Cece Rios and the Desert of Souls

by Kaela Rivera

  His growl rumbled through the air. “If you ever hurt her again I won’t hesitate to break—your—arm.” He twisted my father’s arm until his face filled with pain.

  “Coyote!” I yelled. “Don’t. Please.”

  Coyote stood over him, taller and younger, stronger and more protective of me than my papá had ever been. Mamá leaped forward between Coyote and my father. Her body was wide and stout, and she shoved both of them back, away from each other.

  She turned a glare on Coyote. “Do not touch my familia, criatura.” She rounded on Papá as he caught his footing. “And you—I have forgiven your many sins against me, but I will not forgive your hand against my daughter’s face.”

  I froze as she spun to face me. “And you, you are confused, Cece. Tzitzimitl’s curse has made your mind weak and trusting.” Her breath shook. “Please. I cannot lose you too.” Her eyes melted into warm brown pools.

  I stood with Kit and Lion’s help, my face and heart aching, watching my mamá shatter slowly in front of me. I knew she didn’t want to lose me. I knew I probably seemed selfish. But still, I shook my head.

  “I’ve got to go,” I whispered. “Adiós. And if I never see you again—I love you.” I smiled at Mamá. Then I turned a hard frown on Papá. He nursed the wrist Coyote had twisted, his face torn between a glare and a look of panic. “I even love you, Papá.” A knot formed in my throat. “And I forgive you. That doesn’t mean what you’ve done is okay. It doesn’t mean anything you’ve done is okay.” I touched my cheek. “But it does mean that I hope you’ll change, and even if you don’t—I’m going to be okay. I can be okay. The rest is up to you, Papá.”

  Despite my brave speech, I wasn’t really sure I was ready to forgive him yet. My eye was already starting to close up. But if anything did happen to me while rescuing Juana, I didn’t want to die hating him. I didn’t want to be captive to him like that.

  I wanted to be free to love him. He didn’t have to be right, or have power over my life, for me to do that. So I’d work on forgiving him—just far from where he could hurt me.

  I turned away from my parents. Coyote, Lion, and Kit looked at me, their soul stones pulsing with sadness. Were they—sympathizing with me? I smiled a little to give us all courage. Coyote leaned down so I could wrap my arms around his shoulders.

  “Let’s go, Coyote,” I whispered.

  The three of us left my home in a rush. A quiet, lonely place in my heart wondered if it would be for the last time.

  The wind’s chill soothed my swelling face. The sun was a heavy orange orb now, turning hot pink as it touched the edge of the horizon. Houses streaked into small, distant caricatures as Coyote carried me away, dancing across the roofs, whisking me into the afternoon.

  Kit ran up on our right side. “I’m sorry, Cece,” he said, just loud enough so I could hear him. “I heard your mamá coming and tried to run, but I wasn’t as fast as Little Lion.”

  Lion swooped up on our left. “Don’t be too mad at him.” He stared off into the cerros, where we were headed. “I should’ve grabbed him when I left.” He pouted. “Instead I had to wait outside the kitchen window to make sure he was okay, since I was pretty sure you didn’t want me to beat up your mamá.”

  “Yeah, good call. I definitely didn’t want that,” I said with a small smile. The wind quickly brushed it away. “And I’m not angry. This . . . had to happen eventually.”

  Coyote’s grip tightened on my legs. I rested my head against his shoulder. It was an effortless ride in his arms. The safest I’d felt in a long time.

  25

  The Sign of the Binding

  By the time we reached the cerros, the day had gone, and clouds had blocked out most of the night sky. They hung low overhead as we approached the spot Brujo Rodrigo’s invitation described. I pulled the card out of my pocket as Coyote and I closed in on a tall pile of boulders at the entrance to the canyon. The volcano, Iztacpopo, cast a sharp shadow over us.

  Coyote, Lion, Kit, and I stopped at the rock outcropping. We were the only ones there.

  I looked at my invitation again. “Maybe . . . we got the wrong spot?”

  “No.” Coyote looked up to the other side of the gorge. “We didn’t.”

  The canyon expanded like a gaping mouth before us. The rugged path between the hulking slabs of rock inclined up sharply to the base of Iztacpopo—and at the top, two shadowy figures watched us.

  Brujo Rodrigo and El Silbón.

  They both stared down the path at me. I tried to swallow my fear, but my mouth was so dry, I nearly choked on it instead.

