Cazadora

by Romina Garber

  I only register they’re heading our direction when Tiago pulls Cata into a tent-shop. The rest of us follow his lead, and we blend into the quilt of customers sifting through the Septibol merchandise.

  I pretend to be browsing the signed posters while I watch Yamila and her brother instruct the Cazadores.

  “As soon as they move, we’ll make for the trees,” murmurs Tiago as he and Cata stroll past, his voice barely audible.

  I lead Saysa by the elbow toward the front of the tent, where the players’ jerseys are, so we can get a better vantage of the street. The other Cazadores have split off and begun their search, but Yamila and Nacho are still in this area, scanning the surrounding faces and tents.

  They’re moving toward this shop.

  I busy myself with the racks of shirts behind me, and I blink as I recognize El Laberinto’s baby blue Septibol uniform.

  A familiar name is stamped on the back.

  TIAGO

  I realize Saysa isn’t moving when her arm slips out of my hold. Sweat laminates her face, and her eyes are wide and glassy. She reminds me of me when I had to face the border agent at the crossing into Kerana. She’s paralyzed with fear.

  I follow her gaze to Nacho, whose broad frame, buzz cut, and ripped arms make him look like a super soldier straight out of a science fiction film. He towers over most lobizones.

  “He’s healthier than ever,” I whisper to Saysa. “No harm done.”

  Yet she doesn’t seem to be listening. I shake her, but she doesn’t pull her gaze away from him. So I dig my nails into the back of her hand, just enough to get her attention, and I accidently cut her skin.

  Saysa jumps at the sudden pain, and her eyes blaze as she squeezes my fingers, like a magical fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. There’s a tugging inside me, only it’s not the transformation—it’s the opposite.

  Rather than the heat of energy, I feel cold, like I’m losing my strength.

  I stare at Saysa in shock. Her eyes are glazed, not like she’s emotional, but emotionless.

  I suck in a panicked gasp as my skin tightens, my skull searing in pain—

  Saysa drops my hand, her eyes flickering off. As warmth returns to my body, her own face blanches.

  Then I notice Yamila and Nacho have entered the tent. There’s no time. I grit my jaw and reach for Saysa again—

  She steps away like I’m going to burn her, so I yank her by the arm and drag her toward the back exit. Thankfully, her magic doesn’t bite again.

  I don’t dare look back as Saysa and I cross the street. I try not to walk too quickly, and these feel like the longest steps I’ve ever taken.

  At last we reach the shade of the trees that are too shy to touch, and I pull Saysa into a run. I don’t slow until we’re deep inside the woods, and she jerks away from me. Without a word, she hurries ahead, after the others.

  But I chance a look back, and my heart stalls.

  Gael is standing by the tree line, a small figure in the far distance. I know he sees me because his coral gaze never wavers.

  I lift a hand in greeting.

  And my father turns away, like he never saw me at all.

  15

  Tonight is the new moon, so our only illumination comes from millions of sparkling stars strewn across the ceiling.

  A celebration is getting underway at the Coven as footage of our match plays on the news. Talking heads are debating the legal ramifications of my actions, while sports journalists analyze my moves.

  “¡La loba!” calls out Ezequiel. “Great game! Some of us at the Coven like to play. Want to join my team?”

  “I’d love to,” I say, grinning.

  “Where’s Tiago?” asks a Septimo named Horacio.

  Since he was heading into the shower when I left the room, I just say, “He’s coming.”

  “Probably ashamed to show his face after the beating he took,” says Ximena, Horacio’s wife on paper. “Looks like he’s met his match in more ways than one.”

  I don’t bother biting back my smile.

  “I didn’t even miss the brujas’ magic,” says Angelina, her arms around Ximena’s waist. “The game was intense enough without it.”

  “What a showdown!” agrees her husband, Yónatan, who’s holding hands with Horacio. The four of them are best friends and neighbors, even though the real relationships are not what the public sees.

