Nano 2011 [3/?]
Title: Nano 2011 Chapter 3
Characters/Pairings: Martín/Luciano (Argentina/Brazil), Manuela/Micaela (fem!Chile/fem!Perú) and various other characters, but there are too many to mention here. Characters belong to their respective creators and latin_hetalia
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Human AU, general creepiness, and really implausible medical crap
So in the last chapter, Manuela was chilling with a little ghost girl, and Martín had a special visitor in the hospital. What happens next?????
Manuela awoke with a start in her bed, her muscles tensing until she realized that she was no longer dreaming of falling from a cliff. Her eyes snapped open, adjusting to the darkness around her. A square of light from the street lamps outside illuminated a patch of ground near the foot of her bed, but even with that, the room felt like pitch blackness, darker than Manuela remembered it ever being. The shadows curdled and swirled in the corners of her vision, and she shivered at the temperature drop. She pulled her blankets up to her chin and looked around with just her eyes, trying to make as few movements as possible. Something clenched around her heart, and she heard herself whimper, a grating noise clawing its way out of her throat, desperate to make itself known. It was too much, so she sat bolt upright, scrambling for the light switch behind her, her fingers shaking with dread as she sought to banish her fears with false daylight.
With the lamp shining, her eyes frantically searched for the source of her terror. When she was a child, she could pretend that light was the panacea of all fears, but now she knew better. She had not expected it to work. The corner of her room near the door remained dark and in shadows, and something…something was lurking there. Manuela shuddered and took a deep breath, preparing herself to talk without sounding as terrified as she actually felt.
“Get out of my apartment. N-now.” She only stuttered once, which was a huge accomplishment, in her opinion.
The darkness stirred.
“I said,” she repeated. “Get out of my apartment now. I command you.” It would have sounded much more convincing if her voice would stop wavering for two seconds.
Then, a thin, reedy sound quivered through the air molecules from the corner, drifting and scraping against Manuela’s ear drums. Her limbs trembled at the sound of the thing’s laughter, and then it spoke.
“We are going to have fun,” it cooed, “Just you see.”
Manuela froze, and then tried to scream, but the sound got caught somewhere in her throat. After several excruciating seconds, she finally forced the sound out and screamed at the top of her lungs, screamed until her voice broke off in a rattling gasp and she was left gasping for air against a weight settling over her chest. The darkness crept closer.
She should have known that these spirits would be the death of her. She should have been prepared for it, yet here she was, cowering on her bed like a little girl who had just found out that the monsters under her bed were real, which was more than a little embarrassing because she had been talking to the ghosts in her closet since she was five.
The sudden pounding on the glass of her bedroom window jolted her out of her trance. She jumped as Micaela’s muffled voice shouted, “Open up! Come on, Manuela, open up!”
Still keeping her eyes locked on the darkness, which was-oh God!-drifting closer to her, she crawled to the end of her bed and leaned over to unlock the window and crank it open, letting Micaela scramble inside. As soon as she entered, the shadow curled in on itself, hissing as it dissolved into nothingness, taking the oppressive air with it. Manuela let out a shuddering sigh of relief, and did not even protest when Micaela crawled onto the bed next to her and pulled her into a hug.
“Hey, hey, it’s gone, isn’t it?” Micaela said, running a soothing hand over Manuela’s hair. Manuela clung to her tunic with fingers like vice grips and hid her face. God, how mortifying to let Micaela see her like this, nearly wetting her pants like a little baby. She would probably make fun of her later once she came to her senses and realized what a wuss Manuela really was. She could see ghosts, for God’s sake, and yet she was still terrified of the things that crept around in the dark.
That kind of worrying could wait till later. For now, Manuela tried to focus on calming her breathing by listening to Micaela’s heartbeat and letting her own match it. After sitting like that for a minute, Manuela pulled away, still refusing to meet Micaela’s eyes.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “You don’t have to-”
“Don’t be stupid,” Micaela cut in, brushing Manuela’s bangs away from her face gently. “You’re allowed to feel scared. I couldn’t even see it, and I was freaked out by that thing, whatever was in here.”
Manuela took a deep breath before pushing Micaela off. “I…I just needed a minute. I’m fine, really.” Damn her voice for wavering.
Micaela let herself be pushed away but still kept her hands on Manuela’s shoulders, not letting her move too far off. “You sure? You don’t sound fine.”
Manuela’s eyes finally dared to flick to Micaela’s face, but she kept her sight on the curve of her nose. “Quit babying me.”
“I’m not, I-” Micaela groaned and let go, leaving Manuela’s skin feeling cold where her hands had been. “God, why are you so difficult?”
“Well, why the hell were you trying to sneak into my room in the middle of the night? By the fire escape of all places?” The timing had been impeccable, and Manuela was lucky that Micaela had happened to be peeping in on her at the right moment, but still. It was the principle of the matter.
Micaela ran her hands through her hair and looked around the room. “I got a bad feeling, like something bad was going to happen. It happens sometimes, you know?” She patted Manuela’s knee, which twitched in reaction. “So I laid out a few cards and decided to check in on you. I’m glad I came when I did. Really, are you sure you’re alright? Do you want to stay at my place for a while?”
“No. Stop coddling me. I’m fine.”
Micaela looked skeptical, but she shrugged. “If you say so. You know where to find me if you ever need me.”
“Yeah, if I ever need a headache,” Manuela muttered under her breath.
Groaning in frustration at Manuela’s obstinacy, Micaela pulled a vial attached to a long cord out of her pouch and placed it in Manuela’s hand. “Take this. Just, keep it with you. It’ll provide protection.” In the middle of the vial, sandwiched between soapstone, bark, and leaves, was a small, ceramic fist that must have been broken off a figurine. “And let me put a charm on your room, please. It would make me feel a lot better knowing you were protected in your room, even if you don’t come stay with me.”
“Whatever,” Manuela grumbled, watching Micaela rise and begin repeating incantations in each corner of her room. She pulled the charm over her head. “But I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing. It was probably a one time thing”
“Sure, just keep on thinking that. It’s not like I’m your friend or anything.”
Manuela flushed, but ignored Micaela’s comment, intent on the way her hands cut, smooth, flowing paths through the air. The soft tone of her voice as she spoke the incantations was practically mesmerizing. She sprinkled a bit of oil in each corner of the room, and then returned to sit on Manuela’s bed.
“So like I said, just make sure you keep the charm vial with you-that should help-and I’ll come over sometime soon to check the room again. Are you going to be able to get back to sleep?”
“Of course,” Manuela spat. “I’m not a baby.” She planned on staying up the rest of the night reading. That darkness had shaken her up, and she did not trust herself to close her eyes for any length of time without upsetting herself even more. She considered asking Micaela for a ward against nightmares, but decided not to bother. She did not want to make her even more worried than she already was.
“Well, if you’re sure…” Micaela stared at her pensively for a few long seconds before pinching Manuela’s cheek.
“Hey! What the hell!” Manuela flailed and tried to smack her hand away, but Micaela was already out of reach, standing up in front of her.
“You’re too adorable for your own good when you make that pouty face. It’s no wonder ghosts flock to you.” For a moment, Micaela stared at Manuela, a soft smile falling from her lips, leaving only anxiety to plague her face.
“I’ll be fine for the night,” Manuela told her, avoiding her eyes, afraid of what she might find in them. “I’ll, um, let you out the front door.”
That put a smile back on Micaela’s face. “Oh, so you’re not going to make me climb out the window use the fire escape again?” she joked.
“I should.” Manuela huffed. “You deserve it.”
Micaela threw her hands up in mock insult. “What mysterious thing did I do to make you angry this time?”
“You’re keeping me up.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll get out of your hair,” Micaela said. “For the night.”
She opened the door to Manuela’s bed room and waited for Manuela to slip off the bed to join her. Pulling her blankets up around her, Manuela followed in her wake, unlocking the apparently useless locks on the door. Micaela paused in the doorway.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow? Call me if anything else strange happens. Or, you know, just stop by. I’m not that far.”
