Cece Rios and the Desert of Souls

by Kaela Rivera

  I stared at his profile as the white in his soul dissolved into gray. For me, he had been just a legend Mamá told me by the fire. But he’d been a legend who I’d admired. Now, I wondered if that’s what he felt, too: the small, lost feeling of looking into a story for guidance to be whatever you’re supposed to be.

  Or maybe even for what you’re not.

  Standing at the window, he was just a thirteen-year-old boy learning about who he was. Just like me. Just like most of us.

  He looked down at his feet. “I just know that I thought Devil’s Alley would fix things.” His face curled with a sudden, seething vengeance. I nearly stepped back as his scowl deepened. “I don’t know why I thought that. All I ever did was make everything—everyone—worse.” He kicked the wall. A sharp pop of red burst through his soul. “I was so stupid.”

  “Hey, hey.” I tiptoed closer, reaching for his shoulder. “You were doing your best, Coyote.”

  His soul simmered down, and the color faded back to a light gray. I touched his shoulder. Slowly, he met my eyes. “You think so?”

  I smiled a little. Sure, making Devil’s Alley wasn’t a great decision, but he probably didn’t mean it to be a bad place originally. And anyway, that was his last life. “Everyone makes mistakes. Even the Great Namer, right?”

  “Right . . .” He pressed his lips together. “Even the Great Namer . . . Names mistakes.” He jumped a little. “I mean makes mistakes.”

  I squinted at him. He was agreeing with me, but something about him still seemed off. The gray in his soul hadn’t disappeared. Was there something he wasn’t telling me?

  He didn’t exactly seem up to sharing. So, I patted his shoulder and then grabbed a crochet jacket at the end of my bed. I signaled for Coyote to turn around, and once he had, changed out of my bruja’s outfit quickly. Coyote was still looking the other way (with his eyes covered for extra insurance) by the time I was dressed for the day. “Well, this morning’s been terrifying already, but I have bad news. I have to go to the Sun Sanctuary.”

  Coyote finally dropped his hands from his eyes as I turned to the hatch door. “Wait, you mean by yourself? Someone just sent a criatura to spy on you! You shouldn’t go alone.”

  “I’ve got to. Juana used to take food to the Sun Priestesses every Sunday, and it’s my job now.” I started down the ladder. It was tempting, but I couldn’t not go. If Ocelot didn’t kill me, my parents would.

  “Well, I’ll come with you.”

  “Sure, if we want to get caught by the police.” I hit the first floor. “Your eyes are gold, Coyote. And look at your hair!”

  He peered up at the white curl dangling over his forehead. Then shook his head. “What if I shift into my coyote form? Then no one would know I was a criatura.”

  I squirmed a little. Would I prefer him to go with me? Yes. Yes, I would. Especially since my knees still felt shaky knowing that Ocelot and her owner were watching me for some reason.

  But I wouldn’t risk Coyote’s life. “I’m pretty sure having a coyote tailing me through town would also be suspicious,” I said. He frowned down at me. “The Sun Sanctuary isn’t far, and the police would be on any criatura who tried to attack in broad daylight. I’ll be okay. I think.”

  My stomach cramped a little as I picked up the tortillas Mamá left on the table and headed to the front door. Coyote stuck his head out of the hatch opening to watch me go, his hair dangling from his upside-down head. He looked worried.

  “I’ll be back soon!” I tried to sound braver than I felt as I closed the front door behind me.

  Usually, I preferred to walk slowly down the familiar paths toward the center of town. But today, I ran, keeping an eye on the rooftops. Soon enough, the golden dome and steeple of the Sun Sanctuary peeked over the nearest buildings. There!

  I rounded a narrow turn, and it came into full view. The morning sun shone off its gold top and lit up the stained glass windows, with Ocean goddess’s mural glowing brightest in the angle of the sun. I slowed and smiled up at it, my fears dissolving with every step closer. The Sun Sanctuary was always such a cheerful, peaceful place to me. It was hard to believe anything bad could happen here.

  Even if the priestess standing at the entrance frowned when she noticed my approach.

