DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, then I don't own it.

From where Manolo was sitting, he could see his daughter clearly as she crept past the open studio door. "And what have you been up to?" he asked her with a smile.

Ofelia froze as he spoke, her eyes bugging practically out of their sockets. Her gaze briefly met her father's, and then she forced it down. "Just playing, Papa," she mumbled, looking at her hands.

He put his guitar down as he stood up. "Is something wrong?" he asked, walking towards her.

Quickly shaking her head, she darted away from him. "No, Papa."

He paused in the doorway, watching her as she hurried down the hall and slipped into her room. "Mija…?"

A hand touched his shoulder. "Give her some space for a little while," Maria said. "Maybe then she'll want to talk."

Manolo hesitated, still looking down the hall, but then nodded. "Alright." He made his way back to the music stand with slow steps, glancing at the clock on the wall as he sat. The ticking rang in his ears as he plucked strings and jotted meaningless notes on his sheet music. Fifteen minutes, then thirty. Then an hour, and then he couldn't take it anymore.

The sound of his knuckles on the wood of her door was too loud for his liking. "Ofelia?" he asked as he tried again more gently. "Are you still in here?"

The response didn't come at first. When it did, it was small and hesitant. "…Si."

Turning the knob, Manolo slowly opened the door and peered inside.

Ofelia was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a book lying in her lap as she thumbed through its pages without really looking at them. She seemed smaller than usual, more bedraggled.

He tried to smile for her. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

As soon as he said the words, he wished he could take them back. Ofelia stiffened and recoiled as she looked up, her eyes damp and red.

Manolo took an involuntary step back at the sight. "I'm sorry…?"

"It's okay," she answered slowly, as though trying to keep her voice calm.

"I'd like to come in for a while. Is that alright?"

She nodded, looking back down at her book.

Manolo approached her as though he might scare her away, then sat at the far end of the bed. "Did something happen today? Did you run into Elena again?"

Ofelia shook her head as she pulled her book closer to her face.

With a sigh, Manolo reached out and gently plucked the makeshift barrier from his daughter's hands. "You don't have to tell me everything," he said. "I just want to help you. I don't like knowing you're in here like this."

For a moment her eyes seemed to dart past him, towards one of her dresser drawers. But then her focus had returned to him, awkwardly wavering. "We were out playing," she began. "At…the churchyard."

His eyebrows shot up. "It was Valeria, wasn't it?"

Ofelia paused before nodding.

"What did she say to you?" he asked, his tone turning urgent.

The girl only froze and bit her lip. She trembled as she shook her head, her eyes turning glassy once again.

Manolo wrapped an arm around her. "Listen to me," he whispered. "You shouldn't pay attention to anything that woman says. Don't go near her by yourself anymore, either. If she frightens you like this again, come tell me. Okay?"

"What about Mama?"

"Don't worry about Mama, I'll talk to her," he answered. "We just want you to be safe."

Ofelia leaned against his side, looking up at him. "Okay, Papa."

He let out a relieved breath as he hugged her. "Why don't you come downstairs? I'll make abuela's tamales tonight, and then we can read together. Would you like that?"

She nodded, a hint of her usual vigor beginning to show itself. "Yes, Papa."

"I'll just need to run an errand after dinner." He got up from the bed and began to walk towards the door.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

Ofelia pushed a few curls behind her ear, exposing the birthmark. "What does this mean, Papa?"

Manolo knelt down, examining the symbol. "I'm not sure," he said after a few moments. "Maybe it just means you're different."

"Is that good?" she asked, trying not to look afraid.

He only ruffled her hair and kissed her forehead. "Don't think of it."

She waited until he was gone to let her smile fade.

The knocking on the side door of the church was loud and sharp, and Manolo only ceased when he heard the sound of footsteps clicking down the hall. When Valeria opened the door, he had to resist the urge to recoil.

"What do you want so late?" the woman snapped, holding a candle and still in her black dress.

He took a breath and cleared his throat. "I came to speak with you, señora."

"Be quick about it, then. I have much to prepare for tomorrow."

"My daughter said you spoke with her today."

Valeria crinkled her nose. "Hmmm…? Oh, yes. Of course."

Her tone was flat and distant, and Manolo nearly clenched his fists at the sound. "What did you say to her?"

"I don't see why it matters."

She began to shut the door, only for Manolo to jam it with his foot and force it back open. "She was scared out of her wits when she came home. What did you say to her?"

"Merely some trained observations," Valeria answered, fixing her icy eyes on his. "It would do her good to listen to them, I think."

"I don't want to see you near her again, ever," he snarled. "Do you understand?"

With abrupt speed, Valeria shoved him out of the doorway. "I shall do as I wish."

They glared at each other as Manolo picked himself up. "I already told her to stay away from you."

She rolled her eyes. "Are there any other matters you wish to accost us with?"

"I'd like to ask Father Domingo about - "

"Father Domingo is ill."

Manolo nearly stumbled backwards again. "What do you mean?"

"He took to his bed with a strong fever this evening," Valeria said tersely. "Quite suddenly. I suspect he shall not be well enough to move for a number of days."

"Who's going to lead the service tomorrow, then?"

"I shall." She seemed to smirk as she said so. "If you attend, I shall allow you to speak with him."

"My lady…!"

She turned her head back towards the corridor. Through the doorway, Manolo could see one of her assistants beckoning to her. "We found it," he whispered.

Valeria's eyes widened for a moment. "I bid you goodnight, Señor Sanchez. Do not come calling at this hour again." Blowing out her candle, she slammed the door in his face.

Manolo cast a glance up at one of the higher windows. Flames flickered, and shadows holding strange tools moved back and forth against the closed curtain. He took his time walking home, kicking a small rock down the street as he went.

If no one else is going to do something about you, he thought, then I will.