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Considering that it was a normal, sunny day in Hermosillo’s Parque Madero, the last thing Santiago expected was for him to get knocked over while trying to enjoy it.

Despite that, it happened - and he fell. Hard.

The silver lining was that he landed on his book bag. It was much preferable to hitting the ground with their skull, but it also meant he got a good look at the perpetrator in front of him without a need to stand.

The woman in question was quiet. Half her face was contorted into a shell-shocked expression, and the half was covered by a paper whose title read ‘GUÍA DE LA CIUDAD HERMOSILLO’.

Contrary to the muggy October weather, her outfit looked like it was ripped from an April issue of a gardening catalog: a green long-sleeve shirt, overalls, and a sun hat filled with flowers. Her hair was equally strange, side-swept bangs making the left side of her face invisible.

Of course, Santiago couldn’t judge her fashion sense with their stuffy black trench coat. But the longer he stared at her, the more questions accumulated in his mind:

It was clear she ran into him due to a lack of attention. But did it have to do something with the map? Was she trying to go someplace?

Before he could ask, the lady ran off.

“Hey!” Santiago stood, brushing dust off their pants with one hand and reaching out to her with another. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

“I’m….fine!” Gardener Girl shouted. She didn’t look back, too engrossed in her city guide.

Her British accent was so heavy Santiago almost felt its weight toppling him over again. He hesitated a moment, then sprinted toward her.

“I can sense there’s something wrong,” they walked to her side. Now that he was closer, he noticed her fair skin covered in perspiration. Something told him it wasn’t only from the humidity. “I’ll be happy to help in any way.”

“I don’t speak any Spanish,” she stomped away, “so it seems I have to enunciate since you didn’t get the message: leave me alone.”

“Can I ask you something first?”

“What?”

The lady stopped. She lowered her map. Her head, blushing crimson, whipped around to face Santiago. Flaming blue eyes latched on to his warm brown ones. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if steam started to pour from her ears.

Gardener Girl frowned, her tone patronizing. “Do you want an apology for me running into you?”

“No-”

She exhaled, puffing out her cheeks. “Then why are you so insistent on torturing me?!”

Santiago took a moment to craft the rest of their response. He’d met his share of grumpy tourists in the past, though this girl was a whole other animal.

“First of all,” he said, “offering help is always the right thing to do. Especially when you seem so…pent up. You must be looking for something?” They pointed to her beloved map. “I understand. Navigating Hermosillo is a little confusing at first, but every year I travel-”

“Wonderful!” The lady grumbled, hobbling her way towards him and shoving her paper between them. “Just so you stop bothering me, let’s make a deal. Tell me some information about this town, then go away. Don’t ask any questions in the process, either. Understand?”

Putting a gentle hand near hers, Santiago skimmed all the map’s labels to prepare for any question thrown at him.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“...Hazel?”

“Well, ‘Azel, you said you don’t speak Spanish,” he squinted, “so why is it all-”

“Point me to where we are and where the nearest bus station is,” she rolled her eyes.

Santiago’s face twisted in mild discomfort. Out of all the people they’d ever helped, this was the only one who seemed so ungrateful for it. “Okay,” they complied, scanning through a dizzying assortment of street names. “We’re at the edge of Parque Madero, and the nearest bus station should be east….hmm, let me check.”

“FASTER.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Why was this girl so impatient?.

In the middle of double-checking his route, he went rigid. A chilling sensation hit him amid the heat wave, making him shiver with the gut feeling that something was wrong. That there was an unwelcome presence lurking here.

Hazel coughed. “I haven’t got all day for this, you know.”

He took his hand off the map. With no words, he turned around, walking away from the lady. The leaves of gigantic palm trees above covered him in a coat of dark coolness, adding to the freezing feeling from earlier.

“Get the hell back here!” Hazel ordered. Santiago didn’t listen.

