Read the Fine Print

Sitting in the quiet of her mind, she felt the hands touch her again. Cold and icy, the fingers curled into her shoulders, digging their sharp nails into her skin. Startled, she shot up, turning abruptly, and shook her head. Her ponytail flapping against her face. Breathing loudly, she grabbed her chest and felt her heart thud aggressively against her ribs. Loud knocks against bone. The simmering buzz of the outside grew in her ears, and she pressed her hand harder against her heart, trying to stay still and breathe. The chatter of coffee shop goers continued, unfazed under the bright blurs of fluorescent lights and espresso machines. Well, the city doesn’t stop for girls losing their minds. No one seemed to notice how her bones rattled and teeth chattered despite the warmth indoors. Slowly, she sat back down, the air burning in her lungs as she gulped. She stared down at her cappuccino, and willed herself to drink. Her shoulder throbbed, the aches crawling up her neck like a spider.

“Everything ok, mija? You look so pale!” the plump waitress, Yolanda, according to her name tag, said, eyeing her up and down. Her tanned hand set on her hip, her face warm and wrinkled. She had short white hair, that curled like a cloud atop her head. With a sudden movement, she set down a cookie in front of her. She gave a shy smile in return, it was small, but she hoped she could see the gratitude in her eyes. Her stomach grumbled in thanks.  

“On the house, amorcito, shout if you need anything,” She paused, eyeing her again, this time with a stern voice, “en serio, I got senses like a bloodhound, eh?” she said, sticking out a finger, her nails a regal red.

And with that Yolanda winked, walking back to the sea of customers waiting for the daily caffeine fix. She was a small woman, but commanded the room. Angela knew, to a certain extent, she was in safe hands. She let out a strained sigh, and stared back down at her cup, the steam wafting in her nose. Taking a sip, she felt the milky foam sizzle on her tongue. Her eyes hurt, it had be a while since she’s had a good night’s rest, but how could she when It was waiting for her. She wished she never signed that cursed contract, never put her name down. Her grandmother always said that names held power, to give it away was to damn your soul. And her soul was very much damned. But, her grandmother was long gone now; and it was all for nothing. She lifted the cookie, taking a bite, the ginger and cardamom tasted like heaven.

The day rolled on, falling like the autumn leaves outside. Burnt orange against the grey pavement. She felt it again, this time by her legs. A cold vice grip tugging her down. She slipped, smashing the coffee cup and plate onto the floor. The pieces shattered around her with a loud crash. Broken porcelain rang in her ears and the hand on her ankle squeezed harshly before vanishing completely. Her ankle pulsed in pain. The world stilled around her; the voices of strangers murmured in her ear, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Swarms of people with their paper cups and bags rustled and moved in the hubbub. Yolanda was circling them, truly like a bloodhound, yelling and shoving the crowd with her hands. The door opened and slammed many times, until Angela eventually heard the locks. Then silence. Yolanda was back, kneeling beside her, cleaning the mess and saying something warm and sweet. Now her hand was on her shoulder, and Angela felt like the right thing to do was nod and not wince in pain. Her voice was clearer now, Yolanda helped to her feet.

“Ven, ven, I’ll show you where we keep the croissants.” She said, taking Angela to the back of the coffee shop. She sat behind the coffee machines and treats, in what Yolanda called her office space, but it really was just a corner with a stool and various post it notes and maps plastered on a corkboard. There were some strange markings sprawled in pink marker and red string. Under the weirdness on the walls, there was a small desk with cleaning materials and a metal box clasped shut with the same shocking pink but this time on the lock. Angela decided to avert her gaze, her curiosity was to blame for her predicament. She couldn’t afford any more trouble. What if Yolanda caught her? She already broke her plate and cup. She didn’t even drink the cappuccino! No, yes, she was done messing with things she didn’t understand.

Angela headed towards the set of large fridges, covered in colourful magnets, some quite crude that she had to avert her gaze again this time so that she didn’t blush.  Once her heart rate settled, she opened the fridge door, and found various containers filled with sweets, cream and dough. She closed it shut, and went to sit back down on the stool, leaning her head against the wall of crazy. The post-it notes tickled her nose, and her eyes felt heavy with each blink. Maybe it was all in her mind? It must be stress related or grief. Her councilor did say it manifested differently for everyone. Maybe one of the five stages was demonic possession? Either way, a calm had consumed her. Yolanda continued with her daily tasks, and it was only in this moment that Angela realized they were alone. Seconds melted into minutes, and Angela silenced her mind, lulling into a deep sleep for the first time in a while.

