There are three tunnels leading out of this chamber, and Saysa is guiding us toward the narrowest one when something furry and ferocious comes flying out.
She screams and ducks, just as a grizzly bear–like creature with red eyes and a long tail leaps out with claws extended.
Tiago grabs Saysa and Cata, his body a blur as he yanks them to the wall for safety. The other wolves pull their bruja companions away, while the Cazadores transform.
“Manu!” shouts Tiago.
When I hear my name, I realize I haven’t moved.
The beast is charging at me.
Only instead of running away, I roll my shoulders and bend my knees. And as the creature closes the distance between us, I let out a monstrous, guttural growl.
The beast’s jaws are inches from my face, but it stops.
Tiago is already at my side, transformed beneath his blue cloak, and towering over both the creature and me.
In the tense silence, a girl’s voice whispers, “Ma, ¡es la lobizona!”
The Cazadores stiffen, heads tilting like a pack of wolves catching their prey’s scent.
The Lunaris beast turns toward the girl and licks its lips, and the officers rush forward to engage it—but a handful of agents stalk toward me.
They move in unison, like this is a dance they’ve done a million times before.
Tiago pulls me into a sprint, and Cata and Saysa hurry behind us as we vault down the same passage the creature came through.
“¡Paren!”
The Cazador shouting for us to stop sounds unnervingly close. Cata screams, and Tiago and I whirl around—
An agent has a fistful of her hair, and another one is reaching for Saysa. Tiago breaks the Cazador’s hold on Cata, and I yank Saysa behind me as the tunnel starts shaking.
“Saysa—”
“It’s not me!”
Cata’s pink eyes flare, and she sends a blast of air at the Cazadores, shoving them back half a step. And that’s all it takes.
A wall hardens in the spot where the officers had just been, barely missing Tiago as it barricades us in. Then the shaking stops.
“They’re gone—”
Cata’s sentence shreds into a scream as the ground tips down and the tunnel turns into a slide.
I shriek too as we twist through the glacier, the cold infecting me even through the cloak and winter clothes. The drop goes on for long enough that I start to feel dizzy, until finally, we’re spit out.
Tiago and I scramble to our feet and survey our surroundings. We’re in an icebox. It looks like a basement of sorts—the room is void of Septimus or splendor, but stuffed with random odds and ends, like a storage space.
The silence in here is deep, and the high ceiling makes the room feel especially buried in the ice.
“I think we’re alone,” I say.
Even though the ground is freezing, Cata and Saysa don’t get up. They stay down, limbs limp like they’re done.
“This was a bad idea,” says Tiago. His hood has fallen back, and he rakes a hand through his hair, melting the dusting of sparkles frosting his roots. “The entire force of the Cazadores is going to bear down on us here. We’re trapped.”
“We can’t leave anyway,” says Saysa from the floor. “Zaybet is our best chance at finding the Coven.”
“Forget that fairy tale!” snaps Cata.
“Why would Gael have brought it up if it’s not real?”
“You both seem to have recovered your breath,” says Tiago. “Let’s keep moving. We need to find a way out.”
He offers his sister a hand, and as he pulls her up, he asks, “When exactly did you say you met Zaybet?”
The expression on Saysa’s face makes her look like a mischievous little sister. “The day I betrayed you.”
Tiago rolls his eyes.
Just then, I notice small shadows flitting in and out of my peripheral vision. I stare hard at the ground—they’re fish.
“There’s only ocean beneath us,” I say, breathless. “If the ground melts…”
“There’s got to be a way out,” says Tiago with renewed vigor. We investigate every corner of this basement, passing a crystal chair with serrated armrests, a stash of spiky icicles that look like penitentes, a nest of dark metal chains … “A dungeon?” Tiago looks at me for confirmation.
“It’s definitely some kind of torture chamber.”
There’s a soft, rhythmic trickling coming from the far end of the space, and Tiago and I stare into the depths of a circular tub of dark water. The liquid hardens into ice, then melts, then it evaporates into mist, then pools into liquid again, then it hardens, and so on, over and over and over again.
