Chapter 26

  BROKEN MASKS

  Three sharp knocks echoed as Cristina knocked on the door of the large house where Jazmín lived. Then she waited, seemingly calm… or at least that was what she tried to make Max believe. In reality, every second tightened her nerves. She felt her skin prickle, as if something could emerge from any corner.

  She glanced discreetly to both sides and, via telepathy, contacted the undercover ally.

  *Do you see anything?*

  *All clear,* the voice replied in her mind. *For now.*

  The door opened slowly, letting the warm glow from inside spill out. Jazmín appeared in the doorway.

  —Max! —she exclaimed, lighting up immediately—. I’m so happy to see you again!

  —Hi —he replied, returning her smile—. How are you feeling?

  —Much better… —then her gaze slid toward Cristina—. Um… is she…?

  —She’s my girlfriend —Max blurted out without thinking.

  Cristina stared at him, completely taken aback, but caught the urgency in his expression and decided to play along.

  —Yes… I’m his girlfriend —she said, smiling—.

  *This is a stupid lie,* she transmitted telepathically to Max.

  —What?! Since when? —Jazmín’s eyes widened with excitement—. Come in, come in, I want to know everything.

  She ushered them inside enthusiastically. The house was spacious, orderly, far too normal for what Cristina felt vibrating beneath the surface. They settled into the living room while Jazmín brought snacks and juice, moving with an almost contagious energy.

  —So… —she watched them with a sparkle in her eyes—. Tell me.

  —We met through… the internet —Max improvised—. We’re fans of the series *Angelical Love*.

  —Yes —Cristina added, forcing a laugh—. I love that show, and this guy won me over with his… charming personality.

  —I don’t believe you! —Jazmín suddenly said.

  The comment hit like a bucket of ice water.

  —I’m a huge fan of *Angelical Love* too! —she continued—. Let’s see, who’s your favorite character?

  —Uh… —Max went blank.

  Cristina closed her eyes for just a second and took a deep breath. She tried to read Jazmín’s mind, searching for a way out, a clue… but the moment her magic touched that consciousness, she felt a brutal impact.

  It was like slamming into an invisible wall.

  A psychic lash tore through her and she grabbed her head, gasping, with a sharp pain that made no logical sense.

  Something was there.

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  And it definitely did not want to be seen.

  —Are you okay? —Max asked, watching Cristina with concern.

  —Yes, just… —she forced a smile—. May I use your bathroom?

  —Of course, it’s at the end of the hall.

  Cristina stood up and walked away, leaving an awkward silence behind.

  The moment she disappeared from sight, Jazmín’s expression changed completely. The lightness evaporated.

  —Max… you’d tell me if something strange were going on, right?

  —Of course —he replied, though the knot in his stomach betrayed him—. Why do you ask?

  Jazmín stepped closer and grabbed his arm tightly.

  —I know it sounds crazy, but we have to get out of here. Now.

  —Wait —Max pulled free—. What’s going on?

  —I’ll explain later —she whispered, nervously glancing toward the hallway—. Right now we’re not safe.

  —You’re scaring me…

  At that moment, Cristina returned. One look was enough for her to notice the tension between them. She read Max’s mind and received the warning like a lightning strike: *something is wrong.*

  Their eyes met.

  Jazmín saw it.

  —Oh, Max… —she said with a twisted smile—. You’re under her spell.

  The movement was instant.

  Jazmín yanked a painting off the wall and revealed two hidden pistols behind it. Without hesitation, she aimed and fired at Cristina.

  Max reacted on pure instinct. He threw out his hands and the bullets stopped in midair, vibrating, suspended inches from their target.

  —You…! —Jazmín spat.

  —Put the gun down! —Max shouted—. We don’t have to do this.

  —I’m sorry, friend.

  Jazmín pressed a metal bracelet on her wrist. A sharp pulse rippled through the house like an invisible scream. It caused no physical damage, but the air trembled, oppressive.

  —Bitch! *Flectere mentem!* —Cristina roared, invoking the spell.

  Nothing happened.

  Jazmín let out a cold laugh.

  —Stupid witch. This is a fight without magic.

  She reloaded with precise movements, aiming one gun at Max and the other at Cristina.

  —I thought I was only hunting women… but I was wrong.

  Then, the blast.

  Glass shattering. A smoke grenade rolled across the floor and exploded into a thick cloud that swallowed the living room. Visibility vanished. The silence became absolute.

  Suddenly, the front door burst open.

  A figure entered through the smoke, moving like a living shadow, impossible to focus on.

  Jazmín tensed her weapons, ready to kill.

  Max and Cristina looked for cover.

  And in the middle of the haze, something older than fear seemed to have arrived in the house.

  —Come out, cowards! —Jazmín shouted, her voice cracked, on the edge of madness.

  The response was immediate.

  A kick came down like lightning straight onto her arms. The impact made her drop the pistols, which slammed against the floor. Before she could react, a brutal blow crashed into her stomach and sent her flying backward.

  —Bitch… —Jazmín spat before collapsing, writhing in pain.

  The smoke began to dissipate slowly.

  From the haze emerged a familiar silhouette. Tatiana stood before them, a shotgun slung across her back and metal knuckles fitted to her hands. Her gaze was hard, resolute.

  —Tatiana…? —Jazmín stammered, incredulous.

  —I always knew you were crazy —Tatiana replied, looking at her with contempt.

  Jazmín lunged at her with a savage scream, but Tatiana blocked every strike with insulting ease, as if she anticipated every move. She wasn’t fighting: she was playing.

  —Stop! —Jazmín roared.

  The shout exploded in the air and became a shockwave. Furniture, shards of glass, and dust were hurled outward. Tatiana was slammed violently against the wall.

  —Hi, Max… —Tatiana said as she pushed herself up, spitting blood and smirking.

  Jazmín’s bracelet began to darken, turning completely black. The darkness spread up her arm like a living infection, devouring skin, until it condensed in her hand.

  From that darkness, a staff was born.

  Long and slender, a sickly black-gray, its surface was rough and twisted, as if torn from something living. At the top, a carved bird tilted its head, feathers etched with cruel precision, beside a smooth, dark sphere integrated into the design. The lower end tapered into an irregular, sharpened point, just as coarse.

  The walls began to ooze.

  From them emerged insects the size of cats: beetles, spiders, mantises… grotesque, formed of a solid, gleaming tar that dripped darkness.

  —Shit… —Tatiana muttered.

  She dropped the knuckles and grabbed the shotgun from her back.

  —Up. We’re leaving —she ordered, jerking her head toward the back door for Max and Cristina.

  She started firing.

  With each blast, golden runes ignited around the barrel. The shots struck the creatures and exploded in bursts of light, disintegrating the tar into smoking fragments.

  —Goodbye, bitch.

  Tatiana pulled a marble from her pocket and hurled it hard against the floor. When it shattered, a thick cloud of smoke flooded the room, devouring everything.

  When the smoke cleared, there was no trace of any of the three.

  Jazmín’s scream of rage shook the entire house.

  The walls cracked.

  The home, as if sharing her fury, began to break apart from its very foundations.