7. Questions

"Why didn't you tell me?"

    Her voice echoed throughout the gymnasium hall. The sun filtered through the stained glass dome above and scattered as pale, foggy light. Sofi was back in an unworldly place, her perception tethered to the girl who smelled of citrus. The one whose master called "Maria."

    Citrus had interrupted Master and the Bodyguard while they were in the middle of sparring practice.

    But she didn't particularly care.

    She did, however, bristle when the Bodyguard taunted her.

    "Fly away, little mariposa. We mestres are in the middle of training." He returned to his warm up stance as if she were nothing but a gnat on the wind.

    The Bodyguard had always been this way. He only showed the Master respect. Among the Master's three disciples, he was Citrus's least favorite. Worse still, he rarely left Master's side.

    Master lifted his hand to signal a break and relaxed his stance. The look the Bodyguard gave Citrus could cut glass, but he obediently came out of his stance and left the roda to get a drink of water.

    Master abandoned the combat ring as well. He met Citrus against the far wall where there were benches and towels. He grabbed one before taking a seat. Mopping his brow, he said, "What is it this time, Maria?"

    Citrus fought the urge to yank the towel from him and cast it to the tiled floor.

    "I went to the market for the first time today. Is that where I came from, Master? You simply dropped some coins in the hands of a merchant and bought my loyalty?"

    Master went about drying off as if her shocking revelation was no more common than learning that water was wet.

    "I did not buy you, Maria. I adopted you."

    "From merchants." She spat.

    The Bodyguard approached. "Master, she can't be serious. Where did she think our kind came from all this time?"

    Master regarded him with a familiarity that he only saved for his disciples. "I was going to tell her after her batizado."

    Citrus's anger flared again. "That's another thing. I'm not going to study Capoeira anymore."

    Capoeira. Her clan's sacred martial art. Since her lessons began, her instructor, the Professor, had been kind and patient. Still, she dreaded her training sessions. There was nowhere she could draw up motivation to fight. The only aspect of Capoeira that she could appreciate was meditation. In that, she had absolute discipline.

    The Master sighed. "Maria, we will talk about this later. In the meantime, do not interrupt me and Mestre Carlos again."

    The Bodyguard flashed his fangs. "You heard him, mariposa. Flutter along now."

    Citrus stood her ground. "I saw a human child in the market scream for help. He thought he was drowning in blood. He was going mad and none of the merchants seemed to care."

    Master and the Bodyguard exchanged glances, speaking in their secret mind-language that drove Citrus crazy.

    Master folded his towel across his knees. "It happens sometimes when their memories aren't suppressed successfully. This is why I chose to shield you from the truth of your origins. If your memory had returned at any time during your transition, you would have lost your sanity."

    The Bodyguard added, "Then you would have been spoiled goods. We would have had to dump you back in the mortal world. And the best part is that you would have never recovered and you wouldn't belong anywhere."

    Citrus glared indignantly at him. "You don't know that."

    His canines came through again as he chuckled. "Trust me, it's happened enough times that we can confidently predict the outcome. Had Master allowed you to go digging back when you had all those questions, your mind would have turned on you. So you should quit being such a crybaby and have a little more gratitude –"

    "Carlos." Master warned, "that's enough."

    Citrus could have sworn a drop of blood welled on the Bodyguard's tongue from biting it back. He passed his condescending gaze over her one last time before retiring back to the roda.

    Once he was out of earshot, Citrus softened her voice.

    "I am grateful, Master, but why do we have to treat humans this way?"

    "Maria, we cannot exist without humans. True Encantados cannot be born in the same way humans are. Surely you must have figured that out by now."

    She had always suspected, but to see the freshly caught humans herself, lined up like wares . . . .

    Master added, "They do not have to endure that for very long. Eventually they are adopted. The ones who are not set are set free to make a life in the Encante on their own."

    Citrus bit her lip. "Those are the ones they call 'rogues.' Right?"

    Master hesitated. "That is correct."

    "But they get no respect at all! They're not allowed to own property or learn Capoeira –"

    Master raised his voice over hers. "They are just as important to the Encante as the rest of us."

    Citrus shook her head. "They why are they treated less than?"

    The Master stood up. Too fast. "We all have our place, Maria. You ask too many questions."

    She had every intent on asking another. "Is it true that I will have to trick a human too? Force them to come here?"

    He had turned his back to her. "Someday, yes."

    Citrus took a step back. "No, Master. I won't."

    He did not turn around, but his shoulders lifted and his voice dropped. "No . . . ? You are a student in the household of a clan leader. You will study Capoeira. You will recruit humans. You will do whatever I command."

She whispered, "Then don't command me –"

"You are Jade now!"

She gasped and jumped at the crack of thunder indoors.

    Citrus missed the moment when Master turned around. His anger had not yet reached the surface. It was still coiled. Coiled, but close to erupting.

    Citrus glanced over at the Bodyguard, who had been watching from across the room. Not even he wore his usual smug grin. She looked away.

    She did not have thunder or storms to intimidate the Master. All she had was water. It stained her face as she shouted, "I didn't ask to be!"

    Citrus sobbed and ran for the exit at the sound of another thunderclap. She had hoped that the Master would follow her, but he did not.

