Chapter One
As Isa’s phone buzzes for the fifth time in as many minutes, she resists the urge to chuck the thing across the room. Instead she grits her teeth while opening her messaging app. It’s exactly as she suspected—imploring texts from her friends at school, wondering where the fuck she is.
Come out with us, Isa! It’s Halloween!
We missss youuuu!
Don’t you want to have fun?
Isa swallows down a bitter surge of frustration before tossing her phone beside her on the couch, her friends’ pleas unanswered. Clearly, she’d rather be out with them at some frat, dressed as a slutty nurse, or a slutty squirrel, or a slutty fill in the blank, as she shot back tequila. That’s what senior year is for. But she’s not at a party—she’s stuck at home, babysitting her little brother while her parents are out of town for some stupid fundraising gala.
Guilt lances through her gut at the thought. She sneaks a glance at Matteo, who’s bundled up in his superhero pajamas and munching through a bowl of cereal next to her. It’s not his fault she’s stuck here. Well, it kind of is, since he’s not old enough to be by himself. But she can’t hold it against him.
“Want another bowl, bud?” she asks.
“No, I’m full.” Matteo shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving the Halloween cartoon on TV.
Her phone pings again, but she ignores it in favor of turning her attention back to her latest art assignment splayed across her lap. The creamy paper only holds a few bold charcoal lines, but the picture’s shape is starting to grow apparent. A coy smile, a smooth shoulder. Isa adds a stroke of hair falling down the figure’s back. She has to admit that, even if her mom hadn’t roped her into watching Matteo, she’d still be stuck in her room trying to catch up on homework instead of out tonight. All those late-night binge-watching movie sessions really came back to bite her in the ass.
“Your phone is buzzing,” Matteo says. On the TV, little kids in costumes scream as a creepy ghost chases them down a hallway.
Isa’s shoulders slump as she drags the phone back across the cushions and swipes open the screen. The name sitting at the top of her notifications makes her sit upright so quickly she knocks her art pad to the floor.
Sofia.
Two months of radio silence, and now she’s texting? Isa chews on her bottom lip as she opens the message, even as her brain warns her that deleting it unread would be the right thing to do. The sane thing to do. It’s like she’s strapped into a rollercoaster seat and sitting at the top of the drop. Is it worth subjecting herself to the lurching ride of another on-again, off-again relationship with Sofia?
Unfortunately, Isa already knows the answer is yes. She’s helpless against the pull as she reads the text to see what her ex is after tonight.
Nick’s coming to pick up Bruno at 9. Wyd?
Isa’s heart sinks. A booty call. Not exactly the “I love you, I miss you, I regret dumping you” sentiments she’s held out for since they broke up two years ago. If she’s got any dignity left, she needs to reply that she’s not interested. That she’s worth more than a backup for whenever Sofia and her baby daddy are on the rocks. But it’s only 5:30p.m., and there’s a long, boring night of watching cartoons with her eight-year-old brother stretched out before her. Maybe there’s not much dignity left to lose.
She types out a response, shame at her desperation warming the back of her neck with every word. Unfortunately—or maybe not, maybe it’s a sign she should change her mind—the doorbell rings before she can send it.
“Someone’s at the door,” Matteo says, helpful as ever. Isa rolls her eyes before pocketing her phone and crossing the small room to the entryway hall.
“The candy’s in a bowl on the steps,” she starts, but her words die as the open door reveals her neighbors. Mrs. Rosales and her six-year-old daughter Camila stand hand-in-hand, both looking frazzled.
“Hi, mijita, how are you tonight?” Mrs. Rosales asks, but in a way that makes it obvious she’s rushing through pleasantries. She’s dressed in her hospital scrubs while Camila is done up like a sparkling ballerina. “I’ve been called in and my husband’s at work, and your mom mentioned you were home with Matteo—”
“Yes, I can watch Camila,” Isa cuts in. It’s rude, but she figures it’s better to save everyone the time.
Mrs. Rosales deflates in relief. “Oh, thank you, sweetheart.” She hands Camila off, along with twenty bucks and a duffel bag. “For pizza. Leo will be over in the morning to pick her up.”
Isa takes Camila’s hand, and together they wave as Mrs. Rosales hurries across the lawn to hop into her sedan. It’s not until they’re back inside and Camila’s sitting on the couch that Isa catches how the little girl’s bottom lip wobbles.
“It’s alright.” She kneels and meets Camila’s teary gaze. She’s babysat the girl a dozen times, so it’s odd that she’s so upset. “Your mom will be back later.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. Camila’s eyes fill with tears. “But I wanted to go trick-or-treating,” she wails. She takes a heaving breath, the way little kids always do when they’re heartbroken. The movement sends the shining tears spilling down her glitter-dusted cheeks.
“I’m sorry, honey, I’m sorry,” Isa says. Crying kids always make her panicky. She pats the air with her hands like she’s trying to conjure a solution. “My mom made calabazas en tacha. And atole! Let me get you some.”
Before Camila can reply, Isa rushes into the kitchen. An enamel pot of candied pumpkin sits warm on the stove. Isa doles some of the pieces into bowls, filling the air with the sweet scent of caramel. She splashes milk in, then pours cinnamon-heavy atole into mugs. There. What kid isn’t cheered up by sweets?
Isa puts everything on a tray and carries it back out, but the living room is empty. “Guys?” she calls, placing the food on the coffee table. There’s no answer. The sun’s beginning to set, casting the space in dim shadow. Black and white skeletons dance on the TV. The reflection flickers on the walls. “Where’d you go?”
Isa shuts off the screen, plunging the room into silence. She strains to hear something, anything, but it’s like she’s completely alone. Her heart rate picks up. Where the hell are they? She was gone for two minutes.
“This isn’t funny,” she calls. The front door is locked, so there’s no way they went outside. She peeks into the kitchen for good measure and is about to search the backyard when muffled laughter echoes down the hall. Isa follows the sound to Matteo’s bedroom. She pushes open the door, her stomach sinking as she takes in the scene.
Camila’s jumping on the bed, scattering glitter everywhere, while Matteo digs in his closet. He turns, triumphant, with the lion onesie from Halloween last year clutched in his hands. “Look, Cami, I got a costume right here!”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Isa asks. She leans against the doorway and crosses her arms with what she hopes is an authoritative air. By the way Matteo raises an eyebrow at her, he’s not buying it.
“I’m getting my costume for trick-or-treating,” he says in that slow, patient way he uses when he thinks Isa is being particularly dumb.
“I thought you said trick-or-treating is for babies,” Isa counters. Matteo’s cheeks flush as he darts a glance at Camila—probably worried about hurting her feelings.
“I changed my mind. Besides, Cami wants to go.”
“Can we? Can we go?” Camila punctuates her questions with jumps that make the mattress squeak. “Please, Isa?”
Isa wavers. She wants to say no, but they’re staring at her with big, imploring eyes. She glances at her phone. It’s only 5:30p.m. If they hustle, they’ll be back in time for the kids to fall asleep before Sofia comes over. Easy.
“Alright, fine,” she says. The kids cheer so loudly that it hurts her ears. She ushers Camila to the living room while Matteo changes, then pulls her phone out while they wait and finally texts her ex-girlfriend.
Free tonight. Want to come over?
The response is immediate. God yes.
Warmth fizzes through Isa’s chest. She pockets her phone as Matteo comes rushing out of his room, two grocery totes in hand for candy. As she locks the door behind them, she feels strangely optimistic. Maybe this Halloween won’t be such a bust after all.
Chapter Two
Though it’s the end of October, the streets of Tempe are still baking hot. Even the breeze is warm, providing zero relief as Isa and the kids tromp around the neighborhood in search of candy. Families herding groups of toddlers from house to house crowd the sidewalk. Inflatable grim reapers dance on dried-out lawns, and palo verde trees rattle from the dozens of plastic skeletons hanging from their branches. Pumpkins carved too early rot in the heat, their smiles slumping into beleaguered frowns.
Isa sighs and ties her hair up into a messy bun. She eyes the half-full bags Matteo and Camila have on their shoulders. “Time to call it?”
“No way,” Matteo says. He’s pushed off his hood, turning the lion’s mane into a ruff and letting his sweaty curls bounce free. “We’ve barely got any candy yet.”
“Well, we’ve hit all the houses on this street.” Isa takes the kids’ hands, intent on leading them to the next block over, when a horrific screeching sound rips through the air. A sedan squeals to a halt as the driver tries to avoid running over a little boy who’d dropped his plastic pumpkin bucket in the street. Screams echo as the kid’s dad snatches him to safety.
Isa’s heart pounds with adrenaline as the driver and the dad shout at each other. That was a close call. Camila tugs on her hand with a whimper, snapping her attention away from the unfolding drama. She’s got to get the kids somewhere a little calmer before they melt down—but where to go? Pivoting, Isa glances between two of the houses and catches sight of the neighborhood’s canal. Perfect.
“We’ll go the back way,” she says, and tugs the kids along behind her. They squeeze through a narrow alleyway and between two towering trees before stepping onto the Tempe Canal Path. A wide dirt trail runs along the backs of the neighborhood houses and a deep canal that provides irrigation to this area of the city. It’s mostly used by cyclists and people walking their dogs, but it’s also perfect for getting to the next stretch of houses in peace.
The sky is a deep navy speckled with pinprick stars. A wan light sputters from a few orange-tinted streetlamps. Giant moths flutter around the bulbs, picked off by bats swooping in from the gloom. Isa’s skin prickles with goosebumps. Hopefully there aren’t any coyotes out. She keeps the kids close to her as they walk down the trail. Matteo digs through his tote for a lollipop while Camila peers curiously at the water.
“Is that a pool?” she asks.
“It’s a canal. People use the water for their yards.”
“Can we swim in it?”
“No, it’s not safe.” Isa squints in the gathering dark. “Look, we can get to the next street over there.”
“What’s that sound?” Matteo cuts in.
“I don’t hear—” Isa freezes as she, too, notices a building whine that vibrates through the air. The kids clap their hands over their ears as it grows, sharp and painful. The bats drop to the ground with sickening thuds. One by one, the streetlights flicker before shattering. Isa hunches over Matteo and Camila in a desperate effort to protect them from the falling shards of glass.
“What in the hell is going on?” she asks, but the only other people here are under ten. They have even fewer answers than she does.
“Can we go home?” Matteo hangs onto her hip the way he did when he was much smaller and scared of monsters under his bed. Poor kid.
“Yes, of course, let’s go home.” Isa squeezes him tightly around the shoulders before turning to Camila. “Sorry, honey, but—”
Nausea races through Isa’s gut. Camila’s not beside her. She looks around wildly, cold terror washing down her back when she spies the little girl crouched by the canal’s edge. “Camila, get over here! Now!”
“There’s a dog.” Camila leans over the shimmering black water, dusting the surface with glitter as she points. “Isa, help him!”
“Stay here,” Isa says to Matteo. He nods miserably, clutching his candy tote to his chest. She glances back at him one last time before sprinting for the canal’s edge. Dropping to her knees beside Camila, she grips the back of her tutu to ensure she won’t go toppling into the water. “Are you sure you saw a dog?”
