Page 114 of The Moon Sister
‘I think she was, but there was a man there who wouldn’t let me in.’
‘Ah, Pepe is very protective of Angelina – he is her uncle, after all,’ Marcella explained. ‘Maybe you try knocking again.’
I didn’t even get as far as the gate before Pepe came round the bend towards me. Without a word, he took my hand in his large one, and smiled down at me.
‘It is you . . . you are a woman now,’ he said, and there were tears burgeoning in his brown eyes.
‘I’m sorry, I d-don’t—’ I stuttered.
‘I am Pepe, yourtío, your great-uncle,’ he said, before clasping me in his arms. Then he pulled me down the path back towards the blue front door. ‘Perdón, señorita,’ he said, then mumbled something in Spanish. ‘I did not realise it was you!’
‘You speak English?’
‘Of course! I just pretend “no comprendo” if tourists come knocking too early,’ he chuckled. ‘Now, I take you to Angelina, your cousin.’
Standing just inside the doorway was a small woman with a mane of gold hair that was greying at the roots. She was as petite as I was, and dressed in a red and blue patterned kaftan that fell to her feet, which were encased in comfortable leather sandals. Her blue eyes twinkled at me from behind long, black lashes, and her eyeliner had been drawn on as thickly as her eyebrows.
‘Hola,’ I said as I gazed at her.
‘Hola, Erizo.’ She smiled at me, then tears appeared in her eyes. ‘You here,’ she said in stilted English. ‘You come home.’ Then she opened her arms to me and I walked into them.
She sobbed on my shoulder, and I didn’t know what to do except join her. Then we both wiped our eyes, and I heard Pepe blow his nose loudly behind us. I turned to him, and he joined us for a further embrace. My heart was pounding and I felt dizzy as I looked from my great-uncle to the woman I had been told to find. Eventually, we all extracted ourselves and I was ushered to a small paved area just beyond the cave, which housed a large number of potted plants. I smelt mint, sage, fennel and lavender as Pepe indicated a rickety wooden table and four similarly decrepit chairs. We all sat down, Pepe and Angelina’s limbs moving fluidly despite their obvious age.
Angelina reached a hand towards mine and squeezed it.
‘My English okay, but speak slowly,’ she advised. ‘How you find us?’
I explained as clearly as I could about Pa Salt’s letter, then my move to Kinnaird and my meeting with Chilly.
Angelina and Pepe both clapped their hands in glee, speaking together in rapid Spanish.
‘It has done my heart good to hear that the old ways still worked their magic,’ said Angelina.
‘So, did you know Chilly?’ I asked her.
‘No, only by name. Chilly was told he would send you home by Micaela, who look after me as a child. I feel Chilly is old and sick. He is at the end of his days,’ Angelina added soberly. ‘Sí?’
‘Sí.’ I whispered, hating that I knew too. I’d realised immediately that there was no shielding my thoughts from this woman. Whatever gift Chilly had was dwarfed by Angelina’s. I could feel the electricity around her – her power – already, and it was stirring my own.
‘Of course, your blood is diluted by yourpayoforefathers, but’ – I felt Angelina scrutinise me – ‘I sense you have gift inside you. I will teach you, like Micaela taught me.’
Angelina smiled at me then, and the gaze contained so much warmth it brought a lump to my throat. Everything about her was so . . .vital. She paused to study me again, then took my hand into her soft palm and held it.
‘You are sick, Erizo. What has happened to you?’
I related the story of the night Pegasus died as succinctly as I could.
I watched Angelina’s eyes roll slightly backwards and, still holding my hand, she cocked an ear as though she was listening to something in the distance.
‘This creature sent to protect you,’ she said. ‘He your spirit guide and will take many forms in your lifetime. Do you understand?’
‘I think I do, yes.’
‘Everything is for a reason, Erizo, nothing happens by chance. Death is not the end, but the beginning . . .’ She began to examine my palm closely. ‘Pepe,’ she said to him, ‘I needla poción.’ She then explained in fast Spanish what it should contain, counting the ingredients off on her fingers. ‘Bring it to her.’
Pepe disappeared for a while as Angelina continued to stare at me. ‘Pequeño Erizo. . . little hedgehog . . .’
‘That’s what Chilly called me!’ I gasped. ‘Except his word washotchiwitchi,’ I smiled.
