Cazadora

by Romina Garber

  His scent is all over me now, his dark hair grazing my face, his sapphire eyes more animal than man—and I lift my chin, capturing his mouth with mine.

  Tiago’s tongue is transformative. As we battle for control, I’ve never felt this untethered before. When at last I moan my surrender, his hands find their way up my shirt.

  His fingers ignite my skin, and I feel him everywhere. His touch is like his kiss—confident, insistent, exhilarating—

  Tiago’s spine suddenly stiffens, like his joints have locked up. And he rolls onto his back.

  I blink a few times, unsure what just happened. My body re-inflates now that his weight isn’t pressing me down, and it takes a moment for my mental haze to clear.

  “What’s going on?” I whisper, turning to watch Tiago’s scar rise and fall in quick succession.

  “Don’t want,” he says between breaths, “to lose control.”

  “Why not?” My pulse is still pounding.

  Tiago is staring at the ceiling, and I hone my hearing until I pick up on the galloping of his heart. It’s going so fast that I wonder if he’s going to rip out of his skin—but he holds himself together.

  When he finally meets my gaze, the werewolf is still in his eyes.

  “You’ll see.”

  * * *

  My M symbol spreads everywhere.

  There are protests all across Kerana calling for the Cazadores to end their persecution so I can come forward without fear.

  The atmosphere at the Coven has grown hopeful and energized, but I feel apart from the excitement. I still haven’t managed to send a message to Gael. I have no news about Ma. And every day, I feel a little worse for lying to the Coveners.

  They welcomed me to their pack and bared their souls—how are they going to handle it when they learn what I’ve been holding back?

  I surf through news outlets on a pantaguas while I wait for today’s meeting to start, flipping through stories of schoolgirls refusing to wear dresses, Septimas charging Septibol fields, brujas protesting at La Rosada and demanding higher pay for their magic …

  But no Yamila.

  It’s been a week since the Septibol match, and I keep expecting her to expose my secret. What’s she waiting for?

  The longer her silence stretches, the more I think Cata’s theory is right—Yamila isn’t in a hurry to share her hunt with the other Cazadores. Once they learn I’m not just a lobizona but a hybrid, she’ll be competing with the entire force to catch me. Maybe the entire species.

  But her silence is troubling in other ways. I’ve been visiting el Hongo every day, and I’ve yet to reach Gael. I can’t shake the way he looked past me at La Cancha. What is he doing here with Yamila and Nacho? And where is Ma?

  A pair of bloodred eyes flashes on the waterscreen.

  I stop changing channels, my insides tightening as I sit up.

  Yamila is giving a rare interview to a reporter. My pulse races in my ears, and I look around to see if other Septimus are watching this screen. I seem to be the only one. Just in case, I drop the volume as low as it goes.

  “We are not persecuting anyone,” says Yamila in Spanish. “This is an issue of an undocumented Septimus. We want to question her and review her Huella to understand how she could be missing from our records.”

  “We’re hearing that she’s had to run away from a traumatic home life,” says the reporter. “Can you see how this kind of language may scare her off from coming forward?”

  “Who’s feeding you this?”

  “Anonymous sources.”

  Or, as Zaybet calls them, Coveners fanning the flames of my fame.

  “If that’s really the case, then let me take this opportunity to speak directly to the lobizona.” Yamila switches to English, and her face stares into the camera, right at me.

  “We would love to hear more about your traumatic home life so that we might offer you help.” She takes her time forming every word, like she’s savoring each delivery. “If we can’t get answers from you, maybe your parents can shed some light.”

  “Have you identified them?” cuts in the reporter, salivating.

  “We’re close.”

  I can barely breathe.

  Yamila faces the camera. “I promise if you turn yourself in to me—before the full moon—I will make sure you get a fair hearing.”

  The pretend part of her performance over, her throaty voice deepens. “If we don’t hear from you by the full moon, we will be forced to focus our efforts on prosecuting those who have been aiding and abetting you, including their families. And speaking of families … next moon, I will no longer be searching for you.”

