“I didn’t know it was like this.” Tiago looks as entranced as his sister.
“No one does until they see it,” says Zaybet. “Images of this place don’t imprint. The tribunal has been trying to find a way to control it, but el Mar Oscuro is untamable.”
We pass a variety of prehistoric shells just like this ship, and I wonder how many of them are what they seem. “What is this place, exactly?” I chance.
“Nobody knows,” says Zaybet.
“The space between worlds,” says Laura with a mysterious smile.
“Some think it’s the buffer that keeps Lunaris and our reality from collapsing into each other.” Enzo’s rasp makes the words weightier, and for a moment, the whole universe feels fragile.
“Whatever it is,” says Zaybet, “surviving out here requires a ship and a crew for fending off storms and piratas.”
This is the second time someone’s said pirates, and I’m starting to think they mean it.
A spherical rock grows larger on the horizon, bruised and cratered, with debris crusting its surface. The moon-like body looks like a magnet for space trash. The kind of thing you want to steer clear of.
“If we don’t change course, we’re going to crash into that shit pile,” warns Cata, and I worry that the rock really does have a magnetic pull.
“That shit pile,” says a grinning Zaybet, “is the Coven.”
9
“Our base has to look like something you’d want to avoid,” Zaybet explains as we follow her down a dim rocky tunnel. “That way we won’t draw attention.”
“How long has this place been around?” asks Cata.
“There are no records. We know nothing except that it always has been, and it always must be. Protecting the Coven matters more than the life of any individual member. That’s why every new generation makes improvements. They say Fierro stole blueprints from the Cazadores—”
“Fierro?” I blurt.
“The one and only.” In her gleaming gaze, I see a wisp of Pablo’s fanaticism. “They say he liked to even the playing field. He wouldn’t smuggle weapons because he didn’t want to incite violence. He only wanted to empower the disenfranchised.”
I think of the black smoke that helped us escape at the Colosseum, and I wonder if that was Gael’s doing. I turn to Tiago, and he’s looking at me like he’s just made the same connection.
“But then,” says Cata in a would-be casual voice, “you guys must know who he was?”
“I wish,” says Zaybet. “He delivered his secrets anonymously. Even if he was the alter ego of a member, there are no records, so we’ll never know.” She looks at me like she wants to say more, but moonlight pools on the ground ahead, and the tunnel spills into a cavernous space.
It’s like a courtyard boxed inside an apartment building. If that building was carved inside a rock.
The air is silvery white, and I look up to see a star-studded ceiling projecting a waning gibbous moon.
Septimus are spread out beneath the enchanted sky. They’re gathered at wooden communal tables, lying on mismatched couches, meditating on yoga mats, or pulling books off shelves. The balconies of five stories that span all four walls look down on the common area, adorned with stringy black curtains that are unevenly and unnecessarily draped across the banisters. They look out of place, and sometimes, like they’re moving …
“Ah, that,” says Zaybet. “It’s the only plantlike life that grows in this realm, and we need them for oxygen.”
My vision adjusts, and I identify the curtains as vines planted on the fifth story’s rooftop. The smaller ones only reach that top balcony, while the longest ones can almost touch the ground.
They look like burnt versions of the green ivy guarding the Citadel, except these aren’t shielded with spiky thorns. They have jaws.
Mouthlike slits open in the black vines, and the plants bare their sharp teeth. After grinding them together, the maws seal shut.
“We call them vampiros,” says Laura, her pleasant voice at odds with the unpleasant-looking plant. “Don’t worry—their bite’s not venomous.”
When at last I drop my gaze, I’m face-to-face with a few dozen Septimus.
They’ve stopped what they were doing and gathered in front of us.
In front of me.
“Es un honor conocerte—”
“English,” says Zaybet, correcting the bruja who spoke.
“It’s an honor to meet you. Are you hungry?” Her peachy pink eyes light up, like she’s summoning food.
“We ate on the ship, thank you.” I look to Zaybet. “Why English?”
“It’s always been that way at the Coven. Changing languages when we come here helps us keep our worlds separate, so we don’t slip up when we’re home.”
