Dem Bones, Dem Bones

Or

Imelda and Héctor have to take the Low Road

"Did Ernesto know that this would happen to him, when he accepted your deal?" Héctor demanded as the bruja led them into her cottage* and picked up her grimoire from where it was still lying on the table.

"He didn't ask," she said dismissively, "and even if he had, I doubt it would have made a difference to him."

Héctor shot her a look of pure disbelief. She stared back at him and retorted, "Any man who's more than happy to throw a twelve-year-old boy off a building hardly seems likely to balk at being turned into a child-eating monster."

Héctor felt that there was a small flaw in this argument,** and he was about to try to point it out when Imelda asked in horror, "El Silbón eats children?!"

"Well, sort of. He eats their lifeforce. Sucks it out of them, usually over a week at most, leaves nothing but a pile of bones and dust. Which is why you don't have time to waste beating me with your shoe again, and you need to let me concentrate on figuring out what needs to be done so you can rescue him."

Imelda slowly lowered her foot and glowered at the bruja, who pretended not to notice and continued reading.

In the background, Dante and the chihuahuas were sniffing around, peering into corners and probably looking for something to chew on. Dante found the only other room in the shack, whose entryway was covered by a shabby blanket, and tried to peer around it, but out of the blue Quixote was in his face, screeching and making his feathers flare around him.

The big dog practically did a somersault trying to get away from the owl-dragon's sharp beak-but then, tongue lolling in a playful grin, he lowered his front half to the floor, waggling his tail and wings in the air.

Quixote drew himself up with a haughty glare, as if to say, "How dare you ask me to stoop to your level, you drooling mutt?"

He didn't see the other three alebrijes about to ambush him until it was too late, and soon all five of them were wrestling each other across the floor, thudding against a wall in a heap of multicolored fur, skin and feathers. Quixote tried for one more second of indignation...but gave it up and playfully nipped at Dante's ear.

The skeletons weren't paying attention; otherwise they would have seen that it was a perfect Kodak moment.***

Eventually Lorena looked up.

"You're going to need this if you want to stop de la Cruz once and for all."

She began digging through her braids, until she finally produced one that was tied at the bottom with what at first looked like a white stick, but which, as she freed it and held it out, was revealed to be a piece of bone.

Specifically, a finger bone.

Héctor pulled back in disgust. "Why do we need that exactly?"

"It's all that's left of Ernesto's humanity. His soul is so devoured by the anger and hatred he's been feeling towards you and the boy-" she indicated Héctor- "that there was no room for anything else, except in his finger."

"And you were wearing it in your hair?!"

"...I really like to accessorize." With a little shrug, she went back to reading, twirling the bone between her fingers.

Even if this was hardly the time for it, Imelda gave Héctor a skeptical look. "You went to this woman for help crossing the bridge?"

"I didn't have many options left!" Héctor argued.

He realized too late that his words might as well have been a slap. Imelda flinched, and looked down at the dirty floorboards.

"N-no, I didn't mean it like that," he hastily tried to amend. "I wasn't trying to blame you."

"I know, but I deserved it."

"No you-"

"Si, I did. I should have tried harder to find out what happened to you, and not just-assumed."

"I didn't stay like you wanted me to. And then I didn't see the signs of what he was planning."

Imelda sighed, and laced her fingers through his. "We're probably going to be arguing about this for the rest of eternity."

Héctor offered a shy smile. "Probably."

For a moment, they met each other's eyes, until a**** cough sounded from in front of them.

"As touching as this is," said Lorena, "you're going to want to focus. When you find them, you need to take this-" she held up the bone- "and stick it back on de la Cruz's hand. It'll return his memories to him, and break his curse. He won't be El Silbón anymore."

Imelda nodded, and took it from her, tucking it into her apron pocket and sealing the flap so it wouldn't fall out. The apron was made from very good quality material, but just in case she double checked to make sure there were no holes or loose seams the bone could fall out of. There weren't.

"The original El Silbón," Lorena lectured as they left the cottage, the assorted alebrijes at their heels, "was repelled by things associated with his death: dogs, whips and chilies. These things won't work on de la Cruz because for him, you need whatever was involved with his own death."

Héctor's eyes widened in epiphany. "I know what could work."

"I should hope so. Because you're going to have to go to the Land of Nightmares to get him."

Neither of the Riveras had ever heard of it, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what it was. Even though they didn't ask, Lorena said, "It's where every coco takes their prey. I think the fear it inspires increases their flavor or something."

"How do we get there?" was all Imelda asked.

"That's the easy part," said the bruja with a grin, looking down into the depths of the chasm next to them. "Lucky thing your alebrije's got wings."

*Pepita had to wait outside, of course; she just curled up outside the door and kept a silent vigil.

**After all, there's a big difference between wanting to kill someone and wanting to eat them.

***That is, if either Héctor or Imelda knew what a Kodak was.

****Not especially subtle.

The Land of Nightmares is my own idea. But it makes sense, no?