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—”
“No.”
“Bennett—”
“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.
----------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------
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—
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.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
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—What 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— 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—”
“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.
----------------------------------------
“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—” 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—?”
“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— 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—Oh 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—”
“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—Oh, 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.
----------------------------------------
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—”
“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.