She jolted awake when she heard Yolanda turn on the radio and begin cleaning. The sound of wet mops, tissues and trumpets brought her back to life. Wait, trumpets? It was the sound of a deep clean, and Angela leaped to her feet. She scrambled off the stool and searched for something, anything, to grab so that she could help. Settling on a neon green rag and spray bottle, which seemed to be filled with the same neon green; she stepped out into the open space.

“Can I?” She whispered, her voice quieter than she wanted.

“No, que tal! No worry!”

“I insist. It’s the least I can do…” Angela nodded, determined to make up for being a burden. She must think I’m crazy. Yolanda said something else in Spanish that Angela didn’t quite understand, but Yolanda laughed anyway, shaking her head in defeat. Angela rolled her sleeves and got to work. By the time they were done, the shop shone and gleamed. Yolanda yawned, and walked towards the coffee machine behind the counter.

“I need a tinto, right now, you? Café?” She asked, turning on the machine, and preparing the small espresso cups. The machine purred and steamed, Angela nodded enthusiastically. Yolanda poured some sparkling water in a small glass and then set the coffee beside it. Taking a sip, Angela felt the bubbles tickle in her throat. They sat for a while in silence, sipping the coffee, listening to the trumpets of a salsa song play around them. When the next song started, Yolanda got up so abruptly Angela almost fell out of her seat. She ran behind the counter and picked up the radio, brining it close to her ear. She placed the other hand on her hip, shuffling her feet, and started to sing.

Cali luz de un nuevo cielo
De romantica luna, el lucero que es leno
De mirar en tu valle la mujer que yo quiero

She stuck out her hand, gesturing for Angela to get up, and said, “You have to dance,” she continued stepping side to side, “it was my Rosa’s favourite.”

At that, Angela shot up, and awkwardly swayed her arms, humming to the beat. Yolanda chucked at her poor attempt, but it wasn’t in a mocking way at all. This made Angela smile. Yolanda continued to dance in place and sang,  her voice velvet and smooth.

Que todo, que todo, que todo que

Que todo el mundo te cante
Que todo el mundo te mime

As Angela started to get into a fixed rhythm, and by fixed rhythm it was more of an unnatural motion that was somehow on beat. Just as she started to laugh, the hairs on the back of her started to burn. A cold sigh breathed in her ear. Before she could react, Yolanda leaned across the counter and grabbed Angela by the shoulder, yanking her over and bringing her close to the ground. There was a sickening wail, the sound rough and raw, cutting off the radio.

Que todo, que-que

The room filled with static and screams. Angela shook, her bones rattling and heart racing, and watched Yolanda load a crossbow coated in salt.

“Where did you get that?” Angela’s fingers were going numb, her eyes wide with shock, “wait, you can hear it?” The howls and wails rattled the foundations of the coffee shop, causing the tables and chairs to break and snap in half.

“Doesn’t matter. And, mi vida, I see It.”

“But, how, I can’t even see-” their conversation was cut short by the sound of crunching metal. Its claws digging into the counter, tearing through the surface, leaving large gashes in its wake. Yolanda stood to aim, and then shot directly at it. A loud, wet THWANG sliced the air. She bent back down, and reloaded.

“Also, nobody ever leaves my cappuccino, let alone dejarlo enfirar, imaginate. Get cold, you know,” She gestured to Angela with her head, pouting her mouth in a scrunch towards the salt. The creature’s cries echoed in their ears. Angela complied, grabbing the salt quickly, and passing it to her, hoping her hands weren’t shaking too much. Yolanda grunted in approval, continuing her rant, “the coffee is from Colombia, my Rosa used to bring it fresh, it is the best calidad, mija. Best.” Dipping the arrow in more salt, she set the bolt and loaded the crossbow.

“Figured it was bothering you too, eh,” She smiled, warm and friendly, but there was a disconnect with her eyes. Yolanda looked at her, a deep understanding in her pupils, “you’ve been here before, and you have that mirada. It’s not fair.”

“I have that look?” Angela felt like it was a dumb thing to ask, but the words poured out of her. She hunched over, the sound of ripping metal crashing in her eyes.

Yolanda peered over her shoulder, and shot. The creature cried, more wailing and tearing metal cut the air. She turned to Angela, her face wracked with worry, and the hazel of her eyes full of sympathy.

“You’re so young,” she shook her head, “it’s not right.” Another loud THWAP, the wails choked and creaked, breaking more furniture in its wake.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” Tutting, Yolanda did the sign of the cross and resumed her stance, shooting again with immense precision.

