Mirabel awoke to sunshine.
For several minutes she lay there, wrapped up in unfamiliar blankets, blinking at the light streaming down from a crack in the ceiling, and trying to remember where she was. Everything flooded back in a rush—the Encanto, Casita, Ratón.
She sat up, fumbling for her glasses. Now that she could see the room in the daylight, she realized that this was once the kitchen, with the remains of an oven and counters and broken shelves surrounding her. Ratón seemed to be in the process of trying to clear it out, as there were piles of neatly stacked stone along one side and a broom leaning against the wall.
Mirabel stood, her back popping. The floor moved under her feet and she threw her hands out to catch herself, grinning.
"Good morning to you too, Casita," she said. "Where's Ratón?"
Tiles tapped and boards shifted, beckoning her over to the other side of the kitchen. Curious, Mirabel followed them until she was at the entrance to a small space off what remained of the dining room. A faded curtain hung across the doorway, and she hesitated.
Casita had led her to what was possibly—probably—Ratón's room, and Mirabel really didn't want to intrude on his privacy any more than she already had. She recalled the questions she had asked last night and winced—she had been far too curious for her own good, and it was a small miracle that Ratón hadn't been offended.
But, before she could do or say anything to the sentient house, Casita shifted the boards under her feet and she went flying past the curtain and into the room.
"Geez, okay, okay!" she cried, picking herself up off the floor. She adjusted her glasses.
Ratón wasn't inside. The room she found herself in was tiny, with over half of it fully exposed to the elements. She wondered, in passing, whether this used to be a pantry given its proximity to the kitchen. But, it seemed, she was right in her initial assumption—Ratón had made the space his home and had done his best to make it livable. Spotted sunlight shone down on a hammock strung up between two posts, a moldy red armchair shoved in the corner, a small dinner table with an unlit candle, a repaired chair. Drawings of rats peppered the walls, potted plants hung from the ceiling, laundry was hanging up to dry. Mirabel thought the overall effect was very cozy, despite the missing wall and ceiling.
Ratón's ruana was draped over the back of the chair. Mirabel couldn't help herself and stepped closer to inspect her handiwork in the daylight.
She forgot all about it when she saw what else was on the table.
Plates. Roughly hewn, but carefully painted, carved into the surface of the table. There were three of them and painted around their rims were three names.
Pepa. Julieta. Bruno.
Bruno?
Casita's tapping boards wrenched her attention away. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the dust from her eyes. "What is it, Casita?" she asked.
The boards jumped, trailing up the floor until they nudged a rickety, blanket-covered table next to the armchair. Mirabel gently pulled the blanket off, and as it pooled on the floor the tiny room was filled with green light.
She frowned. The light was coming from…tablets? At first glance, they seemed to be made from glass, but when she touched them their feel was more akin to stone.
There were images set within them, but they weren't like a photograph. At least, not any photograph she'd ever seen. These were more three-dimensional, and they moved slightly when she tilted them.
There were seven in total. The one on top depicted her primo Antonio—maybe five years old at most—riding on Parce, his jaguar companion.
But why would Ratón have this?
Gently, she lifted the remaining tablets and laid them all out on the floor in front of her.
The second tablet showed Luisa when she was around Mirabel's age, lifting a boulder over her head with one hand and grinning from ear to ear.
The third was of her mamá and Tía Pepa and Abuela, their arms around each other and a dark rain cloud drizzling above them.
The fourth was of a younger Dolores and Camilo, arguing ferociously.
The fifth was of Isabela, smiling, surrounded by pots full of succulents and cacti and flowers.
The sixth tablet was of her pá and mamá and tía and tío sitting around a table, drinking (copiously, going off of the number of glasses between them) and laughing.
And the seventh tablet was—
"Me," Mirabel whispered.
She was standing in front of Casita, the ruined house looming above her. But it wasn't like the others. When she lifted it to have a closer look, the image changed, showing Casita as a whole and complete house. Broken, then repaired, then broken again, depending on how she looked at it.
She lowered the tablet with a shake of her head.
This didn't make any sense. Why would Ratón have these?
