Cece Rios and the Desert of Souls

by Kaela Rivera

  Well, that didn’t sound like me—I was supposed to be a daughter of the Sun god, but I couldn’t even make a fire opal glow. My mind floated back to the Sun Sanctuary, at his mosaic looking so warm and tender. But I found myself recalling the turquoise that made up the Ocean goddess’s outstretched hands and the way it had glowed with peaceful blue light.

  “If you really want answers, you should go to the curanderas’ sanctuary.” Kit Fox stretched his back.

  “There’s a curanderas’ sanctuary?”

  “Sure.” He paused his stretching to eye me. “There are actually four, but only one of them’s in Tierra del Sol.”

  There was one here? I gasped and plastered my hands to either side of my face. I’d grown up here all my life, and I’d never known there was a curanderas’ sanctuary! My chest tingled with excitement. Where was it? Hidden in the Ruins, maybe?

  I stood up. “Can you tell me how to get there?”

  An annoyed grumble stirred to our right. We turned as Little Lion sat up, his black hair sticking straight up. He glared at me with one open, still-sleepy eye, frowning.

  “Do you have to shout so early?” he mumbled.

  “Sorry, Lion.” I stooped down and grabbed my bag. “I’m going to head out for a bit, okay?” I turned to Kit Fox. “Do you know how to draw a map?”

  Little Lion scrambled to his feet. “Wait, hold on. Where are you going?”

  “Kit says there’s a curanderas’ sanctuary in Tierra del Sol!” I grinned.

  Lion folded his arms and glared briefly at Kit. “And you think it’s a good idea to just head out there, alone, when Ocelot attacked you last night?”

  I pouted. “I mean, when you say it like that . . .”

  Lion rubbed the side of his face. “Ugh. Let’s just wake up Coyote. With the three of us together, you stand a better chance.”

  “Wait, but what if people see you?” I asked.

  Little Lion ignored me and rolled over to Coyote’s blankets, which were piled up next to him. I crossed the room, ready to argue a bit more, as Lion stripped the covers back.

  But there was no one there.

  We stared down at the spare pillows and blankets that had been stuffed there to make it look like Coyote was sleeping. Little Lion leaned back, confused. Kit Fox peeked around my shoulder.

  “He’s gone,” Lion said.

  My pulse quickened in my ears. Lion rubbed his forehead. Why would Coyote leave without telling me? Slowly, I took his soul in my hand, but it was cool to the touch like any rock from the desert. There was no quiet rhythm like a heartbeat. No colors—no pink, not even gray. It was like his soul was gone too.

  “I can’t feel him,” I whispered. Lion’s and Kit’s worried faces turned to me. “Do you think he’s hurt? What if he’s—he’s—”

  “You’d know if he were dead,” Lion said. “He’s probably just pulling his feelings back from you. Maybe he’s worried about something and wants to be alone.”

  “What could worry him enough to make him leave?” I bit my lip. Was it the finals? Brujo Rodrigo? Both? I was definitely nervous, but Coyote was more than capable in a fight.

  Kit placed a hand on my shoulder. “Cece—you were in danger last night, remember? And he couldn’t protect you.”

  I rounded on him. “That wasn’t his fault!”

  “You heard him. He thinks it is,” Lion added.

  I paused and pictured his face the previous evening, and the way his soul had twisted with so many tormented colors.

  Lion’s expression softened as he walked up to me. “Cece, remember what he said? Coyote couldn’t protect us all those thousands of years ago.” He tapped his soul through my shirt. I pulled it out, and his soul’s scars rotated into view. Oh. I looked up and met their gazes. Lion sighed. “I think he hoped he could change that with you. And he probably thinks he’s let you down.”

  “But—but he hasn’t,” I said. “How do I find him so I can tell him that?”

  Little Lion ran a hand back through his hair in aggravation. “I don’t know—you’re the bruja.”

  I let my arms fall to my sides. I was the bruja. I was Coyote’s friend. I should know where he’d run off to, shouldn’t I?

  Wait a second—I was the bruja!

  I wrapped my hand around Coyote’s soul. The quietness of it still made me shiver, but I closed my eyes and tried to feel for him. I’d pulled back my feelings from Coyote before, and he’d done the same with me. But if I could press ideas and feelings into him during battles, couldn’t I do it now, too?