Down the path further into the park, there was another figure trekking toward him, hitting a nearby pedestrian and watching them fall to the ground. A sarape was draped over their head like a veil. Uncombed curls and a lopsided goat horn poked out. On their slim body was a vintage dress two sizes too big. Even with the shade, their skin glowed azure as though dipped in light.

The only part that didn’t was their arms stained with blood.

Santiago knew from experience that this could only be one thing: a demon.

On cue, Hazel tugged on his arm.

She dragged them away, out of sight of their new enemy. After a while, she let go. But she didn’t stop running.

Santiago’s instinct told him to flee the situation. Though he couldn’t. What kind of person would he be if he knowingly left someone to get torn apart by a demon?

He ran to her side, barely able to catch his breath.

“WHY ARE YOU BEING CHASED BY THAT THING?!”

“ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” She threw the map at Santiago. “FIND A DAMN BUS STATION!”

He caught it mid-air. Trembling, he glanced through all the buildings.

“The nearest one is around a mile away,” he exhaled, “keep going straight for now; I’ll say when to turn!”

The duo sprinted past a skateboarding area, then ran past a curb into an empty road.

Once they got back on the sidewalk, they froze. A swarm of oncoming bikers rode near, filling the entire walkway.

Santiago looked behind himself. The demon was in the middle of the road. Thunderous noise exploded from them punching a moving van over.

His stomach somersaulted. He spun around, the bike riders closer. He put out a hand in warning, but Hazel grabbed it, steering him left into a neighborhood.

The street curved, running parallel to the direction they were going beforehand. Santiago freed themself of Hazel’s grasp, putting his hand back on the map.

Numbness engulfed his legs as they ran. Blurs of fences and hardwood houses blended into each other.

They and Hazel hurried like the wind. Neither of them dared to look back. They knew the demon was behind them. Sensed it in the chill on their spines.

Santiago read an upcoming street sign and matched it with his map. “Turn left!”

Hazel obeyed with a short breath.

As the duo’s path developed into an upward slope of cement, their pace devolved into a jog. Any faster was impossible. There was too much sun, too little energy. The only breeze came from a Jeep roaring past.

Wiping his brow, Santiago put his hands on his knees. Hazel slowed down in front of them. A scent of stale vinegar lingered in the air.

“You…” a British voice called. It wasn’t Hazel’s.

The Gardener Girl paused her walk.

Santiago looked out of the corner of his eye. He swore there was a speck of blue.

“I am The Belladonna!” It shouted again. Louder.

The pair hurried away faster than humanly possible.

When their sidewalk ended, it opened into an enormous intersection infested with cars.

Hazel cut in without warning. Everything became a blaring frenzy of squealing tires and honks and cursing. Her companion reluctantly followed.

They maneuvered their way past until they reached a small platform in the middle of the crossing. The clogged lanes began to move again, trapping them in. Santiago felt like he was stuck on an island surrounded by sharks.

He watched the so-called Belladonna, who was stuck trying to get into the intersection. A vehicle sped past every time she stuck her foot into the road.

Until she decided to jump on top of one.

“Shit!” Hazel dragged Santiago off the platform, weaving past more lanes of traffic before almost collapsing onto another sidewalk.

Regaining balance, the two continued their sprint across Hermosillo by turning right.

Santiago studied the map while running. “The bus station should be on our side of the street,” they said. “Look for the word autobus!”

His eyes became laser-focused on every sign and business logo he ran past.

One for a pharmacy. Another for a gas station. A convenience store. Some taco restaurants.

“A STATION!”

Hazel pointed at a nearby building loaded with buses, one facing them and pulling out of the parking lot.

The two raced as it turned into the main road, waving their hands and yelling. Thankfully, the bus pulled over and opened its doors.

“Boleto?” He asked as they stepped up the stairs inside, slinging the headphones to his walkman around his neck.

Hazel punched Santiago’s elbow.

“Oh!” He fished a 100 peso bill from his coat pocket, flinging it at the man.