“Sure.” Manuela shrugged. “Night.”
“I think it’s morning already.”
“Go to bed, smart ass. And don’t think you can sneak in through my window every night now.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” And then Micaela was gone. Manuela did not wait until she heard the building’s front door slam shut behind her before closing and locking the door-that would have been too pathetic. She went to the kitchen and brewed a pot of tea for herself before settling in bed with the book she had been reading earlier in the evening, too riled up to even think of going back to sleep. The apartment once again felt lonely without Micaela’s voice and presence, but Manuela could deal with it. She would be tired in the morning, but there was nothing she could do about that. With one last look in the corner where the dark shadow had been, she flipped the book open and tried to lose herself in the story.
-
By the time she had made it three quarters of the way through her book, natural light had come spilling in through her window, along with the chirping of birds. The street lamps had been turned off for the night, and Manuela decided that this was as good a time as any to get ready for the day.
She lay the charm necklace on the edge of the sink and took a long, warm shower, washing away the dread from the night before under the spray. When she got out and caught a look at herself in the fogged up bathroom mirror, she groaned at the dark circles under her eyes. Oh well, she might as well play the part of the forlorn writer well. She slipped into some clothes and went to the kitchen to heat up the tea from last night and make some toast. While she was eating, she checked the clock. She was up early enough that she might be able to walk part way to the library for work this morning. The fresh air would do her some good. God was she tired. She lay her head down on the table and rested her eyes for just a minute…
When she opened them again, broad daylight was streaming in from behind her curtains. She checked the clock and swore. If she did not leave right now, she was going to be late.
She dashed out the door, only remembering at the last minute to run back in and grab her bag with her school materials. She nearly tripped in front of the entrance of her building, but she caught her self against a light pole. Luckily the only person to see her mishap was a tall, pale skinned woman in black pumps and a violet sun dress who was striding down the sidewalk toward her, a large black purse swinging from her shoulder. The woman tossed her blond hair over her shoulder and smirked at Manuela, who turned her eyes to her feet as she hurried to the bus stop, a furious flush making its way down her neck.
There was a rumbling from down the street, and Manuela looked behind her to see the bus that she needed heading for the stop. She picked up her pace, praying that she would not trip again where all the passengers would be able to see her. As she passed the woman, Manuela skirted to the edge of the sidewalk closest to the curve, trying to give her a wide berth. She did not notice the purse until she felt it slam into her, sending her careening into the road. There was a shout, a screech of tires and brakes, and then a hand yanking her back onto the sidewalk right as the bus she was supposed to be catching rolled over the spot she had just occupied in the street.
Her breath caught in her throat, and it felt like her ears were in a wind tunnel for just a few seconds, but then everything came rushing back into focus. She was left trembling on the sidewalk with a pair of warm hands still on her arms.
“Jesus Christ, Manuela! What were you doing?!”
Manuela looked up at Micaela who was staring at her with her eyebrows knitted in shock. Straightening up, Manuela brushed off her knees and stared up the street. “There was a a woman whose bag knocked into me, and…” She looked up and down the street, but the woman was nowhere to be seen.
Micaela followed her gaze. “Where’s that charm I gave you last night?” she asked, turning slowly back to her. “You do have it with you, don’t you?” She grabbed Manuela’s bag from her and unzipped it while Manuela squawked indignantly.
“Don’t look through my stuff without my permission! Who do you think you are?” Manuela tried to rip her bag from Micaela’s grasp, but Micaela already had her head stuck inside the opening.
“You don’t have it, do you? I told you to keep it with you. How could you forget after last night-”
“Don’t say that kind of stuff so loudly,” Manuela warned, pulling Micaela’s head out of her bag and clamping a hand over her mouth. “People might get the wrong idea.”
“The wrong idea about what?” Micaela quirked her lip up before frowning again. “Seriously, you don’t have the charm vial? Come on, Manuela, you just got pushed into a street by a spirit.”
“I…must have forgotten it somewhere. In my bathroom or something.” Manuela scowled. “How was I supposed to know this would happen?”
“I did give it to you for a reason…” Micaela took in the strain in Manuela’s face. “Why don’t you come in for a bit? I’ll make you something to eat.”
Manuela shook her head and said, “No. If I miss this bus…” She turned to watch the bus pull away from the stop and lumber down the road, turning at the first crossroads. “Damn it, I’m going to be late!”
“Oh!” Micaela’s face lit up and she grabbed Manuela by both arms and gave her a little excited shake. “I know, Julito can give you a lift!”
Manuela protested. “I am not riding on the back of his rickety little scooter. I don’t have a death wish.”
“Well, do you have a better idea?”
“I’ll just wait for the next bus.” Which would not come for twenty minutes.
“I thought you were just worried about being late.” Micaela poked her in the cheek, only to have Manuela slap her hand away. “Come on, Julito’s not that bad of a driver.”
Manuela looked up and down the street for an alternative, before asking, her shoulders slumped, “Do you have an extra helmet? I’m not riding that thing without some kind of protection.”
“Sure, Julito never wears his. Oh, but first you need to go back and grab your charm.”
“I’m going to be late-”
“Manuela.” Micaela’s eyes flashed. “I’m trying to be nice about this, but you’re making it difficult. Go back and grab the charm. It would make me feel a lot better knowing you have it with you. I won’t always be there to drag you out of the street.”
Manuela flushed brightly and scuffed her shoes against the pavement. Her chin trembled in a scowl. “Fine.”
Micaela went to her shop to let her brother know about the plans she had made for him, while Manuela trudged back to her apartment for the charm. At this point she almost considered calling in sick to work, but one look around her apartment reminded her of how much she needed the money. When she came back out, Micaela and her brother, straddling the moped, were waiting for her.
Micaela glanced over her and asked, “So, why isn’t it around your neck?”
Groaning, Manuela slipped the cord over her head and tucked the vial beneath the collar of her shirt so that it rested against the skin above her breast bone. “Are you happy now?”
“Very. Okay, Let’s get you to work on time!” She handed Manuela the helmet.
Manuela took her place behind Julio, her hands hovering over his back until she decided to just grab his shoulders. “It’s off of-” she started to say, but Julio interrupted her.
“I know where it is.” Then he turned to his sister. “You have to finish putting up the posters. I won’t have time if I’m running errands for you.” He jerked his head, indicating Manuela, who glared at him.
Micaela said, “Don’t worry about! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Then she gave Manuela a pat on the back and said, “Stay safe,” just seconds before Julio sped off down the street, dodging in and out of traffic as if he were trying to qualify for a race.
The entire trip through the city they spent weaving in between busses and cars, and narrowly avoiding pedestrians that one time when Julio decided to take a shortcut over a sidewalk. Manuela’s heart was stuck like a fist in her throat. She could barely breath for fear that she might lose her grip on Julio’s shoulders and be lost under a bus wheel, this time with no one to save her. The charm around her neck would be no match for Julio the Unholy Terror.
Just when Manuela was sure she was going to throw up, Julio pulled up in front of the Conservatory’s Library. When she dismounted, she nearly fell over, her legs felt so wobbly. Her face flushed a brilliant red, and she checked to see if anyone had noticed. Behind her Julio was snickering, so she flipped him a rather unladylike gesture and muttered, “Thanks,” under her breath. Immediately he sped off to terrorize the streets once more.
The charm vial hung heavy against her heart, and she turned to look up and down the street before she entered the library. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, nothing to indicate that Manuela had just had two (three, if you count the ride over) harrowing experiences within the past eight hours. Besides the man who was walking twelve yapping dogs, everyone else was strolling about with not a care in the world.
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she might have caught a glimpse of long, golden hair, but when she turned her head, it was gone. She needed to stop being so paranoid or she would never be able to make it through the day. The woman who had pushed her into the street had probably just been in a hurry, not spirit as Micaela had insinuated. Shaking her head clear, Manuela opened the door and went inside to work. The crisp scent of paper and ink greeted her, washing away her worries for the time being.