“Right there.” Camila’s baby-blue polished fingernail traces a slow line. Isa follows with her eyes and catches sight of a small figure struggling in the middle of the water. Some neighbor’s Chihuahua caught in the current. It must have gotten scared when the lights went out and fallen in.
“Go wait with Matteo,” Isa orders. Camila ignores her. With a frustrated sigh, Isa turns back to the dog and stretches her hand toward it. “Come here, puppy! Come here!”
The dog whimpers and paddles its way closer. It’s not much bigger than a housecat, so it’s having a tough time with the current. Isa leans over the edge, grimacing as her knee sinks into the dirty muck. She’s going to need a shower after this if she’s seeing Sofia.
After an excruciatingly long minute, the dog swims close enough that Isa is able to hook her fingers through its collar. She hauls it to shore and dumps it on the dirt beside her. Camila immediately starts petting the sopping dog, which crouches, shivering, its tail between its legs.
“Poor baby,” Camila coos.
Isa reaches for the dog’s collar—maybe there’s a phone number she can call—but the ungrateful little shit snaps at her fingers before bolting off down the road.
“Fucking perfect,” Isa mutters. She stands up with a groan and half-heartedly swipes at the mud smearing her jeans. “Let’s go home, Camila.”
Camila doesn’t reply. Isa looks down at her, but she’s not paying attention. Her big eyes are wide and fixed on a point beyond Isa’s shoulder. With a trembling hand, the little girl points.
“If the dog fell in again, I’m not—” Isa’s words falter as she turns. Matteo kneels beside the canal, starlight reflecting off the water and shifting across his face. He’s frowning like there’s a puzzle underneath the surface. “Matteo, get away from there!”
“Do you see that?” he asks. His voice sounds far away.
Sudden fear grips Isa as primal warning bells ring through her brain. She’s not sure why, but she knows in her bones that Matteo needs to get away from the water. “Matteo!”
Startled, he looks up, as if freed from a trance. “Isa?” he asks in a small voice.
Isa runs for him, but it’s too late. She can only choke on a scream as a skeletal hand reaches from the black depths of the canal and grabs Matteo by the arm. Within seconds he’s dragged underneath the water, which ripples to stillness as if he’d never been there at all.
Chapter Three
Isa doesn’t hesitate. She dives into the canal, the shock of the cold water constricting her chest. “Matteo! Matteo!”
It’s deep enough that she can swim. Her legs cut through the currents. She holds her breath and dives, then dives again, but it’s too dark and murky to get a clear view of what’s beneath. She chokes on a lungful of water and shouts until her voice breaks.
“Matteo!”
She dives again.
She doesn’t know how much later it is when she can’t swim any longer. Her eyes sting, her arms ache with cold and exertion, and no matter how many times she searches under the surface, he isn’t there. Finally, she’s forced to drag herself back, trembling, onto the dirt. Camila clutches at her dripping shirt, her tiny body wracked with sobs. “Isa, where is he?”
Isa scrubs the muck from her face, unsure what to say. She thought she saw a hand grab him, but that’s insane. It must have been a trick of the moonlight off the water as he tumbled in. She sits up, spitting grit out of her mouth, and scans the canal for signs—floating pieces of candy, anything to point her toward where he might have gone downstream. But there’s nothing. Her body goes numb, but she’s not sure if it’s from the cold or the shock.
Camila shudders and cries, the heart-wrenching sound echoing through the night air. Isa gathers her into her lap, squeezing her tightly with one arm while fishing her phone out of her pocket with the other. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get help, alright?”
She dials 9-1-1 and presses the phone to her ear. It rings, and rings, and rings. No one picks up. Isa mutters a curse and tries again. It’s the same result. The phone keeps ringing out like it can’t connect.
“Fuck this,” Isa says. She shoves her phone into her pocket and picks Camila up, gathering her closely to her chest. She only takes a couple steps before turning back to look at the canal. It feels wrong to abandon the area, but she needs to listen to her instincts—and they’re screaming at her that she won’t find any help here.
“Where are we going?” Camila asks. Tear tracks cut through the glitter on her cheeks.
“To get help.” Isa adjusts her hold so that the little girl is more secure before running for the alley. Someone must know what’s going on.
She knocks over a trash can in her rush to return to the neighborhood. It’s late enough now that a lot of the families with younger kids have gone home, ceding the rest of the Halloween candy to middle-schoolers and teenagers who aren’t embarrassed to be seen trick-or-treating. Isa pounds up the porch of the nearest house and sets Camila down. She holds onto her hand tightly before frantically pressing the doorbell. An older woman wearing a witch’s hat opens the door. Mrs. Lopez, if Isa remembers correctly. A retired teacher.
“Lucky you, you get the last—” Mrs. Lopez’s eyebrows raise as she takes in Isa’s drenched appearance and Camila’s teary face. “My word, are you both okay?”
“We need help,” Isa says, speaking so quickly that the words get tangled on their way out. “We were by the canal and my brother fell in.” As she speaks, Mrs. Lopez’s expression smooths out. It’s as if all of the concern washes away, leaving a perfectly pleasant, if distant, countenance behind. Isa’s voice trails off. Cold dread trickles down her spine. Why is she looking at them like that? “Mrs. Lopez?”
“What a sweet costume,” the old woman says to Camila. “Do you want to be a ballerina when you grow up?”
Camila looks up at Isa in confusion. Taking a deep breath, Isa tries again. “Mrs. Lopez, my brother fell into the canal. Can you please help us?”
Again, Mrs. Lopez looks blank, like she’s waiting for them to speak. Isa swallows against a surge of nausea. Is she ignoring them on purpose? What if she talks about something else? “Camila does want to be a ballerina, thank you for asking.”
Mrs. Lopez lights up. “Oh, that’s lovely. You know, I used to dance, too. It’s a wonderful pastime.”
Isa’s vision blurs with tears. Her voice is small. “Mrs. Lopez, my brother fell into the canal. Please help me.”
The older woman looks through her, unseeing. Isa rubs the tears from her eyes, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Camila, open your tote.”
Camila frowns at her but does as she’s asked. Mrs. Lopez flickers to life again, tossing the last of her candy bowl into Camila’s bag before patting her on the head. “Have a safe Halloween, mijitas. Don’t stay out too late.”
She closes the door with a thud that reverberates in Isa’s bones. Shaking, Isa tugs Camila down the steps and toward the next house. She can’t give up yet, even though dread seeps under her skin and makes her steps heavy and slow.
“Will they hear us this time?” Camila asks.
Isa bites her lip until it aches, then takes a deep breath and knocks. “I don’t know.”
Mr. McMichaels, the local electrician, opens the door. He grins, then shakes his candy bowl. “What a cute ballerina. I’ve got some great treats for you.”
“Sir, my brother fell into the canal,” Isa cuts in. “Can you please help us?” Mr. McMichaels continues to grin and shake the candy bowl, a disturbing pattern of movement that doesn’t stop until Isa speaks again, her voice broken. “Thank you for the candy.”
“Of course, Isa, of course,” he says, finally reaching into the bowl to grab a couple pieces for himself. “Have a fun night, ladies.”
Mr. McMichaels closes the door. Isa chokes on a sob and struggles not to collapse to her knees. She can’t fall apart. Camila needs her. Matteo needs her.
“What are we going to do?” Camila asks.
“Go home for now.” Isa scoops the little girl up into her arms. She’s not risking anything separating them. “We need to figure out a plan.”
“What if you call my mom?”
“I don’t think it will help.” Isa walks down the now-empty street that’s littered with abandoned candy wrappers and forgotten costume accessories. A broken tiara here, a ninja’s glove there. Deflated Halloween decorations brought to stillness by a flipped switch. The air smells like smoke machines and chocolate. “It’s like adults can’t understand me when we talk about the canal.”
Camila sniffles. It breaks Isa’s heart. “But you’re an adult.”
Isa snorts. There’s nothing funny about the situation, so it comes out a little unhinged. “Technically.”
At twenty-two, she’s supposed to be an adult, but she certainly doesn’t feel like one. She still lives with her parents, after all, and that means she’s subject to curfews and annoying texts asking where she is and what she’s doing. She’d wanted to move out freshman year, but her parents had convinced her to stay by promising she wouldn’t have to pay rent. It was too tempting of a deal to pass up, but she hadn’t realized the cost to her autonomy. In many ways, she felt like she was still fifteen.
Isa’s steps quicken as her home comes into sight. She runs up the porch stairs and slams the door shut behind her, desperate to offer some semblance of safety to both Camila and herself. She deposits the little girl on the couch before fumbling for her phone. Even though she knows it’s a waste of time, she tries 9-1-1 again. The phone rings, and rings, and rings.
Isa sinks onto the couch beside Camila like someone cut her strings. What is she supposed to do now? How can she possibly find Matteo when no one will talk to her about the canal?
Something was wrong. The looks on Mrs. Lopez and Mr. McMichaels’ faces weren’t normal. They were eerie. Uncanny. Like a horror movie. Dead eyes and blank smiles. Isa closes her eyes and pictures the moment Matteo fell into the canal. She thought she saw a hand pull him in. Had she?
Christ, she’s having a breakdown. Her brother drowned, and now she’s creating this elaborate, supernatural hoax in her mind to shield her from the painful reality. She turns slightly to glance at Camila, who’s biting her thumbnail and looking like a wilted flower in her dirtied tutu.
“Hey, Camilla, did you see anything out there? Before Matteo disappeared?” Isa asks.
The girl’s eyes flicker toward her. “A scary lady came out of the water. She was crying, and took Matteo…”
Chapter Four
Goosebumps race across Isa’s skin at the weight of Camila’s words. A crying lady in the canal. A rush of memories flood her mind—bedtime stories about a specter that loved to steal misbehaving children.
You better be good, or La Llorona will get you.
La Llorona. The weeping woman. It’s impossible, Isa thinks. She’s not real. She’s a warning used by parents to ensure their kids brush their teeth. If she really existed, people would know. If she took children away from their families, they would do something to stop her.
Except Isa saw it for herself—every time she mentioned the canal, people’s faces went blank like a wiped slate. In the stories, adults couldn’t perceive her. If it was real, then Isa and Camila were the only ones who knew the truth.
“Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” Isa says. “Go change into your pajamas. I’m going to find us some help.”
“Isa, where is he?” Camila’s lip wobbles. Isa can feel her heart shuddering in a similar way.
“I’m not sure, sweetheart,” she replies, injecting as much comfort as she can into the horrible words. “But I will find him. Now, let’s get you out of that costume.”
Camila nods miserably, then hops off the couch and runs down the hall. The second she disappears from sight, a spike of panic jolts through Isa. She immediately gets up and jogs after her. Splitting up feels wrong. While Camila rummages in her duffel bag for her pajamas, Isa punches in an internet search for La Llorona. It feels stupid, but she doesn’t know where else to start.
She scans the first few results. It’s everything she remembers from her childhood. María, a woman living in Mexico City during the 1500s, discovered her ranchero husband was unfaithful to her. She took their two children and drowned them in a river as revenge, but upon realizing the horrible thing she’d done, she also drowned herself. Now, her spirit wanders the world, crying for the children she lost and looking for their souls among the living.