“Are you in charge here?” Saysa asks Zaybet, and I detect a note of something sour in her tone. Jealousy?
“No, no one is. Everything is done by consensus, but each of us is responsible for any new members we bring in. So you’re my charges.”
“Let’s see the lobizona transform,” says a guy in a striped Septibol jersey.
“Her name is Manu.” Tiago has some kind of stare-down with the wolf.
To deflate the tension, I say, “Thank you for letting us come here.” My gaze drifts to the upper stories, and for a moment all I can think about is slipping into one of those rooms, bathing for the first time in days, and sleeping in a real bed. “We’ve been on the run since Lunaris, so if it’s okay, I think we could use some sleep.”
“And showers,” says one of the guys. When everyone else laughs, I’m mortified.
“Reasonable demands,” says Zaybet. “We can talk in the morning.”
“I’ll take them up,” says Enzo in his smoker’s voice. He’s still shirtless, and in pants that look like cotton sweats.
We follow him to an alcove where there are stairs. “Meet me on the fourth floor,” he says as he steps onto a stone platform. Then he pushes a lever, and the platform shoots up.
He’s waiting for us when we finish climbing, and he leads us down a balcony draped with vampiros. Up close, they’re grotesque.
They look like hoses made of scratched-up black leather, and when they part their lips, their pointy teeth are stained red. The grinding of their steely jaws is like the gnashing of blades.
I focus instead on the shifting lines of Enzo’s back muscles as we stride past crimson door knobs. He moves with his own unique swagger. “We might only have three empty rooms on this floor, so if you want to be near one another, two of you will have to double up. We’ve got more space on the fifth floor.”
“Cata and I can share,” offers Saysa.
“Um,” says Cata, stiffening like she’s been called on to give an answer in class. “Sure. I mean, we’re best friends, so why not?”
Saysa casts her a nasty glare and walks faster, catching up to Tiago and me, leaving Cata to trail behind.
As we turn the corner into the next corridor, a vampiro swings forward from the ceiling, flashing its fangs in my face—
I shriek and duck my head, heart shooting into my throat.
“You get used to them,” says Enzo, his green eyes crinkling, and Saysa rests a consoling hand on my back.
“Here you are.”
Enzo stops in front of the first doorknob that’s not crimson but bronze. “There are no locks here, but no one will invade your privacy.” He turns the knob a tick, and as it clicks, the bronze darkens to deep crimson. “Now this room is officially occupied.” He swings the door open for whoever wants it, and I spy a strange black band around his wrist that almost seems to be digging into his skin.
“Thanks,” says Saysa, swooping inside without waiting for Cata.
“See you in the morning,” says Cata to the rest of us, exhaling as she shuts the door.
We pass a handful of crimson knobs, until we come across a pair of bronze ones adjacent to each other. “Thanks,” I say as Enzo opens the doors for us. Tiago winks at me as
he slips into his room, and then I step into mine.
The lights go on. I’m in a small cave where the walls, floor, and ceiling are made of sparkly bands of white, silver, and black agate. There’s only enough space for a bed, a dresser, and a bathroom. Even though it’s tiny and temporary, it’s the first room I’ve ever had to myself.
I look in the drawers and find neatly folded stacks of fabric—wet suits, indigos, shorts, shirts in various colors. There are no size designations because all Septimus materials mold to the wearer’s shape.
I pull out a pair of foam-soft pants that look like the comfy ones Enzo had on, along with underwear and a white tee, and I lay everything out. I also find two strips of cottony fabric that look like socks, which I assume to be bedroom slippers.
Then I perch at the edge of the bed, and when the plushy mattress cradles my weight, I let out a moan of delight. It’s so soft, and I’m so tired—but I really need to bathe.
My mind feels both fried and frazzled, like I’m deliriously drained but too amped up to rest. Today has been as long and overwhelming as the day ICE took Ma away and I discovered the academy.
