Mia muttered about always doing the dishes by herself and I left and walked down the street. When I passed the mission, I stared up at its bell tower. The front façade had been carved by wonderful craftsmen back when it was built. There were saints carved into the stones, along with palm leaves and angels. One of the saints had a shepherd’s crook and was playing a little guitar, which I thought was strange. Did they have guitars back then? There was a grassy field in front of the main doors and stone borders on each side that seemed liked grave markers, only they weren’t. The bell tower was the tallest point in the city. There was a little narrow stairwell leading up to it. The priest only had the bell rung on Saints days and holidays.
The sun had finally set behind the hills as I crossed the streets and went down the small dirt path to where abuelita lived. I thought about the dog I’d heard earlier and felt a shiver of nerves. When I got to the small shack, there was no smoke coming from the fireplace.
“Monsie? Abuelita? It’s Maestra Carla. Are you home?”
Nothing.
I tapped on the little slat door again before opening it. “Monsie?”
The dirt floor stared back at me. The fire had gone out. I saw the big sack of dried hominy was nearly empty. Then I went to the neighbor and knocked on his door. No answer. I waited for over an hour, hoping they were just gone delivering tortillas. It grew darker and darker. A chicken clucked in the trees nearby. Worry kneaded inside my stomach.
A terrible shriek filled the air and I listened in fear as the chicken was killed by a predator. There was no barking or yipping, just the snarling and growling of something. I stood up from the stump I’d been resting on and backed away, my heart hammering wildly.
Then all was quiet.
A strange yowling sound came. It wasn’t a sound I’d heard before during my time in Tilaco. It was like some weak string on a violin played by a drunken hand. Something rustled in the bushes.
I started to walk away briskly, heading back toward town. As I walked, I heard the yowling sound again. Even the crickets fell silent.
I shivered as I walked swiftly, heading back toward the church. I felt a strong need to be there. As I walked, I thought I heard paws thumping in the dirt behind me. Turning, I stared into the gloom. Nothing.
Looking ahead, I hurried to the church yard. Tilaco fell quiet around me. I couldn’t see any lights on, except in the church. No noise of engines and tires crunching gravel. No cart wheels squeaking. As I crossed beneath the gate into the church yard, I felt a little spasm of relief I’d made it that far. I hadn’t gone to church in Tequisquiapan, but something about the building drew me toward it. As I pulled on the heavy wood door, I saw candles glowing on the inside. Heads turned to face me. It seemed like half the town was there, kneeling at the pews, prayer beads in their hands. On a Friday night?
I saw worried faces. Some of the albergue children were there with their parents. Everyone was quiet. The priest stood near the altar, pacing. No mass was being performed. It was quiet. Watchful.
Fearful.
I quickly scanned the faces, looking for Monsie and her gray-haired abuelita. I didn’t see either of them. After standing there, I went back out the door and folded my arms. There were crickets chirping again. A few stars had appeared in the sky while I’d been inside. My own fear started to fade. It was that stupid myth of the Chupacabra. Now I was afraid of shadows.
I walked back to the albergue. But as I did, it felt like something was watching me. I couldn’t shake that feeling until I went inside the compound and shut the gate.
All was quiet.
We usually kept most of the lights off during the weekend to save money on electricity. Maestra Lena had a television in her room and she spent most of the weekends watching novellas. I thought the plots were pretty ridiculous, and so I usually declined joining her when she offered, but I was afraid to be alone tonight.
While we watched an episode late into the night, I thought I heard a noise coming from the dormitory.
Maestra Lena heard it too. “What was that?”
“I thought I was hearing things,” I said. “You heard it too?”
“Go see, Carla. I hope it isn’t someone trying to steal food from us again. I’d be furious. Go scold whoever it is and tell them to get out. Make sure the gate is still locked.”
“Yes, Maesta,” I said. She was my boss, so I had to obey her.
I left her room and started walking down the dark hall toward the girl’s dormitory. I knew my way, even in the dark, but felt that sickening feeling of fear again. I thought I heard something squeak.
Frowning at my own cowardice, I went to the dormitory and unlocked the door with my key. I walked in and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. I tried the switch again.
I heard a sniffle.
“Who’s there?” I said in a loud, angry voice. My heart was racing.
“Monsie,” came a muffled reply.
I walked toward her bed across the room. Even though it was dark, there was enough light to see her on the bottom bunk. She’d been trying to stay very quiet.
“Monsie, what are you doing here?” I said, coming to kneel by the bed. “Why aren’t you with your abuelita?”
“She . . . she’s gone,” said Monsie and burst into tears.
What did that mean? I hugged her, trying to calm her fear. “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay. Shhh. What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She told me not to come home,” Monsie said, her throat catching with her tears. “She said she wouldn’t be there. That I needed to sleep in the albergue.”
“Were you hiding when I came earlier?” I asked, feeling worry and frustration. It was against the rules for children to spend the weekend here. There was hardly enough food for the adults who stayed.
Monsie nodded, pulling away, looking at me fearfully.
“Where did abuelita go?” I asked, stroking her hair.
Then I heard the sound of paws on the floor. The little click-clack of claws.
Monsie stiffened. “The door’s open.”
I turned around. Something lithe and black was coming down the corridor. I heard panting.
“The Chupacabra!” Monsie gasped.
I felt a mothering urge to protect Monsie. Even though I was terrified, I raced to the door to shut it. The yowling sound came, echoing in a weird, sickening noise across the floor. As I shoved the door to close it, something heavy slammed into it. Then I saw a muzzle, sharp teeth snapping as it tried to get through.
Monsie screamed in fright. I pushed harder, hoping to break the dog’s neck, but it was stronger than me. I was shoved back and fell down on the concrete floor.
It was not a dog.
Monsie’s shrill screams joined as it yowled once more. I scrambled backward, trying to get away, knowing it was going to kill me too.
And then I heard something. The monster’s lean head lifted up at the sound.
Music.
Headlights shone through the windows, sending the shadows sweeping across the floor. The monster, all muscle and ink recoiled. I saw its drool in puddles on the floor.
Trumpets, guitars, a honking of a truck. A mariachi band was playing outside. The Chupacabra fled the noise, loping down the corridor. I stared as it disappeared into the shadows and vanished.
Monsie ran from the bed, wiping tears, grinning from ear to ear. “Mama! Papa! Abuelita!”
Maestra Lena turned on the light in the hallway and suddenly the entire room was engulfed in brightness.
“What is going on here?” Lena said in confusion.
I struggled to my feet, grateful to still be alive. There was singing along with the strums from the instruments. It was festive, invigorating. And I knew it had frightened the beast away.