Isa’s frown grows as she reads. It’s tragic, but is it truly more than a myth? Is María real and hunting kids? Her stomach twists in knots. She’s not equipped to handle this. She needs help. But who can she call if none of the adults in her life will hear her?
“All done.” Camila spreads her hands to show off her unicorn-spangled pajamas. Isa gives her a thumbs up. She’s suddenly keenly aware of her own disgusting state. Her damp, mucky clothes cling unpleasantly to her skin.
“I need to shower,” she says. “Can you hang out here and watch something on my laptop?”
Camila agrees. Once she’s settled in on the mattress with a princess movie, Isa crosses the hall to the bathroom she shares with Matteo. She cracks the door so that she’ll hear if Camila needs anything. Nerves tingle along her skin, but she’s not sure what else to do. She’ll just have to make it quick.
Isa cringes as she peels away her clothing before dropping it to the floor with a wet thump. She turns on the shower as hot as it goes and waits until steam billows out from behind the seashell-patterned curtain. Stepping under the spray is an instant relief. Her shoulders slump as the heat sinks into her trembling muscles.
Grime drips from her skin and streaks the bottom of the tub. She watches as the dirt swirls down the drain. Her mind follows a similar pattern, endlessly circling the night’s events until she’s dizzy with it. What am I going to do? she thinks, over and over like a needle caught on scratched vinyl. What am I going to do?
Isa grabs her shampoo bottle. Before anything else she needs to wash away the remains of the canal. She works the soap into her long hair until the water beating down finally runs clean, then scrubs at her skin. It’s not until her body feels pink and raw that she decides she’s clean enough.
Isa bends down to turn off the shower, but the spray doesn’t lessen as she twists at the handle. She frowns. That’s odd; they’ve never had plumbing issues before. She tries again, but the water seems to increase in pressure. It strikes her sharply, like glancing pieces of glass.
“Ow, fuck.” Isa gives up and turns to flee the shower. The water turns freezing cold in an instant and stings her eyes. She wipes at her face and spits as the water leaks into her mouth. It’s salty.
Isa stumbles out, banging her shin against the tub’s edge so hard a bruise immediately rises to the surface. She curses again and yanks a towel off the rack to dry her face. Blinking away the blurriness, she looks into the foggy bathroom mirror and screams.
A woman stands just behind her, leering over her shoulder with a haunted, hungry gaze. Her black hair hangs in tangles past her bony shoulders, and her mouth hangs open like a snake’s. Isa freezes in place, a rabbit before a hawk, even though her instincts are screaming at her to run.
The woman steps closer, giving Isa a clearer view of her face. Blistered tracks cut down to her jaw from the endless tears pouring out of her dark, shining eyes. She grins, and her chapped lips bead with blood. Isa’s helpless as she raises a hand.
“Isa,” her voice hoarse and grating. “Your brother misses you.”
The bathroom door bangs open. The woman vanishes. Isa collapses to the floor as Camila stands above her with her arms folded. “What are you doing in here?”
“Nothing.” Isa wraps herself in the towel and forces herself to stand. Her heart’s pounding so hard she’s faint, but she can’t scare Camila with the truth. “I just need to change, okay?”
Camila grumbles but does as she’s told. Isa takes shaking steps to her room, blindly grabbing jeans, a shirt, and a hoodie. The adrenaline leaves her body in a rush, leaving her shivering and cold.
La Llorona. It had been her—it was all real. The spirit’s words echo in Isa’s mind, rattling around with terrible clarity. Your brother misses you.
Misses. Present tense. La Llorona had taken Matteo, but he was alive. Isa’s hands tremble as she pulls on her clothes and stumbles back to her brother’s bedroom.
She has to save him.
Camila has returned to watching her movie, so Isa curls up next to her and unlocks her phone. Every time she blinks, she sees that woman’s horrifying face leering at her. She swallows down bile and returns to her research, everything feeling so much more dangerous than before.
Isa startles as a message pops up, obscuring the article she’s reading. Her heart thumps painfully against her ribs. Sofia. She’d completely forgotten.
Looking forward to seeing you.
A thought occurs to Isa that sparks a wavering flame of hope. Sofia’s a mom, sure, but she’s also Isa’s age. Maybe she’ll understand. Isa dials Sofia’s number and waits, her phone pressed against her ear. All the breath rushes out of her lungs as the call gets picked up.
“Isa? What’s up?”
“If I told you that I saw La Llorona in my bathroom mirror, what would you say?”
There’s dead silence on the line. Isa goes cold. Sofia can’t perceive what’s happening, she really is completely alone—
“Are you drinking?” Sofia sounds irritated. “I’m not coming over if you’re drunk.”
“Why do you think I’m drunk?”
“Because La Llorona doesn’t just show up in bathrooms. She—”
“Sofia, Sofia, Sofia,” Isa repeats loudly until Sofia stops talking. “Please listen to me. I need you to come over, now.”
“Nick’s not off work yet. I still have Bruno with me.”
“That’s fine, that’s good. Bring Bruno. Actually, don’t let Bruno out of your sight, okay?” Isa knows she sounds crazy, but she can’t help it. She needs Sofia to understand. “Come over immediately. I’ll explain, I promise.”
“Isa, we’ve talked about this. I can’t drop everything to spend time with you. I’m a mom, I have responsibilities—”
“Please.” Isa’s voice breaks. Sofia goes quiet. “Please. I need your help.”
A long moment, then two, and Sofia huffs a sigh. “Alright, fine. I’m on my way.”
“Thank you.” Isa blinks back tears. She hangs up and pockets her phone. Camila looks up from her movie, so small and innocent in her sparkly pajamas. She reaches for Isa’s hand.
“Is someone coming to help?”
Isa nods. “Yes. Let’s go wait for her.”
They decide to return to the living room—even though she’s blindly guessing about the rules of La Llorona’s reach, Isa finds the distance from the bathroom a small comfort. She directs Camila to sit on the couch and wraps her in a blanket. The calabazas en tacha and atole have gone congealed and cold. Isa takes the tray back into the kitchen and leaves it on the counter. She scoops more pumpkin into a new bowl and pours the last of the atole into a mug. After warming them both in the microwave, she takes them back to Camila.
“I’m not hungry,” Camila says, but she accepts the mug when Isa hands it to her.
“That should help warm you up, at least.” Isa aches to have Matteo back—to wrap him in a blanket and hand him a comforting drink. To be a better big sister. She’d been fourteen when he was born and had always struggled to feel close to him, especially because her parents tended to treat her more like his additional parent than his sibling. But not anymore. If—when—Isa gets Matteo back, she’s going to spoil him the way she always should have.
“Can we watch cartoons?” Camila asks.
Isa laughs through her tears. “Of course.”
She flips on a cheesy Halloween movie and curls up next to Camila. All they can do now is wait.
Chapter Five
That was fucking weird. Sofia pockets her phone and glances over at Bruno, who’s happily stacking blocks inside his playpen. Things between her and Isa have been strained ever since her son came along, but Isa’s never resorted to this kind of emotional manipulation to see her before—which means that, even if it’s not true, whatever’s going on has her ex seriously freaked out.
“I guess we better head over,” Sofia says. She reaches into the playpen, but recoils at the sharp, sour smell emanating from Bruno’s diaper. With a grimace, she steps around to take a quick peek at his back and yep, that’s a blowout. Wonderful. Whatever Isa’s dealing with is going to have to wait. “Alright, querido, to the bath with you.”
She gingerly lifts him out of the pen and carries him toward the bathroom. The apartment is small, but she’s proud of it—she works hard at the salon to afford the rent on her own, without needing to ask for help from her parents or Nick. After flipping on the light, she stands Bruno by the toilet and strips him out of his dirty pajamas. She can’t wait until he’s old enough to potty train. Non-stop diaper duty is a definite low point in the whole single-motherhood gig.
“Mama,” Bruno chirps happily, tugging on a lock of her hair. Her frown softens into something more tender. Diapers may suck, but hearing him say her name makes it worth it. The exhaustion, the isolation, the loneliness—all of it. Most of the time.
She musters a smile for him and presses a kiss to his soft cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then we’ll go say hi to Tia Isa.”
Sofia fills the tub with lukewarm water and tosses in a couple bath toys. After wiping Bruno so he doesn’t make the whole place a biohazard, she sits him down to splash around and sinks onto the closed toilet. Christ, she could use a break. She’s had Bruno to herself for three days. Normally one of the grandmas would be around to take him off her hands for a bit, but Nick’s mom has the flu and her mom is angry enough with her that she’s been iced out. She rests her chin on her hand and watches Bruno play, tired to her bones.
She should’ve known better than to rise to the bait over breakfast last weekend, but how many more times does she have to listen as her mother implies how much better things would be if she and Nick got married? “Bruno needs a traditional family,” Mami had said, eyes down as she buttered a piece of toast for the baby. “He’d be happier.”
The words had been a knife through her heart. Sofia has constantly struggled with the secret fear that she's not enough, that one day Bruno will grow to resent her for refusing to do things the traditional way, the right way, but she can’t force herself into a life that doesn’t fit. Nick’s a good guy and a great father, but he’s not endgame for her. They wouldn’t be happy together. Nick thinks so, too, but no one’s up his ass about getting hitched. Just her.
“Mama, bubbles.” Bruno splashes the water with a chubby hand. Sofia uncaps a pink bottle of solution and tips in enough to give her son the mound of bubbles he’s requesting. His giggle of delight heals some of the cracks in her heart.
Sofia’s phone rings again. She slides it open and presses it to her ear, half-listening as she watches Bruno play. “Yes?”
“Where the hell are you?”
Isa again. Seriously? “Bruno needed a bath before we came over.”
“There’s no time. You should’ve been here ten minutes ago.”
Irritation flares in Sofia’s throat, making her words sharp and bitter. “I can’t just ignore my son’s needs to fit your schedule.”
Isa huffs an exhausted burst of air that crackles over the phone. Sofia feels like sighing, too. They’ve had this conversation a dozen times over the past two years. It never leads anywhere good. “I’m not asking you to neglect Bruno. Do you really think I’m that selfish?”
Don’t answer that, a warning sounds in Sofia’s head. She heeds it for now. “All I’m saying is that nothing is that simple when you’re a mom.”
“I’m not trying to say your life isn’t complicated.” Isa’s voice wavers with tears. “But something bad happened and I need your help.”
Guilt washes over Sofia, smothering the righteous indignation she’d been working up to. “Wait, what? Are you okay?”
“No. Matteo is missing.”
Sofia sits bolt upright, adrenaline pounding through her so fast she goes hot. “What do you mean? What happened?”
As Isa begins talking about taking the kids trick-or-treating, Sofia glances back at Bruno to make sure he’s safe. He smiles and lifts a soap-covered rubber duck for her to coo over. She nods in acknowledgement, torn between focusing on him and trying to catch everything Isa’s saying.
The light bulbs that line her bathroom mirror buzz, distracting Sofia. The sound grows louder, the light surges. Shards of glass streak through the air. Sofia screams as the lights shatter, one by one.