  Zaybet told me she suspects one of them to be a Cazador because they tend to warn individual Coveners when one of them comes under surveillance. Since everyone appreciates the protection, nobody presses them to explain themselves. They’re informally known as los cuatro jinetes—the four horsemen—because their approach is a sign of doom.

  Zaybet seems especially tickled to have a Covener on the inside of the Cazadores. “I wonder how the Cazadores will react now that Manu escaped their clutches again,” she says, her sharp gaze jumping among the four of them like a multiple choice question on an exam.

  “That went perfect!” Fideo comes over with his brother, and we all trade hugs. Except for Tinta and Zaybet, who make it a point to avoid each other.

  “That’s what you should’ve done the first time around,” says Tinta, his copper-brown eyes flashing.

  “Are you for real?” snaps Zaybet. Despite her words, there are no hard lines on her face, and she doesn’t seem put out.

  “I’m getting a drink,” says Fideo, while Zaybet and Tinta narrow in on a new argument.

  I pull Laura away. “What’s with those two?”

  She winkles her nose. “Z and Tinta used to date. It was pretty serious.”

  “Ah.”

  “Here you go.” Enzo comes over with three glasses, and Laura and I each take ours. It looks like red wine.

  “Is this malbec?” I ask, recalling the smell of Ma’s favorite wine.

  “What?” asks Enzo. “That human drink? These are Lunaris grapes, the real thing.”

  I’m mortified by my mistake, but before I can say anything, a new song starts, and Laura squeals with delight. She takes our untouched glasses, sets them down on a table, and holds my hand as she swings her hips.

  Enzo sets down his glass to join us. He’s in his sweatpants and a Septima ≠ Bruja shirt. They’ve become pretty popular at the Coven since my demonstration. I’ve heard the slogan is even taking off in a growing number of manadas.

  Enzo’s pant leg hitches on his calf, and a flash of green catches my eye. When I squint to look closer, he’s already fixed it.

  Since the whole place has been taken over as a dance floor, portions of the crowd have spread to the upper balconies. Laura and Enzo are so lost in the music that they don’t notice when I slip away, toward the stairs.

  I climb to the second story, where it’s less loud, and I spot Cata and Saysa holding court over a couple dozen brujas. I move closer, but I stop a good measure away so they won’t notice me.

  Saysa is sitting on the railing, and Cata leans between her knees, arms resting on Saysa’s thighs.

  The vampiros are out in full force, our bodies a bloody feast for them. While the other brujas sit on the floor or lean against the wall to avoid them, Saysa lets the plants curl around her arms like fanged snakes, and she strokes them.

  She looks like Cleopatra.

  “I thought they were just prickly by nature, but they love you,” says a Septima with the green eyes of a Jardinera.

  “Must be your gentle touch,” says another bruja, smiling shyly at Saysa.

  “Or how you’re able to really understand them,” says a third, and Saysa tries not to look too pleased with herself, but her dimples are on full display.

  She seems completely recovered from what happened in La Cancha, which is more concerning than comforting.

  She’s not dealing with her emotions at all.

  “It’s her power,” says a witch with hair as red as strawberries who was at the Coven the first night we arrived. “I could feel it emanating from her when she set foot in this place. It announc
es her.”

  Cata seems to like this answer best because her chin tips up, like she approves. But Saysa’s smile fades.

  “How did the two of you meet?” asks the bruja with the shy smile, looking between my friends.

  Saysa’s eyes light up the way I imagine mine do when I think of the night I met Tiago. “If you ask Cata, she’ll tell you we met my first day at the academy.”

  Saysa leans over Cata’s shoulder to look at her for confirmation, and Cata plants a surprise kiss on her lips. The brujas whistle, and Saysa snaps upright, a smitten smile on her face.

  I don’t know the exact moment Cata dropped her guard and became this openly affectionate with Saysa. I’m just glad she’s letting herself be happy after what went down in Lunaris. Cata came out to her mom, only to learn that Jazmín already knew and actively disapproved.

  It was my aunt who sent Yamila to Ma’s clinic, thinking she would arrest Saysa for illegally trafficking Septis. That was her plan to break them up. Yet Yamila found Ma and me instead.