  I summoned all my worry and let it slip into Coyote’s soul. Where are you? I tried to ask using memories of when I first met him, of losing Juana in a crowd once and looking for her. Are you okay?

  At first, his soul felt as cold and calm as the desert at night. Then, short flashes of images resonated from it through my mind. A brilliant mosaic with all the most precious stones. Candles set nearby. Carefully washed stained glass windows. Tiled floor. Quiet and peace.

  I opened my eyes. “The Sun Sanctuary?”

  Why would he go there of all places? He was born of Mother Desert, not the Sun god. What significance would it hold for him? I nibbled on my bottom lip. Well, whatever the reason, I had to go find him. He was out in broad daylight, and especially if he was in the Sun Sanctuary, he was bound to get caught.

  “I’m going to go get him!” I dropped my bag and headed toward the hatch. Lion and Kit fell in beside me, but I stopped them. “Hang on, you two aren’t coming with me.”

  The two of them opened their mouths to argue.

  “Lion, your eyes are bright red. And Kit, you have giant fox ears on your head. You both look like criaturas. You can’t come with me.”

  They pouted in unison.

  “It’s bad enough that Coyote is out there somewhere, possibly getting discovered. I don’t want something bad to happen to either of you as well.” I tried to soften my worried tone and smiled. “I’ll be back soon. And if I do get into any trouble, I know we’ll work it out—together.”

  Lion sighed and folded his arms. “Just—be careful, Cece. And call for us if you need help.”

  Kit smiled. “We’ll be there for you.”

  24

  The Will of Cecelia Rios

  When I arrived at the Sun Sanctuary, Dominga del Sol stood at the front entrance, ready to welcome visitors. She smiled as I padded up the steps.

  “Are you here for your friend?” she asked.

  I stiffened. “Um—what do you mean? I don’t really have—”

  “Coyote.” Her smile spread wider as I tried not to have a heart attack. “He came before the sun rose, so I let him in. The Great Namer hasn’t been seen in Tierra del Sol for a very long time. I had a feeling if anyone was responsible for his return, it would be you.” She stroked the stubble on my head.

  I stared up at her. “But how did you—” I glanced at the closed doors. “So he is here. And you’re not going to tell anyone else?”

  “Of course not.” She winked and pushed the entrance open. “The Great Namer has always been a friend to Naked Man when we have been a friend to him. And young and lost as he is now”—she turned to face inside—“it looks like he’s sorely in need of one.”

  I ducked beneath Dominga del Sol’s arm and stepped indoors. The sanctuary was quiet. No one was here yet, not even other priestesses. Just a small figure on the other side of the room, standing in front of the mosaic, his head inclined back to take it in.

  At first, I didn’t recognize Coyote. He was wearing a wide, straw hat that covered his multicolored hair and a bright red poncho over his usual shirt. Wait—those were my papá’s clothes. Coyote must have taken them off the drying line this morning. I came up beside him, and despite the disguise, his gold eyes were as obvious as ever. The tension in my chest eased.

  “Coyote?” I said.

  He didn’t look at me. His gaze traveled over Mother Desert’s image. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, her arms stretched up t
o touch the world and all its creatures. A coyote slept closest to her, nestled in the ends of her long black hair.

  “Do you know what I’m most scared of, Cece?” he asked.

  “I’m guessing it’s not giving me a heart attack when you suddenly disappeared.” I pouted. “Because you nearly did.”

  His face fell. “Sorry. I just . . .”

  I glanced behind us. Dominga del Sol had shut the front door and stood lighting candles beneath the farthest stained glass window. Coyote was lucky it was her he’d run into this morning. At least it meant we were safe for now.

  I turned back to face his question. “What are you most scared of?”

  He took a breath. “I’m scared of . . . disappointing her.”

  We both looked at Mother Desert’s depiction. Her deep brown skin, her soft smile.

  I glanced at Coyote. “Why would she be disappointed in you?”

  “Because she gave me her voice,” he said. “She trusted me with her power to create. And what did I do with it?”