She leaps to her feet and drops her phone. Flips on the hallway light so that she still has some light to see. Bruno. Is he ok?
She turns to face the tub, but freezes. Bruno’s watching as the bubbles in his bath ripple oddly, like something’s swimming beneath the surface. What the fuck? She lunges forward to snatch him out of the water. Before she can reach him, a skeletal hand bursts out of the bubbles. It wraps around Bruno’s arm and tugs him swiftly underneath the water, which closes over his head and goes completely still.
Sofia drops to her knees and screams.
Chapter Six
Isa’s blood runs cold as Sofia’s screaming knifes through the phone’s speaker. She grips it tightly in one hand and uses the other to pick up Camila. She’s petite for a six-year-old, so it’s not too difficult to carry her.
“Where are we going?” the little girl asks. She instinctively curls into Isa’s side.
“Sofia needs our help.” Isa’s forced to hang up as Sofia’s terror dissolves into hysterical tears. She doesn’t want Camila hearing and getting even more frightened.
Her heart pounds painfully as she runs outside. Flinging open the passenger door of her mom’s sedan, she sits Camila in the front seat and sprints to the driver’s side. She knows it’s not safe, but Sofia only lives three blocks away. Isa throws the car into reverse so violently that the tires squeal. Within seconds, they’re peeling out of their sleepy cul-de-sac and racing for Sofia’s apartment. Nausea twists at Isa’s gut, and she grips the steering wheel so tightly her hands go bloodless. Something terrible’s happened. Isa fears that it’s connected to Matteo.
Five minutes later, she pulls into the apartment complex that Sofia calls home. It’s a small, squat block of buildings lined with palo verde trees and a few saguaros scattered among the rocky landscaping. Isa hauls Camila across the console and into her arms. She closes the door with her hip before running for Sofia’s apartment.
A pang goes through her when she sees the painted wooden sunflower hanging on the front door. She’d made that as a gift for Sofia’s baby shower. She hadn’t realized Sofia had kept it. She pushes the front door open without knocking.
“Sofia?” she calls.
Sobbing echoes down the hallway. Isa skids to a stop in front of the bathroom to see Sofia kneeling by the tub, surrounded by shards of broken glass. The lightbulbs above the sink are shattered. She’s drenched in soapy water like she’s been searching in the suds. It’s cruelly apparent that Bruno’s not here.
“Sofia,” Isa says again, softly.
Sofia looks up through locks of wet hair, her face pale and streaked with tears. “Bruno,” she hiccups. “Bruno’s gone, but he was right here.”
“Did the lady take him?” Camila asks from her perch on Isa’s hip.
Sofia gapes, then shakes her head. “What? How did you know—what is going on—”
“I’ll tell you everything,” Isa cuts in. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”
“I can’t.” Sofia turns back and rests a hand on the bottom of the tub. “I can’t leave here.”
“Bruno’s gone,” Isa says, wincing in regret when her words draw a broken sound from Sofia, “but we’re going to get him back.”
Isa steps into the bathroom, glass crunching under her shoe. She coaxes Sofia to stand, wincing at the bloody cuts across her knees. In her search for Bruno, she hadn’t noticed she was kneeling on the shards.
“Wait for us in the living room,” Isa says to Camila. Once she’s down the hall, Isa takes Sofia by the hand and leads her into her bedroom. She checks that Camila’s still in her sight while Sofia sinks wordlessly onto the edge of the mattress. She must be in shock. Isa doesn’t blame her.
After digging through Sofia’s dressers for clean clothes, Isa gives her privacy to change while she goes back to the bathroom for a first aid kit. She lingers for a moment among the soap and glass, stricken by the violence, the horror of it all. She keeps her eyes firmly averted from the mirror as she snatches the kit and heads back to Sofia’s room.
She’s still sitting where Isa left her, but at least her yoga pants and tank top are dry. Isa kneels in front of her and gently rolls her pant legs past her knees. Sofia doesn’t flinch as Isa dabs at the cuts with an antiseptic wipe before covering them with bandages. Isa glances up at her, but her face is blank. Isa looks down again and tugs Sofia’s pants back down to her ankles.
“Come on, let’s go figure this out,” she says.
Sofia follows Isa back to the living room and joins Camila on the couch. Isa can’t help taking a moment to look around at the life Sofia’s built without her. The space is small but well-kept, the floor scattered with toys. A bunch of succulents line a shelf by the TV in hand-painted pots. It’s a far cry from the tornado-mess of Sofia’s high-school bedroom.
But that’s not important right now. Isa forces herself to focus and stands in front of Sofia and Camila. They both look so small and sad. She’ll have to lead. She’s tempted to pull her ex into a hug, but she’s not sure how welcome the gesture would be. She folds her hands behind her back to quell the urge.
“Isa, what’s going on?” Sofia asks, her voice wavering. Isa’s shoulders slump with relief that she’s speaking again. “Where’s my son?”
“I don’t know.” Isa bites her lip. Oh god, she’s going to have to talk about monsters. About La Llorona. Sofia’s going to think she’s cracked in the head. “But I think wherever he is, Matteo’s there, too.”
“A crying lady took him,” Camila says.
“It’s true,” Isa says. “We were out by the canal and something pulled Matteo into the water.”
“The same thing happened to Bruno.” Sofia looks sick. “Why didn’t you call the cops?”
“I tried, but they never answered.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Sofia fumbles her phone out and dials 9-1-1. They all listen to the muffled ringing as it goes on forever. Sofia’s mouth twists in a frown as she hangs up.
“It gets weirder. We tried talking to people about what we saw—adults—and it was like they couldn’t understand us.”
“We’re adults,” Sofia says.
“I know. I don’t get it either. But I have a theory.” Isa takes a steadying breath. “I think it’s La Llorona.”
Isa tenses, preparing for Sofia’s pushback, but her ex’s frown only deepens. “I saw a hand. Someone pulled Bruno underwater.”
Isa’s mouth drops open. “Wait, you believe me?”
“Isa, my son just disappeared in a bath that was three inches deep.” Sofia barks a humorless laugh. “I don’t care what the bitch is called. I just want him back.”
Isa sinks to sit on the floor. The weight of everything that’s occurred bears down on her so strongly she thinks she might cry. Matteo is gone. Bruno is gone. And they were taken by some supernatural entity. What is she supposed to do? How can she possibly save those boys?
Sofia slips off the couch and drops to her knees in front of Isa. Taking her hands, she intertwines their fingers and squeezes. “Look at me.” When Isa does, Sofia offers her a soft smile. “I’m not giving up on them, and I know you aren’t, either.”
Camila joins them on the floor. They both chuckle, touched, as she places her own small hands over their own. “I’m not giving up. I want my friend back.”
“Thank you,” Isa says. She pulls away to rub at her eyes. “The thing is, I don’t know where we’re even supposed to start.”
“Let’s start with what we know. Matteo and Bruno—” Sofia’s voice breaks, and she has to start again. “Were taken by a woman while they were near water. That’s where she appears.”
“Matteo was by the canal, and Bruno was in the bath. That’s two very different amounts of water.”
“So, what counts as enough water?”
Sofia’s determined expression wavers. “I guess we need to try and figure it out.”
Chapter Seven
Half an hour later, Sofia is curled up on the couch with her tablet in hand, researching everything she can about the myth of La Llorona. Camila sits beside her, watching a Disney movie on TV, and Isa stands a safe distance away at the dining room table, measuring water into cups.
It feels dumb. They don’t even know if this kind of experiment will attract La Llorona. But Isa doesn’t know what else to do, so she fills a small plastic dish, a glass cup, a mixing bowl, and a pitcher. As the water amount increases, so does Isa’s anxiety. She watches the ripples for a warped hand or crying face, but the containers stay still and clear. “Nothing’s happening.”
“Keep watching,” Sofia directs.
Isa frowns but does as she’s told. “Learn anything interesting?”
“There’s not much online that we don’t already know. Lady gets jilted by her husband, drowns her kids in revenge, and now she wanders around looking for their souls.”
“Maybe that’s why adults can’t hear us talk about her. She only cares about kids.”
“Or maybe it’s like a hunting thing.”
Isa turns to look at Sofia. Camila, thankfully, is absorbed in her movie. Isa doesn’t think they need to traumatize her further with this conversation. She gestures for Sofia to come over. Catching on, her ex puts the tablet aside and joins Isa by the table.
“As you were saying?” Isa asks quietly.
“Myth or not, we’re dealing with something that takes kids, right? So, she’s like a predator. And predators evolve to make them better at catching prey.” Sofia blinks back tears. “It’d be pretty hard to kidnap children with no consequence if parents knew they’d gone missing.”
“If that’s true, then why do you remember what happened to Bruno? And why do I still remember Matteo?”
“Maybe because we’re still young?” Sofia spreads her hands in a helpless gesture. “There must be an age cutoff.”
“That’s possible.” Isa chews on her lip. It’s a good theory, but they don’t have time to run around and survey the neighbors about whether or not they can talk about La Llorona. “This can’t be the first time this has happened.”
Sofia gasps so loudly that Isa jumps like a startled deer. “It isn’t.” She disappears down the hall to her bedroom and comes running back with a stack of books in her arms. She splays the books out on the dining room table. It’s a bunch of yearbooks. “Do you remember Hector Villa?”
“That dorky kid who asked you out junior year?” Isa wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, I do.”
Sofia rolls her eyes good-naturedly. She flips open their freshman yearbook and their senior one. Family photos cover the pages. She points at one of the Villa family, then drags her finger over to the second book. “Notice anything?”
Isa bends closer to the pictures. In the freshman photo, Mrs. Villa holds a baby in a frilly dress. Mr. Villa holds an identical little girl in his arms. Hector is beside them. But in the senior photo, only one twin stands between her parents. “What happened?”
Sofia shrugs. “I don’t know. If it was something tragic, we’d have heard about it at school, right? But we didn’t. No newsletter. No funeral. Sometime in high school, one of these girls disappeared. I remember thinking it was really fucking weird at the time, but since no one else was talking about it, I sort of just kept my mouth shut.”
“Where’s Hector now?”
“He lives with his family down the street.” Sofia shrugs at Isa’s frown. “What? We stayed in touch.”
“I never liked him.”
“Cause you’re jealous,” Sofia sing-songs, and Isa resists the urge to punch her in the shoulder. It’s too close to how they used to be, and it’s a bad idea to mix confusing feelings into this terrible shitstorm of a day. Maybe later they can talk about it—what Sofia’s text meant, what’s sparking between them—but not yet.
Sofia’s phone beeps, breaking up the moment. She pulls it from her pocket and scans the screen. “Nick’s been asked to pick up a double. He won’t be coming by tonight.” Her shoulders sag. “Typical. But at least I won’t have to explain this insanity to him.”
“Does he do this often?” Isa knows it’s not her business, but she can’t help it. She’s desperate for any scrap she can get about Sofia’s life—about if she’s happy.
“No, not often. He’s a good dad.” Sofia’s words have a defensive edge. “He’s just working hard. We both are.”
