Cece Rios and the Desert of Souls
Page 17
She dropped me.
I bit my tongue when I landed. Hot, coppery blood spread through my mouth. She stepped back, gaze still glassy. I trembled as I took in all five feet, ten inches of her. Her plaits of gold and black hair swayed in the light rustle of wind.
When I finally dared to blink, she was suddenly, inexplicably, gone.
About ten feet away, Coyote had finally climbed to his feet. I ran over, still shaking, and offered him help as he straightened up. We held on to each other.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
His mouth dropped open “Me? Cece—she nearly—if she’d wanted, she could have—” His voice cut off in a squeak.
I looked off into the desert, as if I might catch another glimpse of her. My knees were still knocking together. And I couldn’t calm the tremors in my hand, even as I tried to comfort Coyote. But I knew she wasn’t the one who threatened me. Ocelot was just a powerful pawn.
“Brujo Rodrigo’s been using her to track me all this time,” I whispered. “But Tía Catrina convinced him, El Sombrerón, and El Cucuy not to remove me from the competition.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “And that was the Dark Saints’ last warning. My last warning.”
Coyote looked at the ground, his gaze darting back and forth in a frenzy. His soul boiled with heat, but it was gray through and through.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He lifted his head, chin trembling. “I couldn’t protect you, Cece. She—she really could have hurt you.”
His soul’s heat shuddered through me, and I reached out to try to calm it down. But as I did, his feelings retreated until his soul went cold.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I said.
“No, it’s not,” he said. He didn’t meet my eyes.
Oh, Coyote. I reached out for him, hands still shaking.
Footsteps came up to us. Coyote and I turned to see Little Lion and Kit Fox approaching.
Lion frowned. “Well, we just got our butts kicked.”
22
The Tale of the Great Namer
“I don’t think I’ve ever been defeated that fast,” Kit Fox mumbled. His nose was still purple from Coyote’s blows earlier, but surprisingly, he didn’t look too much worse for wear.
Lion rolled his eyes. “You’re a baby fox, that’s no surprise.” He slapped his hands to his chest. “But I’m a black lion! And she—she wiped the floor with me. This is the most humiliating day of my life.” He folded his arms and scowled at the three of us. “Let’s just get home before another Dark Saint sends someone to kill us.” His body blurred, and suddenly he was gone.
We watched him leap over the nearest building and disappear into the Ruins. I let out a strangled laugh. Leave it to Little Lion to be embarrassed that he’d gotten beaten up, not frightened that he could have died.
“Do you think it’s safe to go back home?” I asked.
Kit tilted his head. “Brujo Rodrigo’s already had Ocelot spying on you at home for a while. It can’t be more dangerous now than it was before.”
Right. My guts churned. He could have taken me out using Ocelot anytime he wanted. I pulled the invitation out of my pocket and read over Tía Catrina’s crimson writing again.
It was strange to think that the tía I’d never met had somehow saved my life.
“You carry her back,” Coyote spoke up, nudging Kit’s side. “Maybe you’ll do a better job.”
“Coyote?” I stuffed the card back in my pocket and reached out for him.
He leaped away into the dark sky, and my hands hung empty. I lost sight of him quickly. Kit Fox came up beside me as I sighed.
“You’re not mad at him?” he asked quietly.
I looked at him, bewildered. “What? Why would I be?”
“Well, he failed you.”
“He didn’t fail me,” I snapped. Kit flinched, and I softened my voice. “Sorry. It’s just—Ocelot is so much more experienced. He couldn’t help that.” I frowned. “I guess I’m just glad she didn’t hurt any of you too much.”
He tilted his head, like he wasn’t sure what to make of my response. “She was definitely holding back, but she can only fight Brujo Rodrigo’s control so much.” His heavy statement weighed down on me as he looked at me with a curious smile. “Ready to head to your home, bruja?” he asked.
“You can call me Cece,” I said.
“Cece,” he said, testing out the name. He nodded and offered his arms. I climbed into them. One of his ears bent sideways seconds before he sprang, and we were practically flying through the air.
