CHAPTER 16: FEELINGS OF A WRAITH

The room is quiet except for the occasional sound of Licovi's fingers anxiously tapping on her wedding ring as she spins it between them. She stares intently through the window of Bertha's room, hoping to see Julio's figure in the distance. His absence has her incredibly nervous.

The door creaks open, and Ofelia enters. She stands silently for a moment, then walks to Bertha's bedside, checking on her condition. The elder woman is still unconscious, but her color has returned, and her breathing seems steadier.

Licovi doesn't look away from the window, but her voice trembles slightly as she speaks.

—Do you think he's okay?

—You should know your husband by now, Mrs. Licovi. He's tough. He'll be alright.

Licovi nods, her anxiety is visible as her fingers continue playing with the ring.

—This isn't the first time Francisco has taken him to jail. He always comes back the next day, beaten but alive. But, this time...

—This time will be no different. And if it is, we'll step in. We won't let him down.

Licovi glances at her briefly before returning her gaze to the window.

—I just hope we're not too late.

With a final, quiet glance at Bertha, Ofelia makes her way to her own room. The door closes behind her with a soft click.

Back in her room, Ofelia finds Chía sitting on her bed. The usual calm in her demeanor is gone, replaced by a palpable sadness. Her normally strong gaze is lost.

—What are you doing, Lady Chía?

There's no answer. Ofelia sits next to her and continues:

—You know, your help back there would have been appreciated, Lady Chía. Why didn't you come to help Mr. Julio?

Chía looks up at her, and for a moment, her lips tremble as she fights back tears. Her voice is quiet but heavy with emotion.

—I... I can't. Not with humans.

—What do you mean?

—I can fight demons, specters, or monsters, no problem. That's supposed to be my duty, my path... But humans… I can't. I just… can't. —Chía's voice breaks, but she continues—. I've... I've destroyed their hearts. Corrupted their souls, and now I can't bring myself to hurt them, no matter how wicked they are. I made them what they are. I can't condone the wrong they've done. But they're as much victims as everyone else. How could I hurt them?

She pauses, her hands trembling as she wipes her tears.

—I must save them. I must recover my godhood to return the purity in their hearts.

Ofelia exhales deeply, her initial frustration fades as she realizes Chía's inner turmoil. She moves closer and rests her forehead against Chía's, her voice soft and steady.

—You know, it's true. What happened to humans may be your fault, but what matters now is what you're doing to fix it. And you're trying, Lady Chía. That's what counts. I'm not asking you to take their lives. But, sometimes, humans don't listen to reason, and there are no words that could change their minds.

Chía sniffles, nodding slightly, but before she can say anything else, the door swings open, and Licovi steps in.

—We have to get Julio back.

Chía and Ofelia exchange a glance.

—…Let's go —Says Chía.

CHAPTER 16

FEELINGS OF A WRAITH

Julio's narration:

The night presses down on me like a weight as I make my way back to the café. My steps are careful, and my breathing is shallow, every sound around me put my nerves on edge. I know La Patasola isn't chasing me anymore, but I can't let my guard down—not yet. My body hurts like hell. Those bastards almost broke their batons on me. Still, it was not the hardest beatdown I've got.

To keep myself calm, I think about Licovi. I let her laughter echoes in my mind. I remember that time when Licovi decided to "improve" our coffee routine. She'd read somewhere that adding cinnamon and a pinch of salt to the coffee grounds would elevate the flavor. It sounded fancy enough, and she looked so confident, so I let her go for it. What I didn't know was that she mistook the salt for baking soda—Licovi, the same woman who labels everything in the pantry, somehow didn't check this time.

The first sip was… unforgettable. I spat it out immediately, choking on what felt like coffee from the depths of the ocean. Licovi, on the other hand, just stared at her cup, completely puzzled. "Do you think I added too much cinnamon?" she asked, taking another sip like a champ. When I told her what she'd done, her face turned beet red, and she nearly dropped her mug from laughing so hard.

She still insists the baking soda added "a unique complexity." To this day, she calls it her "gourmet mistake," and I'm pretty sure she's secretly proud of it.

I cling to those memories. They remind me why I keep going, why I endure all this. Licovi deserves the world, and Mrs. Bertha… she gave me everything. I don't know where I'd be without her. She didn't just give me a roof over my head; she gave me a purpose, a reason to get up every day and try to be better. She taught me that family isn't about blood; it's about love and sacrifice.