As soon as he did, his companion pushed him down the bus aisle, darkened by the use of drawn curtains. They passed a handful of passengers near the front, though they might as well have been alone. Everyone else was asleep or shuffling through songs on MP3 players.

When they reached the back, the bus’s engine started. Hazel threw herself against a seat, head slamming into the one in front of her. Santiago slumped down in the row across with labored breath. Their lower body succumbed to aching pain.

A pleasing silence followed. It felt good to have a bout of peace - albeit temporary.

“She’s still near us, isn’t she?” Hazel broke the stillness, the weight of her voice bringing Santiago back to reality.

“For sure,” he moved near his seat’s window and lifted the curtain back. In the next lane, a bright blue body sat in a truck’s cargo bed.

Gasping, he let go of the drapes. Whether The Belladonna saw him or not was a question he would prefer to not have answered.

“You’re right. But now would be a good time for you to answer my question.”

“What question?”

“The one where I asked why is she chasing you?”

“Oh.” Hazel turned to face him, posture stiffening with discomfort. “Guess what? You don’t need to know that. I don’t need to explain any of my story. Not to some bumbling idiot who could barely read instructions and doesn’t know what we’re doing!”

She clicked her tongue, folding her arms and legs. “We might as well be ducks in a bloody pond, no?”

Santiago shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m a necromancer.”

Hazel gave him an unimpressed face. “Stop being delusional. If you are one, prove it.”

“Well, I know that The Belladonna is a demon.”

“You can see her?”

“Of course. Demons are visible to all people.”

“Whatever,” she scowled. “It’s not like she looks like a human. But if you knew this whole time what she was, why didn’t you do anything about it?! Isn’t that your government sanctioned job?”

“Not really,” the supposed necromancer took his backpack and began to dig through the various compartments, “I was trained to kill them, though my job is more helping souls reach the afterlife.”

Besides, I can’t just do a spell and get rid of it. I have to use…” his hand rummaged furiously inside one of the openings, “Ay, where is it?”

Hazel bent over. "What are you looking for?”

"My holy water,” Santiago put his book bag on the floor, “the only thing that can kill a demon. I know I packed it in here today. That's not right...."

The woman fidgeted with her bangs. "Are you sure you didn’t drop it or anything?"

He nodded with defeat, zipping up his backpack and setting it on the floor. “This sort of stuff has been happening recently. I guess that means we have to improvise.”

Hazel tapped her fingers on her sleeve. “Or you’re doing a poor job of covering up the fact that you’re not a necromancer.”

Santiago dismissed her comment. “It doesn’t matter if I am or not, does it? You’re stuck with me, and I don’t think anyone else on this bus would have an idea of how to defeat a demon.”

“...Fine.”

“Glad you agree. Here’s the plan,” he clasped his hands together. “We can’t kill it, so we settle for getting rid of it for a few days. I know another weakness of demons is heat and direct light, so we can use that…somehow.”

“How about a scythe?” Hazel squinted. “Shouldn’t you have one of those?”

“I do have one, but it only works on demons if they're weakened. And for such a big weapon, the bus is too narrow.”

With no warning, the bus slowed to a sudden halt.

Hazel peeked from her seat at the front windscreen, promptly turning her head to whisper-yell at the necromancer. "We hit a traffic light!”

The color drained from Santiago’s face. Unfortunately, she was right: the bus hit a red light at a four-way intersection.

A heavy holdup of automobiles crowded the roads in the way ants would gather on scrap food. Worse, the bus was in the left turning lane. They had to yield to a long line of cars before continuing.

Santiago cupped their face in their hands. They needed to think of a plan. Now. Belladonna was only getting closer, and sitting here idly was suicide.

“Behind you,” Hazel whispered.

“What?” The necromancer twisted his waist around.

What greeted him was a dark silhouette hiding behind the window curtain. Fuzzy outlines of hands knocked against the glass. Low groans passed through, the ghosts of sentences ringing in his ears.

“Come here....”

Santiago got on the ground, signaling for his partner to do the same.