I strip off every item of clothing, then I step inside the narrow shower. The water is cool and refreshing, and I think of where Ma might be and how she feels about everything Gael has told her. Will she believe I’m a werewolf? Is she disappointed?
Can she love a monster?
I wrap myself in a towel, and as I brush out the knots in my hair, I wonder if Ma is okay with Gael, or if she’s feeling alone and scared. Why wouldn’t he give me more details? What if he’s just telling me what I want to hear so I won’t do anything dangerous?
Can I trust him?
I need to talk to Gael again. I have to find out where Ma is, and why he’s here with the Cazadores. There must be a way to reach him. Maybe through el Hongo? I’ll ask the others tomorrow.
I pull on the clothes I laid out on the bed, and just as I’m wondering how to turn off the lights, I hear a knock on my door.
“Come in.”
Tiago steps inside, and a wave of self-consciousness crashes over me as he surveys my wet hair and clean face and bedclothes. “The rooms are soundproof, so we can talk freely,” he says, shutting the door. “Can I kiss you?”
I nod, and he closes the distance between us in a blink. His arms circle my waist as we make out, and by the time we pull apart, my lips are numb and our breaths are shallow.
“You okay?” he murmurs into my mouth.
“I guess. I don’t know. I just need sleep.”
“Rest, then. I’m going to check on the girls, and I’ll see you in the morning.” He presses his lips to mine for a long moment and turns to go.
When he reaches the door, I say, “Tiago?”
“Solazos.”
He marches back and sweeps me in his arms, capturing my mouth with his. This final kiss saps whatever energy remained, and my knees give out. He carries me onto the bed and pulls the covers up to my shoulders. “Tiago,” I murmur again.
He leans down by my face. “Solazos.”
“How … do I turn the lights off?”
The last thing I hear is his soft chuckle before darkness overtakes me.
* * *
I wake up feeling as rested as I do after lunaritis. This must have been my first night of real sleep since El Laberinto. I’m vaguely aware of a noise, or a shaking, that roused me, but as I sit up, everything is calm and quiet.
The room’s lights glow on as soon as I set my feet on the agate floor. After using the bathroom, I pull on a pair of indigos and a black shirt, then I step out, eager to see my friends.
A rush of noise rises up to greet me from the courtyard. It sounds like I’m the last one to awaken.
The enchanted sky is bright and diffused, like a sunny day filtered through stringy clouds. I knock on Tiago’s door. No answer.
There are no vampiros clogging the view this morning, and I wonder if they’re as nocturnal as their namesake. I stick to the inner side of the balcony as I approach the stairs, not wanting anyone in the common area to spot me before I’m ready to be seen. In fact, I’d really like to find a familiar face before coming across any new ones.
Yet when I’ve climbed down to the ground, that becomes a more daunting prospect.
The air leaves my lungs as I scan the area. There must be a couple hundred Septimus here. Whether standing or sitting, most are talking over mate and facturas, a nervous energy zapping the air, like spectators waiting for a show to begin.
Calabaza gourds zoom through the Coven, and water kettles boil in Encendedoras’ hands, while lobizones lug up additional couches and tables from what must be a basement storage space. A star-studded gourd flies to me on a gentle breeze, and when I catch it, I see that the yerba is already brimming with hot water.
The Invocadora with the peachy pink eyes who spoke to me in Spanish yesterday waves from a distance. Then a head of white-tipped black hair snags my attention.
“Morning!”
I accept the elbow Zaybet offers me, and she pulls me in her stride. As I sip the mate, I notice she’s wearing the same crushingly tight wristband as Enzo. From up close, it looks rubbery and veiny and—
“After that news report, Septimus from all over have come to meet you!”
I’m glad for the mate’s distraction so I don’t have to respond. Even though this is what my friends and I wanted—to find supporters, a place to land, a new pack—I’m no Fierro. I’m just trying to survive.
Zaybet steers me to the stairs. “Where are we going?” I ask as we climb up a level, and then I spot Tiago, Saysa, and Cata, along with Laura and Enzo.
“Finished?” asks Cata, holding out her hand for the calabaza gourd. I suck the rest of it down, then her eyes glow with magic as she sends it sailing to a table below.