Inside, Maria, the other student worker, was sitting behind the circulation desk, filing her pink lacquered nails.
“I thought you were going to be late,” Maria said, as Manuela set her bag down behind the desk. “What would I have done without you?”
“Actually worked for once,” Manuela muttered under her breath. She did not mind Maria too much, as long as the woman stayed out of her business, but her ability to find everything to do but the task she was assigned was frustrating. “Have you checked the book drops yet?”
“Book drops?”
Manuela sighed. “I’ll get them.” She fished the key ring out of the desk drawer, grabbed a cart, and headed down in the elevator to the book drops by the main entrance. With each book she pulled out, the charm got caught on the edge of the book drop, jerking her neck down painfully when she tried to stand back up. When she was finally finished, she went back upstairs with a scowl on her face and a twinge in her neck. Maria watched with an eyebrow raised as she discharged her own pile of books without bothering to check them for damage.
When the charm caught on one of the books again, Manuela cursed under her breath and slammed the volume on the counter, belatedly checking that no one was around to notice.
“Why don’t you keep it in your bag?” Maria suggested, leaning against a book and resting her chin in one hand. “I mean, it’s kind of gaudy, and if it’s giving you problems…”
Manuela was about to retort that she was not wearing it to be fashionable, but she stopped herself before the words got out. Micaela was not around to give her grief about wearing it, and as long as it was in her bag, it would be close enough to her, right? She shrugged and pulled it over her head, looping the cord a few times around her hand and laying it in one of the pockets of her bag.
Maria did not go back to her task after giving her advice, minimizing the discharge screen and opening up Facebook instead. “It was a gift, wasn’t it?” she said, scanning through a classmate’s pictures. “I always get the most embarrassing things from relatives, and then they expect me to wear them in public. And I can’t just tell Tía Luisa that my birthday blouse looks like a circus tent. But at least with a necklace, you can take it off after a while.”
Manuela was sure that Maria must have learned to breath through her eyes or her skin because she never paused in talking for more than half a second. It would would have been impossible to get a word in edgewise, which was just fine, since Manuela hated being expected to participate in a conversation when she had work to focus on. She was half listening to Maria’s story about the Easter dress from Hell, when Martín’s name caught her attention.
“Martín did what?” she asked. He had probably made a fool out of himself. Again. No surprise there.
“You didn’t hear?” Maria gaped at her. “It was all over the news last night. He was in an accident, got hit by bus and nearly died. Or did die. I’m not sure. But he’s in the hospital now and they’re not sure if he’s going to make it.”
It felt like the floor had fallen out from under Manuela. She braced herself on the counter and willed herself not to vomit. She knew she could not have been expected to know about every little thing that happened to her friends, but now her problems seemed insignificant and petty in comparison. Had he tried to call her for help? No, no, that was silly, of course he would not have. But maybe someone else had? She kicked herself for forgetting to turn the ringer on her phone. A quick check revealed that Daniel, Martín’s cousin, had left one message the night before, Pls call. Vry important :(
With shaking hands, she started to call him back, when Maria said, “Oh my god, I thought you lost your leg!”
The cell phone fell with a soft thud into Manuela’s lap, and she scrambled to hang up the call before Daniel could pick up. Then she raised her wide eyes to Martín, who was leaning against the other side of the counter. His eyes had dark circles under them, and there was a nasty looking bruise running up his arm, but otherwise he did not look as if he had just been hit by a bike, let alone a bus. “Martín?” She hissed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m allowed to be here, aren’t I,” he said, his eyes flicking this way and that as he drummed his fingers on the counter. “I mean, I am a student. I’m supposed to use the library to study, right?”
“No, I mean-” Manuela glanced at Maria for confirmation, “-weren’t you just in an accident? How are you up? Shouldn’t you be at home? A-are you okay?”
“You heard about that? It was horrible! The doctors said it was a miracle I recovered so quickly. They kept me overnight for observations, but apparently I’m just so full of health that not even a bus can keep me out of commission for long.” He shrugged, wincing only a little.
“You need to tell me all the gory details,” Maria said, staring at him like he was a particularly interesting animal in a zoo.
Manuela interrupted before Martín could oblige her co-worker. “Maybe when you’re not on duty. Now, what do you need that’s so important you decided to come here rather than rest at your apartment?”
“I…” He glanced at Maria. “I have a project due soon. Can you find some books for me upstairs?”
“What’s your topic? I can tell you where they are.”
“Can’t you show me?”
Manuela purposefully did not look at Maria, who had gone back to updating her Facebook, probably about Martín’s miraculous recovery. “I can’t leave the desk unmanned.”
“Come on, she’ll be fine for a few minutes. And I might need someone to lean on.” Martín gnawed on his lip. “I’ll tell you my topic when we get upstairs.”
Maybe it was because she needed to get away from Maria posting about Martín’s accident, or maybe it was because Martín was standing alive in front of her when both of them could be in the morgue right now, but Manuela sighed loudly and led Martín upstairs.
“So what’s your topic?” She asked again once they were away from the desk.
“Well…” Martín pulled a book off a nearby shelf and flipped through it, shoving it into another shelf they passed. Manuela gave a strangled gasp and rushed over to retrieve the book before it became lost in the bowels of the library, while Martín ignored her pain.
“Come on, I don’t have all day to take care of you,” she said, willing herself not to tug her hair out. Martín was obviously having a rougher day than she was, but that did not stop her from wanting to strangle him.
“I’m looking for books on ghosts.” His face was flushed. Manuela froze for a half a moment, but Martín did not seem to notice. “Not ghost stories or fiction or whatever. Research. Like people’s actual experiences with them. Not that I believe in that kind of stuff or anything.” He added. “I just…overheard people talking about seeing a ghost and stuff and wanted to set them straight.”
Manuela nodded and hurried ahead of him to the section he was looking for, hoping he would not notice her shaking hands. She wondered what he would say if he knew that she could see ghosts. Would he call her stupid? Or say that she was just impressionable? Or maybe even that she needed medicine to take care of her ‘hallucinations’? This was why she kept her ability a secret from everyone she knew-well, everyone except Micaela and Julio, but that was just because Micaela had known using her own powers and insight. Otherwise, Manuela would never have bothered to tell her. At least Micaela did not look at her any differently for her ability, but she could not say the same if she ever told anyone else. Luciano would probably just smile and secretly think she was crazy. Martín would tell it to her face, and she wanted to put that moment off as long as possible.
“Well, maybe it wasn’t a ghost,” Martín said, covering his chin with a broad hand and frowning. His eyes darted to the side and his forehead wrinkled in thought. “But something else…otherworldly? Because you could not see through him. I don’t know, these people weren’t clear, but basically they said this ghost-person thing was harassing them and claiming that they would die unless they...um…you get the idea. So if you could find stuff on that for me, that’d be great.”
Manuela stared at him. Maybe Martín was the one she had to worry about going crazy. Or maybe not. She did know that he was a terrible liar. She turned back to the shelf to scan over the spines.
“Did they mention anything about how the ghost looked? Um, did it look like it was in a vintage photograph? Like, were colors faded?” Manuela asked, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
Martín frowned again. “No…I mean, ah, no. No, it didn’t look like that. But, uh, do you know what that means? The faded thing?”
This was too surreal. Manuela almost found herself spilling everything she knew, but she decided against it. What if this was just some elaborate ruse? Not that Martín would be capable of something so deceptive; he was more the style to let you know when he was trying to take you down. And why would he have a reason to hurt her with this? Sure, he was arrogant, and sometimes she really just wanted to tell him to go screw off, but they were friends, right? At least she thought so. Still, she was probably reading too much into his words, and if she was not, she was not ready for someone else to know about her, even if it was Martín.
“I…know someone you might be able to talk to,” Manuela said, after several deep breaths. “She’s kind of an expert in this sort of stuff.”
