THE MARKET SIGN PAINT FADED from years of rain. Barred windows and a worn-out welcome sign invited the boys in. Across the concrete wall that faced the four car parking lot was a vibrant mural but it was not the one Santiago remembered.

“What the hell?” Santiago muttered.

Alejo snorted, “Forgot about that, yeah Mrs Kim missed you boy.”

Across the wall was a mix of vibrant flowers surrounding an oversized painting of himself, beside which bold letters spelled out “No Justice. No Peace.”

“Oh fuck me, no wonder everyone still thinks I’m dead.” Santiago said.

Behind the counter the older Asian woman perked up catching sight of him and she let out a shrill scream.

“Whoa, Whoa Mrs. Kim it’s okay.” He ambled over.

“Oh Santiago! Is that you?” She pressed a hand to her chest, “They said you died!”

Alejo took the basket from his hands and wandered down the aisles to gather up some groceries.

“I’ve been getting that a lot.” He leaned over the counter giving the woman a quick hug, her flowery perfume and cigarette smoke clung to her knit cardigan. “Good to see you Mrs. Kim.”

“People were saying they saw them take you from the house. I don’t understand.” She shook head in disbelief.

“I know, I surprised the doctors too.” He chuckled, “I’m good though. Thanks for the, uh, tribute.”

“Of course,” She breathed, “You’re such a good boy. Always taking care of mom. I remember when you were this big—” Lowering a hand to her hip, “Coming in here to steal bread and milk.”

Santiago loved this little shop. If it was not for this little corner store he probably would have died a lot sooner. The first time Mrs. Kim caught him stealing and she was livid. Dragged him all the way home by the scruff of his shirt to tell his mother what he did.

Then she saw the state of their home. Saw Lupe laid up on the couch knocked out cold having not bathed in days stinking of alcohol, cigarettes. None of the cabinet doors were intact to hide the bare shelves. One look in the fridge finding only beer and a single lunchable.

She left without a word. Came back a few hours later with groceries. Every week she would have a couple bags for him to take home of some essentials. Eggs. Milk. Bread. Along with a random sweet treat she tucked in just for him.

Once he finally started making money he did his best to pay every cent they owed back.

She beamed at him, patting his cheek. “You come to settle mama’s tab.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I should probably do that. How much?”

“It’s a lot this time. I had to cut her off last week.”

“Last week.” Santiago echoed. “My mom was here last week.”

“Of course, she always comes for her smokes and some beer. Lately she’s been trying to get harder drink, but I didn’t like it.” She shook her head, “I worried for her if you weren’t there with her.”

Ears rang so loud he barely heard a word of it. He laid some money on the counter and left the market quickly.

His phone rang in his pocket, “I’m in the middle of something.”

“Middle of something— where?” Alejo said the rustle of paper bags crackled through the phone.

“My mom’s alive.” He said.

“Yeah man— wait, you thought she was dead.” Alejo said. “You didn’t say anything!”

“She told— Nevermind!” Santiago snapped.

“Who?— Yago,” Alejo’s tone hardened, “Where you going?”

“I gotta go.” Santiago hung up as he approached the yard of the small apartment complex. A few men stood smoking outside eyeing the boy suspiciously as he walked up.

“Ain’t no way. Santiago.” One of them looked him over with a sneer. “Thought you got smoked a few months back.”

“Is she here?” He barked.

“Didn’t realize I was supposed to be keeping track of your fast ass mother.”

Santiago clocked him swiftly against the side of his temple and the man hit the floor knocked out cold. He turned to the other that sat on the steps.

Pushing past he stormed into the apartment, Santiago bellowed. “OSCAR!”

His best bet to find out where his mother would be to ask him. Since she never went back to the apartment after that night no one had exactly been keeping tabs on her except for Mrs. Kim. Which told him Lupe was still in the neighborhood.

