“What happened?” asks Cata.
“We’re taking a tunnel,” says Zaybet. “There are wormholes all over el Mar Oscuro—but there’s no telling where it will lead. Our orbit will now shift, which could bring new risks.”
While we wait to reappear somewhere, bands of tension enclose my chest. Once the screens flicker back on, we’re sailing right into a school of rainbow starfish.
They scatter in our wake, and I hold my breath as we scan every screen, searching for other signs of movement.
Nothing shows up visually, and Laura opens some sort of radar grid with red lines. There doesn’t seem to be any activity around us. After a few long breaths, Enzo says, “That was close—”
His words are drowned by a high-pitched alarm squealing across the Coven.
“¡Carajo!” curses Zaybet, as a red dot pops up on the radar. Laura switches to camera mode, and we see a spiky red-and-black ball approaching us at record speed.
“It’s a small ship,” reports Laura. “Must be a base nearby.”
“Let’s just hope it keeps going,” says Enzo.
“Who do you think it is?” whispers Cata as the ship grows larger.
The ball is black and the spikes are red, and it has a pair of metal arms capped with massive claws.
“Piratas.”
17
Even Laura’s warmth can’t make the word sound less ominous.
“¿Piratas?” Cata sounds aghast.
“They’re slowing down,” says Zaybet. None of us speaks as the clawed arms clamp onto our surface and the ship docks, the terror so tangible it tinges the air with a metallic tang. By Zaybet, Laura, and Enzo’s frozen expressions, I doubt they’ve had to defend the Coven from foes before.
“Isn’t there a protocol or some kind of defense system?” asks Tiago as a big, burly Septimus in a wet suit files out from one of the red spikes. “It can’t be the first time someone’s gotten this close.”
“It’s rarer than you think,” says Zaybet.
More burly piratas file out. I count eight in total, but there could be others on the ship. They wade through the black space like it’s water, and I wonder about the consistency of el Mar Oscuro.
I don’t see any bubbles, and the Septimus seem to be able to float in place without encountering much air resistance. Yet their feet plant onto the surface, as if the Coven exerts some gravity.
“The radar system feeds into the Coven’s navigational controls,” says Laura. “It reroutes our orbit to avoid run-ins. Most rocks that look like this one have a magnetic pull that will crush ships that sail too close, so Septimus usually keep their distance—”
“Unless they’re desperate,” says Enzo, his rasp sharpening on that last word. “But to answer your question,” he says to Tiago, “we do have security measures. We could set off a bomb of black smoke—”
“No,” says Tiago. “That will confuse us as much as them.”
“We could fire ammunition to scare them off,” says Laura.
“They could call for reinforcements,” says Zaybet. “Or come back for us later. It doesn’t look like they have brujas with them. We can wait to see what they do, and if they find a way in, we use la dormilona.”
“The sleepyhead?” I translate.
“An airborne sedative we can disburse through the Coven that they won’t be able to detect.”
“An airborne potion?” asks Cata, awe in her voice. “That takes a very skilled Invocadora.”
“The bruja who brewed it died a few decades ago,” says Zaybet. “The last time piratas got this close was well before my time. The sleeping agent is mixed in with a hint of Olvido—just enough to make them forget the past few days and disorient them. But we’ll need them to take off their masks.”
Just then, a pirata’s silhouette comes up against the screen, like he’s looking right at the camera. He touches something, and I watch in horror as he locates the hidden entrance. It’s like he’s picked all kinds of locks and knows exactly where to look and what to do.
Enzo shoves something into my hands, and I realize it’s a wet suit mask. Everyone else is pulling one over their heads. We can’t risk speaking anymore, in case the wolves hear us.
Laura takes a handheld pantaguas, and we hurry up the stairs to the first-floor balcony, where we slip behind the door of the first room. There we gather round Laura as she hits a few keys to shut off the feeds downstairs, and she pulls up visuals of what’s happening.