His arms secured me against his chest, and I bounced but never fell free, even as he stepped onto boulders and walls, eventually finding roofs. We shot through town. The wind blew over my shaved head and against my skin until the stress and pain were swept away.
Kit was slower than Little Lion and Coyote, but after the wild chase we’d just been in, I was grateful for a calmer ride.
Eventually, my home came into view and Kit slipped in through my window shortly after Coyote and Lion. Inside my room, Coyote sat on the floor, in a corner by my bed, looking at his hands. The candlelight cast deep shadows across his dull frown. Lion sat a distance away, stacking a small pile of pillows.
The moment Kit let me down, Lion gave me a look. I wasn’t exactly good at deciphering his not-angry expressions yet, but this one was pretty clear: Can you talk to him?
Quietly, I padded over and sat down beside Coyote. He looked up.
“You know tonight wasn’t your fault, right?” I whispered.
Coyote’s fingers tightened into fists. He dropped them into his lap. “Do you know why the four gods had to sacrifice themselves to create the physical sun, moon, land, and ocean we know today, Cece?”
Kind of a weird way to answer my question, but okay. “Because life couldn’t begin until the world began, and the world couldn’t begin until all the gods sacrificed themselves to bring it about.”
He nodded. “When Mother Desert breathed life into me, the world hadn’t begun yet. She wasn’t supposed to have created me, but she was lonely and wanted company. That’s why I had to stay hidden away in a cave. She was afraid the other gods would destroy me if they found me, so they wouldn’t have to sacrifice themselves for the world to begin.” He took a quiet breath. Little Lion and Kit Fox shuffled around, trying to act like they weren’t listening in, but they glanced frequently in our direction. “Eventually, the Moon discovered me. She told Ocean, who comforted me when I was afraid. She convinced Mother Desert to tell Sun about me. And Sun was kind.” His eyes softened as he spoke of the gods. “They each promised that they would do everything in their power to keep me happy and safe. So together with Mother Desert, they decided it was right for the world to begin. So that I could have a true life. That’s when they sacrificed themselves. And they each left a creation to populate the world.”
I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I did love the creation story. So I nodded. “The Moon goddess made the stars, and Ocean goddess made the sea life. Desert goddess made you and the animals, and Sun god made us, Naked Man.”
“Out of every creation the gods had made, I thought humans were the most—beautiful.” Coyote’s mismatched eyebrows tugged together, and he didn’t meet my gaze. “They were beings like me. Not exactly like me, of course. But more like me than the gods or their other creations were. So I watched Naked Man from afar. I saw their struggles and ached for them. I—loved them.”
My heart swelled with Coyote’s feelings; warmth, but followed by something colder, darker.
“Before Mother Desert sacrificed herself, she gave me her voice, the power to create—she made me the Great Namer.” He lifted his head slowly and looked at me. “And once she was gone, I was all alone. I loved humans so much that I—I wanted what they had, too. I wanted a familia.” He pressed his lips together. “That’s when I Named the criaturas. I modeled them after humans, but gave them teeth and claws like Mother Desert’s animals, so when hard times came, they
could protect themselves. I called them my brothers and sisters. They were the familia I’d always wanted.”
The floor creaked. I glanced over my shoulder. Lion and Kit sat by makeshift beds, their stares focused on their Legend Brother in silent salute.
“But one day, Naked Man came across us. I was excited to become friends, so when they arrived, I welcomed them into our camp. But Naked Man was afraid.” Coyote’s voice reverberated against the stone walls, and the candles on my desk shivered as if in remembrance. “And they slaughtered my familia.”
His soul’s colors evaporated into blankness. Nothing painful, nothing joyous. Just numb. My heart ached for him.
That wasn’t the way our legends went at all. I wondered, silently, what other history we’d rewritten.
“Because of me, each criatura soul bears a scar. And no matter how much time passes, a part of them remembers that they were killed because of my love for Naked Man.” His Adam’s apple jogged. “I can never seem to protect anyone I care about.”
