• • •
I didn’t expect a being as old as the Devourer to go out without a fight.
And she doesn’t.
She shakes with magic, blasting away the ring of avianas and Meadowkin. When she turns to me, I don’t recognize her.
Her skin is aged like cracked desert. Her body is doubled over like a question mark. Talons and nails have bloodied her arms and face. But still, she’s a fighter. She pulls at the magic of the earth, the roots of the tree. My family has escaped, and so are other souls, floating away into the air in silver wisps. She tries to draw them back, but they fight like fish swimming upstream. Those who were captured alive stand ready to fight.
“We’re not finished, Alejandra,” she says.
“No, we’re not, Xara.”
“Don’t you dare use my mortal name. Xara was weak and afraid, just like you will always be.”
But I’m not afraid anymore. “The Deos don’t take kindly to false names.”
An unusual sense of calm settles in my body. I can feel them, all of them, the lines of my family crisscrossing, not just living beside my magic but merging together to create something more. I know why everyone was so excited when they found out what I was.
Encantrix. The one chosen by the Deos.
“I will destroy you,” she tells me. “I will drink the magic from your bones and then spit them out.”
“You should be careful who you threaten,” Mama Juanita says, clicking her cane at my side.
One by one, they come forward. I can see Xara counting. Her eyes grow wider with each person she sees.
“This is over four hundred years of my family,” I say. “And these witches are pissed.”
I thought I was ready, but I’m not. My family channels their power through me all at once. I can see our lifelines twisting like sinew, like DNA, like roots in the earth. When I can breathe again, I direct the flow of magic. It floods in prisms of color that can only exist in between the realms. It is pure, undiluted power, and I fire it at the Devourer.
She lashes out with everything she’s got. It feels like she’s throwing stones while I wear Kevlar. Together, our magic fills the skies with blinding lightning. I hold it in my hands and throw. It cuts through the Devourer until there is nothing left but the ghost of her scream and a shower of ashes.
39
’Round the twisting paths of eternity,
o’er the bridge of forgetting.
There, you’ll find the Kingdom of Deos.
—Book of Deos
The gash on the tree spreads, sucking up anything and everything around it. Creating a portal through the tree was the only way to free it from the Devourer.
“We have to go!” I shout.
One by one, the spirits of my deceased family members disappear into the ether, back to rest until the next time they’re called upon. The ones that are still alive wait for me. Then there are the others, strangers, who were trapped against their will. Their souls fly around me, they touch me, thank me, and then they vanish.
“Alex!” My mom’s voice cuts through the howling wind. I run into her open arms and hold on tight. “We have to go. The portal is going to seal itself.”
“Wait!” I pull out of her embrace. I run to where Agosto and Madra are weary from the battle. Black clouds circle and twist, ready to form a tornado at the center of the labyrinth.
“You must go, encantrix,” Agosto says.
“I’m making sure everyone gets back.”
There’s so much to say. It’s too much to convey with a simple embrace. Madra gives me one of her feathers; Agosto, one of the throwing knives from his belt.
Aunt Ro pulls me back to the tree. “Go, Alejandra.”
She’s different too. The symbols of the sun and crescent moon are marked on her forehead. She glows with a light that comes from deep within.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
“The Deos have a plan. They always have a plan!”
When my mom sees my aunt, she nearly faints. “Rosaria?”
Aunt Ro’s dark skin glows with a different kind of blessing. A balance. The Devourer is gone and someone needs to take her place. This is why the Deos gave her a second chance. The sisters embrace. My mother shudders in her little sister’s arms. Aunt Ro kisses my mother’s wet cheeks, then forces herself to let go.
“Okay, head count,” Lula says.
One by one, they jump in—Lady, Rose, my mom, and so on.
I watch the labyrinth crumble as the fire dies and leaves the skeleton of branches. Funnels of clouds swirl across the hills and carry the ashes away. The Meadowkin and the avianas wave from a distance. Rishi takes my hand and squeezes.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Don’t stand me up again.” She kisses me and jumps into the portal.
Then there’s Nova, standing alone.
“I’m staying,” he shouts.
My heart, the treacherous, bloody mess, betrays me. It squeezes with unexpected hurt.
“If you stay,” Madra says, cold as ice, “I’ll make sure you pay for your betrayal. The Devourer may be gone, but this still isn’t paradise.”
Nova nods an understanding.
I look at Madra and Agosto once more. I commit them to memory. I never want to forget this moment.
The force of the gateway pulls at me, but so does a part of me I didn’t know was there. A part that wants to stay. How easy would it be to stay? What version of myself is going to come out of the other side of that portal?
Aunt Ro takes my hand. She kisses the inside of my palm where my cut stings. “Don’t shut me out again, nena. I’ll be watching over you always.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
The first time we went through a portal, Nova pushed me. I see the hesitation in his eyes and the fear of not belonging. Before I can change my mind, I wrap my arms around him and pull us into the portal.
40
La Mama gave her heart to El Papa.
They lived in the Kingdom of Deos for all their days,
chasing each other across the skies.