  Watching Cata discover her mother’s betrayal felt intimately familiar. I know what it meant for my cousin to take her first major stand and disobey her mom.

  “But the truth is, we met in Lunaris, one and a half years earlier.” Saysa runs her fingers through Cata’s golden-brown strands while she talks, and Cata closes her eyes. “My brother used to talk my ear off about his best friend Cata at the academy. Cata this, Cata that. I was dying to meet her, only I wasn’t thirteen yet. For more than a year, I kept waiting for him to tell me they were dating, or that he was in love with her, but since his feelings never went beyond friendly, I figured she must not be all that special.”

  A few brujas chuckle, and Cata’s lips spread into a grin.

  “Tiago hadn’t visited Kerana since he started school, so when I turned thirteen, I was too excited about seeing my brother and visiting Lunaris to remember Cata. I broke into a sprint as soon as I spotted him. Then I noticed the goddess walking beside him—and I face-planted in the grass.”

  “No!” says a bruja, and a few of them clasp their hands to their mouths to cover their giggles.

  “I was so mortified that I hid until Cata went to see her family. When we got back to Kerana, I’d already forgotten everything else about my first moon as a witch. The only marvel I’d laid eyes on in Lunaris was Catalina.”

  Saysa’s voice has grown solemn. “She’s still the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

  The whole group awwws, and Cata spins around and melts into Saysa’s arms. I feel a small sting on my shoulder, and I swat at a vampiro that just bit me. It snaps its bloodied jaws in my face before slithering away.

  All I want to do now is climb into bed and wait for Tiago to join me. But when I get to our room, the lights are already on.

  “Oh, hey,” I say, on seeing Tiago in bed, shirtless, reading. This image should be printed on a calendar somewhere.

  A lock of dark hair falls into his eye as he looks up. The nice thing about the walls being soundproof is the music shuts off with the door.

  “Welcome home,” he says in his velvety voice, setting the book on the nightstand. Even though we’ve been roommates and boyfriend-and-girlfriend for over a week, this whole thing still feels surreal.

  I perch on the bed to pull off my shoes, and I glance at the cover. “Is that—?”

  “House of Mirth,” he says, leaning forward and planting a kiss on my shoulder, where the vampiro just bit me. “You said it was one of your favorites.”

  “So you’re reading it?”

  He shrugs. “I liked Age of Innocence.”

  I’m so moved by the gesture that I don’t point out that both book titles start with The. Even though it kills me a little.

  “What do you think so far?” I ask as I grab my bedclothes and step into the bathroom to change. I leave the door the tiniest bit ajar so I can hear his answer.

  “I think it’s easy to fall in love with Lily Bart,” he says, his voice so soft that it’s almost like he’s making a point of not raising it. He’s forcing me to listen like a lobizona.

  “She’s a rarity. An individual in a society that prizes conformity, so she’s torn between who she is and who she thinks she should be—which is why this Selden guy is pissing me off.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “He’s not helping,” he says as I step out and put my clothes away. “She’s drowning, and all he has to offer is some lame line—‘The only way I can help you is by loving you.’”

  “Ooh, you got to the party with the tableaus! That’s my favorite scene.” I stroke the wall to dim the lighting. “Okay, so what would you have said if you were Selden?”

  I climb into bed, and Tiago’s gaze locks onto mine in a way that feels like more than just a literary exercise. The scar on his chest expands as he inhales deeply.

  “I would have asked Lily to run away with me.”

  “That wasn’t realistic in their time,” I say, growing defensive over Lawrence Selden all of a sudden, even though, deep down, I’ve always felt he should have done more. “Where would they have gone? How would they have gotten by?”

  “They’re smart, they would have figured something out.” He sounds a little too frustrated about this. “Or he should just ask her to marry him and damn the consequences! Who cares if they become outcasts? Why does Lily even want to fit into a society like that anyway?”

  Something about his indignation doesn’t sit well with me. And I realize I may have just gotten a glimpse of what Zaybet and Laura see when they look at Tiago. His support comes from a place of empathy, not personal experience.