  “Cecelia Rios?” Yaotl del Sol, one of the younger priestesses, asked.

  I touched my hand to my shaved head. Oh, right. I’d almost forgotten they hadn’t seen me with my new haircut. “Yes, it’s me,” I called.

  “You’ve come to pay your respects?” She raised an eyebrow, annoyed. Juana used to joke that Yaotl del Sol’s promotion to Priestess Caretaker—a Sun Priestess who was in charge of organizing daily chores—had inflated her already large head.

  “Yes.” I climbed the wide, brightly tiled steps even though I could tell she didn’t want me to. They’d already propped the eight-foot dark wood doors open for the day, so I stopped just inside the wide archway. “Have you seen Dominga del Sol? I have her tortillas for the week.”

  Every familia in town had a duty to bring a certain portion of food to one of the priestesses. Mine had given tortillas to Dominga del Sol since she first became a priestess, back when my Abuela was alive.

  Yaotl del Sol frowned at me. Her hard expression gave me a quivery feeling that made me want to retreat. But I took a deep breath and didn’t. For the first time, I didn’t run, didn’t duck my head, didn’t just accept her distaste.

  Instead, I met her eyes and smiled.

  Slowly, her gaze softened. She looked away and gestured inside. “She’s in the back, doing laundry for the orphanage. Go on.”

  My heart rate picked up. It worked! Wow, this was so much nicer than sneaking in through the back. I grinned and thanked her before entering the sanctuary.

  The front room was spacious, with three walls painted bright white and large, dark wooden rafters running lengthwise down the room. I approached the large mosaic on the far wall, passing by stained glass windows on each side, seats for meditation, and racks of candles set in front of the windows. There was so much beauty to take in at the sanctuary. But I found myself drawn to the mosaic more than anything else.

  It depicted the story of creation that I loved so much. The Sun god, Moon goddess, Ocean goddess, and Desert goddess gathered in a diamond shape around a colorful center. In that center, held in place by the four deities, were sleeping animals, leaping fish, glorious stars, and dancing humans rendered in intricate patterns.

  Drawn in by its beauty, I looked closer—at the center, this time. The Moon goddess’s children, the stars, hovered closest to where she was positioned on the left of the diamond. Humans were near the top, hovering near the Sun god and his rays. The fish, whales, and seashells spread out from the right, where the Ocean goddess stood. And at the bottom, criaturas and animals slept in peace, just above Mother Desert. But what caught my attention most was the way the four deities reached into the center, the tips of their fingers touching one another’s.

  “I’ve always loved this picture.”

  I jumped and found Dominga del Sol beside me, holding a pile of starched white shirts. She chuckled and nodded to the mosaic.

  “This mosaic is almost five hundred years old, you know. I think if it had been made more recently, it would be missing a lot of the truths inside it. People forget things so easily.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  She gestured to the mosaic. “How about you tell me what questions you have when you look at it?”

  I turned back to the mosaic. “Well, there are no dark criaturas.”

  “You have a good eye. Just like your abuela.”

  I smiled. “And all four gods are reaching for each other.”

  “Very true. Why do you think the artist chose to do that?”

  I shook my head slowly, taking in the ancient art. Each of the gods was depicted with a different type of stone. The Sun god with fire opal, the Moon goddess with moonstone, the Desert goddess with coyamito agate, and
the Ocean goddess with turquoise. But where their fingers touched, the tiles united in brilliant jade squares.

  “It kind of looks like . . .” I tilted my head, eyeing the jade. “I don’t know. This might sound weird.”

  She nodded, encouraging me to go on.

  “Maybe the gods were responsible for all creation. Together.” Now that I saw the jade, I couldn’t seem to look away. And it wasn’t just in the center. In every creation floating around the gods’ arms was a single bit of jade embedded. My mouth opened. “Like maybe there’s a bit of every god in every creation. Because they . . . made us together?”

  As soon as I said it, it felt right. But I was standing with a Sun Priestess in the Sun Sanctuary, the building dedicated to our gratitude to the Sun god for making us. I flushed red and looked up at Dominga del Sol, hoping she wasn’t about to throw me out.

