Fables & Other Lies

by Claire Contreras

  “What’s the matter, afraid they’ll think you like me?”

  “Who says I like you?” I raised my chin defiantly, meeting his dark expression with my own.

  “No one has to say you do.” His eyes danced. “But we both know that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  “I don’t.” I swallowed, heart pounding, and walked forward, leaving him behind as I made my way to the door.

  The crowd seemed to part for me, for us, all eyes staring, no one speaking a word. I wondered what they were thinking. If they were tourists, they were probably wondering why the hell we were wearing such fancy clothes during Carnival. If they were locals, they were probably judging the hell out of me, probably thinking that they’d protested for me last night and here I was going willingly. It was that thought that made me keep my head held high as I walked outside. Yes, I was leaving with the rumored Devil again. Yes, I’d go to Dolos Island, to the Caliban Manor, but I’d do it my way. At least I hoped that was the bravado I was portraying because inside I was a ball of nerves.

  Gustavo rushed ahead, but stopped and stood by the back doors when River held a hand up.

  “I’ll be driving Miss Guzman myself,” he said. “It seems she wants to put on a show tonight, so I guess I’ll play along.”

  Gustavo shot me a look of disdain. He obviously didn’t like the way I was treating his boss and that was just as well. It wasn’t like I’d caused a scene. I hadn’t yelled. I hadn’t stormed out. I’d just walked ahead of him and refused to hold his hand in public. How was that a scene? Every single thought that crossed my mind made me angrier than the last. River walked to the sports car parked in front of the Rolls Royce and held the passenger door open for me. I obliged, getting in the car and pulling on my seatbelt as I waited for him to get into the driver’s seat. He started driving without saying a word and I realized he wasn’t heading in the direction of Dolos Island.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Taking a drive.” He glanced over at me. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

  “I mean, shouldn’t we be at the party?” I looked at the clock in the middle of the car. It was five-thirty and the party started at six according to Dee and Martín.

  “Are you in a rush to get there?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Good.”

  He drove onto gravel and stopped when we reached the Devil’s Peak, which made me laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” He put the car in park.

  “The fact that you brought me here, of all places.” I looked from the ocean just beyond us and to him. “You know people call you the Devil, right?”

  “I never had the luxury of caring what people thought of me.” He got out of the car and I followed, wobbling slightly. “This is my favorite place on your island.”

  He leaned against the hood of his car and I did the same. It wasn’t that I wanted to stand close to him, but this was called the Devil’s Peak for a reason. People died here all the time. Tourists lost their lives trying to take selfies with the ocean behind them. Locals lost their footing trying to scale down the rocks. Regardless of the reason or expertise, one thing was for certain and that was that I didn’t want to venture too close to the edge and River’s car was definitely not close enough. Besides, if he tried to throw me over, I’d pull him with me.

  “What do you know about the curse?”

  “This again?” I groaned, throwing my head back. “I don’t believe in curses and I don’t know much about it either way. I know everyone here thinks your family worships the Devil. Some say your father made a pact with him and that’s the real reason that island you live on was torn from this one.” I met his gaze. He seemed interested in what I was saying, curious even. “I know people don’t make it out of Dolos. A lot of people have died in that ocean.” I jutted my chin toward the water below us, the waves crashing hard against the rocks as I said it, as if confirming.

  “What if I told you that most of that was real?”

  “I’d say I still don’t believe in curses.”

  “That’s fair.” He chuckled. My heart stopped when he did that. “Tell me about The Haunt.”

  “My website?” I blinked. “Have you been on it?”

  “I have. I find it fascinating that there are that many people who love decaying things.” He cocked his head, “Though, maybe I shouldn’t find it that interesting. We are all decaying after all.”

  “I thought nothing ever dies?”

  “It decays though.” He cocked his head. “What I find more fascinating is that a woman from Pan Island, which is filled with fables and legends, would start a website like The Haunt and truly not believe in any of it.”

  “It’s not that I don’t believe in it per se.” I pursed my lips, trying to figure out how to explain it. I hadn’t in so long. “I think you can believe in ghosts and not believe in curses and vice versa.”

  “In The Haunt, you focus mostly on decaying houses, the ones that need restoration. You don’t think homes with that much history are prone to ghosts?”

  “Maybe.” I met his gaze again. “You know, people say Dolos is filled with ghosts, lost souls that never made it back to wherever it was they came from. Do you believe that?”

  “I do.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “That surprises me.”

  “Why?”

  “Why would you live there if you truly felt it was haunted?”

  “Who says I’m not the one they should be afraid of?”

  My heart skipped as I watched his eyes darken. I swallowed, pushing down my trepidation. I needed to change the subject. Talking about haunts and ghosts on the verge of a cliff was definitely not my idea of fun, and that was saying a lot for someone who did what I did for a living.

  “Do you have a cell phone?”

  “What a question.” The side of his mouth turned up as he pushed off the car and went back to the driver’s seat.

  “Do you have friends?” I followed and got in the passenger’s seat, eyeing him as I put on my seatbelt.

