Espa¤ol !!top!!: Harlequin
El Duende hissed and vanished—but not before scratching four lines across Mateo’s chest, like the pattern of a diamond. The wound never healed. It became the map of his life.
And then all the captive harlequins laughed. And the monastery laughed. And the moon laughed. And El Duende—he laughed too. harlequin espa¤ol