“You’re not going to send me to one of those whack job psychics, are you?” Martín raised an eyebrow at her.
“She’s not a psychic, or a whack job,” Manuela growled. “She’s good at what she does.”
“And what does she do?”
“She’s a witch.” Her face flushed in embarrassment as she said it.
Martín barked with laughter, bringing a hand to his face to cover his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Manuela. A witch? Really? Does she fly around on a broomstick with a black cat or something?”
“No, she deals with folk medicine. A lot of people go to her for help.” That was a lie, but what the hell. Martín did not need to know that the only people who frequented Micaela’s shop were older folks who had moved to the city from the country and would rather see her for their ailments than a cold, clinical doctor.
“Okay, who is this ‘witch’ you want me to visit. What can she tell me about these ghosts?”
“Her name is Micaela Prado. She has a shop near my apartment where she sees people.”
“Madame Prado?” Martín snorted again. “Her sign outside says she’s a psychic. I mean, she has delicious food, but I’m not sure I’d trust her to anything-” Martín’s face went slack, and he stared of into space, his eyes twitching almost as if he was watching a movie being played out on an invisible screen before him. “Can she help with nightmares and dreams? Like, make something to help you sleep the whole night through?”
“Probably…”
“You know, that’s probably all I need. Never mind about everything else.”
“Right. I’ll tell her you’ll be stopping by. And she’s not a psychic. Trust me, I’d know by now. I think she just has that sign out there because she’s too stupid to realize that it will give people the wrong impression.”
“Ah, alright.” Martín bit his lip and looked away for a moment before turning back to her with a wide smile. “Anyway, I’m glad I was able to give you something to do at work. I can’t be letting my favorite little lady get bored now can I?”
Manuela buried her face in her hands. “Why do you have to be so annoying?”
“I know you’d miss me if I weren’t around.”
Manuela felt her heart clench. “I guess that’s true,” she mumbled.
Martín smiled at her, but it looked tight and fell apart somewhere between his lips and eyes. “I know,” he repeated. “I’m not going to leave any time soon.”
She watched him leave without taking a book, wondering if she should have pried more into what he was getting himself into, something he probably would have done had their roles been reversed.
-
On his way back to the apartment, Martín found his phone’s inbox full of texts from Daniel asking where his ‘stupid, careless, cousin with a death wish’ was, which Martín thought was a little over the top. If the doctors thought he was well enough to go home, then he was well enough to take care of himself. Going to the library definitely did not count as strenuous activity.
It was a miracle, they had told him, but the x-rays and cat scans did not lie. He had suffered little more than a few fractured ribs, some bruising, and abrasions. Just a day after being recorded as dead, Martín was well enough to walk out of the hospital on his own with nothing but a heart monitor and bottle of pain killers. He gingerly rubbed his side and popped a few pills.
When he arrived back at his apartment, his cousin was there waiting for him. “I was so worried about you, you have no idea!” Daniel told him, clutching Martín’s shoulders. He checked him over as if Martín might spurt blood out of every orifice at any second. “How are you feeling?”
“My ribs hurt-” He winced. “Okay, everything hurts a little. But I’ll be fine.” Part of him was beginning to wonder if the night before had just been a drug induced dream, but part of him was prepared to do whatever it took to stay alive. Daniel and Manuela were already worried about him as it was; he was not going to leave them to deal with his death, if it came to that.
Daniel went to class a while later after making Martín swear on all the mate in the apartment that he would stay there and rest. He lay on his side on the couch, taking slow, shallow breaths, thinking about what his reception would be like back at school. Everyone would probably follow him everywhere and get him a bunch of get well gifts, flowers and candy and if he was lucky, kisses. He would practically be a celebrity. The thought should have excited him more, but what had he done to earn the attention? Mistake a puff of air for a woman. Get hit by a bus. Die. Given a few weeks to recuperate, he might enjoy it more, but right now he did not want to be forced to put on a smile and talk about lying in a broken pile in the street over and over and over again to people who did not really care.
When he awoke from his nap, unsure as to when he had actually fallen asleep, there was a person in a gray skirt and blazer sitting on the end of the couch, her legs and arms crossed as she stared intently at Martín from behind her glasses.
“Nice to see you awake, finally,” she said.
Martín nearly fell off bed but luckily for his ribs, he caught himself in time. “Who the hell-”
The woman’s eyebrows raised. “Sebastián. Your short term memory should not have been damaged.”
Martín blinked, subtracting the lipstick and skirt in his mind. And the breasts. This…person was not making it easy to equivocally decide whether he was dreaming or not. “You’ve changed a little since the last time we met,” he said, wondering if hallucinations were a side affect of his pain killers.
“Ah, so I have,” Sebastián said, looking down at his body. He straightened his skirt. “I never understood your human obsession with physicality.”
“Which is why you’re dressed so fashionably, right?”
“Martín Hernández, it would be in your best interest to pay more attention to your task rather than my body and clothing.” When Martín frowned, Sebastián held up a hand. “And no, you are not dreaming. A dream would not cause your body to recover so quickly.”
“My body was in top condition, that’s why-”
“No. Stop. I merely sped up your healing process in order to maximize the time available for you to complete your task.” He stood and walked in front of the couch so Martín had to crane his neck to look at him. “Have you given any thought as to how you are going to do this?”
Martín narrowed his eyes, but he ruined the look by wincing a little. “You want me to tell you how I’m going to kill someone?”
“No, I want to know if you’ve even thought about it. You have less than twenty seven days now, you know.”
Twenty seven days. Twenty seven days to work up the nerve to kill someone. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.”
“And?”
Martín sighed. “And I’m on it.” He shifted to get into a more comfortable position. “Couldn’t you have ‘sped up my healing process’ a little quicker?”
Sebastián raised his chin, his body seeming to almost grow larger, more forbidding. Dangerous.“We are being generous with healing your body. Do not test our patience. Do you understand?”
Martín’s breath caught in his throat. If he did not make it in time, would he just drop dead on the street? Or would Sebastián come back to finish him off? Yesterday seemed so long ago, now, but just a few hours ago he had been looking at his own dead body. He did not want to experience that moment again any time soon. After swallowing around the lump in his throat, he said, “Fine. It’s not like I need a fully functioning body to pull this off.”
Sebastián stared at him in silence for a few long moments, while Martín scowled back and squirmed under the weight of his gaze. Finally he said, “You should be fine by tomorrow. I’ll be back to check on you periodically throughout the rest of the month.”
“You’d better come back in a body I recognize,” Martín blurted, as if anything he said would somehow break the spell of unease that Sebastián had put him under. “I can’t waste my precious time trying to figure out if every person on the street is you.”
“I suppose we can work something out.” Sebastián said. “Although you need to learn sooner or later that a person does not equal their body. This assumption can lead to quite a bit of trouble.”
“Okay, I don’t need an existential lecture from a ghost,” Martín said. “Now, I know you would probably love to stay and chat with me, but I’m going to take another nap.”
“Good. I have things to take care of.”
Martín was about to make a retort, but Sebastián was gone already. Grumbling, he lay himself down again and glared at a chair on the other side of the room. It had not quite sunk in yet that he was actually going to have to kill someone in order to survive, but his hands were already beginning to shake against his chest. Last night, when he thought everything was just a dream, he had considered Luciano, hadn’t he? Luciano did not have anyone who would really miss him. And Luciano would not have to know about why all this was happening. He would just…die. And then everything would be better. Right.
But how would he do it? He could not just walk into Luciano’s apartment and stab him. Or choke him at school. He had no real idea what Luciano did after school, now that he thought about it. He made music, played football, and lived with some Colombian girl up on the north side of town, but beyond that, he was a mystery. Manuela did not seem to mind him, and he had overheard a rumor from some girls at school about how great he was in bed. Not that that would help him at all, but he needed to start somewhere.
He should talk to Luciano. If he could get closer to him, he would have more chances of offing him quietly. This would work. Martín was going to survive this month; there was not a doubt about that in his mind.