She looked the images over again. They were only of her family. Some of them were out of date—Antonio and Dolores and Camilo and Luisa were definitely younger in these pictures.
But the one with Isabela and her parents looked recent. And Mirabel hadn't been to Casita before yesterday, so…
Were these…pictures of the future?
A long-forgotten conversation suddenly came to mind:
"Mamá, what was Tío Bruno's Gift?"
Dinner had just finished. Agustín had gotten up to start the dishes, leaving the four of them at the table. Luisa had asked the question, blurting it out and immediately turning bright red. Isabela smacked her lightly on the shoulder.
"Seriously?" she snapped.
"Don't hit your sister," Agustín called over his shoulder.
Isabela rolled her eyes.
"It's alright Luisa, Isa," Julieta said. "Your tío's Gift was foresight. He could Look and see the future whenever he wanted." She paused and snorted with laughter. "Mamá got so angry with him once, because he Looked and got the answers for our exámen de matemáticas. Oh, but he was so proud, showing Pepa and I this emerald tablet with all the answers on it. When Mamá found out, he was grounded for weeks—"
She stopped, an unreadable expression crossing her face. Then, she shook herself and gave her daughters a sad smile. "That was his Gift, mijas."
"Whoa," Luisa said. Even Isabela looked impressed.
"What was the test on?" Mirabel asked.
Julieta leaned in, eyes twinkling. "Fracciones," she whispered with an exaggerated shudder, and Mirabel giggled.
"Casita?" Mirabel asked, shaking free from the memory. Her fingers gently brushed over the faces of her familia, her thoughts flitting back to the table behind her, and the hand-carved plates.
Bruno.
It was impossible, and yet…
"Casita, is Ratón…Tío Bruno?"
A pause, then the house roared to life. Rats hidden in the corners of the room squeaked and scattered as tiles and floorboards and plaster leapt and danced. Everything felt like it was vibrating, so joyous was Casita's celebration.
But despite the ruckus all around her, Mirabel held herself very, very still.
Tío Bruno was alive?
Whatever he was, he was proving hard to find.
He'd left Casita, that much was clear when Mirabel had gotten the house to pause in its celebration long enough to ask and had gotten the equivalent of a shrug in return, Casita lifting its floorboards apologetically. She hadn't seen him since last night; she had no idea where he'd go.
She stepped outside, his ruana draped over her arm. The newly risen sun was shimmering on the rooftops of the ruined houses in the village below. Maybe she should start there?
Something told her he wouldn't be there, though. If she was right…if Casita hadn't lied to her, or misunderstood…
He wouldn't have gone far.
Mirabel walked the perimeter of the house, careful to avoid the larger chunks of fallen stone, her eyes scanning the building and the edges of the jungle. She didn't dare call out for him. She wasn't sure which name to use anyway.
She finally spotted him, sitting on a piece of a wall that had fallen right on the edge of the jungle, several yards away from the house. He had his knees drawn up to his chest, and his long tail wrapped around himself. His ears flicked back as she approached, so she knew he heard her.
Slowly, giving him time to leave if he wanted, Mirabel sat down next to him. He didn't look at her, but shifted slightly to make more room.
Wordlessly, she handed him the ruana. He stared at it for a moment before taking the worn fabric from her hands, slipping it on, and keeping the hood up.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Mirabel cleared her throat. "I, uh, found your glowy tablet things," she said, wincing as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Smooth, Mira, very smooth, she could practically hear Isabela chide.
He nodded. "I…I know."
Mirabel took a deep breath. "My mamá told me her brother used to be able to do that. Helped her cheat on a math test once."
He huffed out what might have been a laugh and she felt encouraged enough to continue.
"You're my Tío Bruno," Mirabel said softly. "Aren't you?"
"Yes," he whispered, hunching his shoulders. He wouldn't look at her.
Mirabel sat in this revelation for a moment. Despite his—Bruno's—apparent misery, she couldn't help the smile slowly spreading across her face, and the joy bubbling up in her chest at the confirmation.
"Tío Bruno," she said, trying out the name. Bruno finally met her gaze and she beamed at him. "You have…no idea how nice it is to finally meet you."