Eight lobizones march into the space where we were moments ago. One is shorter than the others, but his muscles are no less bulky. He must be the youngest.
They keep their movements muted as they survey the area, inspecting our food, books, furniture. I wonder if they’re communicating telepathically.
A couple of them point to the vampiros in excitement, and one goes to remove his mask but another reaches for his arm and shakes his head. They’re not sure they can trust the air.
There goes our plan.
Before we can stop him, Enzo pulls off his mask. The room’s door opens and closes with the barest sigh. Laura makes to go after him, but Zaybet holds her back.
We can’t do anything now but watch what he does on the screen.
Enzo leaps off the vampiro-strewn balcony to the floor. Then he knocks his elbow back and pops the guy closest to him—the one who attempted to take his mask off—in the chin.
The lobizón roars and rips off his mask. He’s already in his transformed state.
He leaps at Enzo, who doesn’t transform for some reason, so he’s crushed by the pirata’s weight. The others rush forward to back up their friend, and Tiago begins to shift.
His body lengthens and expands, hair sprouting across his skin and claws curving from his fingers. I feel the pull deep inside me too, and I’m right behind him when he reaches the door, but Tiago doesn’t open it.
You’re not coming.
I cross my arms. I’m a wolf just like you.
His face is concealed by the mask, so I can’t see his expression. If you think you’re ready to fight werewolf pirates, follow me.
He opens and closes the door with a whisper, and he’s gone. I reach for the knob to go after him, but I hesitate.
I don’t know how to fight yet. And if I get hurt, I’ll just distract him. I transform back to human-sized in defeat and join the brujas gathered wide-eyed around the screen.
Tiago is a monster.
Three lobizones jump him, and he fights them off alone, clawing and kicking and slicing like he’s performing a martial arts dance. Enzo isn’t managing as well because he’s been pinned down, but the lobizón springs off him, like he’s been burned by Enzo’s skin.
I have a feeling if Laura wasn’t masked, I would be seeing the dying embers of red in her eyes.
The lobizón charges forward again, but this time his feet freeze to the ground, and he can’t move. Beneath the black fabric, Zaybet’s eyes must be gleaming like blades.
At this point, only two piratas still have their masks on—the one Tiago is fighting, and the youngest. Tiago ducks to avoid a punch, then he rams his head into the wolf’s belly, knocking him to the floor and ripping off his mask.
Then Tiago looks up at the last masked intruder, who seems to be shrinking against the wall.
When he takes a step closer, the young pirate rips off his mask.
Long black hair tumbles out, paired with glowing fuschia eyes.
The Invocadora’s suit deflates to hug her real figure as she traps a masked Tiago and unmasked Enzo in force fields. At least I think she does because their bodies are completely still.
I twist to Cata so she’ll help them, but she shakes her head. She can’t risk tipping off the Invocadora to her presence.
“¿Quién más está acá?” demands the bruja. Who else is here?
The piratas start to stand, all of them now reverted to human form. As they shake off their injuries, the guy Zaybet iced to the floor says, “Hay brujas acá.”
There are witches here.
“Do it,” says Zaybet to Laura, her voice muffled by the mask.
“But Enzo—”
“¿Escuchan algo?” asks one of the lobizones. Do you hear something?
“Shhh,” I say to Zaybet and Laura.
“He’s inside the force field, the spell won’t affect him,” Zaybet says despite my protest.
“I hear someone!” shouts the lobizón, switching to English, just as Laura taps a button. “Come out, come out, or we’ll come for—”
One by one, the piratas fall to the floor.
Yet the Invocadora must have picked up on the potion’s presence and dropped Tiago’s and Enzo’s energy fields to protect herself because she doesn’t fall.
Enzo does.
Laura and Zaybet gasp as he crumples to the floor alongside the other lobizones. Only a masked Tiago and the bruja remain standing.
“Do something,” I urge Cata and Saysa.
“She’s shielded herself,” says Cata from behind her mask. “Our magic won’t penetrate.”