Characters/Pairings: Martín/Luciano (Argentina/Brazil), Manuela/Micaela (fem!Chile/fem!Perú) and various other characters, but there are too many to mention here. Characters belong to their respective creators and latin_hetalia
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Human AU, general creepiness, and really implausible medical crap
So in the last chapter, Manuela was chilling with a little ghost girl, and Martín had a special visitor in the hospital. What happens next?????
Manuela awoke with a start in her bed, her muscles tensing until she realized that she was no longer dreaming of falling from a cliff. Her eyes snapped open, adjusting to the darkness around her. A square of light from the street lamps outside illuminated a patch of ground near the foot of her bed, but even with that, the room felt like pitch blackness, darker than Manuela remembered it ever being. The shadows curdled and swirled in the corners of her vision, and she shivered at the temperature drop. She pulled her blankets up to her chin and looked around with just her eyes, trying to make as few movements as possible. Something clenched around her heart, and she heard herself whimper, a grating noise clawing its way out of her throat, desperate to make itself known. It was too much, so she sat bolt upright, scrambling for the light switch behind her, her fingers shaking with dread as she sought to banish her fears with false daylight.
With the lamp shining, her eyes frantically searched for the source of her terror. When she was a child, she could pretend that light was the panacea of all fears, but now she knew better. She had not expected it to work. The corner of her room near the door remained dark and in shadows, and something…something was lurking there. Manuela shuddered and took a deep breath, preparing herself to talk without sounding as terrified as she actually felt.
“Get out of my apartment. N-now.” She only stuttered once, which was a huge accomplishment, in her opinion.
The darkness stirred.
“I said,” she repeated. “Get out of my apartment now. I command you.” It would have sounded much more convincing if her voice would stop wavering for two seconds.
Then, a thin, reedy sound quivered through the air molecules from the corner, drifting and scraping against Manuela’s ear drums. Her limbs trembled at the sound of the thing’s laughter, and then it spoke.
“We are going to have fun,” it cooed, “Just you see.”
Manuela froze, and then tried to scream, but the sound got caught somewhere in her throat. After several excruciating seconds, she finally forced the sound out and screamed at the top of her lungs, screamed until her voice broke off in a rattling gasp and she was left gasping for air against a weight settling over her chest. The darkness crept closer.
She should have known that these spirits would be the death of her. She should have been prepared for it, yet here she was, cowering on her bed like a little girl who had just found out that the monsters under her bed were real, which was more than a little embarrassing because she had been talking to the ghosts in her closet since she was five.
The sudden pounding on the glass of her bedroom window jolted her out of her trance. She jumped as Micaela’s muffled voice shouted, “Open up! Come on, Manuela, open up!”
Still keeping her eyes locked on the darkness, which was-oh God!-drifting closer to her, she crawled to the end of her bed and leaned over to unlock the window and crank it open, letting Micaela scramble inside. As soon as she entered, the shadow curled in on itself, hissing as it dissolved into nothingness, taking the oppressive air with it. Manuela let out a shuddering sigh of relief, and did not even protest when Micaela crawled onto the bed next to her and pulled her into a hug.
“Hey, hey, it’s gone, isn’t it?” Micaela said, running a soothing hand over Manuela’s hair. Manuela clung to her tunic with fingers like vice grips and hid her face. God, how mortifying to let Micaela see her like this, nearly wetting her pants like a little baby. She would probably make fun of her later once she came to her senses and realized what a wuss Manuela really was. She could see ghosts, for God’s sake, and yet she was still terrified of the things that crept around in the dark.
That kind of worrying could wait till later. For now, Manuela tried to focus on calming her breathing by listening to Micaela’s heartbeat and letting her own match it. After sitting like that for a minute, Manuela pulled away, still refusing to meet Micaela’s eyes.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “You don’t have to-”
“Don’t be stupid,” Micaela cut in, brushing Manuela’s bangs away from her face gently. “You’re allowed to feel scared. I couldn’t even see it, and I was freaked out by that thing, whatever was in here.”
Manuela took a deep breath before pushing Micaela off. “I…I just needed a minute. I’m fine, really.” Damn her voice for wavering.
Micaela let herself be pushed away but still kept her hands on Manuela’s shoulders, not letting her move too far off. “You sure? You don’t sound fine.”
Manuela’s eyes finally dared to flick to Micaela’s face, but she kept her sight on the curve of her nose. “Quit babying me.”
“I’m not, I-” Micaela groaned and let go, leaving Manuela’s skin feeling cold where her hands had been. “God, why are you so difficult?”
“Well, why the hell were you trying to sneak into my room in the middle of the night? By the fire escape of all places?” The timing had been impeccable, and Manuela was lucky that Micaela had happened to be peeping in on her at the right moment, but still. It was the principle of the matter.
Micaela ran her hands through her hair and looked around the room. “I got a bad feeling, like something bad was going to happen. It happens sometimes, you know?” She patted Manuela’s knee, which twitched in reaction. “So I laid out a few cards and decided to check in on you. I’m glad I came when I did. Really, are you sure you’re alright? Do you want to stay at my place for a while?”
“No. Stop coddling me. I’m fine.”
Micaela looked skeptical, but she shrugged. “If you say so. You know where to find me if you ever need me.”
“Yeah, if I ever need a headache,” Manuela muttered under her breath.
Groaning in frustration at Manuela’s obstinacy, Micaela pulled a vial attached to a long cord out of her pouch and placed it in Manuela’s hand. “Take this. Just, keep it with you. It’ll provide protection.” In the middle of the vial, sandwiched between soapstone, bark, and leaves, was a small, ceramic fist that must have been broken off a figurine. “And let me put a charm on your room, please. It would make me feel a lot better knowing you were protected in your room, even if you don’t come stay with me.”
“Whatever,” Manuela grumbled, watching Micaela rise and begin repeating incantations in each corner of her room. She pulled the charm over her head. “But I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing. It was probably a one time thing”
“Sure, just keep on thinking that. It’s not like I’m your friend or anything.”
Manuela flushed, but ignored Micaela’s comment, intent on the way her hands cut, smooth, flowing paths through the air. The soft tone of her voice as she spoke the incantations was practically mesmerizing. She sprinkled a bit of oil in each corner of the room, and then returned to sit on Manuela’s bed.
“So like I said, just make sure you keep the charm vial with you-that should help-and I’ll come over sometime soon to check the room again. Are you going to be able to get back to sleep?”
“Of course,” Manuela spat. “I’m not a baby.” She planned on staying up the rest of the night reading. That darkness had shaken her up, and she did not trust herself to close her eyes for any length of time without upsetting herself even more. She considered asking Micaela for a ward against nightmares, but decided not to bother. She did not want to make her even more worried than she already was.
“Well, if you’re sure…” Micaela stared at her pensively for a few long seconds before pinching Manuela’s cheek.
“Hey! What the hell!” Manuela flailed and tried to smack her hand away, but Micaela was already out of reach, standing up in front of her.
“You’re too adorable for your own good when you make that pouty face. It’s no wonder ghosts flock to you.” For a moment, Micaela stared at Manuela, a soft smile falling from her lips, leaving only anxiety to plague her face.
“I’ll be fine for the night,” Manuela told her, avoiding her eyes, afraid of what she might find in them. “I’ll, um, let you out the front door.”
That put a smile back on Micaela’s face. “Oh, so you’re not going to make me climb out the window use the fire escape again?” she joked.
“I should.” Manuela huffed. “You deserve it.”
Micaela threw her hands up in mock insult. “What mysterious thing did I do to make you angry this time?”
“You’re keeping me up.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll get out of your hair,” Micaela said. “For the night.”
She opened the door to Manuela’s bed room and waited for Manuela to slip off the bed to join her. Pulling her blankets up around her, Manuela followed in her wake, unlocking the apparently useless locks on the door. Micaela paused in the doorway.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow? Call me if anything else strange happens. Or, you know, just stop by. I’m not that far.”