My room grew quiet as Kit, Lion, and I stared at Coyote. I reached hesitantly for his hand, but he stood and cleared his throat. “Anyway. We should get to bed. The finals are tomorrow.”
“Coyote, wait—” I started.
Footsteps echoed below. All of us looked at the floor. I froze, surrounded by my friends’ makeshift beds, jerky crumbs, and dirty footprints.
“Out, out!” I whisper-shouted, waving wildly.
In a blur, the three of them dove for my window. Kit was nearly too slow, but Coyote snatched him by the collar and pulled him out right before Papá lifted the hatch.
Then it was just me and Papá’s weary, glowering gaze.
“Hola, Papá,” I whispered. “Perdón, ¿te desperté?”
His heavy eyebrows crushed downward. I winced. He took another step up, so his arms were above the floor, and grabbed my wrist. I froze.
“After all I do to put you through school, you waste your time, make a mess, and wake me up in the middle of the night? Do you know how early I have to get up? Are you ever grateful?” He threw my arm back at me, so I nearly fell backward.
I scrambled up from the floor. I almost retreated to the far part of the room, but at the last second, something stopped me. I’d stood my ground against one of the Dark Saints tonight. I’d survived a confrontation with Ocelot. I should be able to stand up to my papá too.
Normally, I would’ve just shrunk back and continued to let him yell. But for the first time, I lifted my head and spoke back: “I am grateful for what you do, even if you don’t think I am.” He scoffed. I clenched my fists. “I didn’t wake you up on purpose—”
“Enough,” he spat. “Enough, Cece.” He clenched his jaw, and water rose in his eyes.
This time, I did take a step back. I’d never seen Papá cry—not even the night Juana was taken.
“If only El Sombrerón had taken you,” he hissed. “Instead, he left us with the child cursed by Tzitzimitl.”
Silence suffocated the room.
My already sore throat tightened again. Deep down, I’d been waiting for him to say it. A part of me had known that he’d wanted to all along.
He held a hand up. “Go to sleep, water child. You wake me up again, and I will show you how hard a papá is meant to be . . .”
The hatch door cut off anything else he might’ve said.
There was nothing left to do but blow out the candles. In the darkness, I curled up in my bed, silent, as Coyote and the others crept back inside like shadows. I tucked my face under my blanket and concentrated on keeping the stirring pain in my soul out of Coyote’s, Lion’s, and Kit’s.
The three of them went to bed silently. But as tears finally slid down my cheeks and spotted my mattress, the pitter-patter of water rang off the roofs outside.
“Rain?” Lion whispered. “In winter?”
Coyote’s voice was soft and low: “I’ve never seen it rain in Tierra del Sol at this time of year.”
The small nocturnal storm waged on and lulled my friends to sleep. With time, the rumble of thunder lessened. The downpour slowed to a drizzle. Slowly, the quiet and the coolness eased open the knot of my hurt feelings.
Let Papá think whatever he wanted about me. Dominga del Sol believed in me. So did Coyote, and Lion, and Kit.
And I would cling to the hope that they were right.
23
The Bonds of Criaturas
Kit Fox and I were the first to wake up after Mamá and Papá left for the day.
“Keep still,” I whispered, dipping my rag back into a small bowl of water.
Kit Fox ceased his restless shifting. I took the wet corner of my cloth and scraped at the trail of blood that had dried from his nose to the turn of his chin. I’d gotten his nose clean already, and now I was washing his mouth.
The early morning brightness streamed in through my window. It made it hard to see, especially when staring at Kit Fox. His hair and ears were so light that when the sun hit them, they were blinding.
Finally, I managed to get his face clean. “Does that feel better?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you, Bruja Cece.”
“Just Cece,” I said. “And is your nose all better?”
“It healed overnight,” he said.
