Eva’s heart twisted. She sucked on her busted lip, the copper taste thinning as the bleeding stopped. She missed the taste of that blood. It was the only distraction she had from the heartache. How could she make them understand she wasn’t a threat? And how could their fear conquer their bond of blood? If they’d ever loved her to begin with. She almost mustered the courage to knock and beg for forgiveness, but her hand refused to rise.
“If Don Alberto won’t propose, then you find her a southern man who’ll see worth in her. The girl’s nineteen and more than old enough to marry. They’ll want her over there in the Páramo, won’t they? The ?guilas, they’re all devils like the man who defiled my Dulce, aren’t they?”
Eva’s nostrils flared. The heartache morphed into anger. This wasn’t love.
“I don’t care how much you want to get out of her marriage. A coffer of escudos is a fine bride price if it means I won’t have to go to sleep every night fearing a demon might slither in and latch on to this home, if it hasn’t already.”
Eva whirled back to her room. She went back with a burning desire: to find Décima and reward her for what she’d done.
Her geomancia ingredients were shattered and spilled in the corner, where she had left them. The butterflies were crushed and without a droplet of life. A foul acidic smell filled the room, coming from the spilled solution soiling Rahmagut’s handkerchief. Besides the mess, the room was empty.
She ran from candlelit room to candlelit room with the heat tingling her armpits, earning curious glances from her aunts and uncles. She took the back doors of the house, which faced the auxiliary kitchen, a garden of pampered topiaries, and the fenced fields of pasture where the governor’s cattle grazed freely.
Eva found her cousin in the stables.
Décima’s hair was concealed by a shawl. Her eyes widened as Eva cleaved through the long shadows of the back porch, made black and severe by the sun plunging below the horizon. Décima looked shocked and guilty, and it took Eva only a second to realize her cousin intended to slink out of the hacienda. Décima had been sneaking out more and more lately to visit a boy from the plaza—a boy she wouldn’t be able to see anymore after her wedding to the councilman’s son.
The sight incensed Eva to no end. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” she snapped.
“I did it for you: You’re going down a dangerous path.”
Eva took one step after another toward her. “But your path is the right one, isn’t? Acting all proper and virtuous while going on your nightly escapades? Should I tell our grandmother for you?”
“This isn’t about me. The whole community thinks you’re possessed. And all you do is feed the fire. I thought after what happened with the milk snake, you would see reason.”
Eva clenched and unclenched her hands, praying the urge to strangle Décima left her.
“Can’t you see how people look at you when we go to the market or to Mass? They all know where you came from. They all know what happened with your father.”
Eva didn’t let her finish. She threw herself at her cousin, slamming her against the wooden doorframe behind her. They rebounded in a wrestle, Décima whirling and slamming Eva back against a wall. Eva grabbed a fistful of her hair, snarling, “You’re not helping—you’re making everything worse!”
Décima screeched. She scratched Eva’s face, leaving hot marks along her cheeks. “Get off me, you rabid creature!”
“You don’t lose anything by leaving me alone!”
They tumbled and fell on the dirt path. A tearing sound joined the grunts of their scuffle as Eva yanked at Décima’s clothes. Décima kneed Eva in the ribs, and Eva gasped, releasing her.
Décima crawled away from Eva’s reach. Her cousin’s clothes were disheveled, her shirt torn open on one side. Still, Décima scrambled to her feet, triumphant, and said, “I did it because I care about you! You mad, vile devil!”
Eva scrambled up as well.
“Mi abuela’s going to hear about this—I promise you!”
“Not if I kill you first.” Eva feinted a lunge, which was enough to spook Décima into sprinting back inside the house.
She wiped the sweat and blood from the side of her lips. Her mouth bled again. Her gaze roamed the fenced pasture behind the Serrano hacienda as she rearranged her grimy dress and pushed back her mass of curls. The night was quieter than it had been when she’d left the house in rage. It was so still that it held Eva’s attention—something was out there. That bubbling sensation in her belly flared, her valco instincts stirring.
Movement near the entrance to the bull’s corral caught her eye. The governor’s prizewinning bull watched her, its pointed horns moving up and down, its hoofs stomping the earth. Like it had witnessed her fight and was satisfied with the outcome. Then the black bull got up on its two hind legs, like a person. Despite the darkness, Eva was sure the creature was smiling in approval.
A chill locked Eva’s spine in place.
The bull grinned at her, then climbed over the corral fence with the nimbleness of something that was more human and less bovine.
Eva couldn’t order her lungs to take a breath or her legs to move.
Instead of rushing her, the creature climbed the large mango tree beside the corral. The branches rustled loudly with its weight. A bird squawked and flew away. Four mangoes fell to the ground, the overripe ones filling the silence with their bursting.
Night veiled the tree and the bull in black. All the same, Eva knew she would never forget the sound of flapping wings, so large that the air lifted in a gust, slapping her across the face. Only it couldn’t be possible because bulls couldn’t walk on two feet or climb fences and trees, let alone sprout wings to fly away.
Eva’s panic manifested in loud, heavy breaths. Sound returned to the night. Thus, she knew she was alone again.
With her heart threatening to tear out of her chest, Eva had the acidic realization that a part of her wished the bull had snatched her away. Then at least she wouldn’t have to carry on with the nightmare of her life. She wouldn’t have to go to Mass or sit in the dining hall and face her grandparents, who saw her as an object to be traded away before her corruption rendered her valueless. Eva’s fist traveled to her chest, trembling, pressing against the riotous thrums of her heart. A teardrop landed on her raised knuckle.
All the pretending she’d done those months—all the praying—it amounted to nothing. She’d caged her true nature for naught. She had seen a demon and had dreamed herself into a snake because the Virgin had never been with her. The Serranos tried molding her into a shape she could never fit, for they didn’t understand her, and they never would. She could see it now. Here she was alone.
Do?a Antonia was right, in a way.
In her blood, her valco side had won. Staying in Galeno was a danger. No longer was there a road to winning her grandmother’s approval. And deep down, Eva didn’t want it anymore. Rather, she wanted a life without disguises. She wanted to live like valcos were supposed to.
For this, she needed to seek answers and to find a path of her own. No valcos but her remained in Galeno, but Eva knew of the ?guilas, in their cold mountains. Perhaps they were her solution.