El Santo (Saint-Sinner #1)

I hated being alone.

I grabbed a hammer and the only flashlight we owned, not wanting to turn on the barn lights and attract unwanted attention. I gathered my favorite baby chicks in Mami’s twine basket and used the ladder to go up and hide in the loft. Kicking it over before tucking myself behind a stack of hay, waiting. It was my second favorite hiding spot, often spending time up there when Papi was away. I waited for what felt like forever, trying to find comfort through my furry babies, but the images of the night wouldn’t leave me alone.

A nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

Not now.

Not ever.

So, I just kept waiting, slipping into a dazed-like state, willing my eyes to stay open. The next thing I knew, a tall, shadowy figure was crouched down right in front of me. As if he appeared out of thin air. At first, I thought I was imagining him. It wasn’t until I heard him call me Mu?eca and say he had something for me, that I realized he was real. For some reason, the image of him at that very moment brought back the memory of when Papi said he had a gift for me.

There was kindness in his eyes again, his stare never wavering from mine as he slowly placed Yuly in between us. Showing me he’d fixed her, cleaned her up, making her look perfect again.

For me.

I believed him when he said I was safe in his care, which was why I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want to be a scared little girl, taking on this new world alone.

In a way, he was all I had left.

I smelled the woman before I felt her crouch down in front of me on the couch, bringing me back to the present. She smelled like cookies and honey, reminding me of my mami.

“What’s your name?” she asked softly.

“Amira,” I whispered into my doll, unsure of my new surroundings.

“What do you have there, Amira? Can you show me?” she questioned in the softest voice, rubbing my back.

“Yuly.”

“Oh, is that your doll’s name? That’s a beautiful name for such a beautiful doll. Are those your baby chicks too?”

I nodded.

“How old are you, Amira?”

“Nine.”

“Wow, you’re a big girl. Can you show me your face? Can I see your pretty eyes?”

I swallowed hard, shyly lifting my chin.

She slightly gasped. “I was right. You look like a princess. My name is Rosarío. Damien is my family, so do you know what that means?”

I shook my head.

“That means you’re now my family too.”

I glanced over at Damien where he was sitting on the opposite couch, draped over with his elbows resting on his knees. Watching us with an intense glare. His eyes shifted to Rosarío, nodding to me. Responding to my unspoken question in my mind.

I could trust her too.

“Amira, I just made some torticas de moron. Those are Damien’s favorite. How about we get you washed up and in some nice, clean clothes. Then I’ll warm up some food and pour a tall glass of milk for you. How does that sound?”

I extended my basket of baby chicks, silently asking her what to do with them.

She lovingly smiled, brushing a few strands of hair away from my face like Papi used to do. “Don’t worry about your baby chicks, they will be right here when you get back. I promise.”

My eyes locked with Damien’s for a few seconds and he simply nodded, once again easing my worries.

He’d be here too.

She turned on the shower in the bathroom, helping me clean off all the blood from my hair and body. Making me feel comfortable and not so alone as she told me all about her life. Where she was born, how she knew Damien, her husband’s name who had suddenly passed away. Telling me it didn’t matter that he was gone because he would always live in her heart.

I liked her.

It was hard not to.

She left one of her nightgowns on the sink for me since I had no clothes, saying she was going to warm up my food so it would be ready when I finished up. I got dressed, staring into the floor-length mirror when I was done. The girl reflecting back at me looked different, older, less innocent and pure. I bowed my head, grabbing Yuly, and turned off the light before I stepped out in the hallway, not knowing where to go.

“Who is she, Damien?”

I followed Rosarío’s voice down the hall, listening closely as I made each step.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Rosarío.”

“Then what? I didn’t ask any questions when I helped you, fixing that doll and cleaning her up for you. Ignoring the fact that it was covered in blood. But now, you bring this little girl covered in blood to my home, in the middle of the night. What should I be asking?”

“I didn’t know where else to take her. I’m at a loss here too.”

“Who is she?”

I stopped behind the swinging doors to the kitchen, waiting to see where this conversation was going. I knew I wasn’t supposed to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to know what was going to happen to me.

“She’s my responsibility. She’s mine,” he declared, catching me off guard.

“In what sense?”

“She’s not my daughter, Rosarío. You know me better than that. I don’t fuck around with whores.”

“Right now, I feel like I don’t know you at all because all you’re giving me is vague responses.”

He sighed, taking a deep breath. “Did you know?”

“Did I know what?”

“Don’t play fucking games with me!” Damien roared, slamming his hand down on what sounded like a table. Making me jump. “My father. Emilio Salazar… My goddamn future!”

“Shhh! You’re going to frighten the girl. Keep your voice down and your temper in check. Something tells me she doesn’t know about your short fuse and foul mouth yet.”

He scoffed, “After what she’s witnessed tonight, it’s her memories that are going to frighten her. My temper and foul mouth are the least of her concerns. Now answer my question. Did. You. Know?”

She didn’t say anything for what felt like a long time until she finally stammered, “Your father, he… he’s… a good man, Damien…”

“In comparison to what? Eh?”

Silence.

He snidely chuckled. “Who doesn’t know who now, Rosarío?”

“You knowing my past doesn’t change that little girl’s future. I would know, I’ve been in her shoes. You and your father are more alike than you—”

“Fuck him! To hell with him and his bullshit lies!”

“That’s not fair.”

“You want to know what’s not fair? I’ll tell you what’s not fucking fair... what will happen to Amira if Salazar finds out I didn’t really kill her? That’s what’s not fucking fair.”

“What will happen to me?” I interrupted without thinking, stepping foot into the kitchen. Looking at Damien for answers like I’d been doing all night.

He didn’t hesitate, responding, “The same fate that met your family tonight.”

“But… he said… the monster… he said… he told you… that I was yours… you remember?” I stuttered, my voice trembling.

“No, Damien, that’s where you’re wrong,” Rosarío countered, bringing our attention to her. “He’ll use her as a pawn against you. Exactly how he did with your father.”