by Stefania Gil
What story would the house tell her?
If The Alcalá Orange Grove had a legend surrounding a sarcophagus buried in its depths, which proved to be true, even though they didn’t make it public, it encouraged her to think the ruined house before her eyes might also have a story to tell.
She saw movement through the window pane, though there were no lights on.
She wanted to go up and knock on the door, but for some reason she was afraid. Perhaps her cautious side was setting some limits on her impulsive side.
So much for criticizing her sister about getting into trouble to discover a bestselling story. There she was, making use of that curiosity that ran in the family.
The ringing of her cell phone startled Isabel.
“Carl!” She replied effusively after seeing the international number on the screen. Please tell me, you are coming home.
Carlota burst into laughter.
“Not dear, not yet though I've already talked to Ramsey so next month I'll be released or at least organizing tours in Europe allowing me to spend more time at home. It's going to be a bit difficult. My readers went crazy with this story. They are already asking about a second book.”
“How wonderful, Carl!” Isabel could not be more excited for her sister. “How are the dwarf and Edward?”
“Good. Good. Wonderful. Those two are such a pair, they spend their time playing. They are at the park now. And you? What's New?”
“Good, darling. Everything is under control. I’m trying to get more work at the new office and—” Isabel broke off because she heard the door locks of the property open. Instead of running to her car door, she ran to the house’s door.
“Isa, Isa...” Carlota called through the phone.
When Isabel approached a little more, only the center of the door was open. A square window allowing her to see a man leaning his shotgun on the edge aiming it at her.
“Oh my God!” Isabel shouted, stopping and backing away without turning her back on the weapon pointing at her. “I'm not a thief, sir.”
“Isabel! What the hell is going on?” Carlota shouted with concern.
The man loaded the gun while pointing it directly at her.
“Get off of my property or take a fucking souvenir from me!”
“ISABEL!” Carlota was screaming hysterically.
The youngest Alcalá ran to her car, started the engine and left the site leaving a thick cloud of dust in her path.
She clutched the steering wheel to calm her trembling hands a little. She wished she could do the same with her legs. She pressed the accelerator while merging on the highway almost causing an accident. She was lucky she did not run into a speed trap or a policeman that would stop her for speeding and driving crazy.
She was not aware of the road she took until she reached the strong solid iron gate of Alcalá Orange Grove.
There she stopped, took a deep breath before reacting and processing everything that just happened.
She looked at her cell phone remembering her sister was on the line.
When she put it to her ear, she realized Carlota was still on the active call.
“Carl, I'm sorry.”
She heard Carlota sobbing.
“Good Lord, Isabel Alcalá! Don’t you ever do that again, you nearly scared me to death!”
“I'm sorry, I just discovered an abandoned estate in the middle of nowhere, Carlota. It seems forgotten in time but it’s like it wanted to tell me a story.”
Carlota let out an ironic laugh, her voice trembling with tears.
“I'm the one looking for stories.”
“Well, now is not the time, but you know how it felt when you were opening the sarcophagus that you shouldn’t have.” Carlota remained silent, assuming her old guilt. “I had seen a man lived there but Carl, I can’t take it, the property is beautiful and I'm dying to look at it.”
“Stop talking about death and don’t you dare to go back to that place alone, is that clear?”
Isabel didn’t answer because she knew she could not promise something like that.
“Isabel, is that clear?”
“Yes, it’s clear, but I promise nothing.”
On the other side of Alcalá Orange Grove, Juan Carlos’ SUV skidded around the curve before reaching the main gate.
“Did you tell Juan?”
“What were you expecting? The first thing I thought of was the kidnappers.”
“Carlota Alcalá! When I get that house and have a story to tell, I swear I will not tell you. That will be your punishment.”
Carlota groaned across the phone.
Isabel disarmed the security alarm opening the doors to the property.
“Good-bye, I have to calm my boyfriend. The poor fellow is truly panicked. I'm really sorry, Carl. It is something stronger than me. I'll try not to get in trouble. I love you.”
She hung up before her sister could protest again. She got out of the car just as Juan Carlos approached her to see if she was okay.
***
Juan Carlos felt his soul return to his body when he saw the woman he loved get out of her car in one piece and as beautiful as ever.
“What happened to you? Are you okay? Did they follow you? Who were they? Did you—” Isabel planted a sweet kiss on her boyfriend, who was struck dumb for a few seconds.
“I'm fine, nothing serious happened to me.”
“But Carlota called me and said—” Isabel kissed him again and hugged him tightly.
“Remember I told you about an abandoned house I found. How I would love to redecorate it?” Juan Carlos nodded, frowning but not letting go of his beloved. “Well I was going again with Natalia, but she couldn’t make it so I went alone.”
“Are you crazy, honey? I swear if anything happens to you—” another kiss. “Don’t try to soften me up with your kisses, Isa.”
“I'm not trying to soften you up, Carlota exaggerated a little.”
