Page 4 of The Second Deal

SanAntonioilluminates the dark sky despite the ruralness ofLosoya, so the stars here inTexasaren’t so big and bright.Thelast streetlight before the road to home is the one at the bridge, and the inky blackness that settles over the area says its busted.

Iease off the gas to slow down a little and check for roadside offerings or anything suspicious on the abandoned approach beside the bridge.Butthere aren’t even any small memorials for accidents, never mind ritual offerings for the devil or whatever else those kids might be trying to summon.

Somethingflashes in my periphery above the bridge, where the approach stands watch over the river.

Igasp, clutching my chest and trying not to swerve into the water rushing below.

Anowl flaps its gigantic wingspan in the outermost part of my car’s headlights before passing over and heading west.

Afterdouble checking that it’s not actually the witch-owl of legend following me for poking fun,Ichuckle and flip the blinker to turn onto the road to home.

Nearlyeveryone inSanAntoniohas their own lechuza story; either their abuela or drunk tio or even the person telling the story has seen the man-eating owl with their own eyes.Igrew up hearing the stories and watching my classmates give each other goosebumps and nightmares to carry with them throughout the day, swearing stay inside after dark.

Butout here in the rural southside ofSanAntonio, there are no lechuzas or devils—just spooky shadows, busted streetlights, and the ghosts of my past.

Chapter2

The One You Left Behind

–Vayden

Itmight be dark out,but the darkness can’t swallow golden light splaying over the pavement leading to my parents’ house.

Mom’sreally outdone herself with lights strung up all across the yard and lanterns lighting the way, like she put them all out here to guide me home.

Ormaybe the shadows that the live oaks and pecan trees cast over the house have finally creeped her out enough.

Myusual parking spot across from the pecan tree is wide open.MomandDadboth are already rushing out the front door to greet me.

Momsqueezes me extra hard. “You’reearly!Concertget too wild?”

Ichoke back a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, it got a little out of hand.”Ithrow my arms aroundDad’sneck before handing over the beer. “RanintoGigidown at the store.Shesaid she’s been seeing stuff at the approach?”

Dadgrunts, beer in one hand and one of my suitcases in the other as he leads us up the porch stairs and into the house. “Yourmama’s been keepin’ me busy with all her projects.Iwouldn’t know either way.”

Eventhe inside of the house has been all spruced up and rearranged.

Whenthey usher me into my old bedroom, though, it’s exactly asIleft it almost two years ago: same floral bedspread, same bedside lamp and desk, same rock band posters pinned to the wall.

WhereaTimelessposter used to hang now displays my high school diploma.

“Surprisedyou didn’t go hog wild redecorating in here, too,”Icomment asIplace a suitcase on the desk.

“WhywouldI?”

“BecauseIdon’t live here anymore?”

“Well, you do now, don’t you?”

Sighing,Irelent, “JustuntilIcan find my own place.”

“Youcan stay here as long as you want, you know.Misshaving you here.”

“Iknow.Thankyou.”

Ibusy myself situating suitcases on the floor and bed, butMomstops me, hugging me even more tightly than before.

“We’rereally glad you’re home,Steph.Missedyou so much.”Shechuckles under her breath. “NewYear’sBallhasn’t been the same without you here squealing about the next surprise band.”

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