—History of the Deos, Book of Cantos
Falling a second time isn’t the same as the first.
This time, I wade through time and space. My magic is linked to everything—the infinity of time, the rapid snuff of death, the sprinkle of stardust, and the released sigh of freedom.
I don’t remember landing in the backyard. Only blurry red and blue lights. Sirens replace the rush of the wind. Strong hands pick me up from the grass. A stranger’s face belongs to someone who puts me in an ambulance that takes me away.
I sleep for days.
We all do.
There is no official story except that a family on our quiet Brooklyn street was attacked. The house robbed, even though I know nothing was taken. There is no explanation for the singed earth in the backyard or the tree cut down and burned to a stump. While I know it was the portal sealing itself for good, the police decide it was lightning. It felt like we were gone for weeks, but when we returned, only moments had passed.
For days, I dream of Los Lagos. I see Aunt Rosaria and Madra and Agosto burying the dead. I see Aunt Ro conjure rain to hydrate the parched earth of Bone Valle. It’ll be a slow change, but they’ve got nothing but time. There’s the start of new trees and fields of green and purple and gold. The Tree of Souls, now free, replenishes the land. It grows taller than before, and there’s a white scar where my knife ripped into the bark. Leaves replace the cocoons of stolen energy. The Wastelands show signs of growth, new buds that bloom like starflowers. Tall creatures with long, silver hair plow the earth and breathe light into the forests.
Madra lets the avianas roam free. Their feathers grow full and silky and bright. Inside of the Caves of Night is a small nest and on the wall hangs a set of black wings. And
at night, under the cloak of stars, they tell the fledglings stories of the Thief, the Magpie, and the Bruja that destroyed the Devourer.
• • •
When we all finally wake up, my mom takes us home.
There are no police follow-ups. No suspects, no leads. I think the police have had their fill of my family for long enough. They wash their hands of us, and I think they’re relieved that we want to be left alone.
At home, my mom kisses my forehead as we watch the news. They stopped reporting on our freaky “attack” after we refused to comment. Still, we watch for signs of other strange things. Mom wants to make sure nothing else came through the portal with us.
There is no sign of Nova. He wasn’t at the hospital, and I don’t know what happened to him after we fell.
“Don’t worry, nena,” my mom says. I look at her face. The smattering of gray hair that she’s named after each of us, the crow’s-feet at the corner of her eyes. Other brujas get glamours to hide them, but my mom never does. “These things work out on their own way.”
Rishi takes longer to recover, so my mom and I visit her in the hospital.
I bring her a sprig of lavender. I look over my shoulder and pull the drapes. My mother decides to distract Rishi’s parents while I visit. I fish out a crystal from my pocket, break the spring of lavender, and place them on her chest.
I lean in closer to her, whispering the prayer of the Deos. I hold her hands and find the root of her malady. I press healing waves into her skin, let them travel through her system until my mother knocks on the door. I’m dizzy, but I don’t want to leave.
“You ready, honey?” my mom asks, standing with her hands on my shoulders. Ever since we got back, she’s had separation anxiety. Whether it’s dropping us off at school or even going to get groceries. I fear she’s a step away from regressing to baby leashes.
“Not really.”
“Do you love her?” my mom asks.
“I think so. I mean, I’ve never felt this way before, so I’m not sure what it’s supposed to feel like to begin with. Rishi was the one who always believed in me, even when I was powerless. I’m just afraid of what it means. Look at you and Dad.”
My mom holds my chin gently in her hand. “I’m going to tell you something, nena. Even after everything you told me, even if I knew one day I’d wake up and never see him again, I would still love that man.”
I look at Rishi. Her breath is steady and her machine lights up with all sorts of colors. Somehow she’s the brightest part of my day. My little magpie.
“Then, yeah,” I say. “I do. I love her.”
“You know,” Rishi says, sitting up to stretch. “If you’d have said you loved me like ten minutes ago, I would’ve probably woken up sooner.”
My mom bursts out laughing. I feel myself turning red, but still I go to her. I pull her into a hug and hold on tight.
“We’re back,” I say.
She brushes my hair. “I see that. Now there’s no getting rid of me. I know all your secrets.”
“Good,” my mother says, “because you’re invited to Alex’s Deathday.”
41
She is the light in the hopeless places.
She is the sky when the night blazes.
—Rezo de La Estrella, Lady of Hope and All the World’s Brightness
Not everyone gets second chances. I’m grateful for mine.
Rishi helps me find a dress. It’s a splash of different purples and makes a swish, swish sound when I spin in my room.
“You look like the Los Lagos sky,” Rishi tells me.
Lula rolls her eyes and scrapes the bobby pins too hard against my skull. “Will you guys stop with your Los Lagos bonding? You got to have all the adventure while were tortured by an evil old bruja.”
“You’re just jealous,” Rishi says.
“She is jealous,” Rose says, lighting a new candle on my altar beside Madra’s feather and Agosto’s throwing knife.
“Don’t tell me you’re on their side, Rosie,” Lula mutters.
