Cece Rios and the Desert of Souls

by Kaela Rivera

  “We have to take down El Sombrerón,” I said. “Before he returns to Devil’s Alley.”

  Lion folded his arms. “It won’t be easy, Cece. He’s the second most powerful dark criatura in existence.”

  Kit shrank a bit. “I’m not even sure it’s possible to defeat him.”

  “We can do it.” I stood to my full height, my chest puffed out, and looked at my four companions. “If we’re together, if we fight with everything we have, we can bring my sister back.”

  Yes, I was afraid. Like when I’d jumped out the window of my bedroom, and when I’d first gone hunting for a criatura, and when I’d first entered the Bruja Fights, or like just minutes ago, when I’d thought I would die soulless in the desert.

  But I wasn’t going to let fear hurt the people I loved anymore.

  And that went for me too.

  A rumble moved through the ground before we had time to bask in our renewed determination. We all turned to see a presence appear from our left.

  The canyon ended there, about twenty feet away. The slice between the walls of rock created a window out to the cerros, now blue and gray in the moonlight. El Sombrerón’s tall, shadowy figure stained the view.

  Coyote looked from the figure to me. “Time to fix our mistakes, Cece.”

  28

  The Braided Sister

  El Sombrerón stood facing us, silent and still, as the atmosphere around him changed. The sand felt like glass. The canyon turned into an open jaw. The moon slid behind clouds. I held my breath as Coyote, Lion, and Kit tensed up, and a primal instinct screamed for me to run the other way.

  But I didn’t.

  “We need to steal his guitar,” I said instead. “If we take it, he won’t be able to defeat us like he did before.”

  Coyote brandished his claws. “We’re with you.”

  I nodded. Kit, Lion, and Ocelot stood at my side. I gripped my fingers into fists. Juana was just a few steps away. This was it.

  Ocelot leaned forward. “When there’s an opening, we aim for his robes,” she whispered to me. “He’ll have her braid in a pocket inside them.”

  Another footstep shook the ground. We all shivered and looked up.

  “Cecelia Rios.” The air warped around El Sombrerón’s voice. “You’ve defeated the Soul Stealer and taken your spoils of war.” His hat swiveled to Ocelot. She held her ground. “To think the pathetic younger sister of my new bride now bears more souls than any of the noble brujas in Devil’s Alley. It’s a shame I must kill you.”

  He shifted, and his silver guitar peeked out of his cloak. There. If I could just get that away from him, we stood a chance. My skin prickled as the breeze picked up, and clouds brewed in the sky overhead. The smell of moisture entered the air. I held on to it, for comfort, for hope, for strength. I still didn’t know how curandera powers worked exactly. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

  “I’ve come for my sister,” I said. “And I’m not leaving without her.”

  “Your kind has never been strong enough to defeat me, little curandera.” His hand whipped the guitar out of his cloak and struck its silver chords. “You will fail.”

  The notes hit the air like a flock of birds taking flight. Instantly, my knees went wobbly, like my body was turning into atole. I sucked in a hard breath. No, the world couldn’t really be rocking left and right. El Sombrerón’s song was playing tricks. I stepped forward, stomach churning. No more wasting time.

  I dove straight for him.

  “Cece, what are you doing?” Little Lion’s voice called to me.

  My criaturas surged after me—most likely because they thought I was about to get myself killed. Which was possibly true.

  El Sombrerón readied his guitar to strike me, as he’d done the night he’d stolen Juana. He swung, aiming straight for me—but I braced myself, caught it with my chest and arms, and used the momentum he’d knocked me back with to carry the instrument straight out of his grasp.

  I fell back, clutching it to my chest. “Now, Coyote!”

  Coyote scooped me up and ran. I held the guitar as he carried me out of El Sombrerón’s reach. The dark criatura followed us away from the canyon’s mouth, out toward the rocky cerros surrounding Iztacpopo’s base. Ocelot leaped up behind him, raised her claws, and slashed them down his back.

  The blow made him stumble, but only slightly. Kit and Lion joined her, and the three beat down on him from every side. He slowed under their constant barrage. Coyote stopped to catch his breath about twenty feet away from him. I slipped out of his hold, my hands shaking around the neck of the guitar.

  “Now what?” Coyote asked over the din.