  He’s an ally. But his point of view remains privileged.

  “That’s kind of a privileged perspective, though.” Tiago flinches, and I try to pick the rest of my words carefully. “You’re shaming Lily for wanting to fit into the society around her, which might be a natural impulse if you’re someone who has the choice to belong. But fitting in looks different when you’re left out by default.”

  Tiago’s shoulders fall, and his gaze grows distant. I don’t know if he’s unsettled about himself or the book or us. This feels like the indecisive wolf in him—he seems inwardly torn about something, only he’s not coming out with it.

  “Why didn’t you use your horario to send Laura our location in el Bosque Blanco?”

  I know I’ve hit on the right thing when his focus returns to me and his expression slackens, like he’s been discovered. “I can’t tell if we’re doing the right thing.”

  “For whom?”

  “Us.”

  His eyes brighten and his skin grows warmer, like the blood is rushing to his face. Saysa’s priority is to change the system, and Cata’s main concern has always been our safety—but Tiago is thinking about our future together. I guess that’s a luxury I haven’t dared indulge in.

  Same reason I haven’t bothered creating a comfortable space for myself here or in El Laberinto.

  Ever since ICE took Ma, I haven’t been able to see a future past the present.

  “Going off on our own isn’t the answer,” I say, thinking of the memories I experienced in the Lagoon of the Lost. “Trust me. I’m the product of a failed elopement.”

  “Brujas can’t live without Lunaris because their magic is so great on the full moon that it could consume them,” says Tiago, “but it’s different for wolves. Without the mate, we just wouldn’t have heightened senses the rest of the month. Then on the full moon, we could try chaining ourselves up.”

  “As in, stay awake through the period pain?”

  He frowns at the force of my answer. “I—I don’t know about the period pain.”

  Of course he doesn’t. I can’t hold that against him, so I just breathe and explain. “I’ve had severe menstrual cramps since my first period, the day my lobizona powers should have manifested. I think it must be a combination of my cycle and the pain of the transformation. Tiago, I can’t stay conscious for it. I would lose my mind.”


  I take his hand to show him I’m not upset. “If you think we’d be safer hiding among people, I don’t have that choice. Unlike the rest of you, my eyes don’t change in the human realm.”

  He opens his mouth like he’s got more proposals, and I press my finger to his bottom lip. “Let’s not talk about this right now. Today was a good day. Can’t we just enjoy it?”

  He takes my hand and kisses each finger. Then he says, “It’s just that…” From the way he’s staring at me, he seems like he wants to confide something serious, and my stomach clenches in anticipation. “I really, really like you—”

  “Ha-ha,” I say, my face relaxing into a grin. “If you keep insisting, I’m going to start thinking this lobizón doth protest too much.”

  He frowns like it’s taking him a moment to get the Hamlet reference, which is odd. Then his expression clears, and the heaviness fades from his features. “So what you’re telling me,” he says, his voice becoming more musical, “is actions speak louder than words.”

  My pulse spikes as he slides closer, one hand rising up my thigh. “Is this better?” he murmurs. I shiver as he presses soft kisses on my collarbone, throat, jaw …

  “Uh-huh,” I say as his tongue trails down to the neckline of my shirt. Then he lifts his face to mine, lips hovering close but without touching me.

  I lean into him, and he pulls back a bit. I reach for Tiago again, and he draws back farther. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not convinced you want me enough.”

  I stifle my laugh. “Are you serious?”

  “I am.”

  His unrepentant face is a challenge.

  One he knows I’m going to answer.

  I sense a wildness rear up in me, an untamed impulse that comes from my lobizona side. Digging my fingers into his biceps, I pin him down.

  Tiago wrests an arm free and cradles my head, pulling my face toward him. His intoxicating scent makes it hard to think, but before our mouths meet, I make my neck go limp and slide out of his hold.

  Tiago’s blue eyes are ablaze—a lightning flash of lobizón—and he reaches for my waist, rolling on top of me. He uses his weight to trap me under him, our bodies pressed together so tight that I feel every part of him.