“It’s okay…it’s my fault, really. Contracts shouldn’t have a clause about your soul, anyway...” Angela whispered, straightening her back suddenly when Yolanda let out a loud laugh. She said something else in Spanish, but it was too fast for Angela to make out, either way, it sounded like a compliment to her character, or maybe it was a joke. Angela didn’t know, and didn’t want to ask. It clearly wasn’t the time. Just as she was about to speak, a scream tore through her. The wet, arctic fingers latched onto her leg again, digging into her skin. The cold so intense it seared her flesh, the smell of burnt muscle mixed with the bitter scent of coffee. An aroma of pain. She heard another guttural THWANG before she saw the creature hurling backwards, gripping its skull in agony. This time it dug into the creature’s head, now visible and writhing. A glimpse of white covered in strange red markings. Angela looked away, she couldn’t bear face it, to see what has been hunting her. It steamed and hissed, running out the window and into the night. Another screeching and wailing followed suit.

“There’s two of them?!” Angela screamed, hating how hysterical she sounded in her ears.

Yolanda nodded, “and they’ll be back.” She said, trying to move the bits of white hair from her face, but they were stuck to her forehead with sweat.

“Mira, it’s ok,” she stood up, and starting to pack away her crossbow, “they’ll stop for a few days. They’re not dumb.” She pulled up a small bundle of sage and other herbs, setting the alight and placing them on the counter. The air, smokey and rich in their lungs.

“It’ll be angry…” Angela couldn’t help but let her mind wander, a horrible sensation sinking in her gut.

“I know. Pero, listen, you’ve handled them so far. You have your batteries, sabes? You’re not slow,” Yolanda placed her hand on her shoulder, her hands were calloused from years of hard work, but her hold was gentle. A motherly smile wrinkled the sides of her eyes and lips, “now you see them. Once you look, it stays with you. This is buenas noticias. We’ll fight ‘em together. Las dos.” And with that, she got up, and grabbed the broom that had fallen to the floor in the midst of the chaos. She slammed the radio with the back of it, and the music resumed once more.

Cali luz de un nuevo cielo
De romantica luna, el lucero que es leno

“Now tell me, while we clean, I’m too old to do this alone.”

Angela felt herself falling into a fit of giggles and laugh, half delirium and half delight.

“Maybe if you show me how to shoot that crossbow?” she said, slyly, a huge smile creeping on her lips. She thought it was time to embrace the madness.

“Ah, Dios mio! There she is! Deal!” Yolanda threw her hands up, letting the broom fall, “although, I have just the thing, eh!” she exclaimed, an excited look in her eyes, as she ran into her office. The sound of clanging metal travelled through the space, the lock clicking open, making Angela’s heart beam. Yolanda emerged, holding a silver gun, engraved with roses and thorns. Wrapped around its handle, a red rosary hung with gold beads for every Hail Mary.

“Si tu quieres, if you want, it’s yours, eh”

“Thank you so much! Gracias!” Angela held the gun to her chest, her life was surely getting stranger. She never knew she would celebrate having a gun. But then again, she needed to do more than run. It was time to fight back.

“Listo, I can go first, if you like,” Yolanda sat on the only fixed stool, it creaked slightly, but she didn’t seem to mind. Holding her tinto in her palms, she squinted her eyes in focus and watched Angela closely. She sighed, and said in a steady voice.

“I didn’t have my glasses, imaginate. And my Rosa, we couldn’t marry at the time, you see. So, when she got sick, I had to fight to see her, sabes. Her family, they were set in the wrong ways. Believed the wrong things, but believed them strongly, eh.” Yolanda sighed, Angela moved closer and placed her hand on her shoulder. Yolanda smiled in gratitude.

“She left this world, and I wanted to bring her back. Un cuento viejo. Travelled the world for my Rosa. But, I didn’t have my glasses. And when I got close, I signed the wrong thing!” A bitter laugh escaped her, “I didn’t read the fine print, ah!”

Angela’s heart broke. Yolanda was just like her, doing this for the chance of seeing someone they love, even for a moment. Who wouldn’t risk it all? Yolanda blew on her tinto, and shook her head.

“Well, now we have each other. We can beat them, no worry.” She said, confident and resolute. Angela believed her with all her heart.

“Ahora, your turn, mija! I bear my soul, you bear yours.” She said, with the same stern look as earlier today, when the world was colder. Angela giggled, and picked up the broom from the floor.

“So, my grandma, she got really sick…”

The radio picked up and trumpets played, the song accompanying their chatter. The spoke and spoke until their laughs became cries, and cries hugs. The music stayed a melody in their veins and ears.

Y del cielo Cali, la sucursal

A millas siento tu aroma
Cualquiera justo razona