  I grinned shakily. “He can’t use this against us if I break it!”

  Coyote gave me a firm smile, nodded, turned, and jumped into the fray. Together, the four criaturas battled El Sombrerón, tearing at his cloak and at his smoke skin, barely dodging his powerful blows. Now, it was time to level the playing field. I dug my feet into the crags of the rocks and tried to heave the guitar onto my shoulder. But I must have misjudged its weight, or my footing, or my clumsiness, because in midair its weight pulled me sideways. The two of us toppled off the rocks.

  The guitar hit the ground with an unearthly clang, but the silver itself was unharmed. I wasn’t as lucky. Sharp pain erupted all over my body as I pulled my head up from the sand. But I couldn’t stop. Large, thundering footsteps echoed through the cerros. I reached for the guitar. I had to destroy it—

  A shadow blotted out the moonlight. I looked up as El Sombrerón surged above me, throwing Ocelot off him and reaching down for me. I screamed. He wrenched me into the air.

  His red gaze burned from beneath his hat’s brim. “You foolish child. Even if your criaturas were strong enough to defeat me, my guitar would only heal me. I am El Sombrerón, the Bride Stealer, the Undying, Guardian of Devil’s Alley’s gate. Thus, I was Named. Thus, I will be.”

  So the guitar was even more important than I thought—we had to break it for sure now. But I couldn’t help fixating on his robes, on what I knew hid within them. This was my chance. “Well, I’m Cecelia Rios!” I thrust my hand into his cloak. “The curandera who will defeat you!”

  El Sombrerón made to rip me away from his robes, but just then, Coyote and Lion pounced on his back. He whipped around, trying to shake them off. The scenery swirled with his rough movements. I scratched at his cloak. Come on. Ocelot said Juana’s braid had to be here somewhere! The clouds gathered overhead. My fingernails and soul started to glow with a rush of determination that made my chest swell and the hair on my arms stand on end. Thunder began rumbling above us. Suddenly, a rush of air whipped up behind me, and Ocelot’s and Kit’s claws swiped down El Sombrerón’s robes on either side.

  Everything slowed. A crash of lightning struck not far from where we fought and illuminated El Sombrerón’s smoky cloak. It split into fraying pieces of smoke, solidifying into fabric as the strips fluttered away. Items spilled from his torn clothing. A couple of bones. A few ribbons. A guitar pick—and a long braid of thick black hair.

  I caught the braid just before it fell. It was warm, pulsing with something electric. El Sombrerón roared as my criaturas attacked him from every side, their swipes just precise enough to miss me. His grip tightened on me, and his other hand swung to rip the braid out of my hand.

  I clutched her braid to my chest in one hand. “I won’t let you take her again!”

  I threw my other arm forward, to block his approaching blow. My fingernails reflected a brilliant turquoise. Sapphire light surrounded my skin.

  A great deluge of rain suddenly poured from the sky, directly over El Sombrerón’s head.

  The criatura months were usually dry, but rain came down heavier now than I’d ever seen even during the storm-prone summer. It swelled like a waterfall, and soon even El Sombrerón’s tight grip wasn’t strong enough to resist the stream. He dropped me to the desert ground. It was already flooded, and the water cushioned my landing
.

  I looked around desperately for El Sombrerón’s guitar, but it had vanished under the sudden flash flood. El Sombrerón stumbled as the rain hit him, hammering him down and slowing his ability to fight back against my undeterred friends. Coyote whooped. “You’re doing it, Cece!”

  Me? My heart jumped as the storm rose. My soul glowed in my pocket, even lighting up the water. The rain’s roar echoed in my ears and chest and tingled against my skin. Wait—was I really doing this? This—this water was here for me?

  Was this the power of a curandera?

  El Sombrerón thrashed through the water and rounded on me. “Return my bride!” he roared.

  Well, there was one way to find out. Help me, I reached out to the water with my soul.

  My soul’s light grew almost blinding. The water around me pulled, and the current dragged me steadily out of El Sombrerón’s reach. I gripped Juana’s braid close to me as the water kept me just a few steps ahead.

  El Sombrerón dove for me. The rain kept following his movements, but the current wasn’t fast enough to keep me safe.

  “Lion!” I cried, because he was the fastest.