But even with all that, I can't help but feel this gnawing frustration. I'm powerless compared to them. Bertha has her powers and wisdom, Licovi her connection to the spirits, and me? I've got my fists. That's all I've ever had. It's enough to get by most days, but against monsters like the Patasola or Antonio Vela? It's laughable.

The worst part is knowing how often my temper has made things worse. As a kid, I fought over everything—someone teasing me, someone looking at me wrong. I came home more times than I can count with torn clothes and black eyes, always earning me a scolding from Mrs. Bertha. I thought I'd grown out of that, but even now, my hot head gets the better of me.

I shake my head, focusing on the path ahead. It doesn't matter how useless I feel. I have to get back to them. They're counting on me.

After some minutes that felt like hours, I arrive home. I rush through the door of the café, hoping to see Licovi, but the place feels too empty. —Licovi? —I call, but my voice bounces off the walls. Silence. I try again, louder this time, and then call out for Chía and Ofelia, my chest tightening. They're not here. I don't know where they've gone, but their absence shakes me even more to the core.

I rush upstairs while my heart is hammering in my chest. I open the door to Bertha's room, and the sight of her lying there, still unconscious but looking better than before, loosens the knot in my gut. She's breathing more evenly now. Her colors are returning. I pull a chair up beside her bed, sitting down and taking her hand in mine. It's warm. My thumb brushes over her knuckles as I whisper, though I know she can't hear me.

—Everything's going to be fine, Mrs. Bertha —I say softly —. I'll protect you all. I swear.

I kiss her on the forehead and stand up. My gaze lingers on her face for a beat before I turn to leave. The fear doesn't go away. I'm still anxious, still worried about what's happening, but for now, this moment feels like the calm before the storm.

I'm heading to the attic. It's been so long since I've been there. I even forgot it existence, but it's all coming back now. I was just a kid then, still trying to fit into this strange family. I'd only been living here for a few months.

One day, I was watching Mrs. Bertha and Licovi practicing with their shaman tools, learning things I couldn't begin to understand. It fascinated me. I really wanted to be part of their world. I thought if I could just touch those tools, I could become like them, someone who could protect us all. So, I snuck up to the attic. I saw many times Mrs. Bertha keeping them here. Once there, I saw all of those fancy tools, papers, dry plants and flowers, a huge variety of powders and books she and Licovi normally used. I gathered everything I could carry, trying to imitate what I saw them do. But of course, Bertha found me. She gave me a sharp tap on the back of my head, and I turned around to see her standing there, Licovi just behind her, already laughing at me.

—Your little hands aren't ready for this —Bertha said, kneeling down —. This is no place for children. These tools are for handling violent spirits. Dangerous spirits. You can't… No. You mustn't touch them. Ever. You hear me, mijo?

She smiled at me then, that soft, motherly smile of hers that always made me feel like everything would be okay.

—Now, you two, go take a bath —she'd said —. I'll be with you in a moment.

Now, I'm standing in front of the attic. My mind is focused on those tools that could help me now, more than ever. I know what Mrs. Bertha said all those years ago, but I've learned a lot since then. I've read everything I could find about a shaman's job. I might not have their powers, but I'm determined to be useful. I open the attic door and step inside. I don't waste any time. I go straight for the tools I remember her using.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice something unusual—something small, half-buried under a faded pile of cloth. It doesn't look like much at first glance, but there's a strange pull to it, like it's waiting for me. I kneel down and brush away the fabric, my hand hesitating for only a moment before I pick it up.

It feels… familiar, though I can't place why. Turning it over in my hands, I try to make sense of the unease bubbling in my chest. It's almost as if it's whispering some forgotten truth, one I can't quite grasp.

—Is this…?... but why?

I don't have the time to dwell on it now. I slip it into my pocket, letting it rest against my side like a quiet reminder of something I'll need to face later.

With the tools secured and the mystery tucked away, I head back downstairs. My thoughts race, but one idea burns brighter than the rest: Antonio. It all makes sense. The fear he commands, the resources he has, and his absolute control over Harmony Town—who else could summon something like La Patasola? I knew Antonio was the most dangerous of the Velas, but this? This is no man. He's a monster.

I clench my fists. Antonio is the invoker. But I can't confront him just yet. Storming the mayor's office right now feels like a trap waiting to happen. If I'm going to stand a chance, I need to confront the real danger on my own terms. I'm returning to Milagros' home. I can't exorcise the monster, but if I seal it, Antonio will be powerless. He's the last of the Velas in Harmony Town, and if the Benefactors council is actually dead, then Harmony Town will be finally free. I may not have any power, no magic of my own. But I still have to do this for Licovi, for Mrs. Bertha, and everyone in Harmony Town.