He snorted, his whiskers twitching. But some of the tension in his shoulders eased.
"But why didn't you just tell me who you were?"
The tension was back. "Would you have believed me?" he asked quietly. "Like, 'hi, hello, I'm your long lost tío who also happens to be this hideous monster, but never mind that now.'" He shook his head. "Not—not to mention that everyone thinks I'm dead and—and I look like…like this—"
"Tío…" Mirabel began, but he continued on like he hadn't heard her.
"I mean, even you pulled a knife when you saw me, and literally everyone I've tried to talk to in the last few years runs away screaming—"
"Tío Bruno—"
"Even Pepa couldn't stand the sight of me, and she used to love rats—"
"Tío Bruno!" Mirabel shouted. Bruno's mouth snapped shut and he shrank away from her, instantly flooding her with guilt.
"Sorry, sorry," she said, holding up her hands. "But, Tío…you don't have to worry about that stuff anymore."
She reached for his hand. He allowed her to take it, carefully maneuvering her fingers around his sharp claws. She gave him a reassuring squeeze.
"You don't have to worry," she repeated, "because now you have me. And I won't let anyone hurt you again. Okay?"
Bruno's gaze was fixed on their joined hands. He swallowed once, twice. "Oh-okay," he whispered. He looked at Mirabel and gave her his approximate smile again. "Okay."
Mirabel squeezed his hand. "And I am sorry about the knife."
"Pfft, water under the bridge," Bruno said, waving his other hand. He looked her in the eye. "Thank you, Mirabel."
She shrugged. "That's what family's for, Tío Bruno." She paused. "I didn't know Tía Pepa loved rats."
"Well, love might be too strong a term," Bruno said with a sheepish shrug. "More like she tolerated mine, but I don't think she ever sought them out on her own or-or anything." He squinted at her. "She…never told you?"
"Oh, umm," Mirabel said. "No?"
Bruno withdrew his hand from hers to fidget with the hem of his ruana. "Do they ever…talk about me?"
"A little, sometimes," Mirabel said, biting her lip. "But, um, usually it would make Mamá cry, and Abuela leave the room, and Tía Pepa would rain all over everyone for hours so we all just…stopped asking after a while."
Bruno looked away. "That…that makes sense."
They were quiet for a minute, listening to the jungle.
"Tío Bruno?" Mirabel asked softly. "Why didn't you ever come back?"
Bruno sighed deeply. "Look at me, Mirabel," he said. His nose twitched. "The last time my family saw me, I was…I was a kid. A human kid. I couldn't—I wasn't—" He let out a sound of frustration. "I love my family, you know? I saw you all, in my visions, and I'd wish…but I don't—I just don't know how to—" He shook his head. "It's for the best. Trust me."
"What? No, it's not!" Mirabel spluttered, waving her hands. "Everyone's gonna be so happy to see you! You—you're alive, they're not gonna care—well, okay maybe they'll care a little bit," she added after he gave her a look. "But only because they'd be worried about you! Trust me, I know my—our—family. Please, Tío Bruno? Our family needs you back—"
She thought back to the partially swept kitchen, the tiny room, the table with…with—
"And you need to get out of here."
"And go where?" he asked, bemused by her outburst.
"The—the wedding!" Mirabel blurted. "Dolores' wedding! She's getting married on sábado—the whole family will be there, it's perfect!"
"Whoa, whoa, hang on," Bruno said, scooting away from her a little bit, panic in his eyes. "I don't think—think a wedding is the best place to—"
"We wouldn't tell everyone all at once," Mirabel said, a plan already taking shape in her head. "Just a few at first…maybe start with Toñito, gauge his vision and eyes reaction. Since he talks to animals—no offense!—maybe he'd be easier to convince…"
"Maybe…maybe they can just come here instead," Bruno suggested, shaking his head, a tinge of desperation in his voice. "Like, to visit, yeah…just a nice, short visit…"
"No, Tío Bruno," Mirabel said. She reached for his hand again, and he let her take it. She held on tight. "I'm bringing you home."
Translations:
1. Exámen de matemáticas - math test
2. Fracciones - fractions
3. Sábado - Saturday