  “Tonight’s the final round of the Bruja Fights!” El Silbón crowed across the distance. His voice had the same grainy, electrical quality, even out here in the open. “And finally, our last contestant has arrived. Will she be able to prove to the Dark Saints that she is worthy to enter the kingdom of El Cucuy?” He traced the brim of his hat. The bones in his bag rattled against each other and echoed through the canyon. “This criatura will be waiting in Devil’s Alley to see.”

  El Silbón turned and faded away into the desert’s darkness. Panic crawled up my back. Everything about this felt different from what I’d expected.

  I blinked, and the moment I opened my eyes again, Brujo Rodrigo stood before me. I stumbled back. Coyote grabbed my hand to steady me. I straightened up and met Brujo Rodrigo’s purple-black stare. He said nothing as he looked down his nose at the four of us.

  “Where are the other finalists?” I asked.

  “They’ve already come and gone by now,” he said. “You, Cecelia Rios, are the last to be tested. We’ll see if you’ll join the other four winners in Devil’s Alley tonight.”

  “But I thought I was going to face off against them.”

  His lips twisted up on one side. “No. You’ve already proven your power—you’re here to prove something else.”

  “Prove . . . what?” My knees shook.

  “Above all else, Cecelia Rios, a bruja must be loyal to El Cucuy and his Dark Saints.” He smiled. I almost stopped breathing. “You’ve made it to this final round because your tía vouched for you. But today, her word will no longer be enough. Today, you must prove that you are a bruja worthy of entering Devil’s Alley—or face the wrath of the Dark Saints.”

  I struggled to keep my fear from flowing into my friends’ souls. “So I have to prove my loyalty?” I finally found my voice. “How do I do that?”

  His smirk widened. “For your final test, Cecelia Rios, you will take the Mark of the Binding. If you’re successful, you’ll be allowed to enter Devil’s Alley. And if you fail, the Mark of the Binding will reduce you to ash.”

  He spread his arms. His three criaturas dropped around him, first Ocelot, then Gila Monster, then Golden Eagle. Coyote and I jumped back, and Kit and Lion stepped up on either side of us to form a united front. My friends each glared at one of the criaturas. Brujo Rodrigo’s gaze narrowed on me.

  “Are you ready to begin your last test, Cecelia Rios?” he asked.

  I’d been lying a lot lately. But saying yes might have been my biggest lie yet.

  Brujo Rodrigo’s smile tightened. Carefully, he and his criaturas stepped to the side.

  Out of the darkness cast by the stones behind him, a creature rose. It towered high above my head, straightening out to loom over and consume me in its shadow. My heart froze. The hulking, terrifying being stepped forward. El Sombrerón finally stood above us all.

  His presence swallowed any moonlight foolish enough to shine through the clouds above. My breath died on my tongue. He was here. Colors flashed through my chest—all of my criaturas’ emotions and my own—in a messy cloud of confusion and fear. He was part of the final test?

  Brujo Rodrigo stood next to him. I’d thought he was tall, but the top of his head barely reached El Sombrerón’s shoulder.

  “Kneel before El Sombrerón,” he said.

  At first, I couldn’t move at all. Brujo Rodrigo’s face hardened. I quickly forced my knee
s to kneel in the dirt before the two of them. Coyote frowned, but he, Kit, and Lion followed suit. El Sombrerón tilted his head. His face was impossible to see, but I could tell he was watching me closely.

  He extended a finger toward me. I held my breath. Every instinct inside me said to run. But I didn’t. The finger came to hover over my forehead. It twitched, and a claw extended from the shadows into sharp clarity.

  “For you to become a true bruja who can enter Devil’s Alley, you must repeat after me the vow of the Binding,” Brujo Rodrigo said.

  My breaths came faster now. But it was hard to calm down with El Sombrerón’s claw leveled between my eyes.

  “Today, I leave behind who I am for who the Dark Saints want me to be,” Brujo Rodrigo recited. “I will shed my familia’s name. Tierra del Sol will no longer be my home. I will obey the laws of the Dark Saints above all others.”

  I hated everything about this vow. But if I didn’t say it—who would save Juana?

  “T-today,” I started, “I leave behind who I am for who the Dark Saints want me to be. I will shed my familia’s name. Tierra del Sol will no longer be my home. I will obey the laws of the Dark Saints above all others.”