“Sure.” Manuela shrugged. “Night.”
“I think it’s morning already.”
“Go to bed, smart ass. And don’t think you can sneak in through my window every night now.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” And then Micaela was gone. Manuela did not wait until she heard the building’s front door slam shut behind her before closing and locking the door-that would have been too pathetic. She went to the kitchen and brewed a pot of tea for herself before settling in bed with the book she had been reading earlier in the evening, too riled up to even think of going back to sleep. The apartment once again felt lonely without Micaela’s voice and presence, but Manuela could deal with it. She would be tired in the morning, but there was nothing she could do about that. With one last look in the corner where the dark shadow had been, she flipped the book open and tried to lose herself in the story.
-
By the time she had made it three quarters of the way through her book, natural light had come spilling in through her window, along with the chirping of birds. The street lamps had been turned off for the night, and Manuela decided that this was as good a time as any to get ready for the day.
She lay the charm necklace on the edge of the sink and took a long, warm shower, washing away the dread from the night before under the spray. When she got out and caught a look at herself in the fogged up bathroom mirror, she groaned at the dark circles under her eyes. Oh well, she might as well play the part of the forlorn writer well. She slipped into some clothes and went to the kitchen to heat up the tea from last night and make some toast. While she was eating, she checked the clock. She was up early enough that she might be able to walk part way to the library for work this morning. The fresh air would do her some good. God was she tired. She lay her head down on the table and rested her eyes for just a minute…
When she opened them again, broad daylight was streaming in from behind her curtains. She checked the clock and swore. If she did not leave right now, she was going to be late.
She dashed out the door, only remembering at the last minute to run back in and grab her bag with her school materials. She nearly tripped in front of the entrance of her building, but she caught her self against a light pole. Luckily the only person to see her mishap was a tall, pale skinned woman in black pumps and a violet sun dress who was striding down the sidewalk toward her, a large black purse swinging from her shoulder. The woman tossed her blond hair over her shoulder and smirked at Manuela, who turned her eyes to her feet as she hurried to the bus stop, a furious flush making its way down her neck.
There was a rumbling from down the street, and Manuela looked behind her to see the bus that she needed heading for the stop. She picked up her pace, praying that she would not trip again where all the passengers would be able to see her. As she passed the woman, Manuela skirted to the edge of the sidewalk closest to the curve, trying to give her a wide berth. She did not notice the purse until she felt it slam into her, sending her careening into the road. There was a shout, a screech of tires and brakes, and then a hand yanking her back onto the sidewalk right as the bus she was supposed to be catching rolled over the spot she had just occupied in the street.
Her breath caught in her throat, and it felt like her ears were in a wind tunnel for just a few seconds, but then everything came rushing back into focus. She was left trembling on the sidewalk with a pair of warm hands still on her arms.
“Jesus Christ, Manuela! What were you doing?!”
Manuela looked up at Micaela who was staring at her with her eyebrows knitted in shock. Straightening up, Manuela brushed off her knees and stared up the street. “There was a a woman whose bag knocked into me, and…” She looked up and down the street, but the woman was nowhere to be seen.
Micaela followed her gaze. “Where’s that charm I gave you last night?” she asked, turning slowly back to her. “You do have it with you, don’t you?” She grabbed Manuela’s bag from her and unzipped it while Manuela squawked indignantly.
“Don’t look through my stuff without my permission! Who do you think you are?” Manuela tried to rip her bag from Micaela’s grasp, but Micaela already had her head stuck inside the opening.
“You don’t have it, do you? I told you to keep it with you. How could you forget after last night-”
“Don’t say that kind of stuff so loudly,” Manuela warned, pulling Micaela’s head out of her bag and clamping a hand over her mouth. “People might get the wrong idea.”
“The wrong idea about what?” Micaela quirked her lip up before frowning again. “Seriously, you don’t have the charm vial? Come on, Manuela, you just got pushed into a street by a spirit.”
“I…must have forgotten it somewhere. In my bathroom or something.” Manuela scowled. “How was I supposed to know this would happen?”
“I did give it to you for a reason…” Micaela took in the strain in Manuela’s face. “Why don’t you come in for a bit? I’ll make you something to eat.”
Manuela shook her head and said, “No. If I miss this bus…” She turned to watch the bus pull away from the stop and lumber down the road, turning at the first crossroads. “Damn it, I’m going to be late!”
“Oh!” Micaela’s face lit up and she grabbed Manuela by both arms and gave her a little excited shake. “I know, Julito can give you a lift!”
Manuela protested. “I am not riding on the back of his rickety little scooter. I don’t have a death wish.”
“Well, do you have a better idea?”
“I’ll just wait for the next bus.” Which would not come for twenty minutes.
“I thought you were just worried about being late.” Micaela poked her in the cheek, only to have Manuela slap her hand away. “Come on, Julito’s not that bad of a driver.”
Manuela looked up and down the street for an alternative, before asking, her shoulders slumped, “Do you have an extra helmet? I’m not riding that thing without some kind of protection.”
“Sure, Julito never wears his. Oh, but first you need to go back and grab your charm.”
“I’m going to be late-”
“Manuela.” Micaela’s eyes flashed. “I’m trying to be nice about this, but you’re making it difficult. Go back and grab the charm. It would make me feel a lot better knowing you have it with you. I won’t always be there to drag you out of the street.”
Manuela flushed brightly and scuffed her shoes against the pavement. Her chin trembled in a scowl. “Fine.”
Micaela went to her shop to let her brother know about the plans she had made for him, while Manuela trudged back to her apartment for the charm. At this point she almost considered calling in sick to work, but one look around her apartment reminded her of how much she needed the money. When she came back out, Micaela and her brother, straddling the moped, were waiting for her.
Micaela glanced over her and asked, “So, why isn’t it around your neck?”
Groaning, Manuela slipped the cord over her head and tucked the vial beneath the collar of her shirt so that it rested against the skin above her breast bone. “Are you happy now?”
“Very. Okay, Let’s get you to work on time!” She handed Manuela the helmet.
Manuela took her place behind Julio, her hands hovering over his back until she decided to just grab his shoulders. “It’s off of-” she started to say, but Julio interrupted her.
“I know where it is.” Then he turned to his sister. “You have to finish putting up the posters. I won’t have time if I’m running errands for you.” He jerked his head, indicating Manuela, who glared at him.
Micaela said, “Don’t worry about! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Then she gave Manuela a pat on the back and said, “Stay safe,” just seconds before Julio sped off down the street, dodging in and out of traffic as if he were trying to qualify for a race.
The entire trip through the city they spent weaving in between busses and cars, and narrowly avoiding pedestrians that one time when Julio decided to take a shortcut over a sidewalk. Manuela’s heart was stuck like a fist in her throat. She could barely breath for fear that she might lose her grip on Julio’s shoulders and be lost under a bus wheel, this time with no one to save her. The charm around her neck would be no match for Julio the Unholy Terror.
Just when Manuela was sure she was going to throw up, Julio pulled up in front of the Conservatory’s Library. When she dismounted, she nearly fell over, her legs felt so wobbly. Her face flushed a brilliant red, and she checked to see if anyone had noticed. Behind her Julio was snickering, so she flipped him a rather unladylike gesture and muttered, “Thanks,” under her breath. Immediately he sped off to terrorize the streets once more.
The charm vial hung heavy against her heart, and she turned to look up and down the street before she entered the library. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, nothing to indicate that Manuela had just had two (three, if you count the ride over) harrowing experiences within the past eight hours. Besides the man who was walking twelve yapping dogs, everyone else was strolling about with not a care in the world.
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she might have caught a glimpse of long, golden hair, but when she turned her head, it was gone. She needed to stop being so paranoid or she would never be able to make it through the day. The woman who had pushed her into the street had probably just been in a hurry, not spirit as Micaela had insinuated. Shaking her head clear, Manuela opened the door and went inside to work. The crisp scent of paper and ink greeted her, washing away her worries for the time being.
