that Alonzo had gotten to him first because he would have made him suffer the way he’d made his sister, a person he barely knew, suffer. “You don’t know a thing about my future or my family, bruja,” he spat.

“Don’t I? Your sister is better off dead for what she did to her own, but I don’t need to tell you that. You know she’s fulfilled the curse. Do you think she’s happy?” Her eyes peered darkly into his. “You will be the same, unless you change. Do you honestly think killing me is going to change things for you? You aren’t a Martinez and never will be. That will always be held against you. No matter what you do, they will always favor the next in line more than you.”

Ah, now he understood. She was trying to trick him, to prevent him from taking her life. They always found a way to try to convince him that what he was doing was wrong, or that by letting them live, they would repay him somehow. They were all liars, all better off dead. “Are you trying to convince me to let you live, bruja?” he hissed.

“No,” she replied calmly, “dying is inevitable. I’m saying that doing this is not going to help you. My time is over, but my death will only open the way for others to prove themselves. I assure you, they’re more powerful than me.”

“You’re just a confused old woman. Everyone knows your family is fading. There is no one else to take your place. Your numbers are dwindling, just as ours are. We both know that. There is no one else,” he replied. With the exception of Eric and his friends, there were no new members on either side. The families were dying out, and after this old woman was gone, her branch of the family would be that much weaker.

“Don’t you think it was a little too easy for you? I’ve been hidden away since I was fifteen; hunted for nearly ninety years by your kind. Don’t you think that after all this time, my house, my refuge, would have at least one protection?”

“I suppose you knew that I couldn’t be stopped,” he answered with a sneer. It did strike him again just how easy it had been. How could the most powerful curandero, the best teacher from Alejandro’s side, leave her house unprotected? Even though he was perfectly capable of getting around any protection she might have had, it usually took quite a long time. Who was he fooling? It had been too easy.

She stared at him knowingly, nodding her head as if reading his thoughts.

“Why would you…” he asked, wondering what she was thinking. She had known he was coming, what he was going to do. Did she actually want him to take her life?

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve already told you: there is someone that will take my place, and she’s more powerful than I. She’s joined the right people, and they will help her in defeating what is truly evil in this feud. Killing me will make it happen faster. You, on the other hand, have a choice. Change sides or die.”

“You don’t know a thing, bruja.” She was testing his patience with this so-called fortune telling. He shook with anger as he stared at her withered countenance. With a look of defiance, she forced him to make eye contact again. The instant their eyes met, his deep brown with her pale green, he sent the thought. Her heart would stop, and he would have caused it. He watched as her eyes slowly emptied of emotion and her head fell forward, like she had fallen asleep.

The young man stood and looked down at her, disgusted. He wondered how old she really was. Rumor had it that she was over one hundred years old; yes, she had mentioned having one hundred good years. It could have been a lie to impress others, but maybe she was that old. He suppressed a smile. If this was all they had, if this was their strongest link, then their side was weaker than he thought.

The young man shook his head and walked through the house, trying to find clues to the identity of any other curanderos. The boss would be pleased with any additional information he could take to him. He saw pictures of familiar faces; all of their kind remained close with one another. Each felt pride at being the descendant of either Alejandro or Alonzo. He walked along the hallway, looking at the different pictures. He spotted one face that made him grit his teeth: Ethan.

That stupid curandero, the great-grandson of this woman, actually had the gall to attempt to fight the Malocchio. As if they could win! The thing he hated the most was that he could never find Ethan. He always seemed to know when the Malocchio was going to strike. Then there was Ethan’s sister, Izzie, another one that had joined in the fight. At least they knew where she was, but she was too well protected in her circle of friends, having found some of Inez’s relatives to take refuge with. The others were unfamiliar faces, negadors, who gave up their destiny to live in the “real” world where the evil eye and old wives tales didn’t exist.

He went into the old woman’s bedroom where he spotted some old books. He flipped through the pages, looking for he knew not what, but his search yielded nothing. Then he noticed a birthday card on the bedside table.

As he opened the card, a picture fell out. He glanced at it then read the card. Gramita, I hope you have a great 101^st birthday. Lessons are keeping me busy. I am keeping my promise to you: I am studying hard and learning a lot. I hope I can show you what I have learned the next time I visit. Rose, Matt, and Grandma Clara all send their birthday wishes. I love you. Criseyde.

He closed the card and took a closer look at the picture. It was of Criseyde and two friends, dressed up as if at a wedding or some formal occasion. The three of them were laughing at something that was out of the frame. He turned the photo over and read the inscription on the back. Criseyde had written: Rose, Cris, and Matt at Peter’s wedding, June 24.

He recognized the girl, Cris. She was Eric’s ex-girlfriend. He had watched over her at a party one night when Eric had given her something that made her sick. He remembered being worried that Eric was going to do something else to her, but in the end, all Eric had done was refuse to take her home. So he had given her a ride, even though she lived an hour away. The poor girl had no clue who she was or what they were. Eric often said so himself. Her friends, probably the ones in the picture, had no clue either.

Despite who she was, the young man couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, maybe because she was a negador. He hated harming the negadors and avoided it when at all possible. They were no threat to him. Maybe he sympathized with this girl because she was so innocent in all of this. It bothered him greatly that she had been under someone’s control, much like his sister had been all those years she was missing. He pocketed the card and the picture, thinking he might look her up next time he was in town. He was curious if that worthless brat was leaving her alone now that they were no longer a couple.

He prowled the rest of the house, but finding nothing useful, he decided to leave. He went to the kitchen, took a card out of his wallet, and put it on the refrigerator door. It was his trademark; he wanted them to know that he had been there. As he exited the house, he straightened his shirt. There was no reason to leave stealthily; no one would see him, not here.

He sauntered to the grove of trees behind the house. Only then did he glance around to make sure he was well hidden. He closed his eyes and prepared himself. He took pride in what he was about to change into. Not many brujos could take this form, a lobo. To him it was better than an owl, a fox, or even a cat. He cleared his mind, took a deep breath, and whispered, “Cambio.” Seconds later, the lobo spun and disappeared into the wilderness.