Bruja Born

by Zoraida Cordova

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I shout.

  “I am here to arrest you on the authority of the Knights of Lavant.”

  28

  The monsters, the monsters,

  they crawl in the night.

  The monsters, the monsters,

  they hide in plain sight.

  —Witchsong #33, Book of Cantos

  “I know you” is all I can say to that.

  He ignores me and reaches around to his back pocket and pulls out a black chord that he winds around his hand. “You know the drill. I’ll have to search the premises, McKay.”

  “Listen, Rhett,” McKay starts. His bare feet slap on the ground as he makes to stand in front of me. “You clearly waited until Fred was knocked out. You don’t want to do this. I’ll take you to the zombie heads, but leave the girl alone.”

  “We can’t contain the threat,” the hunter says. “There are bodies piling up, and the human authorities are panicking, and nothing good happens when they panic. Someone has to answer for it. You can’t save everyone.”

  Strands of Rhett’s brown hair fall out of place. His attention is drawn to my family, who emerges from the kitchen and surrounds him. Something like amusement lights up his deep-brown eyes.

  “If you think you’re taking my daughter, you’re going to have a lot more to worry about than the undead plaguing these streets,” Dad says.

  “Patricio, stand back,” Mom says, but I can feel the air thicken with magic.

  “I don’t care who you are,” I tell the hunter. “I’m not going with you.”

  He turns toward me on his shiny, black shoes, then lowers himself so we’re face-to-face. “You will.”

  My heart thunders in my chest. It’s like a flash going off in my head. His tenor voice, like a warning, conflates with his face. A face that’s so clear and bright in this memory. You’re stronger than this. “You’re the nurse from the hospital.”

  “Oh yeah,” Rose says behind me. “But he doesn’t seem as nice right now.”

  He smirks. “I’m actually disappointed it took you so long to remember me. But I suppose you’ve been busy.”

  “We thought you were the one who took the bodies at first. What the hell do you want with my sister?” Alex asks. She keeps her hands behind her back, but I can feel the pull of magic in the air, a living thing grazing against the back of my neck.

  “I just said,” Rhett snaps at her. “Do you know how many of these creatures we’ve had to put down? And I know you’re harboring four more. The only way to solve this is for the witch to peacefully come with me and turn over the undead.”

  And just like that, something snaps within me. The rage, the fear, the hopelessness I’ve felt for the past few days, even the past few months, bubble up inside me. I slap him across his smug face, and he stumbles back. “I am a bruja.”

  “You’re the reason all of this is happening,” he says, cradling his now-reddened cheek.

  “Please,” Ma says, the portrait of civility. Her dark curls are pulled into a bun at the top of her head. Amethyst crystal earrings swing against her brown skin as she holds her hands up in supplication. “We’re on the same side. We know how to fix this.”

  “Carmen Mortiz,” Rhett says, raising his brows at her. “Healer to the poor souls of the city. How was the sea creature’s delivery last night? I do hope the sea princess has a speedy recovery.”

  My mother’s face hardens, but her brown eyes don’t hold any anger. She’s afraid.

  Dad, on the other hand, is less successful at containing his disdain for the young hunter. Dad’s white skin is stark against his salt-and-pepper mustache, and his eyes are narrow slits, waiting to attack until Rhett puts his hands on me.

  “Don’t you need an arrest warrant?” McKay asks, snapping his fingers like he just figured out a riddle. “If we wake up Fred, I’m afraid for your life. Treaty or not.”

  “I’m not afraid of a vamp.” Rhett looks at McKay with a challenge in his eyes as he pulls out a square piece of parchment from his back pocket. He glares at my dad as he hands it to me. The card stock has an aged quality and is velvety to the touch. There’s a scarlet wax stamp at the corner with a coat of arms, the same one he wears on his belt buckle.

  The letters are finely written in stark black ink. My eyes go blurry, like a camera coming in and out of focus, but I can still recognize my name.

  “Lula?” my mom says.