Inside, Maria, the other student worker, was sitting behind the circulation desk, filing her pink lacquered nails.
“I thought you were going to be late,” Maria said, as Manuela set her bag down behind the desk. “What would I have done without you?”
“Actually worked for once,” Manuela muttered under her breath. She did not mind Maria too much, as long as the woman stayed out of her business, but her ability to find everything to do but the task she was assigned was frustrating. “Have you checked the book drops yet?”
“Book drops?”
Manuela sighed. “I’ll get them.” She fished the key ring out of the desk drawer, grabbed a cart, and headed down in the elevator to the book drops by the main entrance. With each book she pulled out, the charm got caught on the edge of the book drop, jerking her neck down painfully when she tried to stand back up. When she was finally finished, she went back upstairs with a scowl on her face and a twinge in her neck. Maria watched with an eyebrow raised as she discharged her own pile of books without bothering to check them for damage.
When the charm caught on one of the books again, Manuela cursed under her breath and slammed the volume on the counter, belatedly checking that no one was around to notice.
“Why don’t you keep it in your bag?” Maria suggested, leaning against a book and resting her chin in one hand. “I mean, it’s kind of gaudy, and if it’s giving you problems…”
Manuela was about to retort that she was not wearing it to be fashionable, but she stopped herself before the words got out. Micaela was not around to give her grief about wearing it, and as long as it was in her bag, it would be close enough to her, right? She shrugged and pulled it over her head, looping the cord a few times around her hand and laying it in one of the pockets of her bag.
Maria did not go back to her task after giving her advice, minimizing the discharge screen and opening up Facebook instead. “It was a gift, wasn’t it?” she said, scanning through a classmate’s pictures. “I always get the most embarrassing things from relatives, and then they expect me to wear them in public. And I can’t just tell Tía Luisa that my birthday blouse looks like a circus tent. But at least with a necklace, you can take it off after a while.”
Manuela was sure that Maria must have learned to breath through her eyes or her skin because she never paused in talking for more than half a second. It would would have been impossible to get a word in edgewise, which was just fine, since Manuela hated being expected to participate in a conversation when she had work to focus on. She was half listening to Maria’s story about the Easter dress from Hell, when Martín’s name caught her attention.
“Martín did what?” she asked. He had probably made a fool out of himself. Again. No surprise there.
“You didn’t hear?” Maria gaped at her. “It was all over the news last night. He was in an accident, got hit by bus and nearly died. Or did die. I’m not sure. But he’s in the hospital now and they’re not sure if he’s going to make it.”
It felt like the floor had fallen out from under Manuela. She braced herself on the counter and willed herself not to vomit. She knew she could not have been expected to know about every little thing that happened to her friends, but now her problems seemed insignificant and petty in comparison. Had he tried to call her for help? No, no, that was silly, of course he would not have. But maybe someone else had? She kicked herself for forgetting to turn the ringer on her phone. A quick check revealed that Daniel, Martín’s cousin, had left one message the night before, Pls call. Vry important :(
With shaking hands, she started to call him back, when Maria said, “Oh my god, I thought you lost your leg!”
The cell phone fell with a soft thud into Manuela’s lap, and she scrambled to hang up the call before Daniel could pick up. Then she raised her wide eyes to Martín, who was leaning against the other side of the counter. His eyes had dark circles under them, and there was a nasty looking bruise running up his arm, but otherwise he did not look as if he had just been hit by a bike, let alone a bus. “Martín?” She hissed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m allowed to be here, aren’t I,” he said, his eyes flicking this way and that as he drummed his fingers on the counter. “I mean, I am a student. I’m supposed to use the library to study, right?”
“No, I mean-” Manuela glanced at Maria for confirmation, “-weren’t you just in an accident? How are you up? Shouldn’t you be at home? A-are you okay?”
“You heard about that? It was horrible! The doctors said it was a miracle I recovered so quickly. They kept me overnight for observations, but apparently I’m just so full of health that not even a bus can keep me out of commission for long.” He shrugged, wincing only a little.
“You need to tell me all the gory details,” Maria said, staring at him like he was a particularly interesting animal in a zoo.
Manuela interrupted before Martín could oblige her co-worker. “Maybe when you’re not on duty. Now, what do you need that’s so important you decided to come here rather than rest at your apartment?”
“I…” He glanced at Maria. “I have a project due soon. Can you find some books for me upstairs?”
“What’s your topic? I can tell you where they are.”
“Can’t you show me?”
Manuela purposefully did not look at Maria, who had gone back to updating her Facebook, probably about Martín’s miraculous recovery. “I can’t leave the desk unmanned.”
“Come on, she’ll be fine for a few minutes. And I might need someone to lean on.” Martín gnawed on his lip. “I’ll tell you my topic when we get upstairs.”
Maybe it was because she needed to get away from Maria posting about Martín’s accident, or maybe it was because Martín was standing alive in front of her when both of them could be in the morgue right now, but Manuela sighed loudly and led Martín upstairs.
“So what’s your topic?” She asked again once they were away from the desk.
“Well…” Martín pulled a book off a nearby shelf and flipped through it, shoving it into another shelf they passed. Manuela gave a strangled gasp and rushed over to retrieve the book before it became lost in the bowels of the library, while Martín ignored her pain.
“Come on, I don’t have all day to take care of you,” she said, willing herself not to tug her hair out. Martín was obviously having a rougher day than she was, but that did not stop her from wanting to strangle him.
“I’m looking for books on ghosts.” His face was flushed. Manuela froze for a half a moment, but Martín did not seem to notice. “Not ghost stories or fiction or whatever. Research. Like people’s actual experiences with them. Not that I believe in that kind of stuff or anything.” He added. “I just…overheard people talking about seeing a ghost and stuff and wanted to set them straight.”
Manuela nodded and hurried ahead of him to the section he was looking for, hoping he would not notice her shaking hands. She wondered what he would say if he knew that she could see ghosts. Would he call her stupid? Or say that she was just impressionable? Or maybe even that she needed medicine to take care of her ‘hallucinations’? This was why she kept her ability a secret from everyone she knew-well, everyone except Micaela and Julio, but that was just because Micaela had known using her own powers and insight. Otherwise, Manuela would never have bothered to tell her. At least Micaela did not look at her any differently for her ability, but she could not say the same if she ever told anyone else. Luciano would probably just smile and secretly think she was crazy. Martín would tell it to her face, and she wanted to put that moment off as long as possible.
“Well, maybe it wasn’t a ghost,” Martín said, covering his chin with a broad hand and frowning. His eyes darted to the side and his forehead wrinkled in thought. “But something else…otherworldly? Because you could not see through him. I don’t know, these people weren’t clear, but basically they said this ghost-person thing was harassing them and claiming that they would die unless they...um…you get the idea. So if you could find stuff on that for me, that’d be great.”
Manuela stared at him. Maybe Martín was the one she had to worry about going crazy. Or maybe not. She did know that he was a terrible liar. She turned back to the shelf to scan over the spines.
“Did they mention anything about how the ghost looked? Um, did it look like it was in a vintage photograph? Like, were colors faded?” Manuela asked, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
Martín frowned again. “No…I mean, ah, no. No, it didn’t look like that. But, uh, do you know what that means? The faded thing?”
This was too surreal. Manuela almost found herself spilling everything she knew, but she decided against it. What if this was just some elaborate ruse? Not that Martín would be capable of something so deceptive; he was more the style to let you know when he was trying to take you down. And why would he have a reason to hurt her with this? Sure, he was arrogant, and sometimes she really just wanted to tell him to go screw off, but they were friends, right? At least she thought so. Still, she was probably reading too much into his words, and if she was not, she was not ready for someone else to know about her, even if it was Martín.
“I…know someone you might be able to talk to,” Manuela said, after several deep breaths. “She’s kind of an expert in this sort of stuff.”