Oscar appeared in the doorway gray flannel covered the heavily inked sleeves underneath. Deep age lines from his perpetual scowl, there was a crook in his nose from their last encounter.

His eyes locked with Santiago’s.

In that moment the rationale behind his meeting with Oscar was drowned out by the unbridled rage that erupted from laying eyes on his mother’s abuser.

Oscar froze in fear the same chill one would get from spotting a massive hound wandering off its leash.

Santiago bared his teeth.

Oscar ran.

The older man swiftly dove into an apartment door he could hear the residents within hollered as he barreled through.

Santiago ran out the back entrance and heard the retreating footsteps down the alley. He leapt over the fence.

Then the chase was on. Santiago sprinted after the man as he weaved through the residential streets throwing garbage cans to slow the boy down.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Oscar plowed through two teens as they walked along the street and knocked the girl to the floor.

“Ay, what the hell!” Marisol screamed, throwing a rock in a futile attempt at retaliation.

Jesus helped the girl up and jolted as Santiago flew around the corner past the two of them.

“Was that—?” She started.

Jesus bolted after him, “Yago! Man, wait!”

Marisol threw her arms up in annoyance.

Jesus joined in the pursuit and had his friend in his sights until Santiago turned a corner. The boy was gone. Jesus cursed as he scanned the area.

Following the sounds of angry hollers and car honks Jesus saw the older man flee down the street.

“Oscar!” Jesus called.

The man looked back and ran a few feet before he realized his pursuer was no longer behind him. “The fuck did he go?”

Jesus shrugged, “I don’t—”

Santiago flew from the back street colliding with Oscar. The two rolled into the street.

Cars tires squealed as they slammed on the brakes.

Jesus tried to grab a hold of his friend who was a lot taller and a lot heavier doing little else than making him miss a few strikes. “Santiago, STOP!”

People came out of their cars to yell at the two men in the street. Out of one of the cars despite his mother’s protest Khalil jumped out of the passenger seat.

There was no way it could be the Santiago he knew of all people thought Khalil. People crowded around the scene, Khalil shoved his way through. In the middle of the pavement there he was.

It was not a secret that Santiago had a violent past. He told Khalil himself he put people in the hospital. Khalil did not think too much about it, he assumed it meant he fought a lot.

Seeing him now, Khalil had been wrong.

No trace of the laid back companion that he would smoke and vibe to music with to be found.

Jesus tried to pull the boy back only succeeded in clinging to Santiago’s back. Knuckles bloodied, Santiago snarled like an animal as he beat the man into the pavement with no signs of stopping.

Khalil knew he had to do something before he actually killed the man. Darting forward Jesus caught him by the front of his jacket shoving him.

“Get the fuck back!” Jesus snapped.

“I’m trying to help, man.” Khalil said, “I know Santiago.”

Jesus eyed him suspiciously, nostrils flared.

”Look whether you believe me or not we gotta stop him before he kills him!”

Jesus looked back at his friend, cursing under his breath. “Fine, you grab one arm, I got the other.”

The two boys lunged and locked on to Santiago’s arms. Khalil held on with all his strength as the boy swung which knocked Khalil on his behind.

“You are way stronger than you look.” Khalil wheezed.

“Get off me!” Santiago hollered, swinging his arm back he elbowed Jesus in the gut.

Jesus hit the pavement doubled over. Santiago flung Khalil off, he rolled catching himself on the bumper of the car.

“I didn’t want to have to do this man.” Khalil's hands glowed before he clamped them together. A massive boom echoed through the street as he fired off a sound wave launching Santiago several yards back onto the hood of the car.

“Khalil!” Kibra ran over grabbing her son by the arm. Thick braids snapped like a whip behind her. “Get in the car! NOW!”

“Mom, I have to help him. He’s my friend.”

The woman eyed him incredulously, “The one you just sent into a car.”

“Yeah, I know.” Khalil grimaced, he looked back towards the whine of sirens signaling the police's approach. The boy looked to his mother's eyes pleading.