  I frown just as the reporter asks, “What?”

  “I will redirect the full force of our investigation toward locating your mother.”

  16

  I can hardly sit still through the meeting. Yamila’s words chase themselves in a loop through my mind. If she’s threatening to go after Ma, that means she hasn’t found her yet. Right?

  I need to talk to Gael.

  “You okay?” asks Zaybet, and I realize I’ve carved a line down the wooden tabletop with my nail.

  “Yeah.” I cross my arms over my chest, pinning my hands under my elbows.

  “Any last agenda items before we break?” she asks the others. Since everyone’s been spending so much time here this moon, the Coven is clearing out so that Septimus can put in face time at their manadas before Lunaris. With me all over the news, no one can take any chances of raising suspicions.

  “Just one,” says Tinta, and I grow alert as his gaze slides to me. “We need one more demonstración before the full moon.”

  “Bad idea,” says his brother, and I exhale in relief.

  “We shouldn’t slow down now—”

  “We’re not. We’re still getting a ton of traction.”

  “All the more reason to ramp up—”

  “After the full moon,” insists Fideo, his foot knocking into the leg of the chair Zaybet set for me at the head of the table. She’s sitting to my left, along with Laura, Enzo, and Tiago, while in a row to my right are Fideo, Tinta, Saysa, and Cata.

  “Sorry, Manu,” mumbles Fideo, straightening up to rein in his long limbs. “The Cazadores are desperate right now. It’s too dangerous.”

  “What if we do something in Lunaris?” suggests Tinta.

  “Too risky. Even Fierro never tried it.”

  “Fierro was alone,” says his younger brother, tapping the tabletop, bouncing the Septibol ball tattooed on the back of his hand. “Manu has us.”

  “What exactly do you have in mind?” asks Zaybet.

  Tinta’s coppery brown eyes meet mine, twins of his brother’s because lobizones inherit their mother’s eyes. “Your story.”

  His words chill me, and I look to Tiago, whose expression is a mask of inscrutability. I wish I could conceal my own alarm that easily.

  “The fuck?” Zaybet snaps at Tinta.

  “Absolutely not,” Cata answers for me.

  “It’s up to Manu when she chooses to share,” says Saysa, walking a more diplomatic line.

  “I’m sorry, Manu, but actually, my brother’s right,” says Fideo with a resigned sigh. “You’re novel and exciting now, but hype fades. What lasts is a powerful story.”

  “It must be so easy to be this cool and aloof when nothing’s at stake for you personally,” says Zaybet, staring at Tinta, not Fideo. “You strut in here, ask Manu to take on the brunt of changing the system, then head home to your fancy manada where politicians shower you with semillas to help get them elected—”

  “¡Andate a la mierda!” snaps Tinta, spiking his fist on the table as he sends Zaybet to hell. “I’m fighting for change by helping good politicians get elected, while you’re here avoiding the real world—so which of us is really the cool and aloof one?”

  “You! Circling the rooms at those fundraisers, making me hang off your arm like some pretty doll who can’t think for herself—”

  “I
t was all part of a strategy, Bet! But you never could see the forest for the trees—”

  As they argue, I realize there is no choice for me to make. Yamila made that clear in her broadcast. Until I raise my voice, I’ll still be that passenger in the back of Leather Jacket’s truck, without a clue who’s driving me or where I’m going.

  Yamila knows who Ma is, and she’s coming after her no matter what. Alone I can’t protect her. Not yet, and not without Gael’s help.

  What I can do is stop waiting around for Yamila to make her next move and take control of my own narrative.

  “I’ll do it.”

  My volume isn’t loud, but it silences Zaybet and Tinta, who are on their feet, leaning into the table, inches away from either kissing or punching each other. They sit down.

  “Good,” says Fideo, not sounding surprised that I’ve agreed. “Let’s plan for the next moon phase. That’s in three days, right before Lunaris.”

  “Excellent,” says Tinta. Even though she fought hard for my freedom, Zaybet smiles too. She’ll defend my right to choose until she’s hoarse, but there’s no denying she was hoping for this outcome.