  “Of course, I do.” He chuckled. “You’ll meet some of them tonight.”

  “Did you go to college?”

  “Did you?” He raised an eyebrow and I knew he knew the answer to that.

  My lips pursed. “I couldn’t afford that specific luxury.”

  “I beg to differ.” He turned the car back on and we both reached for the air vent, our fingers crashing. I yanked my hand away quickly, ignoring the palpable electricity he elicited from me.

  “How so?” I folded my hands on my lap.

  “I think you could afford any luxury. You just choose the ones that give you instant gratification rather than the ones that may not, like a college degree.”

  “Well, considering the fact that most people I went to high school with ended up with a college degree and no job security upon graduation, I think I’m doing okay.” I shrugged. “I have no student loans. They do.”

  “I can’t argue there.” His gaze flicked to mine briefly and then back to the road.

  “Why’d you take me there?”

  “To the Devil’s Peak?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t get to go there often.”

  “Why not?” I watched the side of his face. “You have an apartment in town and everything. You’re obviously over here often enough.”

  “I’m in a lot of places.” He smiled, a small, secretive smile. “And yet, I’m not.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s difficult to explain.” He stopped in front of the black iron gates, and Gustavo was on the other side, unlocking and opening it.

  “Why don’t you have a mechanical gate like everyone else?”

  “And throw away the—what did you call it—antiquated vibe this whole place has?” River laughed, the sound vibrating my pulse.

  “Hilarious.” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t keep myself from smiling.

  I realized as we drove up the winding road and the gravel
gave way to cobblestone and greenery, that the house was as well-lit as I’d ever imagined it could be, with torches outside, probably to keep the mosquitoes at bay, and grand lamps up the steps. It still looked every bit a dark manor, but something felt different about it. It was as though it was happy to have people in it. It was odd though, being that it was just a house, but it stuck.

  As the doors opened before us, I reached out for River’s arm. I didn’t love being the center of attention, especially with this many people, and there were a lot. A lot more than yesterday. There must have been at least sixty people in attendance; it was a lot more than I’d anticipated, and every single one, man and woman, was staring. I began feeling self-conscious and grabbed onto River a little tighter.

  “Relax. You’re the belle of the ball.” I could hear the smile in his voice even though I was too busy trying to find familiar faces in the crowd.

  “Sir River Ambrose Caliban and his guest Miss Penelope Maria Guzman.” The announcement came from a woman’s voice, which I traced back to Fabiola, the woman I’d seen at the bar last night. She smiled at me, then at River, then at the crowd. Everyone clapped, which made the entire thing feel even more awkward. River let go of my arm to make a slight bow. I just stood there, unsure of what to do, so I smiled slightly, uncomfortably. River’s hand reached for me, and this time instead of offering me his arm, he slid his fingers through mine and held my hand, squeezing slightly before he started to walk the room with me at his side.

  “I’d pick Fabiola over Mayra any day,” I said through the fake smile.

  “I’m sure she’d be pleased to hear it.” He introduced me to some of the attendees, some it was obvious he knew, but others, like the man we were shaking hands with currently, seemed to be taken aback by his presence altogether.

  “Mr. Sir. Mr. Caliban.” The man shook his hand. “Carson Emerson. I’m an old friend of your father’s.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Emerson.” River smiled and turned to me. “This is my date, Penelope Guzman.”

  “Guzman?” Mr. Emerson’s brows rose. “As in . . . that Guzman family? From Pan Island?”

  “Yes, that family.” I kept a tight smile and let go of River’s hand.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he said, but he was looking at me like there was a lot he was leaving out.

  “Thank you.” I looked around. “I’m going to go find a drink.”

  “Call over one of the waiters,” River said, waving someone over before I could. He let go of my hand and turned to a young man who tapped him on the shoulder.

  “The man, the myth, the legend,” the guy said with a chuckle. “I haven’t seen you in a while, man.”

  “Always a pleasure, Alistair,” River said, greeting him.

  Mayra appeared in front of me with a tray in hand. She handed me a champagne flute. She wasn’t glaring at me, but she also wasn’t smiling. She was still wearing all black, but this time instead of a black long-sleeve shirt and skirt, it was a nice, long black dress.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking the flute.

  “Of course.” She grinned. “I do hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “It’s not my scene.”

  “I would think it was. Being the center of attention and all.”

  “Shows how little you know about me.” I brought the flute to my lips and took a sip.

  “Maybe I pegged all of you Guzmans to be the same. Your cousin lurks these grounds with his hollowed eyes and his empty heart.” She shook her head. “All he does is complain. You have the entire world in the palm of your hands, yet you seek more; you leave the island you practically own and in search of what?” She shook her head again. “I will never understand it.”

  “Nor do I expect you to understand it.” My eyes narrowed. “You say my cousin lurks here, but that’s wrong. Legend has it that the only lost souls that haunt the island are the ones who died here.”

  “Obviously.” She shot me a look. “You’re going to preach to me truths about my own birthplace?”

  “My cousin didn’t die here.”

  “Didn’t he?” She raised an eyebrow. “Have you considered why you’re here at all?”