“Hey, hey, I’m not judging here,” Isa says, kicking herself. Goddamn Nick. Every time he comes up in conversation between them it spirals like this. He’s been a sore point ever since they’d broken up the summer after high school and he’d swooped in to try and woo Sofia. When Isa and Sofia eventually got back together, he returned to hovering around the edges of their relationship. It wasn’t until that fateful breakup, when Sofia got pregnant, he’d become a more permanent fixture in their lives. “All I’m saying is that it sounds like you’re doing a lot on your own.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what I signed up for.”
Isa hates how bitter the words sound, and she has to fight against the questions she wants to ask—why won’t you let me help? Why couldn’t we do this together?—because it’s not the right time. “I’m sorry. Let’s drop it.”
Sofia wilts. “I’m sorry, too. This is a lot to handle.”
“I get it.” Isa dares to reach out and squeeze Sofia’s shoulder. The grateful smile she gets in return makes it worth the fissure that cracks her heart. “Come on, we’re running out of time. Let’s pay Hector a visit.”
Isa quietly pours water down the sink while Sofia packs a diaper bag—“In case we find him,” she says at Isa’s curious glance—and pulls down a pack of juice boxes from her pantry. She sticks a straw in one and hands it to Camila.
“Drink up,” she says. “We’re going to be avoiding water for a while.”
Camila nods and does as she’s asked, her eyelids drooping. Poor kid. She’s exhausted. Isa checks the time. It’s 8:30p.m. Must be close to her bedtime. She lifts Camila into her arms and follows Sofia out the door.
True to her word, Sofia leads them half a block away to a squat brick house shaded by a towering ash tree. Isa knocks on the door and steps back. Nerves twist up her spine. Hector’s twenty-two, like them. But what if he doesn’t remember? She doesn’t think she can stand another person staring at her with that creepy, blank look.
The door opens, and Hector peers outside. Wow. He’s definitely not that dorky kid who panted after Sofia in high school. He’s tall and broad like a weightlifter. It makes Isa grumpy. When he sees them, his polite expression shifts to confusion.
“Sofia?” He does a double take. “And Isa? What are you doing here?”
The women share a loaded glance. Better to come right out and say it. Here goes nothing. “Did you have a little sister that went missing?” Isa asks.
Hector’s mouth drops open in naked shock. He glances over his shoulder before stepping outside and closing the door. “What did you say?”
“In the yearbook, your little sister had a twin,” Isa presses, even as her stomach twists, “and then senior year, she’s gone.”
“You…remember her?” Hector asks, sounding lost. “How? No one does, except me.”
“Bruno is missing,” Sofia says.
Hector turns wide eyes toward her. She swallows and steps closer. “Bruno got taken by something in the bathtub, and it also took Isa’s brother in the canal.”
“We thought you might know something about it,” Isa presses.
Hector’s mouth gapes open like a fish. After a long moment, he shakes out his arms and legs, like he’s trying to keep himself calm. “We should take a walk.”
Isa follows him and Sofia down the steps, Camila’s hand clasped tightly in hers. They don’t speak as Hector leads them toward a park at the end of the street. It’s not anything special—just a tiny square of grass with a swing set—but it’s empty at this time of night. Camila immediately claims a swing while the others stand in a tense circle beside her.
Isa can’t stand the silence. “So, what happened?”
“Be tactful,” Sofia snaps. She casts a sympathetic look at Hector.
“We’re sorry, Hector, we know it’s a painful subject.”
He shrugs and kicks at the dirt with his sneaker but doesn’t look at them. “It’s mostly surreal. I mean, I’ve spent the last seven years thinking I was crazy. And then you two show up and start talking like you believe me.”
“We do believe you,” Isa says. “I know what I saw tonight.”
“Me, too,” Sofia adds.
Hector huffs out a breath and finally looks up at them. “Alright, well, I was fifteen and babysitting my little sisters. Maya and Luz. I set them up with their water table in the kitchen while I made dinner. Maya wasn’t interested in playing, but Luz was, and while she was splashing—”
“Yes?” Isa prompts. Sofia shoots her a look, but she refuses to feel guilty about it. Two boys are missing. They need answers quick.
Hector winces. “A hand came out of the water and yanked Luz in.”
Chills race up Isa’s spine. “A hand?”
“Yeah, all wrinkled and old. Luz completely vanished. I didn’t know what to do. Maya wouldn’t stop crying and I couldn’t find her or figure out where she went. I was desperate, so I called my parents.”
Isa feels sick to her stomach. “And let me guess—they didn’t know what you were talking about.”
Hector shakes his head. He looks vaguely nauseous, too. “Not only that, but it was like Luz had never existed. They were dead silent on the phone, and I thought it was shock. But then they came home and kissed me and Maya hello like nothing was wrong. Every time I tried to talk to them about it, they would stare at me until I changed the subject.”
“That’s awful,” Sofia whispers.
“What about your older sister?” Isa asks, remembering that Hector was a middle child. “Belen, right?”
“Belen was already away at college. I called her, and she freaked out, but after she tried the cops and talking to my parents herself, she warned me to keep it a secret in case someone thought I was nuts.” Hector shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know why I haven’t forgotten. For years I tried showing all three of them pictures that had both Maya and Luz, but they never saw Luz. Just Maya. A year or so after Belen forgot, too. I started to think that maybe I’d made Luz up this entire time. That something was seriously wrong with me.”
Isa reaches out and places a hand on Hector’s shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong with you. What happened to you and your sister was real. We’re going to get Matteo and Bruno back, and I promise you we’ll get Luz back, too.”
“How do you know she’s still alive?” Hector’s shoulders slump. Isa thinks about what it must have felt like for him to live for years with the weight of his sister’s disappearance. How she might have felt if her parents came home and acted like Matteo had never existed. It’s enough to make her dizzy.
“La Llorona takes kids to replace her own,” Sofia says. “It doesn’t make sense for her to kill them. Wherever they all are, we’re going to get them back.”
Hector doesn’t look like he believes them, but Isa doesn’t blame him for being skeptical. They are, after all, talking about a fairy tale.
“What day did Luz disappear?” Isa asks.
Hector looks right at her when he answers. “Ten years ago. On Halloween.”
Chapter Eight
Isa, Sofia, and Camila return to Sofia’s apartment, strung out and exhausted. Isa goes to open the door to the apartment, but Sofia stops her with a trembling hand.
“Can we go to your place?” she asks. “I can’t be here if—if Bruno isn’t.”
Isa wordlessly leads the two of them to her car. They drive to her house in silence. Isa mulls over everything Hector said, turning his words over this way and that until she’s picked them clean. By the way Sofia keeps biting at her thumbnail, she can tell she’s doing the exact same thing.
They arrive at Isa’s house around 10:30p.m. Isa carries a drowsing Camila up the front steps and lays her out on the couch. Sofia tucks a blanket over her. They make eye contact and have the type of silent conversation they used to all the time, and retreat to the kitchen to talk. Isa leans against the counter so that she’s still got a line of sight to Camila.
“So, what do you think?” Sofia asks. She hops up onto the counter beside Isa. Her closeness makes Isa’s heart speed up. Pathetic.
“Nothing useful,” Isa admits. “I’m not cut out for this.”
Sofia nudges her with a swinging foot. “None of that. Okay, so we know now that La Llorona comes out on Halloween, and that adults don’t remember kids that got taken.”
“But you, me, and Hector do.”
She nods. “But at some point, everyone forgets.”
Isa taps her fingernails against the laminate counter. She’s about to speak when her phone rings. Her stomach twists when she sees her mom’s name flash on the screen. For a moment she thinks about ignoring the call, but it’ll only make things worse. “Hola, Mami.”
“Isa, honey, I’m just checking in. How’s your portfolio coming?”
Isa rolls her eyes. “Mami, I’m a college senior. I don’t need you asking me if I’ve finished my homework yet.”
“Well, pardon me for worrying. I just want to make sure you’re on top of the things you need to graduate.”
Isa tries to control her anger by counting her breaths. “I’ve got it, alright? Everything’s fine.”
There’s a pause, and Isa wonders if her mom is going to ask after Matteo. But she doesn’t. Isa’s certain she doesn’t remember him at all. “Of course, mijita, of course. Whatever helps you feel like an adult.”
I am an adult, Isa thinks, but knows it’s not worth saying. The last thing she wants right now is to get dragged into an argument with her mom. She rushes her off with a quick goodbye and hangs up. Sofia looks at her with a measured gaze.
“What?” Isa asks, the back of her neck warming.
Sofia lifts one shoulder. “Does your mom always talk to you like you’re twelve?”
“Of course she does. It’s the price I pay for living here,” Isa says. “The rent is free but they still act like I’m a kid.”
“My mom does the same thing.” Sofia smiles, but it’s strained. “She’s still unhappy I chose to get my own apartment instead of staying with her and my dad to raise Bruno. So now she acts like I’m going to fail if she’s not on my ass about everything all the time.”
“You’re not going to fail.” The firmness of my words surprises her, but I push on. “You’ve done amazing by Bruno. You’re a great mom.”
“Thanks.” Sofia blushes and leans lightly against Isa’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”
Isa takes a deep breath. She’s been wanting to have this conversation all night, but now that it’s here, she finds herself dreading it. “Is that why you texted?”
“Yes, but that’s not all.” Sofia glances at her, shy. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us and our last breakup.”
Their last breakup. The one that came right after Sofia found out she was pregnant. I need something more, Sofia had said, and Isa was convinced she meant to marry Nick. But then she never did, and Isa was left with nothing but confusion and a wound that refused to fully heal.
She tries to keep her tone casual instead of desperate. It barely works. “What about it?”
“I think,” Sofia starts, slowly, “I made a mistake.”
Isa’s heart thumps painfully. “A mistake?”
“You have to understand. When I realized I was pregnant, I was so scared. Twenty and a single mom—it felt like my whole life was falling apart. And my parents were adamant that I needed to make serious choices, so I didn’t ruin Bruno’s future.”
“And I wasn’t a serious choice,” Isa says, hurt. She should’ve known.
“It’s not that. You were in school. You had a whole life ahead of you. We both know you weren’t planning on being a mom or—or a wife anytime soon. But I knew you’d say yes if I asked.”
A wife. A mom. Sofia’s right: Isa never thought much about either of those things, but she could see them with Sofia. She wanted them with Sofia. Maybe she still felt belittled by her parents, maybe art wasn’t exactly a breadwinning profession, but she would, and could, step up for Sofia and Bruno. She’d be happy to.
“I’m not twenty anymore,” Isa says carefully.
“No, you’re not, and neither am I.” Sofia leans a little closer. Isa’s skin flushes hot. “If we make it through this, I hope…maybe…do you think you could forgive me enough to try again?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Isa reaches out for Sofia’s hand. They twine their fingers together. “We’ve both been doing our best.”
Sofia’s grateful smile is blindingly bright. “It’s a date, then.”
The temptation to kiss Sofia is so strong that Isa nearly gives in, but she stops herself. She’s not going to have their reunion tainted by fear and pain. Tomorrow, when everything’s fixed, they can have their moment. One that’s pure and fresh as a sunrise.
Isa squeezes Sofia’s hand before untangling from her. “So, what’s next?”