  El Sombrerón’s red gaze caught the moonlight as he extended his claw to my skin. I closed my eyes. His nail pierced the skin on my forehead, and the pain made me hiss.

  Brujo Rodrigo continued: “I, and my soul, and the souls of any criatura I own, will belong to the Dark Saints from this point on until the day I perish. I, Cecelia Rios, abandon my old name to the one now given me by El Cucuy and his Dark Saints—Cecelia of Three Souls.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes until I could feel the water in my soul, always so much stronger than the fire I was supposed to have been born with. I hated this. They couldn’t own me. They couldn’t own my friends!

  “I—I—” My mouth wouldn’t form the words.

  El Sombrerón began to draw a line down my forehead. He waited halfway, for me to finish the oath. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

  The criatura who had stolen my sister was right here—what was I waiting for?

  I shoved his hand away. Before his nail even left my skin, the pain vanished. El Sombrerón jerked backward. Brujo Rodrigo stared at me, mouth open.

  Were they really that surprised?

  “What?” I asked.

  “Cece,” Coyote said. “You’re—glowing.”

  I looked down at myself. Blue light shone from my deep brown skin and glowed from my nails and veins. I placed a hand to my forehead. The wound El Sombrerón had just carved on me was completely gone.

  Brujo Rodrigo glared. “What is this?”

  El Sombrerón pulled his silver guitar forward. “The Binding knows when someone is lying. She’s a fraud.”

  “But no one’s ever glowed like that before,” Brujo Rodrigo spat. “And the mark didn’t make her burst into flame like the other failures. The wound just healed!”

  I stood on shaky legs. The blue light soaked deeper into my skin, reaching past all my nervousness and worries, beyond my fears, and touched my heart. My knees strengthened. I lifted my chin to the arguing Dark Saints with all the boldness of a storm at sea.

  “I’ll never swear allegiance to you,” I said. “Now—give me my sister!”

  I lunged for El Sombrerón. He dodged back. Kit Fox and Little Lion launched forward with me. Coyote leaped the opposite way, aiming for his back. But Brujo Rodrigo’s criaturas jumped forward and grappled with my friends. I didn’t pause. Didn’t wait. The blue light filled me up, strengthening me, and poured over into my friends. Their eyes flashed with turquoise light, just like the stones on the mosaic in the Sun Sanctuary.

  I could do this. I kicked off the ground and reached high for El Sombrerón’s soul. This time, I wasn’t going to—

  He strummed his guitar. Sour music filled the air. My body froze just inches away from him. Coyote, Lion, and Kit stopped moving too. The notes crystallized around us, thick and irresistible, until everything felt so cold that I thought my blood would turn to ice. It was just like when he played for Juana, only this time, he was looking for revenge, not a bride.

  The music shook the dust, shook the boulders, the canyon. As he strummed, his guitar notes morphed into rampant words that crowded my skull.

  You can’t do it, carried through the notes. They scoured my soul until I buckled over. Your mamá is disappointed in you. Your papá always hated you. Your sister is gone because of you. El Sombrerón’s eyes flashed red. You’re weak. Your water will boil away in the heat of fires more powerful than you. And you were wrong to ever believe otherwise.

  The words drilled through my skull and drowned out the blue light inside me. The glow around my skin vanished. I was on my knees again, shaking as the music pressed down on me.

  “As I suspected, this was all a ruse to steal back her sister’s soul.” El Sombrerón stopped beside Brujo Rodrigo and tilted his head down at him. “You let yourself be tricked, Soul Stealer.”

  “It was a calculated risk,” Brujo Rodrigo spat, glaring at El Sombrerón. “Catrina said—”

  “Your weak-minded attachment to Catrina has muddled your thinking. Now, I trust I can leave the child to you—or do I need to tell El Cucuy to replace you with the Cager of Souls?”

  The anger in Brujo Rodrigo’s face drained away as he looked at me. “I know my duties.”

  My body wouldn’t move. You can’t do it. You’re worthless. The words still echoed in the air, paralyzing and sharp. El Sombrerón strode away into the distant nighttime. Brujo Rodrigo headed for me.

  He crouched down and grabbed my three necklaces. My chest tightened. “Don’t,” I said. “Please.”

  Brujo Rodrigo smiled, as if I were an amusing, inanimate thing instead of a human being. But Coyote was recovering from El Sombrerón’s song faster than I could. He stood behind the brujo and shakily swung for him.