“I don’t choose sides. I just know things.”
“So how come Alex has to do another party? Didn’t she accept the blessing when she freed you guys?” Rishi flips through The Creation of Witches. After everything that happened, Lady apprenticed me at her shop. I don’t mind the extra work.
“Sure, Alex got a blessing,” Lula says, pinning the rose on my head. “But we didn’t get a party. Plus, everyone is clamoring to meet the encantrix. We’re getting free stuff every day.”
“Not to mention all the people coming to our door searching for miracles,” Rose says.
“Wow,” Rishi says. “You’re like a celebrity.”
I wouldn’t call myself a celebrity. But all over town, brujas talk. They talk about the girl who destroyed the Devourer of the Los Lagos. They don’t mention that I was partly responsible for banishing my family there or that four hundred generations of both ghosts and the living helped right my wrong.
“We can’t turn anyone away,” I say. “Our spare room is like a magical infirmary. My mom had to quit her receptionist job to take care of our patients. We take care of people with demonic possessions, wounds that can’t be treated by a regular doctor, and irregular births.”
“We had our first vampire,” Lula says. “My heart nearly fell out of my chest when he came in with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He was so hot.”
“His shapeshifter friend was cuter,” Rose says quietly.
“Aw, Rosie has her first crush.”
And then we all fall into fits of laughter.
• • •
The second party is better than the first. Everyone sings and dances and drinks copious amounts of Lady’s rose punch because we’re alive and it’s a beautiful thing.
I shake the hands of friends, family, and strangers. It’s still overwhelming. Everyone seems to want a piece of me. They want to look at my hands, at the marks that refuse to heal. I’ve grown rather fond of them. A reminder in case I ever lose my way again.
An old bruja brings her child to me so I could bless her. I don’t think I’m quite there yet, but it seemed to make her happy. No matter what I say, people think I’m more than what I am. That’s the difference between Xara and me. I’m quite happy with my slice of power, doing what good I can.
Rishi quickly becomes everyone’s favorite, retelling our adventure with details I seem to leave out—the way the sun shone, the way the water tasted, the beings we met. Rishi even seems to make sense of Crazy Uncle Julio’s ramblings, and his prediction of a zombie invasion this summer.
“Let’s dance,” Rishi tells me, pulling me onto the dance floor. “Is it weird that I miss the Meadow del Sol? And that you could see so many stars. Sometimes I dream of it.”
“I’ll give you stars,” I tell her.
I conjure the Los Lagos night sky on the ceiling, and I thank the Deos for making me who I am. An encantrix, a bruja, a girl.
Epilogue
Grita al sol! Grita a la luna!
If the Deos hear, they’ll answer.
—The Creation of Witches, Antonietta Mortiz de la Paz
There is a hard knock at the door. My mother is on the couch, resting her dancing feet. The house is in shambles after the party. It’s well after three in the morning. Lula fell asleep on the couch still wearing her dress, and Rose is reading an anatomy textbook. My senses are wide-awake.
Knock knock knock.
“I got it,” I say, drawing on my power in case it’s a threat.
“Hey,” he answers.
“Hey,” I say.
Nova stands in a blue hoodie and jeans. It doesn’t look very warm, but he doesn’t shiver. I instinctively look at his hands. His fingertips have started to turn black with marks again.
I go to close the door in his face, but he puts h
is hand on it.
“I know you’ll never forgive me,” he says.
“That’s right.” I don’t look at him. I can’t because I know that a sick, twisted part of me cares for him. I’ll just never be able to look at him the same way.
“But you have to know that I wasn’t lying about the way I felt for you. That was real. Every little bit.”
“I believe you,” I say.
I have so many questions, like: Where have you been? Where did you go while we were all in the hospital? If you love me so much, then why did you vanish? If you love me so much, then why did you still hurt me?
Not all loves are meant to last forever. Some burn like fire until there is nothing left but ash and black ink on skin. Others, like the love I feel for Rishi, stay close to the heart so I’ll never forget.
“What are you doing here, Nova?”
He looks to the side, like he’s being watched. “There is nothing I can do to make you forgive me. But this is a start.”
He turns and runs down the front steps and back onto the street, leaving his footprints on the snow. I run after him, but he’s quick and vanishes around the corner.
“Wait!”
I realize there’s more than one set of prints in the snow.
There’s Nova’s and mine—and a third.
I whip around. Inhale so much cold air I think my insides are frozen. On the porch is a face I thought I’d never see again. It’s like looking through a foggy window.
From the house, my mom yells, “Shut that door! You’re letting out the heat!”
But I can’t move. Every part of my body is locked. I think my heart has stopped beating.
“Alex, what—?”
Lula and Rose run out to see what’s happened, but they scream too. Lula rubs her eyes as they adjust to the dim porch light, and she clamps her mouth shut in disbelief.
He looks older, that’s for sure. There’s recognition in his eyes but also confusion. It’s like he’s trying so hard to remember our faces, like he’s one of the lost souls in Campo de Almas.
I say the word carefully, like it’s made of glass. “Dad?”
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