Undeath by Chocolate

Like Blood for Chocolate - Chapter 2

If Rodrigo Puentes was still alive, he'd knock over the entire table. Since he's a ghost, he falls right through, but he has some solidity through Abuelita's magic. Dishes and jars rattle in his wake, and the table scoots across the floor.

"Qué torpe. Even in death." Abuelita clucks her tongue. "If you weren't my servant, you'd be damned."

Rodrigo's eyes are just hollow sockets, his complexion the ashen gray of a corpse. He tips his newsboy cap to Abuelita. "Much obliged, Seora. Sorry if I startled you."

"Eh. No harm done," Abuelita says. "I have a task for you. Please watch the portal while we're inside."

He salutes. "I'll defend it with my life--er, I mean--with my honor, Seora."

I can't help snickering. Rodrigo fancies himself a revolutionary, but he's a hopeless klutz. He died in his late teens, about my age, during the last century's socialist revolts. 1900-something, he once told me. He's pretty cute for a dead guy. Tall, nice shoulders, dark sideburns edging his cheekbones. Unfortunately, his manners are clumsy, too.

His empty stare lingers on my chest. "You're beautiful tonight, Melosa. That blouse shows off your, uh...it fits you nicely."

I fold my arms. "Idiot. It's a t-shirt, not a blouse."

"So it is. I apologize." He floats to the door with a dejected look.

I roll my eyes. "'Lita, why don't you hex this payaso into his spirit-house for good?"

"Speak kindly of Rodrigo," Abuelita says. "He's proven his worth many times."

There's no use arguing. Enthralled ghosts make the best sentries, and Rodrigo is useful. There are many spirits like him in Puesta Del Sol, thanks to our expert necromancers like Don Videl.

Abuelita unlocks the shrine door. Beyond, a hallway leads into a dim chamber. My last glimpse of the kitchen and the normal world--if I can call my world 'normal'--is of Rodrigo waving farewell.

I flinch when the door slams behind us.

Magic shimmers in translucent currents through the air and illuminates the passage with soft blue light. No wonder Abuelita keeps this place sealed up. So much power. A wicked brujo or duende could harness lots of mischief here.

Painted murals decorate the walls in a breathtaking array of color and pageantry. I recognize the intricate style as Toltec--my ancestors.

"Are these paintings ancient?" I ask.

"'Ancient' is meaningless here. We're outside of time." Abuelita's expression grows wistful, and she points to the largest image. "See here? These glyphs tell our family's most important legend. Long ago, a snake burrowed into the Underworld, into Mictlan, and stole a wondrous cacao tree from the orchards of the gods. She gorged herself on the fruit-which-satisfies-all-hunger, and the tree's magic transfigured her. When she shed her skin, she became a radiant being. Her new name was Xiuhcoatl--Fire-Snake-Weapon--and she proclaimed herself a goddess among mortals."

"A snake changed into a goddess? Wow." I trace the symbol of the tree with my fingers. A flaming reptile coils among its branches, and a skeletal deity crouches near the roots. "Is that La Muerte at the bottom?"

Abuelita nods. "Mictecacihuatl, the Lady of Death, was furious and imprisoned Fire-Snake within the stolen tree as punishment. Lady Death was somewhat merciful. She allowed Fire-Snake's mortal priestesses to keep the tree, as long as they protected it. Now, Fire-Snake's soul feeds the cacao, and her fruit feeds hungry outsiders like us."

'Hungry outsiders'. I giggle. What a perfect description for the misfits who dwell in Puesta Del Sol.

At the center of the shrine, the strangest tree I've ever seen sprawls from a massive stone pot. Its tangled roots slither over the floor, and the golden cacao fruit sprouts from its scaly bark. Many small mouths gape along the branches. Within a hollow in the trunk, an exposed heart beats steadily.

Arcane circles glow on the ground--wards charged to keep intruders out and bind Fire-Snake in.

Abuelita halts with a gasp, and her eyes widen. "Maldita sea! She's withered too much."

A few leaves pulse with veins, but a heap of dead foliage lies at our feet.

Abuelita draws her obsidian knife and hands it to me. "Give her some of your blood, mija. Mine is too old to restore her anymore. Have you noticed the chocolate doesn't satisfy you as much as it once did?"

"Yeah. So, that's why." I stare at the tree's blood-filled heart. "Does it matter that I'm a tlahuelpuchi?"

"No. Many like you have been born to the Rojas family, and many have cared for the tree through the generations. We're descended from the priestesses of Xiuhcoatl. Your curse is bound with hers."

"Okay, I'll try." I prick a fingertip with the knife. A tiny droplet wells, and I reach toward the tree.

All of this cacao, ripe for the taking. It could satisfy me for months. I lick my lips, hungrier than ever. Then again, there's also the blood. Hot, rich, thick with life. It's been so long since I've tasted any.

Abuelita's pulse thuds like a muffled drum in my head.

A single drop, just one taste. I might kill for it.