  I hold the card in front of Rhett’s face and tear it in half. “Why wait until now? You’re the one who was stalking around our house and left a human heart on our back porch. You have no right to be here.”

  “I have every right,” he says. “I gave you a chance to handle this yourself. Now it’s our turn.”

  “You’re one of the hunters from the alley,” Nova says. “I recognize your ponytail.”

  “Get out,” my father says. He hasn’t moved, hands still on his hips. But he annunciates every word, baring his teeth.

  “I don’t think so,” Rhett says, losing his cool. “The Knights of Lavant assist the Thorne Hill Alliance. You, on the other hand, keep creating messes for us to clean up. So, you see, I have every right to be here. Nothing changes the fact that your daughter has broken several of the laws of the treaty.”

  “Did you see her break the law, ponytail?” Nova asks.

  Rhett turns his attention to Nova. His body posture changes from confident to predatory. He takes a single step in Nova’s direction, and Alex puts a hand up. An invisible force ripples, stopping him from moving any farther.

  “You can call me Rhett,” he says, retreating a step. “Not ponytail. Look, I know I’m the bad guy to you. But I’m following protocol. There are rules in place for a reason.”

  “Hypothetically.” I meet his dark eyes. “Did you see me raise the dead?”

  “We don’t follow human law and order,” he says. “But if we did, you know I saw you and your sisters go into Mr. Horbachevsky’s room just before he died. When I went to inspect his body in the morgue, he was mysteriously gone.”

  “So what?” I ask and hope I’m convincing enough that he doesn’t call my bluff. “You’re going to put me in a cell? Without our help, you’ll spend the rest of your life hacking away at casimuertos. Let us help. You were willing to before. What’s different now?”

  Rhett lowers his lips to my ear. “What’s different is that I lost two hunters because of you. Because I gave you a chance. Because I felt sorry for you. Their deaths are your fault just as much as they are mine.”

  “Back away from my sister,” Alex tells him.

  Rhett shrugs. “You won’t hurt me.”

  Alex’s eyes flash with pinpricks of lightning. “You want to test that theory?”

  “Don’t threaten me, Alejandra Mortiz.” Rhett sets his briefcase down. He opens it and pulls out a black metal handle. I recognize it as the hilt of the sword, but the blade is missing. Strange. I can’t even sense the magic that cloaks the blade. “Very well. You’ll assist with the larger problem. But for now, I do need to dispose of the abominations in your possession.”

  Maks. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My stomach drops. I’ve known the end has been coming for us. But the thought of him being cut down by a stranger who thinks he’s a monster makes me want to hit something—someone. It can’t happen—not like that.

  “And if we refuse?” Alex asks, reading the panic in my face. “Do you know what I am?”

  “Yes.” Rhett settles a cocky stare on my sister. “What do you call it? An all-powerful encantrix. Nice job you did on that tree in your backyard. We had quite a time covering that up from the cops. How’s Rishima Persaud, by the way? I do hope she’s enjoying her cousin’s wedding in Fort Lauderdale. She looks lovely in that violet dress.”

  Alex’s face is ashen with fear, which is swiftly replaced with fury. Th
e pull of her magic feels erratic, and I force her to look at me so she won’t act on her anger.

  “The Mortiz sisters,” Rhett says, setting his eyes on Rose. “I sure hope you’re the good one.”

  Rose doesn’t react to him. She tilts her head to the side. Her hair rises with static the way it always does when she’s seeing beyond the Veil. Her eyes go completely black. Dad holds on to her shoulders. Then Rose speaks to Rhett in a strange whisper.

  “Follow the path, son. Make me proud.” She clears her throat. “Do you want to hear from him, Rhett? You’re not the only one who can make threats.”

  Rhett’s face blanks and his eyes widen. I allow myself a moment of pleasure at his discomfort. But as Rose recovers, so does he. He cracks his neck, and his full lips press together into a scowl.

  “I’m not the enemy,” he says.

  “Tell that to our ancestors your kind has slaughtered,” Dad says. “You might’ve signed the Alliance’s treaty, but that doesn’t erase centuries of bloodshed.”