The weight of the backpack digs into my shoulders, each jarring step making the glass vials inside clink softly. It's a stark reminder of the gamble I'm taking. The potions, the dried plants, the sealing tools—every piece meticulously crafted for a single purpose: to contain a spirit as powerful as La Patasola. Bertha's notes and the books I've read over the years claim these tools can work even in the hands of someone without abilities. They'd better be right, because failure isn't an option tonight.

My legs ache, the bruises from earlier flaring with every stride. I've been beaten, arrested, and dragged to the brink more times tonight than I care to count. Yet I push on. The thought of Licovi and Bertha—and of Chía and Ofelia, wherever they are—drives me forward. I can't stop now. Not when so much is at stake.

Finally, the house comes into view, shrouded in that same thick fog as before. It's darker this time, more ominous. The shadows seem to move of their own accord, and the air hangs heavy, damp with the scent of rot and decay. Even with the adrenaline coursing through me, fear clutches at my chest.

This place nearly killed us two weeks ago. We barely made it out alive, stumbling through the woods like a wounded animal. It was here where Mrs. Bertha saved us and ended up in a deep coma. Now I'm walking back in willingly, alone, armed only with hope and borrowed tools. This is, no doubt, the biggest stupidity I've ever done.

I steel myself, gripping the straps of my bag as if holding tighter will keep my courage from slipping away. The house looms closer. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, but I don't hesitate. I step inside, swallowed by the same oppressive darkness that greeted me the last time. There's no turning back now.

I move through the house carefully, the air thick with the weight of its history. My hands tremble as I scatter the sealing powders across the floor. Every motion feels too loud, as if the house is holding its breath, waiting for me to slip up. I can't afford that. I need to finish this, to lock her away for good.

But something pulls me in. The photographs. I can't help but stop and look at them. Milagros and her husband—so young, so full of love. Their smiles, their shared joy, it feels so real. And then I see the crib, the empty one. A doll placed gently inside it. The sight knots my stomach. If Milagros had been so angry about not having children, why keep the crib? Why hold onto something that should be a reminder of everything they couldn't have?

The husband's gaze is soft, full of love. Compassion. I can't understand how a man like that could ever harm Milagros, even if she betrayed him. I picture myself in his shoes, the thought of Licovi ever being unfaithful to me. I couldn't hurt her. Never.

My fingers hover over another photo. It's damaged, but I can notice a little girl. She looks almost identical to Milagros, just younger, and sadder. Could this be her? Compare to her big, bright smile in the other photos, seems like she wasn't happy at all. According to Mrs. Bertha's stories, she would be happier, considering how popular she was and how much she loved it.

—Wait a second… —Something inside me snaps into place. I rush my hand right to my pocket, but before I can fully piece it together, I hear a sound behind me.

I turn.

There she is. La Patasola again. Not as a monster, but as Milagros. Yet, this version isn't the same as the woman in the photos. She's colder, darker. Her eyes meet mine, and I feel a chill crawl up my spine.

—Milagros! —I say without thinking.

—Milagros… Milagros… I remember now. That's my name, isn't it? Sounds much better than "Patasola"… I hate that name.

Her eyes lock onto mine, glowing green and piercing through me, but her smile… It's different this time. Unlike the twisted grin she showed to Francisco's men, this one is pure, almost sad. Melancholic.

—Why are you here?... Who are you?

—My name's Julio. And I'm here to seal you.

—Seal me?... Why?... What did I do?

I try to answer, but her gaze drifts, completely lost in the photos behind me. I doubt she hears me. She moves closer, and I freeze. My legs refuse to move, not sure if it's fear or because I don't feel any murderous intent from her. She's standing beside me now, still staring at the pictures. Her hand brushes gently over one of her husband. —Octavio —She whispers.

Her eyes flick back to me, and before I can react, she places her cold hand on my face. It feels like ice. My heart, however, remains strangely calm, steady even. I find myself staring at her, captivated by her beauty. It's difficult to believe this woman is the same as the horrible creature I've seen before. After Licovi, this is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Her eyes, so full of sadness, are also filled with love. Can it really be her? Is this beauty just a trap, or is something deeper happening here?

—You're just like him… just like my Octavio. You have his look.

Her gaze falls to my left hand, where my wedding ring catches the light. She takes my hand carefully, then places it against her cheek, as trying to remember the feeling of a tender touch. A tear slides down her face, cold to the touch when it brushes against my skin.

—You're married too… I bet your wife is happy, just like I was with Octavio.