Hazel went a step further. She hid under her seat and grabbed her legs. Her body quivered with anxiety, eyes fixed on the window.

“Is she still there?” Santiago mouthed.

The girl shook her head. “Not that I can tell.”

To counter their conversation, a distinct rustling made itself present. It wasn’t from a motor sputtering to life. It was metal on metal. Curtains rods clanging. Fabric pushed back.

“Hazel Elizabeth….” The Belladonna cooed, infecting the bus with poisonous despair.

“Christ,” the aforementioned woman muttered, looking to the side. “Someone must have kept their window open with the curtains closed….who the hell does that?”

Her face scrunched up in thought. She ran a hand through her bangs before coming to an epiphany that left her mouth wide open.

“The windows. We need to open them!”

“To bring in light?” Santiago guessed.

Hazel beat her palm with her fist. “Exactly! The curtains, too. We can trap it.”

The bus shook with a vengeance. “I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU,” a foot slammed onto the floor.

Hazel nodded to her partner, unbounded confidence in her voice. “Since you have experience with demons, I’m sure you won’t mind if you distract it while I work on getting light in.”

She left him no time to refuse, already crawling to the end of her row’s seat.

“Okay,” the necromancer sighed. Cautiously standing, they crept into the bus’ passageway just in time to see Belladonna tossing her sarape at their feet and slink between two lines of seating, seemingly hovering over and inspecting a half-asleep passenger.

Santiago bent down, taking the poncho in their hands. He threw it to the back of the bus. She must have been wearing it to protect herself from the sun, he reasoned. Don’t want that anymore.

He tip-toed into the row behind his enemy. While he hadn’t had many encounters with powerful threats like her in particular, he knew how to handle himself when talking to the supernatural.

All he had to do was stay calm.

“Excuse me,” he cleared his throat.

Claws tore into the chair in front of him, accompanied by a tease of messy hair and an unpleasant growl.

Belladonna hoisted herself up, chin sitting on the headrest. To Santiago’s surprise, the demon’s face was pretty in an alluring sort of fashion. Milky white eyes, glossy lips, defined facial structure….if you gave her a human skin tone, he wouldn’t have been none the wiser.

“Necromancer!” She said, dropping her jaw to reveal a set of honed teeth like an angler fish. Even they, in all their menace, looked beautiful. “I can tell you’ve been with her….Hazel….”

Santiago shuddered. He knew a demon would sense his powers but didn’t expect to be so captivated by her frightening beauty. Then again, most monsters looked prettier than people would expect.

“Who is she to you?”

“My DAUGHTER!”

Her eerie tone bounced off the walls, translating into high-pitched feedback ringing in Santiago’s ears.

The bus’s tires shrieked in unison, the vehicle tilting on its side. The driver cursed.

Santiago lost his grip, tumbling into the middle aisle head-first. Belladonna stood over him, devouring him in her shadow.

There was a shortage of options. The necromancer decided the only reasonable one was to crawl back. His enemy hissed, bringing her claws out on full display.

“GIVE MY GIRL TO ME,” she rasped.

“Why are you after her?” Santiago gulped as he kept clambering backward.

Yet the demon didn’t seem to be following him anymore. She only grunted in response to his question. He didn’t understand why until he looked at his lap, where daylight had gathered on his trenchcoat.

His eyes fluttered around in joyous realization that Hazel had fulfilled her promise. All the windows in the back half of the vehicle were open, a gateway for both warm air and ruthless beams of sunlight that would sting Belladonna.

Never in his life had he been so happy to be so hot.

“HAZEL ELIZABETH!” Belladonna growled again, no longer fixated on Santiago. Rather, she was focused on who was standing at the back of the bus.

Hazel stood paralyzed while rummaging in her satchel. She zipped her mouth shut, waved something in her hand, then dived under a seat.

Santiago moved closer, ducking his head to see her. She greeted him by pitching the mystery item into his hand: a lighter.