  “Of course it doesn’t, Mr. Mortiz,” Rhett says, and his voice is unwavering. “We don’t want to erase it. But there are laws for a reason. Lives are at stake, and your daughter is the one who put them in danger. But I can tell you haven’t been yourself since you’ve returned from, well, wherever you’ve been.”

  Dad moves so quickly all I see is a blur. He charges at Rhett and slams him into the wall.

  I’ve always thought of my dad as the biggest, strongest man I’ve ever known. But Rhett doesn’t even flinch. My dad’s arm is pressed against Rhett’s chest, but he pushes my father away like he weighs no more than a bit of lint.

  Mom and Alex catch him as he stumbles.

  Rhett pulls back the glamour around his sword, revealing a silver blade glinting in the morning light.

  “Believe me, Mr. Mortiz,” he says, “I do want to help.”

  “Wait.” I stand between Rhett and my father. The blade is inches from my face. A new, wrenching pain twists at my insides. The threads unfurl, and by the looks on their faces, I know everyone can see them now. Rhett stands back and McKay curses.

  “Lula—” Dad says, reaching for me, but Alex catches me first.

  “Something’s wrong,” I say. I lock eyes with Alex.

  Rhett keeps one hand on his sword. “If this is a trick—”

  “It isn’t!” I shout, holding on to my sister for support. “I’m connected to them. It’s like…they’re moving.”

  “Oh gods,” McKay mutters, and runs up the stairs to where the holding cells are.

  Rhett is right behind him, his movements too fast to be human. An alarm goes off. Doors lock and windows slam shut. People start to come out of their rooms, most of them rubbing sleep out of their eyes at the same time they brandish weapons.

  I grab hold of Alex, climbing the stairs one at a time. Bloody footsteps lead out of the open holding cell door. McKay watches footage replay on a screen, and Rhett punches his fist through a wall.

  Maks and the other casimuertos are gone.

  29

  They hunted us across

  every land that we claimed.

  But we are resilient

  as great kapok trees.

  But we are as vast

  as earth’s brutal blue seas.

  —Witchsong #1, Book of Cantos

  Rhett turns around and shouts at the room, a vein in his throat bursting against his skin. “Where are they?”

  “I don’t know!”

  He closes the distance between us and grabs for me, but a forceful wind knocks him back. He slams into the bloody room and rolls over. I scream, turning my face away as his head makes a terrible cracking sound.

  “Run,” Alex tells me. She holds her hands in the air, eyes completely white, fingertips sparkling with electricity. “Run!”

  I run past the crowd gathered in the halls. I’m sure the front door is locked, but I follow the bloody footsteps that get lighter and lighter as I reach a bathroom at the end of the hall. The window is shattered, and there’s blood on the jagged glass, as if they struggled to fit through the window. I go through, scraping my legs and palms along the way.

  When I hit the ground, I’m disoriented by the bright morning light. The beach is to my right and the crowded avenue to my left. A bicyclist shouts at me, nearly clipping my hip with his handle. But I keep running left until I pick up the footprints again on the sidewalk.

  A young woman screams at the sight of me emerging around the corner of the building. I don’t need a mirror to know what she sees. My face streaked with sweat and dirt, the scars on skin, my bare legs freshly bloody. She sees me and runs.

  I look behind me once, expecting to find Rhett.

  But there’s no one there.

  I cross the street, following the faint footsteps that jaywalk to the other side. Cars honk and drivers curse at me as I sprint to the sidewalk.

  I have no idea what I’m going to do when I find Maks, but I push forward anyway.

  My heart is like a fist trying to punch its way out of my chest. I turn another corner, but the bloody prints have stopped at the intersection.

  “Where are you?” I whisper.

  I close my eyes and search for the thread that links me to the casimuertos. The connection comes easily now. Dozens of silver and iridescent threads appear from my chest, stretching in different directions. Which one is Maks?