Sofia pulls her phone out, tapping away at the screen before handing it to Isa. “I saw this when I was researching earlier.”
Isa scans the website Sofia’s opened on her phone. It’s for the Tempe Historical Society. “Isn’t this that little building off Price?”
Sofia nods. “Yes, and look. They’re having an event tonight.”
A spark of hope blooms in Isa’s chest as she reads the details. “Myths and Monsters: A Halloween Gala to Benefit the Tempe Historical Society.”
“They’ve put together an entire collection about regional legends. I’ll bet you anything one of them is about La Llorona.”
“It ends at midnight,” Isa says. “We need to go now.”
Sofia hops off the counter but hesitates. “Maybe I should stay here with Camila. The poor kid needs her sleep.”
Isa’s instincts rebel against the idea of them splitting up, but one look into the living room lets her know that Sofia’s right. Camila is sleeping soundly, and it wouldn’t be fair to wake her up to drag her around town again. “Alright, but move into my bedroom. It’s the furthest from the kitchen and bathroom.”
“We will. I promise we’ll be safe.”
Isa can’t help it. She leans forward to press a kiss to Sofia’s cheek. The smile she gets in return is enough to light Isa up like a Christmas tree. “Text me if you need anything. The gala’s only a couple blocks away. I can run there.”
“Come back soon,” Sofia says. “We’ll be here.”
Isa takes one last look at Sofia and Camila before gathering her courage and heading out the door.
Chapter Nine
The Tempe Historical Society’s windows pour amber light onto the grass, warm and thick as a spilled jar of honey. It’s an inviting glow that’s accentuated by paper ghosts and flickering candles. Isa tugs self-consciously on her tattered hoodie, severely underdressed for the fundraising gala that’s kept the organization open this late.
But she’s not here to chat with strangers and drink champagne. Isa squares her shoulders and weaves her way through the crowded lawn and up the stairs to the front lobby. She takes a moment to survey the space. The Society’s building used to be a house, and each room branching off the hallway hosts a different collection. Isa had been here once before on a middle-school field trip and remembered the rooms as boring displays about things like the city’s history of dairy farming. But tonight, everything has been changed to reflect the different spooky myths of the area. Just like Sofia said. A bow-tied waiter offers Isa a plastic cup of wine. Fine, she takes it with a polite smile. She tries not to look too desperate as she steps from room to room, scanning the display names for La Llorona. There’s El Chupacabra, the goat-sucking monster of Isa’s childhood nightmares, and El Cucuy, the boogeyman. Isa wanders into the further rooms, past Quetzalcoatl and La Lechuza, her heart sinking with each display. She’s got to be here. Why isn’t she here?
Isa drains her cup—warm white wine, ugh—and looks for a trash can. She can’t find one in this room, so she steps back out into the hallway and spies one at the end, next to the restroom. She walks down the hall and throws the cup into the trash with more force than necessary. What if this whole trip was a waste? She left Sofia and Camila to fend for themselves, and for what?
The lights above her flicker. Isa glances up, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. They flicker again before a zap slices through the air, and she is plunged into all-encompassing darkness. She steps backward, but flinches when her foot sinks into something wet.
Isa turns so quickly she stumbles. The hallway is completely empty. Her shoes squish again; the carpet is soaked, as if the building has flooded. Whatever wells up around her sneakers’ soles looks thicker than water, but in the dim lighting she can’t make out what it is. She’s not sure she wants to know. Fear grips her so tightly she struggles to breathe.
A rustle of movement sounds behind her. Isa freezes as something cold and wet brushes against her shoulder.
“Mis niños,” a voice whispers, then hitches on a sob.
Isa’s sharp intake of breath is cut short by the sensation of water flooding her mouth. She chokes, one hand flying to her throat as the phantom pressure smothers her. The cold thing brushes her again—it’s a hand, and the fingers creep up her shoulder like a spider.
Isa flinches and wrenches herself away from the freezing grip. The crying shifts into a broken wail that threatens to rupture Isa’s eardrums before it abruptly cuts off and fades away. The lights flicker back on.
“Excuse me, miss, are you alright?”
Isa blinks, her cheeks burn with embarrassment as a woman swims into view. She’s older, with neatly pinned hair and a name tag on her shawl. A volunteer. Her penciled-on eyebrows lift with concern as Isa gasps, pressing a hand against her chest to make sure her heart’s still beating.
“Sorry,” she says, her words shaky, “you scared me.”
“It’s the season for that.” The woman smiles. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I’m looking for anything you have on La Llorona.” Isa’s gaze darts up, but the lights stay on. “Is she part of your display for tonight?”
“Yes, of course. She’s right over here.”
The woman leads Isa into a room she’d missed earlier, just off the main lobby. Shining mahogany tables line the walls. Each one is covered with glass cases and framed papers, all with descriptive tags. A couple of people stand in the middle of the room holding plates piled high with hors d’oeuvres.
“As I’m sure you know, our city has a rich history with the La Llorona myth,” the woman says. She gestures at the display with a manicured hand. “Please feel free to browse, and don’t forget to come back for our next collection.”
The woman hands Isa a folded pamphlet. She tucks it into her hoodie’s pocket without looking. Her pulse pounds in her ears as she steps toward the first table. A piece of embroidery sits underneath the glass, depicting a woman in a white dress sobbing by a riverbank, her head in her hands. Beside it sit faded daguerreotypes of a ranch family, their somber faces gazing at her like they can see her. She quickly looks away.
Isa wanders down the display, the chatter of the other people in the room providing a sense of security. She sees newspaper clippings about supposed sightings, art based on the myth, and historical facts about the time La Llorona had possibly lived. None of it seems particularly useful, and Isa’s frustration grows. Of course there’s nothing about actual kidnappings. Adults can’t remember. Isa’s stomach sinks as she makes her way to the end of the last table.
On the far corner sits a piece of paper pressed between glass panes. The parchment is yellow with age, and the ink is fading. Isa bends closer to try and read the spindly handwriting.
November 1, 1901
I fear I am alone in this, and so I turn to my diary in hopes of recording what has occurred, and so cannot be forgotten. My dearest sister Abigail was taken yesterday by the most horrid of spirits, a wailing woman who reached from the river as we washed clothing and dragged her under. I ran for help, but our parents acted as though Abigail never existed. As if her very memory was washed away by the water, as well.
Isa swallows down a surge of nausea. Another diary entry sits beside this one, and she turns to it with growing dread.
November 1, 1902
One year since the loss of my dear sister, and I alone recall who she is and what happened to her. I’ve attempted to speak to many others about what I saw occur at the river that day, but their faces grow horribly blank, and they refuse to engage with me until I’ve changed the subject. I have spent this past year in mourning, but also in fervent research. The weeping woman who took my sister is known to the community that lives here as La Llorona. She steals children in an attempt to replace the ones she killed, so long ago. I fear that wherever she is, so too resides Abigail.
The final third entry is the last piece of the display. Isa tries to take a measured breath as she bends down to read, her pulse thrumming under her skin.
October 31, 1903
Today I shall attempt to rescue my sister from the clutches of La Llorona. I am choosing to record all I know so that my knowledge isn’t lost in the case of my failure. This terrible entity appears on Hallow’s Eve, hunting for the children she lost. No adult can speak about or remember the truth of her. When the sun rises on the first of November, La Llorona and her victims disappear to her watery home. I believe I have found that location and seek to reclaim my sister before this night is ended. Pray for me. Pray for us both.
And be aware—anyone who has heard La Llorona’s cry is doomed to the water.
Isa straightens up like she’s been struck by a lightning bolt. There are no more diary entries. She’ll never know if the writer found their sister, but the information they did leave behind is enough to send her heart racing. La Llorona only appears until the sunrise after Halloween. Isa checks her phone—it’s nearly midnight. Her window to save the others is closing rapidly. She scans over the last entry one more time.
Anyone who has heard La Llorona’s cry is doomed to the water.
Well, shit. Both she and Camila have heard her cry… Isa texts Sofia a warning before pushing her way through the crowd. She ignores the dirty looks she receives as she stumbles onto the grass and starts running for home.
Chapter Ten
Sofia and Camila sit on Isa’s bed. A harmless cartoon plays on the TV Isa has mounted on the wall across the room. Sofia strokes Camila’s hair and smiles. Years of memories in this very space fill her mind—sleepovers in middle school, furtive kisses with the door closed during high school study sessions. Not much about the room has changed. Mounds of art supplies spill off the desk, and soccer gear sits in the corner by the closet. Sofia thinks of all the time she used to belong here and misses it.
Despite the terror that’s simmering in her veins, exhaustion pulls her into a sort of half-sleep. Her dreams are abstract swirls of color that slowly coalesce into a memory of a summer long ago.
Sofia is ten and ready to brave the deep end of the pool. She’s never dared to swim in the shadowy depths, but she’s tired of her cousins making fun of her for being a baby. She adjusts the straps on her swimsuit and tightens the hair tie on the end of her braid. Lily, so cool at thirteen, watches her from the deck chairs with a smirk. Sofia squeezes her eyes shut, takes a deep breath, and jumps into the pool.
She opens her eyes as she floats beneath the water. It’s cool and quiet. Satisfaction swells in her chest as she swims, eventually flipping over onto her stomach so that she’s facing the bottom of the pool. What’s to be scared of?
But the memory warps. There’s someone else in the water. Shining eyes watch her from below, glittering and black like a shark. Sofia screams, the sound dissolving into a rush of bubbles, as the eyes rise toward her, framed by outstretched hands.
She’s jolted awake when her phone buzzes in her pocket. Sofia takes a gasping breath. Christ, it was just a dream. With a shaking hand she pulls it out and blinks away the last of her drowsiness—it’s a text from Isa.
She’s coming for Camila. Hide somewhere dry now. I’m on my way.
Sofia swallows down a surge of nausea and shakes Camila awake. The poor girl yawns and rubs at her eyes. “What is it?”
“We need to hide.” Sofia’s hair stands on end as a shuffling sound echoes from the bathroom. Oh god, she thinks, she’s already here… “Into the closet, hurry.”
Sofia doesn’t wait for Camila to listen, instead lifting her into her arms and darting for the closet. She shifts aside hanging clothes and tucks Camila into the furthest corner before closing the door. The space plunges into darkness. Just as the lock clicks shut, the bedroom door swings open. A soft footstep, then another. Sofia presses her back against Camila and prays that it’s Isa, home to save them.
Then, the stranger sobs.
Goosebumps race up Sofia’s arms as the figure creeps closer into the room, the air rent by horrible, gasping cries. Shadows shift through the gap at the bottom of the door.
“Mis niños,” a rasping whisper echoes. “Oh, mis niños.”
Camila whimpers. Sofia turns and presses a hand to her mouth, silently begging her to stay quiet. The footsteps and crying stop right outside the door. Dripping water pools and runs in rivulets into the closet.
Please, please, please, Sofia prays silently, go away, leave us alone.
One awful moment, then another, and the footsteps finally recede. Sofia waits until the house is completely silent before releasing Camila and stroking the girl’s cheek in apology. “It’s okay,” she whispers, “everything is going to be okay.”