  Cata, Tiago, and Saysa—on the other hand—look livid.

  * * *

  By dinnertime, the Coven is down to just the seven of us.

  I feel the force of my friends’ glares on me as we eat. I’m sure they’re just waiting for the chance to corner me in private. Until then, my plan is simple: Avoid them.

  “My water’s gone warm,” Enzo says to Zaybet, holding out his glass to her.

  “I froze plenty of ice.”

  “Come on, just touch my drink.”

  “I’ll touch your drink,” offers Laura, making her finger smoke, and Enzo rolls his eyes.

  “How come you three have been able to stay at the Coven this whole time?” I ask as we devour the thin steaks Laura seared to pink perfection.

  “My family thinks I’m teaching at our Mexican manada, Cabrera, so we only see one another in Lunaris,” says Zaybet.

  “I’m a ship captain, so it makes sense for me to be away at sea,” says Laura. “As long as each of us contributes our required earnings to our manada, no one has any reason to suspect anything.”

  “How do you earn semillas while you’re here?”

  “Transporting Septimus and shipments that are trying to avoid the law. So they pay well.”

  “You hired me for your Huella, didn’t you?” says Zaybet as an example. “We get by.”

  Enzo is the only one who hasn’t answered my questions. When he sees me looking at him, he says in his raspy voice, “No one asks where I am.”

  Zaybet and Laura look down at their plates, and when Enzo gets up to bring over more steaks, I spy the glint of metal in Zaybet’s eyes as her finger grazes his drink. A cold frostiness chills his glass.

  It’s not until everyone’s gone to bed that my friends and I finally get a chance to talk, once again in Saysa and Cata’s room. Before Cata can lay into me, I fill them in on what Yamila said on the news. “If she beats us to revealing my secret, we’ll lose the Coven’s trust.”

  “I was right then!” says Cata. “She wants to bring you in herself, which means she’s not going to say anything because it’s her only leverage.”

  “She said I have seven days—”

  “She’s still just making threats,” says Cata, like I’m missing the point. “If she was going to use this information, she’d have used it. She’s probably hoping to catch you in Lunaris—”

  “You have no idea what she’ll do! These are all just guesses!” Sometimes I think Cata forgets she’s not the omniscient narrator of our story.

  “What we do know,” says Tiago, “is the way you’re acting is exactly what Yamila wants. She sent you that message so you’d panic like this.”

  In other words, he’s taking Cata’s side.

  “I think Manu’s right. She can’t keep silent for much longer.”

  I look to Saysa in surprise. The past week since La Cancha, she’s been avoiding me. If I’m being honest, I haven’t been in a hurry to talk to her either.

  I’ve debated confiding in Tiago or Cata about how she started to drain my life force, but they already know Saysa’s not coping well. I’ve seen Tiago attempt to get some brother-sister time with her, and she’s always got an excuse. At least it feels promising that the two of us are on the same side now.

  “How do you think everyone here will react?” I ask, remembering her hesitation last time.

  “They’ll believe it if you do,” she says with an encouraging nod, and I’m not sure what she means.

  “If we do this,” says Cata, who sounds like she’s reconsidering, “we need to practice your story until it’s perfect.”

  “My story?”

  “We’ve been over this, Manu,” she says with a deep breath. “You’re not a good liar, and this time it’s not the head of the school you need to convince, but the entire species.”

  “You mean the Olvido story?”

  “Unless you’ve come up with a better one?”

  “I just wonder if—”

  “You can’t announce you’re a hybrid,” says Tiago bluntly. “They’re not ready.”

  “Well, you can thank Yamila for the ticking clock!” I snap at him.

  “That’s why you’re going to memorize a new story,” says Cata in an annoyingly superior tone. “It’ll come down to your word against hers.”

  “And what if the Coven believes Yamila? Then I’ll be a hybrid and a fraud.” I look to Saysa for support again. “They won’t forgive us if we betray them.”

  This fear, at least, Saysa understands. She looks stricken. Of the four of us, she and I have the most to lose if the Coven turns on us.