  “Because your boss chose me to be.” I shot her a look.

  “Right.” She let out a laugh, and seemed truly humored by this. “Have you not questioned the accident at all? How it was, in fact, that seaplane would have gone down on a perfectly sunny, cloudless day?” She raised an eyebrow. “Unless . . . ”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless someone caused it.”

  “What are you saying?” My heart thumped louder, in my ears, in my chest.

  “Exactly what you think I’m saying.” Mayra raised an eyebrow, smiling as she walked away.

  I looked at River, who was talking to his friend. He couldn’t have caused the accident, could he? How? And my cousin? How would he have died here? I shook my head. Mayra was untrustworthy. I wasn’t going to take her word for what actually happened with the accident. She’d wanted me gone from the moment I got here. After a moment, I walked over to River.

  “Oh please, all of us are immigrants here. Our ancestors all arrived from someplace else.” That was River, still speaking to his friend behind me.

  “Some of our ancestors didn’t have a choice in the matter,” I said.

  “Here we go.” River shook his head. “So, now you’re blaming me for something some of my ancestors had a hand in?” River raised an eyebrow.

  “Not blaming. Simply pointing out facts.”

  “She’s not wrong.” The guy smiled, giving me a slow once-over. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Penelope and I’m not a sweetheart.”

  “She’s not wrong. This one bites,” River said, bringing his hand down to mine and threading his fingers through mine again.

  His friend’s brows rose. “Just when I think River Caliban can’t do something that surprises me, he goes and gets himself a girlfriend.”

  “I am not his girlfriend.” I tried taking my hand from River’s, but he held on tighter. I glanced up at River and smiled. “You can try to hold on as tight as you want, but I’ll still slip through your fingers.”

  “I have no doubt that you will, but I won’t let that happen until I’m done with you.” His mouth pulled into a slow, lazy grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “And I’m not done with you yet.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The doorbell rang loudly, an eight-note chime that was familiar because most people I knew on Pan had the same one. We all turned our attention to the door just in time to see Dee, Martín, Jose, and a guy I didn’t know walk through it. I felt myself breathe a little easier, and let go of River’s hand again. This time, he let me. I beelined over to the front door and fell into Dee’s arms when she opened hers the moment she saw me.

  “Are you okay?” she asked quietly. “You look stunning.”

  “I’m fine.” I pulled away and looked at her. She was wearing a black ballgown with a V-neck that plunged near her belly button. “You look amazing.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled, eyeing my necklace. “What is this you’re wearing?”

  “River loaned it to me.”

  “Wow.” She let out a sighed laugh. “So, is it safe to assume he’s not so bad?”

  “The verdict is still out.”

  “But you’re safe?” She searched my eyes.

  “I mean, if you think being in a gloomy house that’s falling apart under the same roof as a jilted ex-lover who wants to kill you safe, sure.”

  “What?”

  “She’s not my ex-lover.” That was River, who had snuck up behind us and made us both jump.

  “She does want to kill me though,” I said.

  “Oh. Wow,” Dee said, turning to look at River. “You look wow.”

  “Yeah, you look hot, but you already knew that,” Jose added to River and then me, giving me a quick hug. “This is my date, Ricardo.”

  “Nic
e to meet you, Ricardo.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek, and turned to Martín to kiss him on the cheek as well.

  “You clean up nice as well.”

  “Especially for this gala,” Martín said, looking around in awe. “It’s just as creepy as I thought it would be.” He looked at me. “Is it haunted?”

  “I . . . don’t know.” I frowned. I’d seen something in the bathroom for sure, but not a person, not a ghost.

  “Too bad,” he said. “The Haunt would flip out if they knew you were in here.”

  “Maybe you should stay a little longer, Penelope, for the sake of The Haunt,” River said, his eyes dancing.

  “Yeah, no, I don’t think so.” I pursed my lips.

  He let out a laugh. “I need to show you something. I do hope you all enjoy yourselves. Please grab drinks.” He grabbed my hand again and escorted me away from my friends. I only had time to glance over my shoulder and see Dee’s smile of approval as she nodded.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as he led me down the corridor he wouldn’t let me walk down just this morning. The pounding in my chest grew louder, harder as we walked.

  “I want to introduce you to my parents.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed. “They won’t join the festivities?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Is your father feeling well enough to?”

  “No, but he’ll join anyway.”

  The hall was dimly lit with gas lamps, as the rest of the house was, but the lamps were close enough to the portraits that I could sort of make them out. Most of them were of groups of men, around tables signing papers, watching as one of them made a discourse, posing for a painter. One photograph in particular caught my attention. I stopped walking in front of it and let go of River’s hand. The painting had tents and people everywhere, but front and center there were two men and two women. They were all smiling wide. My hand rose slowly to touch it, but I let it drop before it got there. It was my grandparents. I’d never met my grandfather, but I knew his face, and I knew this painting because the same one hung in my grandmother’s house before she moved in with my parents. I looked at River, who was standing there watching me with his hands in his pockets. Who are they, I asked, but not aloud, I couldn’t get my voice to work.