—Milagros… I'm sorry, but I have to seal you. You've caused enough suffering.

—Enough suffering… It's all so blurry. People dying… Did I do that? Or was it my murderer?

—Milagros, your husband found out about you and Alberto Vela. He couldn't take it, and he killed you in a fit of rage. When a person dies in such violence… it becomes a wraith.

—Octavio? He killed me? No… that's not possible! He loved me… He would never—

I feel the weight of the moment. I need to act fast. I prepare the sealing powder. My hands are shaking.

—Liar! —Her voice erupts, now unnatural, her green eyes now are flashing red.

—Milagros, please, calm down!

She recoils, shaking her head violently, clutching her head as if in pain.

—I never cheated on him! *sobs* I loved him! It wasn't him… It was Alberto! Alberto Vela killed me… Octavio… Octavio tried to save me!

—What?!

—Yes, it was him!... Alberto cut my leg… and then he killed me!... Octavio… He… killed him… but… stabbed… ugh! —Milagros puts her hands in her head once again, like if trying to remember physically hurt her —What… what happened?

She stands, regaining her composure, her gaze falling upon the torn photo of the young girl.

—Is this… me? … Why am I so sad?... was I sad? … my life… was sad?

I try to snap her back to reality.

—Milagros, if what you're saying is true, then let me help you. Antonio Vela, Your murderer's son, is controlling you, using you to kill innocent people. If I don't seal you now, you'll be trapped, bound to his will forever. Let us stop him, Milagros. We can give you peace.

Milagros doesn't respond. She just stares at the photo, lost in thought.

—Milagros, please, let me help you!

—Give me peace…

She looks back at me, her expression shifting from confusion to something more serious, more sorrowful.

—Julio… You're the first person who's treated me like a human being… Please, go back. Be with your wife. Make her happy.

—Milagros, no! I need to help you! We have to stop Antonio!

—Julio… Please… leave now.

—No! I won't leave you like this!

A tear falls from her eye, and before I can react, she's in front of me, her cold hand touching my face once again. It's trembling, like she's losing control of it.

—I see… I'm sorry… I really am…

Her eyes turn bright red. Everything goes black.

Chía's narration:

We are heading to the police station. We have to save Julio, but I don't know what to do. I don't want to hurt any human, but I can't leave Julio to face this alone.

Then, Licovi stops abruptly. Her eyes widen, terror flooding her face. It's as if something terrible just happened —Julio!… —she says, before turning and heading into the forest. Ofelia and I exchange confused glances, asking her what's going on, but she doesn't answer. We have no choice but following her.

Licovi's running faster now, like she's being guided by something unseen. She's unstoppable, even when she stumbles. She picks herself up and pushes forward without hesitation.

I can feel the tension building in my chest as we get deeper into the woods. I'm afraid of what we'll find. And then… we find him.

Julio is lying there, lifeless. Licovi calls his name, twice, and gets no response. I watch as her face goes pale. She gets closer, and then she sees it too.

He's dead. His neck is slashed.

I can't believe it. I want to scream, to shout, to do something, but I can't. Licovi collapses, her grief shattering the air, her sobs echoing in the stillness of the forest. Ofelia and I try to calm her, but nothing can stop the flood of tears from her own eyes. We feel a deep, crushing sadness as well. We join into the painful cries.

—His spirit! Where is it?! Julio!! — She yells.

Licovi tries to reach him—tries to connect with his soul. She's frantic, but it's clear she can't. Her mind is too shattered with grief. I try to help, but there's nothing we can do.

And then it happens. From the shadows of the forest, hands—shadowed, twisted—emerge from the earth, grabbing at Julio's body, trying to pull him away.

—NO! —Licovi screams, her voice is full of rage and pain. She fights against them. I try to help her, but there are too many. For every hand we push away, more appear.

I can't let this happen. I won't let them take him.

—Get back! —I shout at Ofelia and Licovi. I summon the water, creating a barrier between them and the dark hands.

But it's not enough.

I look back just in time to see Julio being dragged into the darkness. His body is slipping further away. I can hear Licovi's screams as she wants to reach for him, desperate to hold onto him.

The hands grab me and pull me too, but I fight them with everything I have. I look at Ofelia, and her eyes full of desperation.

—Lady Chía!! —Yells Ofelia.

—Go! Put yourselves safe!! —I shout to her.

With no other option, Ofelia grabs Licovi and flees, and then, I'm gone, pulled into the shadows alongside Julio's corpse as the last thing I hear is Licovi's desperate sob.

TO BE CONTINUED…