  She didn’t. Instead, her mouth softened in a gentle smile, surrounded by thick wrinkles. “I think you’ve come to a very likely conclusion, Cece.”

  “Really?” I gaped.

  “Well, yes. All four gods had to sacrifice themselves for the world to begin. It only makes sense that they needed their combined powers to create life as well. Even if they each chose a particular one to design.”

  That felt right too, as her words filled the space between us. We both looked up at the mosaic. The Sun god’s face looked so soft and warm here, even captured in square fire opal tiles. Maybe it wasn’t just because he was making us. Maybe it was because he was making everything, everyone, as part of a team with his sisters.

  “If that’s true,” I whispered, “do you think the Sun god would be disappointed in me for having a soul like water instead of his fire, like everyone says?”

  Dominga del Sol tilted her head as her eyes wandered over the deities. They paused on the Ocean goddess. I’d never paid much attention to her story, since we lived deep in the desert, far from her shores. Considering how much everyone hated the idea of a water soul so much, it seemed best to ignore her. But now, she caught my attention. She was dressed in turquoise rain clouds, and the hem of her dress turned into a river that faded into the ocean’s vast body.

  “How could he be disappointed in water,” she said, her wrinkled fingers brushing over the stones, “when he placed us in the desert, where we would learn to need it?”

  No one had ever spoken of water like that to me—like it was important.

  “That’s something the curanderas used to teach.” Dominga del Sol lowered her voice. People didn’t like to hear curanderas mentioned publicly. “That every deity’s contribution was important, and that we should be grateful to each of them. Some even say that’s because curanderas were blessed by the gods—some blessed with the Sun god’s fire, others with the Moon goddess’s wisdom, a few with the Desert goddess’s voice, and others,” she said, looking pointedly at me, “with the Ocean goddess’s strength.”

  My mouth opened. She spoke of water and the Ocean goddess the same way I’d always secretly believed Tzitzimitl’s words to be—a blessing. A good thing. Not something to be ashamed of.

  I stared up at the Sun god and his sister, the Ocean goddess, and wondered if it was possible that they could both exist inside me.

  Slowly, I reached toward the Ocean goddess’s depiction. As my fingers neared the stones, light flickered off them. I squinted, moving my head to try to angle away from whatever direction the sun was bouncing off them. Then I realized . . .

  The light was coming from the stones. I went still, my hand hovering just over their smooth surfaces. Was I seeing things again? First the water last night and now this? Next to me, Dominga de Sol straightened up. Her mouth opened. But there was no way the turquoise mosaic could really be . . . glowing, right?

  Footsteps resounded behind us. I pulled my hand back, and the stones’ light went out. Dominga del Sol’s shoulders slumped a bit as she turned to meet the approaching figure.

  Yaotl del Sol stopped beside us and planted her hands on her hips. “Dominga del Sol, you have chores to attend to.”

  The old woman looked exhausted. “That’s true, Yaotl del Sol. Just a moment.” She leaned down to take the tortillas I was still carrying. I loaded them into her arms, atop the shirts. “They don’t like me to talk to children,” she said. “They say I fill their heads with stories we don’t like to think are true anymore.”

  Yaotl del Sol sighed. “It’s not that.” She looked down at me. “Understand, Cecelia, that Dominga del Sol’s stories are only recorded by curanderas—”

  “Which are the oldest histories we have,” Dominga del Sol interjected.

  Yaotl del Sol’s face tightened. “When we trusted the curanderas for our protection, dark criaturas nearly took over Tierra del Sol, and we almost died out. Since the curanderas perished, we’ve become stronger by embracing only the ferocity of the Sun god’s flame in our hearts. Clearly, it’s a better way.” Her eyes fell on me sharply. “We can’t afford weakness.”

  I’d seen that look before, and I knew perfectly well what she meant.

  Dominga del Sol placed a warm hand on my head. “If the Sun god, flame of our souls, were still alive to see us, I think he’d be sad to see us forget our history simply because we are afraid of being hurt again.”