“Not clear on what type of torture this is,” muses Tiago.
“I’d classify it as Sisyphean.”
He cracks his roguish grin, and knowing my nerdiness produced that megawatt smile fills my belly with doraditos.
“Those agents could have led us here,” says Cata as we approach her. “We have to find a way out, now—”
“Zaybet’s coming,” insists Saysa, joining us. “Trust me.”
Cata rolls her eyes, but Tiago narrows his. “What exactly happened the day you met her?”
“You mean the day I betrayed you?”
“Yes.” The word is almost a growl. “I mean the day we came here for a brother-sister adventure, until you yelled out, ‘¡Es el lobo invencible!’ and fed me to the crowd.”
Saysa looks like she’s stifling a grin. “Every older sibling gets owned by the younger one eventually—”
“Saysa, you were eleven—”
“And a half—”
“You hadn’t inherited your magic yet, and you were alone in the most dangerous place in the world! You could have died—”
“I almost did!”
She sucks in a breath, and from the way Cata’s staring at her, I gather even she doesn’t know this part.
“After I left you,” says Saysa, no smile on her face, “I met Zaybet and a bunch of brujas. Only she was acting just like you, overprotective about me being on my own, so I tried to get away—but the floor melted. If not for Zaybet—”
Saysa pauses a moment, like she’s not sure where that sentence is going. “She manifested ice under my feet, and I made it back to solid ground. She saved me.”
“How could you not tell me any of this?” asks Tiago, the anger gone from his voice.
“I was embarrassed,” Saysa admits. “But trust me. Zaybet is coming—”
“Shhh!”
I hold up a hand to Saysa. Something is different about the sounds in the room. It’s quieter than before.
The Sisyphean pool has gone still. And the hairs on my neck stiffen as I hear it.
A footstep.
Tiago wrenches Saysa and Cata behind him as a black-clad figure steps out of the tub.
Their wet suit extends around their head and mouth, and they have no scuba mask or oxygen tank. They look like a shadow.
More figures step out of the pool of water, and Tiago reaches into the pile of penitentes and hands one to each of us. The icy weapon is heavy, and I hold it like a baseball bat.
This must be some elite team of Cazadores. Yamila isn’t taking any chances.
There are six shadows in total, and when they step forward, the four of us raise our weapons in anticipation of an attack.
The first figure reaches for their neck and yanks off their mask. The girl has wild black strands with frosted white tips that fall across her shoulders, and a pair of sharp metallic eyes.
She flashes me a feral grin.
“I knew you weren’t a Jardinera!”
8
“Zaybet!”
Saysa’s penitente clatters to the ground, and she leaps forward to hug her friend. “How did you find us?” she asks, as the rest of us let our weapons fall.
“This is pretty much the dumbest place you could come if you’re on the run, so I knew the Cazadores would catch up with you. I just hoped you’
d make it to this room first.”
She greets each of us with a hug, and Cata says, “We need to hurry—they chased us down here.”
“Don’t worry,” says Zaybet. “The Cazadores can’t get in.”
“What do you mean?”
Zaybet admires the room like it’s cozy and familiar. “Ages ago, this dungeon was used to torture Septimus who strayed from the norm.”
A chill ripples down my spine. Saysa’s and Cata’s eyes grow bright, and they scan the space like they can see its ghosts.
“Then one day, this chamber sealed itself off.” Zaybet shrugs. “No one knows why, but only Septimus in need of a safe space can find it now. Some of us think the generations of blood spilled here left an invisible map that only a chosen few can follow. I had a feeling you’d find it.”
“Who are your bodyguards?” asks Cata, staring at the still-masked Septimus.
One of them steps forward with a stack of black cards. “Put these on,” says Zaybet, ignoring Cata’s question as she hands one to each of us. When I unfold the square, the fabric is so compressed that the wet suit looks toddler-sized.