Clicking her pearly teeth, that stood starkly against her midnight complexion. she snapped at Jesus on the ground, “Quit messing around get up.”

“Wha—” Jesus groaned as he forced himself to his feet.

“Get him in the car.” Kibra snapped at the boys, she shouted at the crowd in French forcing them out of their way.

Kibra looked at the boys now piled into her back seat and back at her son. She whispered to Khalil the displeasure plain on her face, the East African lilt came through stronger when she was upset. “How do you know these boys?”

“Rose,” Khalil said.

Her face softened minutely. Of course, the woman had a way of finding the most wild of children. She knew this all too well as many years ago she had been one of them. Near black irises held a maternal warmth as she peered at the boys through the rearview mirror. Kibra shook her head in disbelief before she backed up to turn the car around.

----------------------------------------

Bennett did not know whether to be upset or impressed the kid managed to track down Oscar before the police did. Not that the police department was going to share any of the credit. This was exactly the type of thing he was worried about. Without supervision the kid could run headlong into trouble.

Oscar could have been armed. They could have got mowed down on the city street where they decided to have their brawl. So many things could go wrong.

“I’m going to sit down with him and explain this to him. This doesn’t work if we don’t know where he is.” Said Bennett.

Rosenia knew he was right. She had tried to make the choices she thought were best of Santiago. She treated him like she did all her children yet she realized now that was her mistake. Santiago had never truly been a child. Her efforts to comfort him pushed him further away. The strong willed boy rejected what felt like coddling.

Thompson had already made his stance clear on working with Eliana. He was alone on that front as neither colleague offered any support to incorporating her help.

Bennett knew where to look for Santiago now so he was not going to engage in the cyclical bickering with Thompson any longer.

“What is the plan after you find him?” Said Thompson, “If you bring Guadalupe and Santiago back safely that is fantastic. The problem is keeping it that way once Eliana realizes we have chosen to side against her.”

“Whatever it takes. I’ll get them out of this city if need be.” Said Bennett. “Whether it is witches or Santiago himself the clock is ticking. Something is going to give. Doing nothing is not going to cut it.”

Even after Bennett left the two sat in a pensive silence.

“If worse came to worse and Eliana decides to take him by force would you be able to stop her?” Said Thompson.

Rosenia straightened in her seat, “I can take Eliana in a head on fight. It wouldn’t be easy but I have no doubt in my ability to subdue her. It would not end with her though.”

“The Calaveras.” Thompson murmured, staring at his reflection in the dark liquid in his mug.

“The more people that know about Santiago the bigger the threat. The kind of power he has inside him is enough for an upstart coven to climb the ranks.” Rosenia shook her head, “He hasn’t even scratched the surface of what his powers can do.”

“Which do you think is safer for him in the long run removing his powers or learning to use them?”

Rosenia would always advocate for a young witch to hone their powers. They were a part of someone. Like the blood that pumped through their veins the powers that resided in them were something that carried the history of their ancestors.

Yet, if it was a question of safety. Santiago would be safer without the powers he held. Though even she could not speak to the danger of those powers in the wrong hands.

“Surely there has to be someone else. Another family that we could petition for help.” Said Thompson.

“Not without a cost.” Rosenia frowned, “Though perhaps there may be some witches I can reach out to on Santiago’s behalf. People I know who owe his father a debt and have enough honor to repay it.”

“We’re going to need to cash in all of our chips if we are doubling down on facing the Calaveras.”

Rosenia nodded.

Thompson's words were truer than he could even grasp. It was hard for those who did not live within their world to understand the meaning behind facing a major family such as the Calaveras. They were more than blood relatives. Hundreds of smaller families had sworn loyalty to them. The Calaveras were not simply a family, they were an army.

Defying them would lead to bloodshed of that much Rosenia was certain. The only bit in question is whose blood it would be.