  Ocelot caught his fist before it could interrupt her master’s work.

  Her yellow eyes met Coyote’s. But her gaze was dull, and her face was slack. Everything inside her was Brujo Rodrigo.

  The man’s smile curdled. “I think it’s safe to say you’ve failed the Bruja Finals.”

  He ripped all three souls from my neck.

  My raw scream blended with Coyote’s, Lion’s, and Kit’s. Almost in unison, the three of them collapsed. My chest ached deep and wide, like an open wound. I hadn’t realized how accustomed my soul had grown to theirs after all this time. It was an attachment immediately mourned.

  Gila Monster grabbed the back of my jacket and held me aloft. I dangled there, cold and trembling and alone. Coyote, Lion, and Kit lay in the dirt beneath me, completely unconscious. Gila Monster moved me so Brujo Rodrigo and I were face-to-face.

  Brujo Rodrigo glared at me. “Do you know why the Dark Saints are so feared, Cece? El Sombrerón and El Cucuy have a power greater than all other criaturas. They have the power to steal and transform the souls of Naked Man.” He pulled back his arm like he was preparing for a blow. His hand tensed, the fingers curled. “And when I became the third Dark Saint, they endowed me with the same ability. That’s why my title is the Soul Stealer.”

  “No!” I yelled with all the air in my lungs.

  “For daring to defy the rulers of Devil’s Alley, Cecelia Rios, I will be your judge.” Brujo Rodrigo aimed his hand at my chest, just above my heart. “I take your soul to avenge your disrespect against El Sombrerón, guardian of Devil’s Alley, and for breaching the greatest law of all: El Cucuy’s will and pleasure.”

  His hand sunk into my chest.

  It was the most invasive thing I’d ever felt. It was all the tears I’d ever cried, all the feelings I’d ever had, squirming between the claws of a stranger. Brujo Rodrigo’s fingers tugged backward, and his hand emerged from my chest. A stone, small enough to fit in his palm, sat like a light greenish-blue teardrop in the cup of his hand.

  A piece of turquoise. My soul stone?

  The heartbeat f
illing my ears began to fade. I couldn’t breathe. The world felt as if it were falling down around me.

  Brujo Rodrigo held up my soul. It flashed frantically between his fingers. “Turquoise,” he breathed. “An unusual color for a human born in Tierra del Sol. Usually, it’s a ruby or a fire opal, filled with fire from the Sun god. But you’re touched by the Ocean goddess, aren’t you, Cece?” He smirked at me. “That explains the glowing light from earlier, at least. You’re no bruja at all. You’re a sniveling little curandera.”

  He nodded. Gila Monster dropped me.

  The impact rattled my bones, but I didn’t feel it. I struggled to cry out as Brujo Rodrigo and his criaturas walked toward my friends’ unconscious bodies. His criaturas each picked up one of mine, hauling them onto their shoulders.

  Brujo Rodrigo lifted my soul up to the sky, his back to me. “A curandera. Who could believe it, in this day and age. So that’s why people say you were cursed by Tzitzimitl.” He looked at me over his shoulder. “I’ll tell you a secret, Cecelia Rios. Curanderas may have been touched with the power of one of the gods, but they died out for a reason. They always chose life instead of death, respect over dominance, and in the end, they were too weak to use the gods’ powers to their fullest. And you’re just the same. Wasted potential.” He bared his teeth. “Tzitzimitl didn’t curse or bless you. She was just the first to tell you the truth—that you’re as weak as spilled water in the heat of the desert, and you’ll evaporate just as easily.”

  Between his fingers, my soul flashed with fragile light. I—was a curandera? All along, a part of me had hoped I could be, and that there was some great, ancient power and truth waiting inside me. But now?

  I was going to end up just like they had, wasn’t I? Broken and forgotten. Letting everyone down.

  My fingers went numb as my soul’s light died out in the distance.

  Brujo Rodrigo chuckled. “You’re probably feeling it already. Unlike criaturas, humans can’t live long after being separated from their souls. First, you’ll lose your sense of touch. Then your sight. And, right before the end, you’ll forget who you are.” He paused a few feet away. “I had high hopes for you, for Catrina’s sake. She’ll be angry with me for a while after this. But at least I’ll get to enjoy watching your soul crumble into dust, little curandera.”