A neighbor in El Retiro had a pet python she let me hold once, and that’s what this reminds me of—snakeskin. The material is strong and smooth and textured. There are two pieces: bodysuit and mask. I see Saysa widening the neck hole until she can fit her leg through. She doesn’t remove her boots.
I pull off my cloak, then I stretch out the suit material. It expands easily, and I’m able to fit my entire body inside. Once it’s on, the fabric adjusts to my shape, sealing me in completely. Like the others, I tie the sleeves of my cloak around my arm so I don’t lose it.
“Follow us,” says Zaybet, and we march into the Sisyphean pool. I pull on my mask, and it’s similar to the mascarete petal, only this one doesn’t have a mouth hole. My breathing is fine, and I can still see, but my view is dimmer.
There’s no oxygen tank attachment, and we’re going underwater. Yet no one else says anything, so I keep quiet. Maybe the ship is close.
I don’t feel the water’s frigid chill. The only other difference is that now I’m weightless. The ocean is dark, but I make out colorful fish and algae—what I don’t see is a vessel.
We swim in a school together, and soon my head starts buzzing from holding my breath. I let the air out slowly, trying to resist the urge to breathe in. I just need to hold on a little longer …
But my muscles grow leaden, my movements losing steam, until I can’t take it—
I inhale.
The mask presses into my nose and shoots up a burst of fresh air. The fuzziness in my brain fades, and I press onward with renewed energy. I catch up to the others and continue breathing normally, or as normally as it gets with my wet suit blowing oxygen up my nostrils.
I feel a heave on my limbs as the current starts to pull away, tugging on my muscles with its force. And a shadow the size of a whale looms over the horizon.
The others swim toward the creature, only it’s not an animal at all.
It’s a giant, spiral-shaped seashell that’s gray and half-fossilized and could be from prehistoric times. Except it’s spinning through the water with purpose—and coming directly for us.
When the shell slows down, one of our group approaches its underbelly, and the rest of us follow behind. A part of the crusty shell cracks open, and we pull ourselves inside.
As I cross the threshold, I feel a tingling sensation, like I’m passing an energy barrier, the way I did when I first entered El Laberinto. I’d assumed it was some kind of magical membrane meant to keep humans out—and I wonder if here it’s to keep the sea from flooding in.
We all remove our masks, and I register that everyone on Zaybet’s team is a bruja—with the exception of a dark-skinned wolf with broad shoulders and a head of bouncy curls.
“Welcome to La Espiral,” he says in perfect English. His voice has a raspy edge that masks any hint of an accent, if there is one.
The shell is pristine on the inside, its halls bathed in a warm glow. The curving walls are pearlescent, and the floor is spongy and pink, like a tongue. We keep twisting around the space until at last we arrive at what must be the shell’s core: a room with a round recessed floor that’s smothered in puffy pillows of every size and style. Ringing the area are a dozen reclining seats with backrests at varying angles.
A panoramic window is the only disruption to the shell-ship’s exterior. Beyond the glass are dark waters, and standing in front of the view is a bruja with ebony skin and tightly coiled curls.
“Welcome to my ship,” she says with a very slight accent as she approaches us in a flowy spring dress. She has firestorm eyes. “I’m Laura.”
Her voice has a pleasant lilt to it, and I can’t help thinking she’d make a great audiobook narrator. Up close, her irises are black with flecks of red bleeding through, like fiery lightning in outer space. They remind me of black opal.
Encendedora.
“I’m Enzo,” says the only guy on the crew. He’s stripped his wet suit halfway off, baring his cut upper chest.
“And that’s Rox, Ana, Nati, and Uma,” says Zaybet, gesturing to the four brujas who are now losing their suits and dropping onto chairs or pillows. They nod or wave in greeting. None of them are wearing outfits that match their eyes.
After we’ve introduced ourselves, my friends take off their suits and I do the same, folding it over my arm along with my cloak.
“Okay, Captain, take us out of here,” says Zaybet, joining Laura at the helm.
“Why do I still have to explain that the captain gives the orders?”
“Got it,” says Zaybet. “Won’t happen again.”