  El Sombrerón’s hand aimed for my head. I squeezed my eyes shut and let the tingling power of my soul flood over, into Lion. Footsteps splashed through the water, and Lion reached me just in time, dragging me out of El Sombrerón’s grasp.

  Lion landed on a cluster of rocks a short distance away. His eyes flashed turquoise just for a moment, and he nodded to me. Behind us, Coyote dove on El Sombrerón, fighting to keep him back. Ocelot and Kit joined him, all three of them and the rain barely enough to hold him at bay.

  “Juana.” I clasped the braid.

  I wasn’t sure this would work. Just because criatura souls could be communicated with using feelings and memories didn’t mean that whatever El Sombrerón had transformed my sister into would react the same way. But if I had a soul stone, and I had been able to control mine, surely I could call to hers.

  I pressed the braid to my turquoise stone. Come home, I pleaded with her, pushing those feelings through my stone and into her hair. The braid pulsed with static electricity. I held it closer and closer. “Come home, hermana,” I whispered.

  Despite the rain, the braid caught fire. I thrust my head back, away from the scorching heat, as the flames licked up between my fingers. Somehow, they didn’t burn my skin, but I tucked my soul stone back in its pocket for safety. Was it working? Could Juana hear me? The braid of hair in my hand crumbled—and then something exploded out of my grip.

  “No!” El Sombrerón cried.

  I fell back from the fire, shielding my face. The fire roared and raged, screaming, screaming—until it was an actual voice.

  Juana shrieked as her body formed from the flames.

  It wasn’t like her scream of terror on Noche de Muerte. It was the scream of a wounded creature on the edge of vengeance.

  The heat vanished. My jacket steamed and the edges smoldered. Slowly, I dropped the hand I’d been using to shield my face.

  A couple of feet away, Juana swayed lightly on her feet. Great shadows stained the skin beneath her eyes. Her hair was shorter than before, hanging in thick waves just above her shoulders, curling in the rain. She was still in the Amenazante dress I’d sewn. Its hem hung in tatters, stained with dirt and riddled with holes.

  Her gaze targeted El Sombrerón before she could see me. Her hands coiled into fists. Her stance was caught somewhere between predator and prey.

  “You.” Juana gritted her teeth until she looked as animalistic as any criatura. “This time, I’m not going to steal your soul. I’m going to shatter it.”

  “Juana!” My shoes sloshed through the rising water as I came up behind her. “Juana.” I caught her arm and spun her around.

  Her face lit up. “Cece?” she whispered, and her voice was the one I remembered again.

  I laughed and threw my arms around her, tears gushing.

  She grabbed me desperately. “Cece,” she said again. Her hands darted over my shoulders, fingers caressing my shorn hair. “Holy sunset, Cece, it’s you. But you’re glowing. And your hair! Am I—?”

  I squeezed her closer. She was cold and shivering, but the harder I held her, the more her skin warmed. She flickered like a candle nearly blown out, but she was still fire, my sister.

  “You’re home, Juana,” I said.

  El Sombrerón’s feet shook the earth and sent waves through the water at our ankles. I jerked out of our embrace as he materialized above us, his cloak hanging in strips, his skin furious smoke. But most importantly, his guitar was back in hand. How’d he find it?

  “You’ve earned your death well, Cecelia Rios.” He lifted his silver guitar.

  Juana shoved me behind her and spread her arms protectively. Coyote plowed into El Sombrerón’s side and drove him to the ground. Lion and Kit caught El Sombrerón’s feet while Ocelot struggled to pry the guitar out of his grip.

  Just then, El Sombrerón rose to full height and lifted his guitar so Ocelot dangled from its neck. He kicked her off it and stomped her into the ground. Ocelot gasped. El Sombrerón rose again, grabbed Coyote and Kit Fox in one hand, and crushed them into the ground beside her.

  Their pain reverberated through me. I lunged forward, hand out. “Stop! Don’t hurt them—”

  “No!” Juana screamed as she rushed past me, her hair whipping around, wild strands sticking to her face. She leaped for El Sombrerón’s guitar. “No, no, no!”

  Lion dove in with her and kicked El Sombrerón’s elbow. The dark criatura grunted as the impact sent him stumbling. Juana grabbed the guitar. Ripped it straight from his hands. El Sombrerón reached for her again as she turned her back.