  I waved up to all the animal criaturas in the mosaic. “You made the criaturas. Like Lion, and Kit—”

  “Yeah,” he interrupted. His chest suddenly rose and fell faster. “Like Little Lion, and Kit Fox, and La Llorona, and—” He stopped and looked at me, unshed tears hanging on his lashes. “And El Sombrerón.”

  Oh. I stared, wordless.

  “Juana being taken was never your fault, Cece.” He looked down at his hands, and I realized they were shaking. “It’s all my fault.”

  His soul drowned in deep, cold gray and chilled my ribs. I shuddered. This is where it came from, then. This is where his soul was stuck battling.

  “Is that the real reason you agreed to help me?” I asked. “Because you feel bad about creating the dark criaturas? I understand why you made them. You were just trying to protect animal criaturas from humans—”

  He pressed his hands over his face. “I didn’t make dark criaturas just for that. I was angry. I think I—wanted to hurt Naked Man. To make them suffer the way they and their brujas made my familia suffer.” He bowed his head, still speaking through his fingers. “And the worst part is that I don’t even know why I thought that was a good idea. If anything, it just made things . . . worse. Just like Devil’s Alley. Just like everything I ever did.”

  I thought of the cycle I’d pictured a while back, with criaturas, brujas, and Naked Man all hurting each other.

  Something needed to enter that circle and disrupt it. Then, no one else had to end up like Juana. Then, no one else had to carry the pain Coyote, and Lion, and Kit did in their hearts.

  “You hate me now, don’t you?” Coyote’s voice cracked. “But I just want you to know that—that I’m sorry. I thought I could fix everything if I could protect you and help you get your sister back. But—but just like always, I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t even stop Ocelot. I’m just going to fail you like I have everyone else.” A fresh wave of tears hung on his dark lashes.

  I looked up at him. “I don’t hate you, Coyote.”

  To have made a creature like El Sombrerón, he must have been so incredibly angry, so full of rage. And he was right—what he’d made those creatures to do wasn’t okay.

  But I’d already learned that when people are in pain, they do terrible things to try to bandage their broken hearts. Like Papá and his drinking. Like Tía Catrina and her desire for power.

  “Making the dark criaturas was definitely a mistake,” I said. He rubbed his teary eyes. “It did make things worse. But Coyote, you’ve been trying to make up for it.” I smiled up at him. “I forgive you. You don’t need to feel guilty anymore.”

  The pink in his soul started to trickle back. The sun flashed through the nearest stained glass window and sent rainbows over his cheeks, the rays dancing over his straw hat.

  “And I guess you have just as much reason to get my sister back as I do, huh?” I extended my hand. “What do you say? Let’s make up for our mistakes together. For Juana?”

  Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. The pink swelled, and the gray and navy blue in his soul bled away. The warmth rose back in his soul stone and reached out to touch my own.

  “For Juana.” He slipped his hand into mine.

  We shared that solace for all of a minute before a deep pang rang through Kit Fox’s soul at my throat.

  I touched the stone. Coyote dropped his hand. “What’s wrong?”

  I let out a slow, shaking breath. There was a distant, muffled sensation ringing through his small pebble. I didn’t know his soul too well yet, but it buzzed with something yellow—almost like panic.

  I looked up. “I think Kit is in trouble.”

  His face hardened. “Let’s go.”

  Coyote and I landed in front of my house soundlessly. I looked up at it. Kit Fox’s soul stone still throbbed with frightened yellow, but it didn’t feel as urgent. Was he okay?

  Coyote’s ear twitched. “I think I hear him and someone else downstairs.”

  That couldn’t be good. I slid off his back. “You should go upstairs, before anyone sees you.” My street wasn’t exactly a busy one, but we’d already risked a lot traveling here in broad daylight.

  “Are you sure?” Coyote asked as I approached the front door.

  I took the doorknob in hand and smiled at him. “Yeah. I’ll let you know if I need help.”

  He hesitated. A distant figure turned onto the street, so far away they were the size of an ant. I pointed urgently. With a short sigh, Coyote sprang into the air and disappeared into my room.

  I turned back to the door. My hands were shaking a bit. I had a bad feeling about what waited on the other side, but there was only one thing left to do.