She pushes the door open by an inch and peers outside. Camila smothers a cough into a discarded jacket. “It’s dusty in here,” she complains.
Sofia takes Camila by the hand and leads her toward the kitchen. She deposits Camila in a chair, but pauses when she notices a puddle of water beneath the sink’s cabinet. Shit, a leak.
The hairs on Sofia’s arms raise as the reality of their situation crashes into her. Water in the kitchen, the bathroom, the goddamn hose in the backyard—they were sitting ducks. La Llorona could show up again at any moment, and she’d be helpless to stop her.
Sofia snatches a towel off the oven door. Dropping to her knees, she frantically mops at the water that’s dripped from between the cabinet doors onto the tile.
Her movements become jerky as panic rises in her throat. Barely a splash of water across the tile and she’s freaking out.
Sofia’s shoulders shake with helpless sobs as she crumples, clutching the soaked towel to her chest. Camila gets down from her chair and kneels beside her. She pats Sofia’s knee with her little hand, making her nearly fall apart all over again.
“It’ll be okay,” the girl says, then coughs. A raspy wheeze edges her words and sets alarm bells off in Sofia’s head.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
Camila nods, but her next intake of breath rattles in her chest. “Asthma. My inhaler—it’s—”
She loses her breath. Sofia grips her shoulders as she struggles to inhale. “Slowly, slowly,” she soothes, but Camila’s eyes shine with panic. The girl pushes Sofia away and stands on shaky legs, one hand on her heart and one on her throat.
“Sofia, I can’t breathe,” she moans. “I need water.”
Terror ripples through Sofia and leaves her cold. Camila turns for the sink. Sofia scrambles and tries to snatch her by the hem of her shirt, but the slick tile slows her down.
“Camila, don’t!” she pleads. “Just calm down!”
Camila ignores her and climbs onto the step stool beside the sink. It feels like slow motion as she reaches for the tap. Sofia lunges to her feet, one hand outstretched in a desperate attempt to stop her. Her heartbeat thunders in her ears as Camila grips the handle and turns it.
The water streams from the tap. A bony hand reaches out.
Sudden, swift anger grips Sofia. La Llorona took her son. She’s not getting her hands on another kid. Not tonight.
“Back off, bitch,” Sofia snaps. She grabs Camila by the collar and yanks her off the stool, placing herself firmly between the monster and the little girl.
The spirit’s long fingers wrap around Sofia’s forearm, burning like ice. Horrific sobbing fills the room before darkness overwhelms her.
Chapter Eleven
Dread urges Isa onward as she sprints back to her home. She hasn’t heard from Sofia since that last text, and the ticking clock of the coming dawn settles heavily over her shoulders. They’re running out of time.
I’m coming for you, Matteo.
It’s a chant that she uses to power her steps, to keep her running even though her breath sandpapers her lungs and her muscles ache. The house is finally in view. She stumbles up the porch stairs and through the door. “Sofia? Camila?”
No answer. Goosebumps rise across Isa’s skin. She leaves the door wide open and runs into the living room, her heart in her throat. “Where are you?”
Muffled sobbing echoes from the kitchen. Isa nearly slips as she propels herself through the entrance. Camila kneels on the tile, her face pink and puffy from crying. The knees of her pajama bottoms are soaked.
Isa’s heart jumps into her throat. She lands heavily beside Camila and gathers her into her arms. The rattle of the little girl’s breathing sets alarm bells ringing in Isa’s mind. She hauls herself to her feet, Camila hugging her like a koala, and heads for Matteo’s bedroom. Isa sets Camila down on the bed and rummages through her sleepover duffel for the inhaler she knows is stashed inside.
“Everything’s okay, just breathe for me,” Isa soothes. She hands Camila the inhaler and leads her through several doses. It’s not until that awful wheeze is finally gone that Isa realizes something else is terribly wrong. “Where’s Sofia?”
Camila’s lip wobbles, threatening to send her into hysterics all over again. Isa strokes a soothing hand down her back. “She saved me. The crying lady took her instead of me. It’s my fault, I wanted water for my throat.”
Fear and nausea wash over Isa, and for a moment she’s afraid she’s going to be sick. She swallows down the barrage of desperate questions that flood her mind and forces herself to take a deep breath. She has to keep it together for Camila’s sake.
Isa uses her sleeve to rub away the fresh tears flowing down Camila’s face. “It’s not your fault, honey,” she says. Her own emotions make her words wobble. “It’s mine.”
Because it is her fault. All of it. She took the kids down by the canal, and she roped Sofia into helping her. She’d left them alone to fend for themselves. If she’d been faster, smarter, more careful, then none of this would have happened.
Brave Sofia. Of course she sacrificed herself for Camila. And now, she’s gone too. How can Isa possibly save them all?
“Isa,” Camila whispers. She touches a small hand to Isa’s face. “You can’t cry, too.”
Isa sniffs and scrubs at her face. Camila’s right. There’s no time for them to fall apart. “I’m sorry.”
“What do we do now?” Camila asks.
Isa bites her lip. She doesn’t know. She could try luring La Llorona out, but that wouldn’t help her locate the others. And she doesn’t have the first idea about how to fight a spirit. As despair wells in her heart, she leans forward to drop her head in her hands. The front of her hoodie crinkles. Oh, right. The pamphlet.
Isa pulls the creased paper out of her pocket. It’s an overview of the night’s event, nothing she doesn’t already know. Flipping it over, Isa scans an advertisement for an upcoming exhibit: The History of Phoenix’s Canal System.
“Phoenix’s famous canal system has an ancient and storied past,” Isa reads out loud. “Originally created by the native tribes that dwelled here in 200 A.D., the canals were re-dug in the 1800s by settlers arriving for the gold rush.”
200 A.D. Isa had never thought much about the canals before and had always assumed they were a recent addition to the city. But if the creators of the canals dug them almost 2,000 years ago, then it makes sense that La Llorona uses them as her hunting grounds. They’re ancient, like her myth. Woven into the fabric of the land in ways that modern society chooses to ignore or forget altogether.
“Today, the canals serve the important purpose of providing water to millions of homes across Phoenix.” Isa’s heart beats faster. No wonder La Llorona snatched Bruno, Hector’s sister, Sofia. Every faucet in the house connects to her web, and she is the spider waiting in the middle of it.
And to catch a spider, you need to disturb its web. An idea grows. Isa swallows against a surge of fear. “Camila, I think I know how to save them.” She opens the pamphlet and taps a map of the canals, drawing her finger to a large blue circle off the Salt River.
“The lake?” Camila asks.
“Tempe Town Lake was made by damming the Salt River,” Isa explains. “It’s like the heart of our water system.” An ancient river, dammed into stillness for modern use. The center of the web. Isa’s instincts tell her that La Llorona is waiting there. “I’m going to go there and lure her out.”
“Not without me,” Camila says, a stubborn set to her chin.
Isa wants to say no, but she’d feel better if Camila was nearby and not alone in the house. “Okay, but only if you promise to listen to me.”
Isa leaves Camila wrapped in a blanket and heads into the kitchen. She’s not entirely sure what she needs to fight a spirit, but some of her Nana’s old stories still rattle around her brain. She grabs a container of salt and a dried bundle of sage. The crucifix over the oven goes into her pocket, too. Finally, she returns to Matteo’s bedroom.
It’s with a heavy heart that Isa stores her supplies in her brother’s dragon-themed backpack. He loved those monsters, and the knights that vanquished them. Isa doesn’t feel like much of a knight, but she vows to herself that she’ll do whatever it takes to save him. To save all of them.
Handing the backpack to Camila, she squares her shoulders and takes a deep breath. “Alright, let’s go.”
Chapter Twelve
Isa drives them the ten minutes to Tempe Town Lake in silence. She’s always thought it was kind of lame—a man-made lake surrounded by baseball fields and shopping malls. A fake oasis that shouldn’t exist in the parched, concrete city. But now, as Isa parks and shuts off her car, plunging them into darkness, she sees the sprawling expanse of glittering water for what it really is. The pulsing heart of the land’s natural veins bent and stopped up for human use. It radiates a threatening, resentful aura.
“I want you to stay in the car,” Isa instructs. She takes the sage out of the backpack and hands it to Camila. “Don’t get out until I come back.”
“But—”
“No.” Isa squeezes her shoulder to soften the sharpness of her tone. “I won’t be able to focus if I’m worried about you. And I don’t want to give her another target.”
Camila’s eyes shine with tears, but she doesn’t argue. She nods resolutely and clutches the sage closely to her chest. “Good luck, Isa.”
Isa presses a kiss to Camila’s hair. “Thanks, kid.”
She climbs out of the car and waits for Camila to lock it behind her. Once she hears the metallic click, she pulls out the salt and pours it in a circle around the car. Then, she takes a deep breath and faces the lake. It stretches out before her, dark and glossy, like a black hole. Or a pit.
The center of the spider’s web.
Isa takes one step, then another, until she’s crossed the parking lot and stands at the edge of the lake. She pulls the crucifix out and grips it in one shaking hand.
“Well?” she shouts. “I’m here. Come and get me!”
The water stays perfectly still. There’s not a whisper of movement, not even from the wind. Isa steels herself and tries again. “You’ve been dogging me all day, and now you’re not going to show?”
Still, nothing. Isa drops the crucifix and cups her mouth to yell louder. “You took Sofia, you bitch, so I know you can take me. Let’s go. Take me!”
When nothing happens, Isa tugs at her hair and blows out a breath. “I’m going to regret this,” she mutters. She hesitates before stepping forward and letting one foot sink into the water. Shit, the lake’s cold. She wades out until she’s waist deep. The rippling waves lap at her, and she feels keenly like a surfer setting themselves up for a shark attack. The fear that grips her is so strong she must fight the urge to scramble back onto the bank and away from whatever unknowns lurk beneath her.
“Come and get me,” she rasps. The silence stretches tight as a wire. Isa’s confidence in her plan fades. She bites her lip, fighting the urge to cry.
It’s only after she blinks away tears that she sees two shining eyes, as round and pale as moons, watching her from five feet away. Isa feels rooted to the ground as the eyes float closer, just above the surface of the water. Through the murky darkness, Isa’s barely able to make out long, lank hair and a pallid face. She’s transfixed.
“What are you waiting for?” she asks, curling her hands into fists.
The creature lunges at her.
Instinct takes over, and Isa fights against the freezing hands that clutch at her shoulders and drag her under the water. The cold is a shock that punches the air from her lungs. Though she’d been standing only waist-deep, she’s pulled down, down, down until she’s surrounded by complete darkness, with only a smudge of moonlight high above acting as a beacon to the surface.
The need to breathe grows overwhelming. Isa kicks out to try and swim back for air, but the entity’s grip is like iron. Her vision blurs as the edges of her consciousness start to fade. Finally, she can’t resist anymore. With a silent goodbye to all the people she’s failed, she closes her eyes and takes a breath.
No water rushes in. Isa’s eyes fly open, and she breathes again. Though she’s clearly suspended in the lake, she’s breathing water as freely as if it’s air. The biting grip lets her go, and she finds herself face-to-face with La Llorona.