I sat back, rag in hand, and perused his face. He smiled, brown eyes lit by the morning, hair shimmering like strings of sunshine pinned to the earth. He looked so content and small. It made me glad we’d gotten him away from Brujo Rodrigo.
“How old are you?” I asked.
Kit raised his eyebrows. “This lifetime or all together?”
“Oh. Um, this lifetime I guess.”
“About eleven years old.”
I smiled a little at his molasses-sweet face. That seemed about right. “I guess that means I’m not the youngest out of my friends anymore. I’m twelve—almost thirteen.”
His thin eyebrows tugged together hard, just for a second. The look disappeared quickly, but I leaned forward.
“What?” I asked.
He bowed his head and shook it. His ears flapped a little. “It’s nothing.”
I folded the rag and placed it on the floor. “You can tell me, Kit. I—I know you probably weren’t treated very well in Devil’s Alley, but you’re safe here.”
“You called me your . . . friend.” He lifted his head. His gaze bore into mine, sudden as the intense splash of flavor you get when biting into a caramel candy. “I don’t understand. Brujas don’t make friends with criaturas.”
Oh. Of course I seemed suspicious to him. The same way Lion hadn’t trusted me until he knew why I was doing this.
“Well,” I started. “I should probably tell you—I’m not really a bruja.”
Kit gasped. “So, it’s true!” Well, that made me feel self-conscious. “Brujo Rodrigo said he thought you might be pretending, so you could go after the Bride of El Sombrerón.”
I’d almost forgotten that he’d been living in Devil’s Alley until last night. I straightened up, beaming. “Have you seen Juana? Is she okay? Where do they keep her—”
“I don’t know.” Kit shook his head. “I’d just heard whispers of her coming to live in El Cucuy’s castle. That’s all.”
My throat tightened. Oh. Right. My chest ached with unanswered questions and fragile hopes. I just wanted to know she was okay. I wanted to see her again and run to her. I wanted to bring her home so she could be safe and happy.
When I looked up, tears traced down Kit Fox’s cheeks.
“Sorry,” I burst out and wiped my running nose. “I’ll try to pull my feelings back, give me a second.” I started to rein the emotions in, but Kit’s hand touched mine before I could get anywhere.
“Don’t,” he whispered. “I want to understand. I want to believe you.”
He was so sweet, the tears burning my eyes dropped onto my cheeks. Most people told me not to cry. No one had ever offered to cry with me before. I laughed even though my throat was knotted.
>
“Thank you,” I said.
“You love her a lot. How can you bear it?” More tears gathered on his eyelashes.
“Sometimes . . . I can’t,” I whispered. “I think about how scared she must be. And I feel like I’m turning inside out because it’s my fault she’s gone.” I gripped the front of my shirt, chin quivering. “But that’s why I have to win the Bruja Fights, so we can enter Devil’s Alley, and I can rescue her.”
Kit Fox stared at me.
“So, I guess love isn’t easy to bear. But that’s why it’s also worth it.” I wiped my cheeks clean. “She’s my sister. And I miss her this deeply because I’ve loved her that intensely.”
I brushed his cheeks dry, and he smiled.
“You really aren’t a bruja,” he said quietly, with certainty. “You give power instead of taking it. I guess that makes you more of a curandera.”
“You think so?” Curanderas kept coming up, but each time, they felt more important. Now, even just hearing the word sent a comforting ripple through me, and my skin prickled. “Have you ever met any curanderas? In your past lives?”
“Probably. But each time I regrow, it’s harder to remember my old lives. And curanderas haven’t been around in over two hundred years, so I don’t have any solid memories of them.” He shrugged.
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. It’s just—everyone in town thinks they were weak because they let Tierra del Sol fall into ruin. But a friend of my abuela’s, Dominga del Sol, talks about them like they were really important. I just wish I knew what they did. Or maybe what they didn’t do.” I put my chin in my hands.
“Well, I may not remember any one of them specifically, but I can tell you what their powers were.” He leaned toward me. “Each curandera had a special bond with one of the four creation gods. That’s what made them curanderas.”