  “Juana, watch out—” I made to run for her.

  As always, Lion was faster.

  El Sombrerón caught him in the gut. Little Lion’s body bent with the impact, and he flew straight into a rock wall. He collapsed at its base and lay motionless. Pain rocked his soul. Coyote lumbered to his feet and ran to him.

  Halfway between me and El Sombrerón, Juana planted her feet and heaved the silver guitar over her shoulder in one swing, despite how easily it had sent me tumbling. Rain ran down its silver edges, and fell like tears down its strings.

  “No!” El Sombrerón’s command rolled through the ground.

  “No?” Juana roared. She looked back at him, her eyes wild. He started to come after her, but Ocelot and Kit scrambled up and clawed onto him. Juana hefted the guitar up and slammed it into the ground. A hot crack of lightning cleaved the sky as stones pierced through the guitar’s sides.

  El Sombrerón winced.

  “No!” she repeated, like she was taking the word back from him. She kept slamming the guitar down again and again. It shattered, strings flailing, until only the useless neck was left. “No, no, no!”

  I wondered what she was saying no to. No to him hurting me, no to him hurting her, or no to whatever he’d already done.

  Rain dripped down the broken neck as she tossed it away. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” she said.

  El Sombrerón made to charge at her. But Coyote leaped up and grappled with him, their hands locked in a deadly push and pull. “Your guitar is gone—you’re not indestructible anymore!” he yelled. “It’s over.”

  “Over?” he rumbled. El Sombrerón’s fingers closed over Coyote’s trembling wrists. “You have been tamed by a pollo who believes herself to be a hawk. And mortal or not, I will make sure you fall with her when her wings break.”

  He snapped Coyote’s arm with the last word.

  Coyote’s scream echoed around me. My heart froze. El Sombrerón shoved Coyote to the side. The energy coming off him was different now. It wasn’t the calculated, mysterious monster anymore. Now that his guitar was gone, he was a hulking, burning beast, and his gaze shone like fire as he came toward me.

  Juana seized my shoulder. “Run, Cece!”

  Coyote’s broken arm dangled uselessly by his side.
“Cece, run!”

  But El Sombrerón, even injured, was faster than their words or my reflexes. He knocked Juana aside, sending her rolling through the floodwater that was now two feet deep. I lurched after her, but El Sombrerón’s hand caught my neck and hauled me into the air, above his head.

  Nine feet off the ground, I stared down at El Sombrerón’s faceless darkness. My heart thundered. His fingers dug into my skin and began to burn.

  “What should I transform you into?” he asked. As he spoke, crimson marks crawled out from his touch, each one a pattern of heat and pain. Tears blurred my vision as his magic sizzled against my skin, and I gasped and struggled.

  Coyote found his footing below. “Cece!” he cried. “Remember! You’re not just a human!”

  El Sombrerón tipped his head. “How about . . . a pile of ash?”

  The burning marks wormed up my face as smoke rose from his hand.

  “You’re a curandera!” Coyote yelled.

  The heat spread over my friends’ soul stones. I saw the moment it hit them. Each of them collapsed into the water, writhing. Coyote held his broken arm and fell to his knees. My lungs trembled as we shared the destructive power of El Sombrerón.

  No. Juana’s word reverberated through me and interrupted the heat, stopping just beneath my eyelashes. My heart shuddered with my refusal to burn, and my soul’s light surged upward. Something shot up inside me, a geyser, a crescendo, a wave that drowned out the fear. Thunder boomed again overhead. Slowly, the light around my skin evolved from a low glow to a stunning turquoise shine.

  I grabbed El Sombrerón’s wrist with both of my wet, trembling hands. The last time he’d held me like this, he’d beaten me and stolen my sister. He’d broken my familia. But things were different now. He might have wounded us, might have broken Coyote’s arm, might be able to throw me around, but—

  “You have no power over me!” I yelled into the storm.

  The blue light of my soul spread, overflowing into my criaturas. Their soul stones started glowing blue around my neck. Coyote looked up at me, and his eyes shone like blue suns. Kit and Ocelot raised their heads from the ground, their eyes sharp and turquoise.