  Yaotl del Sol stiffened. “Well, he’s not here, is he? He sacrificed himself so that we could live. And it’s our duty to do just that.” She turned with a swirl of her yellow robes and disappeared out the entrance.

  Dominga del Sol sighed as she watched her go. “She’s not completely wrong. The curanderas weren’t able to stop the flood of dark criaturas that nearly ended Tierra del Sol. But that doesn’t mean they were weak.” She poked the place over my heart and narrowly missed the two soul stones. My pulse fluttered.

  I straightened up. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll figure it out, Cece.” She stroked my cheek with her free hand. “I have no doubt that you’ll be the one to figure it out.”

  19

  Hawk Hunting

  “Well if it isn’t the pollo who became a hawk.”

  I was on my way home from the Sun Sanctuary, taking a quieter route through the backstreets, when I heard the familiar voice. I whirled around, glancing across the barren street. A girl leaned against the nearest adobe house. I almost didn’t recognize her, but when she turned to look at me, her nose piercing caught the light.

  I stiffened. It was the apprentice bruja I’d met when I first entered Envidia. She had a serpentine smile, but her demeanor was a bit calmer this time.

  “For a girl with two criaturas, you still look awfully scared.” She smirked. “So tell me, how does it feel getting this far in the competition?”

  I tried not to bite my lip and glanced down the street. I shouldn’t stay out in the open for too long. But I didn’t want to antagonize Bruja Bullring too much. When I saw the area was still clear, I turned back to her. “Are you not in the Bruja Fights anymore?” I asked.

  She sighed and pulled her shirt collar back from her neck. There was no necklace. “Unfortunately not. The police caught me in the raid last night. I made it out, but they stole my criatura. She’s probably dead by now.”

  I resisted the urge to check on Little Lion’s and Coyote’s souls. “Who did you have?”

  “Criatura of the Tarantula,” she said and shook her head. “A complete shame. I’d have loved to have seen her go against Coyote.” Her smirk widened. “How did you capture a legend’s soul, Bruja Cece?”

  “It wasn’t that hard,” I said with a shrug, trying to avoid details.

  She shook her head and chuckled. “Chiquita, I found out who you are, you know. You don’t have to pretend.”

  The hairs on my arms stood on end. Had whoever sent Ocelot after me told her something?

  “I’ve heard about Catrina, the Cager of Souls. She’s a big shot in Devil’s Alley. Guess it helps having some of that blood in your veins.” She frowned out toward the Ruins.

  I let out a ner
vous breath. Okay, she hadn’t figured out that I was doing this to get Juana back. “My tía left me some . . . uh, tips, I guess.” I cleared my throat when she sent me a dark look. “But you seemed to know a lot of stuff about the Bruja Fights all on your own. Have you entered them before or something?”

  “For the past two years,” she said. “Last year I had the Criatura of the Cantil Snake. He lost in the semifinals, probably just to spite me.” She sneered. “And now I’ve lost Tarantula. I swore this’d be the year I got into Devil’s Alley.”

  I knotted my fingers together. “Why do you want to go to Devil’s Alley?” It was hard to think anyone would want to, especially now that I knew what it was like for the criaturas.

  Her eyebrows played with each other, like the question confused her. “Same reason you do, I guess. Probably the same reason Catrina did. To get out of this infernal desert.” Her face hardened. “In Devil’s Alley, I won’t have a mamá beating me, telling me to respect people who’ve only ever tried to make me small.” She gritted her teeth. “In Devil’s Alley, I’ll be the big bad bruja everyone else has to fear.”

  Except El Cucuy, who was the biggest bad of Devil’s Alley. But she didn’t mention him as she glared at the streets she’d just cursed.

  If I could have turned Tía Catrina’s journal into one single expression, it would have been the one Bruja Bullring wore just then—with eyes that had learned to hate more than to love. And in that same gaze, the implication that they’d been soft once. That they’d grabbed onto the wrong weapon to stop that softness from being hurt again.

  “That’s why I need a new criatura,” she said. “How did you find Coyote so quickly? I saw you that first day in Envidia. You didn’t have a criatura then.”