  “You’re right,” she says, her eyes intent on mine. “That’s why it’s important you let Cata coach you. This story needs to stick.”

  * * *

  I awaken to the walls shaking, but it’s not the morning alarm.

  “Something’s wrong,” says Tiago, sitting bolt upright. He climbs out of bed, pulls on a shirt, and heads out barefoot.

  I yank on shorts and dash after him, my oversized green tee still on because we didn’t hook up last night. The conversation in Cata and Saysa’s room followed us back to bed and wedged itself between us on the mattress.

  The balcony shakes as the walls quake again, and the vampiros slither around unhappily. It’s still nighttime.

  Saysa and Cata burst out of their room, and we all rush downstairs. Zaybet, Laura, and Enzo are already there. They’re in the couch area, staring at the waterscreens, which are projecting a 360-degree view of el Mar Oscuro around us.

  Every angle looks fuzzy, like a dirty camera lens. There’s a cloud of debris smothering us.

  “What’s going on?” asks Tiago.

  The Coven shakes again, only this time I hear something else. It sounds like thunder. “What is that?”

  “A tormenta,” says Enzo. Pounding echoes through the rock again, like a monster’s at the door.

  That’s a storm?

  “What do we do?” asks Saysa.

  “Let’s try a shield,” suggests Zaybet, and the brujas form a square, facing each other.

  Their eyes light up with their elements—metallic for water, pink quartz for air, lime green for earth, and black opal for fire.

  As soon as the spell starts, the smothering cloud pulls back on every pantaguas, like it can’t get any closer. But it doesn’t dissipate. It just hovers around, waiting.

  “Of course this happens right when everyone leaves,” rasps Enzo. “If we had more brujas, the barrier would be stronger.”

  “What’s happening?” asks Tiago as the walls tremble.

  “On land, weather exists outside, but in this dimension, storms want to break in. They’re violent abstract beings that feed off the vampiros’ oxygen. So if it breaks in, it’s either the tormenta or us.”

  “What’s the shield supposed to do?” I ask.

/>   “If it holds for long enough, the storm will lose interest or strength and drift on. It usually works, but the lunar cycle has an effect on el Mar Oscuro’s currents. And quarter-moon storms are more volatile. We’d have a better chance if we had more than one bruja for each element.”

  “What happens if their magic gives out?” asks Tiago as the quaking intensifies, and the Coven starts to rock from side to side.

  “We’ll have to fight.”

  The brujas’ eyes continue to burn, their brows furrowed with focus. Saysa is the first to drop to her knees. She tended to the vampiros today, so she’s probably weaker from the blood loss. Enzo vaults into the square and offers her his hand as a power source.

  Saysa doesn’t touch him.

  Laura falls next, and she takes the hand Enzo offers her. After a moment, she stands, new energy coursing through her body. A vein pops in Enzo’s temple, but he doesn’t give any sign he’s in pain. Instead, he reaches for Saysa—

  She leaps back, severing the spell.

  “Saysa!” shouts Zaybet, her metallic eyes flickering as she falls. Saysa realizes her mistake and rushes forward, but it’s too late.

  Cata and Laura crumble, like flower petals wilting, the glow of their eyes snuffing out.

  On the screens, the cloud still surrounds us, but it doesn’t move any closer.

  “We have to risk a tunnel,” says Laura as Enzo pulls her to her feet. “It’s our only choice. We don’t have a big enough pack to fight.”

  “We have no idea where it will lead us,” argues Zaybet. “It could put us smack in front of a patrol of Cazadores!”

  “That’s only a possibility,” says Laura. “If we stay here, it’s a certainty we’ll lose all our air!”

  Zaybet closes her eyes like she doesn’t want a vote.

  “Fine” is all she says.

  The Coven bounces the brujas around as the tormenta grows more powerful. Laura hits a few keystrokes on a small screen, but we’re still getting battered. “I think it’s too late!” she says. “I can’t—”

  The Coven jerks forward, and every pantaguas around us goes black.