  I think of him and the way we were before all of this. Before the accident that claimed his life. Before the one that changed mine. I search for those memories. Maks taking my hand and pressing a kiss into it. Maks reaching for a coil of my hair and threading it around his finger. His lips pressing against mine, soft as rose petals.

  Then, his thread pulses, flickering like a firefly.

  I follow it for blocks and blocks, past rows of homes covered in ivy, until I fear my legs will crumble into nothing. The thread grows brighter and I know I’m getting closer until, suddenly, it disappears at the steps of a familiar brownstone.

  I wait a moment for my heart and head to catch up with me. Sweat drips down my face and back. The white metal fence is smeared with blood, and the gate is ajar. I look toward the front door and see another dark smudge on the doorknob.

  There’s sobbing coming from somewhere in the house.

  “Maks?” I call out for him.

  My heart beats against my eardrums as I inch inside. The white carpet is thick with blood, oozing with every step I take. All the walls are covered in it.

  I turn and walk into the living room, at the center of which is a beautiful leather couch holding the most horrific scene I’ve ever witnessed.

  An older man sits on a high chair, the skin of his face ripped to shreds. A woman’s body is laid on the couch, carefully arranged so that her head faces the ceiling, blood on her temples, as if he brushed her hair back once he was done feeding.

  Both of their chests are ripped open to expose the cavities where their hearts once were. All that’s left is a mess of dangling tissue and the cracked, white bone of their rib cages.

  My eyes blur and I fight the urge to vomit. I grab a picture frame from the grand fireplace mantel, hoping that the faces in the photo will be foreign to me. But instead, I find exactly what I expected to—Maks, his sister, and their parents smiling at the camera. I drop the frame when I hear footsteps upstairs. I climb the winding stairs two at a time, tracking blood and dirt.

  I swing open the first door on the landing and peer inside. It’s Maks’s sister Irina’s room.

  Unlike her parents downstairs, Irina isn’t dead. She’s sitting in the fetal positing at the far end of her room, a kitchen knife in her fist. Maks is down on his knees, staring at his open hands.

  “Lula!” Irina cried. “What’s going on?”

  At the sound of my name, Maks snaps his attention to me. His ey
es are the white and red of casimuertos, and he growls at me.

  I take several steps back, hitting the railing. I nearly lose my balance and fall backward, but I hold on.

  “Maks?” I hate the way my voice trembles.

  Maks moves swiftly, closing the distance between us and grabbing hold of my shirt in his fist. “You did this to me.”

  “Maks, please don’t,” Irina cries from within her room.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you, Lula. But you should’ve let me go when you had the chance.”

  “If you don’t want to hurt me, then don’t. I know you, Maks. I know a part of you has to be in there somewhere.”

  “Lula.” Maks shuts his eyes, holds on tighter. He grinds his teeth and his eyes phase from white to blue and then back to white as he struggles to hold on.

  I need him to hold on, so I say, “I can help you.”

  “That’s not what you told the shape-shifter,” Maks says, his voice unnervingly calm. He grabs my shoulders, sounding like himself again. But the red veins in his eyes darken as he inhales my scent. “What were your exact words? I’m having a hard time recalling them from the prison you were going to leave me in. Tell me, Lula. Were you going to kill me yourself or have your witch sister do it?”

  I grip his arms and try to catch his gaze, hoping I can coax him into calming down. “Maks, you said you’d never hurt me. You can fight it. You did it before.”

  “It’s over, Lula. Stop trying to save me!” He digs his dirty nails into my shoulders. “Do you know what it’s like to tear out your mother’s beating heart?”

  As I look into Maks’s feral, white eyes, I see the last of my Maks fade away, replaced by desperate hunger. How long has the boy I loved been gone? There’s nothing left to save here, but there is back at the THA headquarters. I need to get back to my family, and fast.

  I take a swing at his face, but he catches my fist with his open palm, squeezing until the bones in my hand crunch. I scream and raise my knee, driving it into his groin. He grunts and lets go of me. I cradle my hand against my chest and turn around to run.