“She said she heard a gun. Is that true?”
Isabel tried to stare into Juan's eyes and fudge the story a little to make it credible but, she did not succeed.
“Tell me the truth, Isabel Alcalá.”
Isabel rolled her eyes.
“Okay, Juan Carlos, yes. The man took out a shotgun and told me to get out of there or he would give me a “fucking souvenir from him” — she gave him another kiss and placed her head on Juan's chest. “That man spoke very badly, by the way.”
“Don’t go back to that place, Isabel. You do not know who he is or what he’s capable of.”
Isabel didn’t want to deceive Juan Carlos. She knew she would return to the estate but it would take a few days. The truth was everyone around her was right for taking care of her and she had to admit she was very frightened when the man aimed his shotgun at her.
“I'll make some inquiries at Town Hall before returning,” she said, trying to free herself from Juan Carlos' strong arms.
He knew that meant she would return and it would take a miracle to change her mind.
He nodded with a frown. This time it was he who kissed her.
“Promise me you will not go alone.”
She smiled mischievously.
“It's OK darling. I'll let you know so you can join me. Now, let's go home I‘m starving.”
They each got into their respective cars and set off toward the house.
“Holy God!” Isabel exclaimed as soon as she entered the house. “What are you cooking that smells so good?”
“I'm baking an orange pie, but I also baked a pork loin with roasted potatoes and caramelized onions.”
Isabel's stomach made itself known as they walked to the kitchen. She rummaged for a piece of bread to sink into the pork sauce.
Juan Carlos eyed her with amusement. She always did the same thing when she came home hungry. He loved her desperation to taste the food before sitting at the table and to eat properly. His mother would have popped his hands with the wooden spoon. At that time, a young lady would have
had those manners but since things had changed so much, even he would be unrecognizable to his mother.
He dedicated himself to planting oranges on the estate, which was marvelous. The activity he had known for so many centuries lost its complexity as time passed. Once, it was a task that robbed men of almost the entire working day.
Now, Juan Carlos had the support of machines, fertilizers, automatic irrigations and many other things making the task so much easier. Some days he had a lot of free time and didn’t like it at all.
He could understand the evolution of things through the centuries and could adapt to new behaviors between men and women. He even managed to accept a woman went outside the home to work and man stayed home caring for the house and children. What he couldn’t conceive of was Isabel going to work and him remaining perfectly idle at home.
Ah no! That couldn’t happen!
So as cleaning was done by a girl who Isabel hired, Juan Carlos assumed the kitchen would be under his command. He seemed to do very well because his wife —almost always— licked the dishes.
His wife, he thought.
He sighed as he poured wine into wine glasses, handling her one as he sat with her at the table.
Isabel smiled at the precise moment he thought again that yes, she was his wife. So perfect, so beautiful, so his.
He leaned in front of her placing his hand on the back of her neck. She smiled seductively at him and a growl escaped him.
He caressed her lower lip with his thumb and kissed her.
The kiss was nothing like the innocent kisses from minutes earlier at the entrance of the estate.
No.
This kiss came from the deepest desire had for her.
Isabel let Juan Carlos explore the inside of her mouth, answering with a moan that suffocated in her throat.
With the same quickness in which he bent to kiss her, he parted from her. She saw his amused gaze.
“Shall we eat?”
He loved watching Isabel's cheeks redden, trying to regain her composure by inhaling slowly and avoiding his face for a few seconds. Her few seconds of embarrassment were Juan Carlos’ ecstasy.
They were silent while he served the food.
She drank some wine.
“Please remind me, as soon as we finish eating, to call Natalia so tomorrow she will not show up at the house I fled today.”
Juan Carlos looked at her with disapproval.
“Go and call her now.”
“It can wait until after dinner, Juan. Besides, it's not late.”
Juan Carlos tilted his head with a single glance at Isabel. She rolled her eyes as she got up to go get her cell phone.
She returned a few minutes later.
“Did you talk to her?”
“No. Maybe her battery died. She was at her grandmother's house. Apparently, her grandmother was not feeling well. I hope it's nothing serious.”
“Try again.”
“Relax, my love. I already left a voice message and a text message. As soon as she gets home, she’ll see them.”
Juan Carlos nodded, frowning.
He could not stop thinking about the madness he would have suffered if something had happened to his Isabel today. Just like that night with those men.
He shook his head trying to forget the terrible memories of the night those men dressed in black stormed into the house with weapons and threatened them both. When they took him away, he could only think about his beloved Isabel and how much he wanted to defend her from these criminals.
On that night, Juan Carlos learned from these men his brother was still alive. In fact, the men were looking for him. He did not know why or what they wanted, but something inside him led him to think if they found him, Francisco would go through the hell he had surely survived so many centuries ago when the inquisitors had taken him prisoner for heretics.
