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— I was trying to—WHAT 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—”
“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.
----------------------------------------
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—”
“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, —” Sylvia laughed, “You know it was like— We were shopping — 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— 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.”