“You’re not going to send me to one of those whack job psychics, are you?” Martín raised an eyebrow at her.
“She’s not a psychic, or a whack job,” Manuela growled. “She’s good at what she does.”
“And what does she do?”
“She’s a witch.” Her face flushed in embarrassment as she said it.
Martín barked with laughter, bringing a hand to his face to cover his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Manuela. A witch? Really? Does she fly around on a broomstick with a black cat or something?”
“No, she deals with folk medicine. A lot of people go to her for help.” That was a lie, but what the hell. Martín did not need to know that the only people who frequented Micaela’s shop were older folks who had moved to the city from the country and would rather see her for their ailments than a cold, clinical doctor.
“Okay, who is this ‘witch’ you want me to visit. What can she tell me about these ghosts?”
“Her name is Micaela Prado. She has a shop near my apartment where she sees people.”
“Madame Prado?” Martín snorted again. “Her sign outside says she’s a psychic. I mean, she has delicious food, but I’m not sure I’d trust her to anything-” Martín’s face went slack, and he stared of into space, his eyes twitching almost as if he was watching a movie being played out on an invisible screen before him. “Can she help with nightmares and dreams? Like, make something to help you sleep the whole night through?”
“Probably…”
“You know, that’s probably all I need. Never mind about everything else.”
“Right. I’ll tell her you’ll be stopping by. And she’s not a psychic. Trust me, I’d know by now. I think she just has that sign out there because she’s too stupid to realize that it will give people the wrong impression.”
“Ah, alright.” Martín bit his lip and looked away for a moment before turning back to her with a wide smile. “Anyway, I’m glad I was able to give you something to do at work. I can’t be letting my favorite little lady get bored now can I?”
Manuela buried her face in her hands. “Why do you have to be so annoying?”
“I know you’d miss me if I weren’t around.”
Manuela felt her heart clench. “I guess that’s true,” she mumbled.
Martín smiled at her, but it looked tight and fell apart somewhere between his lips and eyes. “I know,” he repeated. “I’m not going to leave any time soon.”
She watched him leave without taking a book, wondering if she should have pried more into what he was getting himself into, something he probably would have done had their roles been reversed.
-
On his way back to the apartment, Martín found his phone’s inbox full of texts from Daniel asking where his ‘stupid, careless, cousin with a death wish’ was, which Martín thought was a little over the top. If the doctors thought he was well enough to go home, then he was well enough to take care of himself. Going to the library definitely did not count as strenuous activity.
It was a miracle, they had told him, but the x-rays and cat scans did not lie. He had suffered little more than a few fractured ribs, some bruising, and abrasions. Just a day after being recorded as dead, Martín was well enough to walk out of the hospital on his own with nothing but a heart monitor and bottle of pain killers. He gingerly rubbed his side and popped a few pills.
When he arrived back at his apartment, his cousin was there waiting for him. “I was so worried about you, you have no idea!” Daniel told him, clutching Martín’s shoulders. He checked him over as if Martín might spurt blood out of every orifice at any second. “How are you feeling?”
“My ribs hurt-” He winced. “Okay, everything hurts a little. But I’ll be fine.” Part of him was beginning to wonder if the night before had just been a drug induced dream, but part of him was prepared to do whatever it took to stay alive. Daniel and Manuela were already worried about him as it was; he was not going to leave them to deal with his death, if it came to that.
Daniel went to class a while later after making Martín swear on all the mate in the apartment that he would stay there and rest. He lay on his side on the couch, taking slow, shallow breaths, thinking about what his reception would be like back at school. Everyone would probably follow him everywhere and get him a bunch of get well gifts, flowers and candy and if he was lucky, kisses. He would practically be a celebrity. The thought should have excited him more, but what had he done to earn the attention? Mistake a puff of air for a woman. Get hit by a bus. Die. Given a few weeks to recuperate, he might enjoy it more, but right now he did not want to be forced to put on a smile and talk about lying in a broken pile in the street over and over and over again to people who did not really care.
When he awoke from his nap, unsure as to when he had actually fallen asleep, there was a person in a gray skirt and blazer sitting on the end of the couch, her legs and arms crossed as she stared intently at Martín from behind her glasses.
“Nice to see you awake, finally,” she said.
Martín nearly fell off bed but luckily for his ribs, he caught himself in time. “Who the hell-”
The woman’s eyebrows raised. “Sebastián. Your short term memory should not have been damaged.”
Martín blinked, subtracting the lipstick and skirt in his mind. And the breasts. This…person was not making it easy to equivocally decide whether he was dreaming or not. “You’ve changed a little since the last time we met,” he said, wondering if hallucinations were a side affect of his pain killers.
“Ah, so I have,” Sebastián said, looking down at his body. He straightened his skirt. “I never understood your human obsession with physicality.”
“Which is why you’re dressed so fashionably, right?”
“Martín Hernández, it would be in your best interest to pay more attention to your task rather than my body and clothing.” When Martín frowned, Sebastián held up a hand. “And no, you are not dreaming. A dream would not cause your body to recover so quickly.”
“My body was in top condition, that’s why-”
“No. Stop. I merely sped up your healing process in order to maximize the time available for you to complete your task.” He stood and walked in front of the couch so Martín had to crane his neck to look at him. “Have you given any thought as to how you are going to do this?”
Martín narrowed his eyes, but he ruined the look by wincing a little. “You want me to tell you how I’m going to kill someone?”
“No, I want to know if you’ve even thought about it. You have less than twenty seven days now, you know.”
Twenty seven days. Twenty seven days to work up the nerve to kill someone. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.”
“And?”
Martín sighed. “And I’m on it.” He shifted to get into a more comfortable position. “Couldn’t you have ‘sped up my healing process’ a little quicker?”
Sebastián raised his chin, his body seeming to almost grow larger, more forbidding. Dangerous.“We are being generous with healing your body. Do not test our patience. Do you understand?”
Martín’s breath caught in his throat. If he did not make it in time, would he just drop dead on the street? Or would Sebastián come back to finish him off? Yesterday seemed so long ago, now, but just a few hours ago he had been looking at his own dead body. He did not want to experience that moment again any time soon. After swallowing around the lump in his throat, he said, “Fine. It’s not like I need a fully functioning body to pull this off.”
Sebastián stared at him in silence for a few long moments, while Martín scowled back and squirmed under the weight of his gaze. Finally he said, “You should be fine by tomorrow. I’ll be back to check on you periodically throughout the rest of the month.”
“You’d better come back in a body I recognize,” Martín blurted, as if anything he said would somehow break the spell of unease that Sebastián had put him under. “I can’t waste my precious time trying to figure out if every person on the street is you.”
“I suppose we can work something out.” Sebastián said. “Although you need to learn sooner or later that a person does not equal their body. This assumption can lead to quite a bit of trouble.”
“Okay, I don’t need an existential lecture from a ghost,” Martín said. “Now, I know you would probably love to stay and chat with me, but I’m going to take another nap.”
“Good. I have things to take care of.”
Martín was about to make a retort, but Sebastián was gone already. Grumbling, he lay himself down again and glared at a chair on the other side of the room. It had not quite sunk in yet that he was actually going to have to kill someone in order to survive, but his hands were already beginning to shake against his chest. Last night, when he thought everything was just a dream, he had considered Luciano, hadn’t he? Luciano did not have anyone who would really miss him. And Luciano would not have to know about why all this was happening. He would just…die. And then everything would be better. Right.
But how would he do it? He could not just walk into Luciano’s apartment and stab him. Or choke him at school. He had no real idea what Luciano did after school, now that he thought about it. He made music, played football, and lived with some Colombian girl up on the north side of town, but beyond that, he was a mystery. Manuela did not seem to mind him, and he had overheard a rumor from some girls at school about how great he was in bed. Not that that would help him at all, but he needed to start somewhere.
He should talk to Luciano. If he could get closer to him, he would have more chances of offing him quietly. This would work. Martín was going to survive this month; there was not a doubt about that in his mind.