The woman floats a few scant feet away, her white dress billowing around her like a koi’s fins. Isa watches, fascinated, as the shifting reflection of the water dances over La Llorona’s face. She’s a stunningly beautiful young woman one moment and an ancient, wrinkled crone the next. The one unchanging aspect of her face, though, is her eyes. Large, dark, and glimmering, they reflect centuries of pain and grief. Isa’s own heart threatens to break at the sight.
“Hello, Isabela,” the woman says. Isa startles. La Llorona’s mouth didn’t move, but her words were clear as bells in Isa’s mind. The woman’s ruby-red lips quirk in a smile before she speaks again. “I’ve been waiting for you all night.”
Isa swallows tightly against the fear rising in her throat. La Llorona’s voice is a layered cacophony of multiple people. She sounds like Isa’s mom, grandmother, and aunts all speaking at once. And yet she also sounds strange, like she’s speaking an ancient language that Isa miraculously understands.
Isa opens her mouth, but her words are lost in the water. The connection between them must be telepathic. She tries again by thinking about what she wants to say. “Where is my brother?”
The woman grins. It’s too wide and splits her face neatly in half like a snake preparing to devour her whole. “He’s safe with me. They’re all safe with me, my precious children.”
“They aren’t safe with you,” Isa says. “You’re a murderer.”
Utter fury flashes across La Llorona’s face, turning her into something so inhuman that Isa flinches away. Then, the entity returns to her lovely form once more. “You’re not yet a mother, so you wouldn’t understand,” she says. A streak of warning runs through her words. Isa must tread lightly.
“I understand what it means to love a child,” she says. “I love my brother. I want him back.”
“Why should I return him to you, who lost him to me in the first place?” La Llorona floats closer. “You should join us below.”
“I don’t want to.” Isa tries to swim further away but finds herself fixed in place as if tethered by an anchor. “I’m not a child.”
“Are you not?” La Llorona croons. “You depend on your mother and father. You are incapable of making decisions of your own.”
Isa falters. She remembers the phone call she had with her mom only a few hours ago, how the frustration at being coddled had wilted into resignation that this was the way things would always be.
She’s twenty-two, but still feels like she’s fifteen.
Isa sees the moment La Llorona senses her uncertainty like a shark smelling blood. That awful smile grows again, and she reaches toward Isa with a long-fingered hand. “Come, my darling, and see,” she whispers, and Isa is lost at the first soft touch against her cheek.
Chapter Thirteen
When Isa opens her eyes again, she’s sitting on her bed. The room looks exactly the same way she’d left it, with soccer gear and art supplies scattered about. One of her favorite movies plays on the TV, and a tray with a half-eaten bowl of chicken soup and a sweating glass of orange juice sits on her nightstand. She must be having a sick day.
The door opens. Her mom comes bustling in with a laundry basket on her hip. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Do you need any more soup?”
“No.” Isa frowns. Her mom’s movements have a jittery quality to them, but that’s not right. People don’t move like that. She must be overtired from her illness. She lifts the comforter and snuggles down beneath the sheets. “I think I need to nap.”
“Alright, baby, anything you need.”
As her mom leaves, she turns to look at Isa over her shoulder. Her eyes flash from their normal hazel to a dark, glittering black, then back again. Isa’s skin turns cold. “Sweet dreams.”
Isa waits until the door clicks shut before throwing off the blanket. She doesn’t feel sick, not physically. But her bones buzz with a sense of wrongness. She struggles to remember what she was doing before this, but her memories are a hazy mist that slips away from her.
She opens the door a crack and peers out into the hallway. Across the way, Matteo’s door sits wide open, and loud video game sound effects come spilling out. Are they both sick? Maybe he brought something home from school; kids his age are petri dishes. She tiptoes past his room and toward the kitchen.
Mami stands with her back to her, busily cooking at the stove. Isa breathes in the smells of her favorite childhood dinner—caldo de queso, the best—and feels something tight unwind in her chest. Her mom glances back at her. “Come sit, it’s almost ready.”
She smiles. The edges of it are strange, but Isa pushes away her misgivings and opts to sit down as asked. Mami places a bowl in front of her. “I hope this helps you feel better.”
Isa frowns. “This isn’t caldo.”
Her mom’s face flickers in and out of focus. “Of course it is, baby. It’s your favorite.”
Isa dips her spoon into the bowl. Instead of a chili-heavy soup, she lifts out a chunk of candied pumpkin. “This is calabazas en tacha.”
Her mom never made calabazas as a weeknight thing. She only ever cooked it for—
Halloween.
The kitchen splinters around Isa with a heart-stopping shriek. She squeezes her hands against her ears in a frantic attempt to block out the sound. Across the table, her mom’s features start to melt like candle wax. Isa scrambles to her feet, knocking her chair over in the process. It floats away from her.
Isa takes a step backward. Her foot plunges into nothingness, and she falls. Down, down, down, endlessly, until she comes to a jarring stop like someone pulled a rope around her middle. She’s suspended in the middle of a dark, moonlit lake.
All of her memories come crashing back. Isa thrashes against the invisible ties holding her, so furious that she’s wild with it. La Llorona fades back into existence in front of her.
“You didn’t like it?” she asks, voice broken with disappointment. She reaches for Isa. “We will try again.”
“Stay the fuck away from me,” Isa snarls. The entity draws back. “You aren’t my mother.”
“But I could be.” La Llorona’s face shifts, and Isa’s confronted with an image of her own mother. “We could be happy together.”
“Why?” Isa asks. “Why do you want me? Why do you want any of us?”
The entity’s face clouds with confusion. “Because you are mine. You are my children.”
Isa shakes her head. Tears stream from her eyes and are immediately washed away by the lake. “Your children are gone. You lost them.”
La Llorona’s face turns inhuman again, but Isa doesn’t shrink away. “I did not lose them. They were taken from me.”
“You killed them!” Isa shouts.
“No,” the entity hisses. “He did.”
Isa’s mind fills with sudden flashes. Of a man she’s never met walking down a dirt road, his arm around a strange woman. Of townspeople looking at her with pity and judgment in their eyes, turning her away from stores and public spaces. Of sitting alone beside a crackling hearth, eaten up by the fear that her entire life is now forfeit, that she will never recover enough from this shame to join society again. That she might as well be dead.
That if she dies, then the children must, too.
Isa tries to wrench herself away from the memories, but they tug her deeper. Now, it’s not just La Llorona’s grief she’s experiencing, but other women’s, too. She sees her mother crying while holding a newborn Matteo, terrified that she’s too old to raise another baby; Sofia sits in an empty apartment and watches Bruno take his first steps, grief and pride mixing like a wound in her chest. There are other women she doesn’t know, so full of love for their children and fear that they can’t protect them from the horrors of the world.
“I can protect them here,” La Llorona says. “I can keep them safe with me.”
Isa fights the urge to sob. “You had your chance. You have to let them go.”
The entity’s grip lessens slightly. When Isa breathes again, she tastes the awful tang of the lake. An idea grows in her mind. Isa curls her hands into fists and shouts as loudly as she can. “I am not your child!”
The tether between them snaps. Isa closes her mouth against the rush of the freezing water. She’s no longer trapped in endless depths, but rather finds herself suspended in the actual lake. Moonlight floods the area and allows her to orient herself. She looks down, and there, lying on the bottom of the lake, are the lost children. Matteo, Sofia, Bruno, and baby Luz all asleep in a row, their chests gently rising and falling. They look peaceful. Cocooned, it would seem, in the same type of memories that Isa had been caught in.
There are others too, so many, from all the decades La Llorona has been hunting.
La Llorona seeks out souls to replace the children she killed, but Isa knows now that it’s not just someone’s age that makes them a target. She saw something young in both Sofia and Isa—something vulnerable. Something that stems from the adults in their lives that make them feel small.
But not anymore. Isa recalls the conversation she’d had with Sofia.
She could be a mom, a wife. Someone that Sofia and Bruno could depend on. She wants to be that person, and it starts right now.
Lungs aching, Isa dives. She can’t save everyone at once, but she’ll start with who she can and then come back for more. She grabs Sofia underneath the arms and pushes off the ground. Kicking with all her might, she swims for the surface. Her vision blurs, but she keeps her focus on the bright coin of moonlight sitting on the water.
She breaks through with a gasp. The sky is tinted with the gray beginnings of dawn. Shit. Hours had passed while she was under La Llorona’s spell and now she’s almost out of time. Once the sun rises, the others will be lost.
“Wake up, Sofia,” she urges, shaking her limp body as she treads and tries to keep them both afloat.
Sofia gasps and thrashes. She pulls away, dipping under the surface before bobbing up once more and pushing her soaked hair from her eyes. “Isa, what the fuck?”
“The kids are below,” Isa says. “We’re running out of time.”
Sofia immediately dives. Isa follows behind her. They swim all the way to the bottom of the lake, until the pressure makes Isa’s ears pop and her lungs burn for air. Sofia grabs Bruno and Luz, while Isa gathers Matteo into her arms. They swim for the surface, and freedom.
Isa paddles for shallow waters with Matteo on her chest, like she learned to in lifeguard classes back in high school. Her muscles ache, and her breathing is ragged, but she’s almost there. Sofia does the same, both babies against each shoulder as she works to keep them all above the water.
They crawl into the shallows. The sky has turned a rosy pink. Sofia sits with Luz in her lap and Bruno gathered against her chest. He wakes up slowly and blinks at his mom with confused eyes before breaking into a smile.
“Oh my god, thank you, Isa, thank you,” Sofia sobs. Baby Luz wakes up as well, crinkling her brow at the strange people around her but not crying. Hector is going to be so happy.
As Sofia soothes the babies, Isa helps Matteo sit up. His lion costume hangs, sodden, from his shoulders, and his hair drips into his face. He rubs his eyes as he wakes and meets Isa’s gaze. His lip wobbles. “Isa, can we go home?”
“Of course,” she says, and gathers him into a tight hug. Relief floods her and makes her dizzy. She’d done it, and now her brother is safe.
Sofia hands her the babies and helps Matteo as he clambers up onto dry land. He immediately strips off his costume, leaving the wet mess in a heap by his shoes. Sofia takes the babies one at a time, sits them carefully on the ground, then turns back one final time to hold her hand out to Isa.
Isa reaches for her, but hesitates as an utter look of terror crosses Sofia’s face. Isa’s heart stutters as hands wrap around her shoulders in an unyielding grip. Before she can think, before she can move, she’s pulled back under the lake.
Safe with me, La Llorona whispers in her ear, and then the water closes over her head.
The sun breaks the horizon. Dawn, and the end of La Llorona’s reign of terror for another year.
YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF THE CHAIN.
Come back every Tuesday… if you dare.
About the author
Samantha Campas is a Tucson, AZ native. She graduated from the University of Arizona and works as a writer for a national non-profit. When not writing, she likes to spend her time baking complicated recipes and competing in pub trivia. Samantha is a member of the 2023 Las Musas Hermanas cohort and is represented by Jamie Vankirk at Rainbow Nerds Literary.
Can't/won't put it down!!!
Spooky!