  I pushed the door open and walked inside.

  Mamá stood in the living room, holding Kit Fox by the scruff of his ragged blue shirt.

  “You have to tell me sooner or later,” she yelled, shaking him slightly. Kit’s fluffy ears twisted back against his head. He cringed. “Why are you here? Where is your soul?” She shook again, and he let out a short yip. “Were you trying to hurt my daughter? Who sent you?”

  I gaped, and the door clicked shut behind me. Mamá looked up.

  “Cece, you’re safe!” Her mouth upturned with relief before she rounded a burning look down at Kit, who flinched again. “I found this criatura in your room, and I thought you were taken.” She tightened her grip on his collar. “Now, I can turn him in without worrying.”

  “Mamá, no! Let him go! Please!”

  Mamá jerked up her chin. I froze under the intense heat of her gaze. For a moment, I was seven again, begging for Tzitzimitl to be set free. And Mamá’s disappointment, her anger, her fear—it was just as palpable now as it had been then.

  I swallowed hard. Kit Fox looked at me across the room, gripping his shirt so the collar wouldn’t choke him. He was strong enough to hurt Mamá, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t even fought to get away. He trusted me. Slowly, I straightened up. Faced Mamá. And stepped forward.

  Her eyebrows tugged together. I knew it was time. There were no lies that could untangle all the others, no words that would salvage this, except the truth. I grabbed Kit’s, Lion’s, and Coyote’s soul necklaces and pulled them out of my shirt.

  Mamá’s eyes widened in horror.

  “I’m a bruja, Mamá,” I whispered, small and waiting.

  Her fingers fell open. Kit stumbled toward me, and I opened my arms to him. He came and snuggled into my side, his right ear flopping against my head.

  “Cecelia,” she whispered. “No. Not you too.”

  “It’s not what you think,” I rushed on. “I’m doing this to get Juana back, I promise!”

  She reared up, and even though she was only a few inches taller, I shrank from her. Kit slid behind me, and I blocked him from her view. “Do you think that calling down the wrath of the Desert goddess will bring your sister back?” she boomed. “Do you think that these criaturas have power that can fill the hole she’s lef
t behind? They cannot!”

  “No, Mamá. I’m not like Tía Catrina! I don’t want what she wanted.” I gulped down air, stepping slowly, shakily toward her. She stiffened, looking down on me without a word. “The Bruja Finals are tonight, and I have to win if I want to get Juana back.” I reached out my hands, even though I wasn’t sure she would take them. “I’m not afraid anymore, Mamá. I will fight for my sister, and I will bring her home. Then, our familia won’t be so broken.”

  I stopped in front of her. At some point in my speech, her chin had started quivering. Slowly, her hands reached out for mine. Inches before they touched my skin, she flinched back.

  “The curse,” she said, and there was no more anger in her voice. Her hands shook and dove into her thick hair. She pulled at the strands, face crumpling. “It has drowned the flames of your soul. Oh, my little girl, my daughter, they have taken you too.”

  “That’s not it!” I said, voice high. “It was a blessing, Mamá, not a curse—”

  Footsteps sounded behind me. I turned around. Kit scampered back, toward me, as Papá filled the doorway. I locked my knees. He was mostly shadow, his face blocked out by the lowering sun behind him. He stepped forward, stare darting from Kit Fox, to me and my necklaces, to Mamá’s broken expression. His heavy stare veered back and landed again on me.

  “Papá,” I whispered.

  He crossed the room in three wide steps and slapped me across the face.

  I hit the ground with a spin and landed on my back. The air disappeared from my lungs. Kit ran to my side. Papá bore down on me, his hand still extended. Kit wrapped himself around me, but through his hair, I saw Papá’s flared nostrils and heavy, raging chest. I trembled. For all of his mistakes, he’d never hit me before.

  “Miguel!” Mamá cried.

  “She is a bruja!” Papá’s teeth gritted. “I will not allow her to humiliate our familia—”

  Wind suddenly rushed over Kit and me. Kit pulled back and helped me sit. My face stung, and I was sure it would be as purple as dusk by tomorrow. When I finally straightened upright, Little Lion stood between me and Papá. And Coyote had Papá by the wrist.