“Every time one of us recruits a new member,” says Zaybet, “we’re in charge of introducing them to the Coven. So you know, most of us don’t get this level of turnout.”
Her metallic gaze flashes as she twists to face the crowd. A sprinkle of rain falls over the space, so light that it evaporates on touching our heads—yet strong enough to get everyone’s attention.
“Welcome to the Coven!”
Zaybet waves a hand over the courtyard, and everyone breaks into cheers and applause.
“Given the importance of secrecy, ours has always been and must always remain an oral tradition. Admittance to this manada is by Lunaris’s invitation only.”
I flash to the Lagoon of the Lost, when Lunaris revealed my father’s identity. She also told me I no longer have a home … I have two.
It’s surprisingly not hard to believe she led us here.
“The Coven was originally a brujas-only manada,” Zaybet goes on, “but over time, Lunaris extended her invitation to lone wolves. Brujas still outnumber wolves three to one. There are secret spaces all over Kerana like the dungeon where we found you, and they only appear to select Septimus. We’ve been able to identify forty-nine of these locations, and we patrol them regularly. They separate the commoners from the Coveners.”
Amid renewed cheers, she says, “Welcome to our resistencia.”
Once the noise tamps down and quietness spreads, the nervous energy from earlier intensifies. Then Saysa steps forward, like she instinctively knows what to do.
“We’re proud to join you. I’m Saysa Rívoli.”
“Hi, Saysa!” the crowd chants, including Zaybet, Laura, and Enzo.
She’s beaming as she steps back, and panic strikes me as I realize I’m going to have to introduce myself too.
Cata steps up next, face drawn and fingers fidgety at her sides. “I’m Catalina—Cata—del Laberinto.”
“Hi, Cata!” everyone chants.
My gut churns as Tiago steps forward.
I don’t know my name. Not really.
“I’m Tiago Rívoli.”
“Hi, Tiago,” says most of the room. But some of the wolves, including Enzo, greet
him as “Tiago el invencible.”
Zaybet frowns at Enzo, but now it’s my turn, and I don’t know what to say.
Manuela Azul is from my human life, and the name isn’t even real because my mom’s true identity was Liliana Rayuela. The name on my Huella, Manuela de la Mancha, is also fabricated. I don’t have a home in the Septimus world. No manada to claim.
“Hi.” I feel a magical charge, like the nervous energy has reached its pitch. “I’m Manu…”
I let my first name linger, intending to fill in the rest, but I don’t know how.
“Hi, Manu!” the crowd chants back.
Then Zaybet says, “Manu la lobizona.”
I think she added the epithet to equal Enzo’s introduction of Tiago, but regardless, the weight of her words settles on the brujas. Magic sweeps through the Coven—the ground shakes, the temperature rises and falls, everything from the couches to the calabaza gourds clatters and trembles, like the place is destabilizing, becoming too big to be contained.
I feel hundreds of eyes on me, and my heart is pounding so hard that the room might actually be pulsing.
“So, that’s it?”
The magic zaps out. Tiago and Saysa scowl at Cata, and I hear brujas at the far end of the hall asking what she said.
“What do you mean?” asks Zaybet.
“Don’t you want to question us?”
I want to slap her. What is she doing? Saysa seems to be thinking along the same lines because she murmurs, “Chill.”
“That kind of persecution goes on out there,” says Zaybet as the wolves’ whispers carry the words to the brujas. “In here, you share your story if and when you want to.”
Cata crosses her arms like this too-good-to-be-true answer only heightens her suspicions. She reminds me of Pablo. “How do you know you can trust us?”
“That’s enough,” growls Tiago, staring Cata down the way he did the wolf last night.
“She’s allowed to challenge the world all she wants,” snaps Zaybet, glaring at Tiago, unfazed by his sense of authority. “The reason we’ve remained a secret forever is we trust Lunaris,” she says to Cata. “If you didn’t belong here, you wouldn’t have made it to that dungeon. As for whether or not to join us, that’s your choice.”
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