The necromancer stood up. He pressed down the ignition with his thumb. Flames fast as lightning shot out, though their size diminished. In the wake of the demon’s intimidating stature, the fire might as well have been an irrelevant speck of dust.

He attempted to strike, arm no longer protected in the sunlight’s safety zone.

“Do you think this scares me?” Belladonna caught his wrist with ease, squeezing his joint. She hurled him back as easily as her sarape. The lighter fell from his grip.

As he dropped to the floor, the bus entered a tunnel. Everything was destroyed by darkness. There was no sunshine to shield Santiago. Only smudges of fluorescent light passing by.

Thrilled, the demon rushed forth. She toppled onto him.

“BIND HER SOUL WITH MINE, NECROMANCER!” Drool dripped down from her jaw as if she found the idea appetizing. “IF YOU SEND ME BACK TO THE REALM OF THE DEAD, DO IT WITH HER!”

Santiago gasped for air. His insides melted to panicked mush as he looked for the lighter. Where was it?

A scraping noise made both his and Belladonna’s heads turn.

The lighter slid over from the back of the bus. They both tried to grab it. Santiago reached it first, but the demon’s hand slammed on top. Neither of them had a full hold on the weapon. It was a struggle of strength and endurance.

“I’m right here!” Hazel announced, poking out from behind an armrest.

Belladonna forgot about the lighter. She sprung up, releasing the pressure on Santiago’s body. “You….” she twitched.

The necromancer flicked the lighter on again. They sliced her knee with the twenty-centimeter flame that came to life, the cut so smooth it was like gliding over marble tile.

She fell on her side with a loud thud.

Indigo blood splattered onto the floor in a messy puddle. A burning scent wafted all around. To cry for help, the demon opened her mouth, only to release a frothy batch of purple bubbles.

“NO,” She jabbed a shaky finger at Hazel though she wasn’t the one who inflicted the pain. “HOW DARE YOU!”

Accentuating her anger, the bus finally escaped from the darkness of the tunnel. Sunlight filtered through the windows again, scalding her body from head to toe. Wisps of steam rose from her skin, bubbling like boiling water.

Hazel pressed herself against the back wall of the bus. “Get the hell away from me!”

Santiago got up, watching as the monster sank into a pool of her own gore.

“Need….to get to her!” She cried.

“No you don’t,” the necromancer said. “You need to get out of the living realm.” They limped toward a window.

“What are you doing?” Hazel shouted. “You need to get rid of her!”

“I will.” Santiago put his hand out. Crisp winds engulfed it in a short wave of pleasure.

An orange butterfly fluttered over, doing circles around him excitedly until it landed on his fingertip. He brought his hand back inside, gentle with the insect.

It flapped its wings, flying near the bus’s roof before growing ten times its size.

A black handle sprouted from the abdomen, as well as an intricate ribbon. From the side came a curved, polished blade. Santiago held the scythe with precise wisdom as if his fingers had become accustomed to the form after hundreds of years.

“In the name of Micetecacihualtl,” they swung the weapon through the demon’s body with an effortless motion, “I free you.”

Underneath the demon’s body, the wooden bus floor opened up into a spiraling hole of blackness. The crater took shape, forming into a fiery sinkhole. Red and orange danced at the edges, trapping the demon and sucking her inside.

“HAZEL, YOU WILL COME HERE WITH ME!” She wailed, the last of her head vanishing.

The floor sewed itself shut. Blood still stained the bus, camouflaging into the ugly polyester print of chairs. Santiago’s scythe shrunk into a regular butterfly and soared out the window.

Grateful that the open windows alleviated the foul stench, he sat himself down on a bloodied seat.

Hazel was still in a state of shock, hair sticking to her face and clothes doing the same to the walls like someone drenched her body in water.

“So,” she wrestled with her tongue, “you really are a necromancer.”

Santiago hummed in agreement, raising an eyebrow. “And - correct me if I’m wrong - you’re The Belladonna’s daughter?”

The girl held her stomach as if someone stabbed her. “The what?”