“That’s what you said when your tango instructor told you to let the lobizón lead,” says Enzo in his raspy voice. “You quit the class instead.”
“What are you saying?”
“You’re a sucky number two.”
“Hate to admit it, but the wolf’s got a point,” says Laura. There are ashy handprints on the wall beneath the window that look like they were burned in, and as she lines her palms with the prints, the red streaks in her eyes light up like flames.
The ship jerks forward, and I reach out to steady Cata as we hurtle into the watery depths. We soar across colorful beds of coral, outstripping every fish in sight, and soon we enter open waters where the sea floor is too deep to make out.
“Where are we going?” asks Tiago.
Zaybet and Laura frown, and I’m not sure what he said wrong. Is it possible they don’t hear the music in Tiago’s voice?
“A safe space,” says Zaybet in a tentative tone.
“Those two don’t take too kindly to wolves,” says Enzo to Tiago and me, and I’m strangely gratified that he counts me in the wolves’ club.
“This wolf is an exception,” says Zaybet, beaming at me. “I knew you couldn’t be a bruja. Your eye color doesn’t grow in any of the known fields of Lunaris. I had to mix pigments from dozens of flowers to get something similar for your Huella. I don’t even know if I managed it.”
She holds out a hand, and I pull out my Huella from a pocket. Zaybet holds it up to my face. “Not quite,” she says, returning it in disappointment.
“Where is this safe space located?” asks Cata.
“El Mar Oscuro,” says Laura, who doesn’t seem to mind answering questions if it’s a bruja asking.
I thumb through my Huella before putting it away, so it takes me a moment to register the silence.
“You’re not serious,” says Cata.
“Yes, she is, because captains never lie about a destination!” Zaybet looks eagerly at Laura. “Right? I remembered!”
“But it—it’s impossible to access,” sputters Cata. “And it’s dangerous—there’s piratas and storms and the underground market—”
“And the Coven.”
We fall silent when Zaybet utters that word.
“Let’s offer our friends food first, and terrify them later,�
� says Laura in her honeyed voice, coming over from the helm. Her eyes are still glowing, and the ship seems to be on autopilot. “Take a seat, relax.”
We settle into chairs, and one of the brujas hands us a tray of sandwiches de miga. We each take a stack and pass it down. I don’t look back up until I’ve devoured them. Was our last meal the lomitos last night? I don’t remember eating since then.
I lean back in my chair, and I notice that Saysa is the only one of us who’s barely touched her food. She’s shaking her foot, and her eyes have a far-off look. After believing in the Coven despite everyone’s doubts and taunts, I’m sure she’s eager to see it for herself.
When I glance away from her, I meet seven sets of eyes watching me. Nerves jostle the food in my stomach.
“How’d you stay hidden all these years?” asks Zaybet.
I meet her metallic stare and try not to blink. “Same way as the Coven, I guess.”
She regards me a moment, then turns to Saysa like she’ll find more answers there. “You met at school?”
“Manu ran away from home last moon and tried to hide in El Laberinto,” says Saysa, and while it sounds like she’s filling her in, she’s keeping the details deliberately vague. “The school was going to let her stay, but when the Cazadores came after her in Lunaris just for being different, we ran.”
“Good for you,” says Enzo, nodding at me.
“What’s the plan?” asks Zaybet. From her tone, she’s already onboard.
“A revolution, Z,” says Saysa, sounding like her familiar insurgent self. “You in?”
Zaybet’s grin is wild. “Naturally.”
The water beyond the window darkens to pure black, and I’m drawn to the view. It looks less like an ocean and more like outer space.
My friends join me by the glass. “El Mar Oscuro,” says Saysa softly. “How did we get here?”
“There are access points in the depths of the sea,” says Laura. “You just have to know what you’re looking for.”
Objects float in the darkness, some suspended, others in motion. We sail past interconnected rings that make me think of the Olympics, then we weave through coral clusters that move like asteroid fields. I ogle a swarm of glowing, lightbulb-like insects, until a stream of bubbles the size of small islands jets out, scattering them in every direction.
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