He remembered his mother and her attempt to save them from the plague without knowing she was serving them up on a silver platter to the wickedness. Until this day, Juan Carlos still could not look at priest without resulting in an almost uncontrollable fury mixed with a paralyzing fear.
It took Isabel a while to get used to it. The first time he went before the city’s parish priest closest to the estate, the color drained from his face, he almost fainted and it took him more than an hour to stop trembling to the point of convulsion.
With the passage of time and the study of the history of those centuries in which he was enslaved in the sarcophagus, he had lost some of the fear of the clergy. However, sometimes it was stronger than him.
“You're very quiet tonight, sweetie. What's happening with you?”
Isabel pulled him out of his thoughts.
He set the silverware on either side of the plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
He gazed into her eyes.
Isabel smiled sweetly at him. She knew what was going through his head.
“If only I could remember more of that night, Isabel. Something could lead us to identify the sect that kidnapped me.”
“It's very difficult for us to find them, Juan. We have nothing to go on except believing they belong to an ancient sect according to their vestments.”
“They thought I was still immortal.”
“You thought so, too. It was not until they shot you and it almost killed you, when we all realized that your immortality was not going to save your life.”
“They left me without knowing where Francisco is.”
“Don’t torture yourself any more, Juan. At some point we'll find your brother, I'm sure.”
Spain, 1630
“The prisoner is gone, sir.”
The second inquisitor studied his guard with concern.
“Clarify your words, please.”
“I went to the cabin, just as you ordered me and...” The man spoke with a gasping breath. His face morphed into an expression of horror as his gaze was lost in his memories.
“And... what? What happened?”
“They're all dead, sir.”
The Inquisitor sat down suddenly in his massive elaborate chair.
A few drops of sweat beaded the man's pink forehead. He knew it would end badly. He warned the Inquisitor General. He was so driven by his desire to destroy every evil being in the world. He longed to possess eternal life like that infernal being.
He took out his immaculate handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. He focused directly on the guard’s eyes.
“You can’t say a word about what you're going to tell me next. That's an order. Got it?”
The guard nodded briefly and narrated the scene he had witnessed hours before.
The inquisitor, in front of him, was the second in command of the area. He sent the guard to search for the Inquisitor General who, almost a week before— left with a guard to go to a cabin where they had imprisoned Lucifer’s servant a couple of years ago.
The guard mounted his horse early in the morning and arrived easily to the indicated spot. The horse neighed nervously before approaching the gloomy hut. It seemed the same served as a detector of evil energies and warned him something very bad had happened. He didn’t want to go any closer however, his duty told him otherwise. His service to the Crown and to the Holy Church prevailed everything, even his life.
He braced himself as he dismounted the animal and calmed him a bit. He found a tree to which he tethered his horse. He drew his double-edged dagger in case he needed to defend himself. Something was not right. The hut’s door was open; as he drew closer he could see three bodies lay in the meadow, lifeless and swollen.
He recognized two of them. They were good companions and lamented the loss of both.
What the hell happened here?
His instinct told him to stop and leave. He was about to witness something monstrous, but his sense of duty, once again, overrode his instinct to leave.
Crouched with the dagger in front, ready for combat, he entered the cabin. The wood creaked loud under his weight and his sen
ses were on high alert. That noise could alert anyone still in there of his presence.
He swore to himself. He would listen to his instinct next time it gave him advice.
He had been in numerous battles, he had seen people die, he himself had killed some but never in his life had he witnessed anything like he observed with his own eyes now.
On the floor, the Inquisitor General’s body lay lifeless. He could hardly recognize him due to the severity of the swelling of his face. Lumps the size and color of eggplants protruded grotesquely. He had no nails. His intestines hung by his side and his cassock was ripped between his legs. His testicles were torn and when the guard went to cover his private parts he noticed the base of his penis had been pierced by a dagger.
There was blood splattered everywhere. The scene was totally demonic.
The guard departed terrified. He looked for his animal that became more agitated after sensing how nervous he was. He mounted his horse and left at once.
“Was there anyone one else there?” Asked the second inquisitor.
“No sir.”
“I suppose, you searched the area.”
The guard was ashamed because no, he didn’t nor did he think to lie.
“No, sir, I'm sorry. What I saw left me speechless and without thoughts. I had no head to look for anything. I'll go back if you like and inspect the area.”
The second Inquisitor wiped sweat from his forehead again.
“There's nothing to look for, officer. Go, take a break and pray for your soul so you will not be haunted by the memories of such an unpleasant scene. Also pray for the agony your colleagues and the good Inquisitor General suffered.”
The guard nodded.
“Remember,” said the Inquisitor right before the guard left the room they occupied, “not a word of this to anyone. Right now I'll send a messenger to report what happened to the King and—” “Who else should I tell?”
He was accountable to the Inquisitor General, however, the man was dead. So, would he contact the Pope? He didn’t know what to do in these cases. Yes, some ordinary inquisitors died sometimes, though never the General.
The guard just nodded and left.