    What will it take, she wondered, for him to see my pain?

~

By the time the dream haze wore off, all Sofi could remember was something about a butterfly. She got dressed, still trying to recall those vivid images and voices from just moments ago. Such slippery things, dreams.

    There came a gentle knock on her door. Sofi made a sound of permission.

    Arturo opened the door and stuck his head inside. "Hey."

    Sofi sat on the edge of her bed. "You can come in if you want."

    Arturo opened the door all the way and leaned on the hinge. "You okay?"

    She shrugged. "I'll be fine . . . . Have you seen Toni since –"

    Arturo cleared his throat. "I was thinking the three of us could have breakfast. You, me, and tia."

    Sofi had known this was coming. Almost a week had passed since Paola's disappearance. Arturo had given her a lot of space, but he was bound to have questions.

    What were you doing at the river?

    Where were you when Paola disappeared?

    Where did those bruises on your arm come from?

    That last one was going to be tricky. Sofi turned over ideas of how to answer as she made her way to the tiny dining table wedged between their kitchen and the sitting room.

Tia provided morning-related small talk as she poured coffee for all of them and put out the bread and butter. The simple spread of pão francês and mortadela brought Sofi comfort. Had it not been for her nerves, she would have asked tia how she came across such food in these rural parts.

Arturo sat across from Sofi, making it practically impossible to avoid eye contact with him. Tia kept the conversation cheerful until a disturbing wail came from the corridor on the other side of the sitting room.

Arturo put down his coffee and stood up. Tia gently touched his shoulder.

"I've got her this time. You two catch up."

Sofi was thankful for the privacy, but the coffee, though cloudy with milk, grew bitter in her mouth as she watched her aunt leave them alone together.

Trying to keep the mood light, Sofi said, "It's been a crazy week, huh?"

"Sofi, one of my friends lost a sister. This is serious." It scared Sofi how much Arturo looked like pai in that moment.

She looked down at her mug. "You never told me how he's doing."

Last time Sofi saw Toni was at the river when they were all gathered around Paola's abandoned clothes. She cringed at the memory of Toni's face as he stared on. It looked as empty as the clothes before them. And then he just . . . lost it.

Some of the men had to hold him back from jumping into the river. Even after Sofi had taken off, she could still hear him swearing in a blend of English and Portuguese.

"To be honest, Sofi," Arturo's voice interrupted the memory, "I don't know if he's going to be all right."

Tentatively, Sofi asked, "What did he say?" If she was going to get her lie straight, she needed to know what information Toni had revealed.

Arturo poured himself more coffee. "He said that he heard someone crying out near the bridge leading to the forest. When he followed it, he found you at the river."

Sofi swallowed. Her mind raced.

"He said you were knocked out."

Sofi hid her exhale of relief by stuffing a piece of ham in her mouth.

"I've been wanting to ask you," worry flooded Arturo's eyes, "do you remember anything, anything from that day?"

Now Sofi understood why Arturo had given her so much space. He had believed the stories enough to fear that she could be traumatized beyond repair. When it came to the river, those who came back left their sanity at the door of paradise.

Toni had . . . lied?

Why? Toni's deception had given Sofi a way out of Toni's questioning. Thanks to Toni, she was innocent in all of this. The river folk – the Encantados – they were the ones to blame.

"I don't remember anything." Her delivery, dramatic and slow, yielded the necessary reaction from her brother.

The ghost of a tear shined down his face. "I'm just glad you're okay, Sofi."

She felt like she needed to reassure him, so she reached across the bistro table and touched his wrist. "I'm fine, Art. I'm not going anywhere."

Arturo cleared his face and his throat before he spoke again.

"What is the last thing that you remember?"

Sofi kept her lie simple and believable. "I remember walking with Paola near that bridge that goes over the canal. But we didn't cross it, I swear." She paused as if searching through her memories. "Paola said that she left something at home. She wanted me to wait while she went back for it. Then I . . ." The image of Amancio's face blinked before her mind's eye. Then his long fingers flashing over the strings of his guitar. And the sound that came forth, so rich and unattainable. That sound was the song of both angels and devils.

"I remember hearing music." Sofi said, unsure if she was still building a lie or reliving the truth. She took a sip of her coffee. "That's all. I don't remember anything else."

Tia returned with some fruit. She went on babbling about something that had nothing to do with the incident at the river. For that, Sofi was grateful. The mood at the table had shifted back to one that felt safe, mundane.

Still, Sofi had a hard time getting out of her head. Her confrontation with Amancio replayed over and over. She wished she could turn her brain off and just enjoy her breakfast, but that wasn't an option. Especially when there was a new revelation to obsess over.

    Who had taken Paola while Sofi was chasing after Amancio?

    Sofi looked out the window, beyond the outline of a little yellow butterfly that had found its way onto the glass. She wondered if maybe . . . .

    No. She blinked. You can't go back there.

    She tore her eyes away from the window and focused on her brother and tia. This is what mattered. Her family. The fact that she had survived.

    But Toni had lied to protect her. And Paola was still out there somewhere.

    Are you crazy? You nearly drowned.

    Sobered by the memory of the assault, Sofi decided that she was done with the Encantados. For good this time.