A blast of air punches Tiago’s gut, and he flies across the room, crashing into the wall. Tiny rocks cascade down on him as he tries to get up, but he seems disoriented. He hit his head.
Before I know what I’m doing, I run out and leap to the ground from the balcony, landing silently behind the bruja’s back.
Like she senses the shift in the air, the Invocadora spins around, fuschia eyes lit up in anticipation of an attack. But they dim down to a softer glow when she sees me.
“¿No me vas a mostrar tus ojos, hermana?” You’re not going to show me your eyes, sister?
A fog forms around us, over us, until it’s blocking us from view of even the cameras. She must be afraid there are more brujas here and doesn’t want us ganging up on her. So much for sisterhood.
“It seems I’ll have to figure out your element for myself,” she goes on in Spanish.
I feel the tension in the atmosphere as she balls up a gale of air and lobs it at my gut, same as she did to Tiago.
And just like I would on the Septibol field, I dodge it.
The bruja’s jaw drops, and beneath the mask, so does mine.
I flash back to the cave in Lunaris with Yamila, how I evaded her magical strikes. I didn’t imagine it. I can dodge magic.
The Invocadora’s hot pink eyes flash as she sends another volley of air at my chest, and I drop and roll to avoid it.
Tiago breaks through the haze, and he pulls me upright. Just then, I feel the air around us harden, like we’ve been sealed in an invisible coffin.
The pirata has caged us in a force field.
“See you soon,” she says before pulling on her mask, probably so she can drop the protective field around herself. If she makes it back to her ship and calls for backup, we’re screwed.
Her magical coffin locks me in tight. Concentrating as hard as I can, I meditate on the layers that make up my body, attuning myself to the topmost lining, my skin. I focus hard on the most minute sensations, until I can feel where the hardened air meets my body hair.
It feels like it’s been numbed.
I remember how Zaybet said dismantling something is easier than putting it together, and I hone in on a single spot: my right thumb. I channel all my energy into that digit, trying to will the finger to bend, calling on my power of transformation, on my will to survive, on whatever strength I have in me to—
make—
it—
MOVE.
My thumb bends, and the force field holding me shatters.
Since Tiago is masked, I can’t see his reaction, which is probably a good thing. Then I run, until I catch up to the Invocadora in the tongue-like tunnel.
She’s a few feet from the exit when she hears my steps and chances a glance back. She almost trips on seeing me. I can feel her summoning a new gale, one harsher than her earlier ones—
I knock my fist into her face. Then I catch the bruja as she falls and rip off her mask.
I carry her back to the others. The fog fades now that the Invocadora is out, which also frees Tiago. He’s running to me right as I show up, and he takes the pirata off my hands, resting her with the rest of her pack.
My friends come rushing down the stairs, all of us with our masks on since the dormilona potion might still be in the air. Laura hits a few buttons on the handheld pantaguas. There’s a feeling like we’ve just crossed one of those magical barriers, then she and Zaybet take off their masks and run to Enzo.
“Can we wake him?” asks Tiago, after ripping off his own mask.
Zaybet shakes her head. “We need to wait until it wears off.”
“He’ll be fine, right?” asks Laura, but nobody answers her.
Tiago carries Enzo to his room, then he, Laura, and I leave the Coven in our wet suits to transport the piratas back to their ship.
As soon as we disembark, I grow light as a feather. The blackness around us is so thick that it feels like it’s an actual substance.
The mask blows oxygen into my lungs on every inhale, and my steps are impossibly light on the rocky ground. I’m not floating or swimming or walking—it’s a new sensation altogether. It’s like the atmosphere isn’t defined by gravity or its absence, but an as-yet unidentified quality.
We approach the spiky ship carefully, in case there are piratas onboard. Laura is still, and even though I can’t see her eyes, I know she’s using her magic to scan for heat signatures. When she nods at us, Tiago steps forward and wrenches one of the red spikes open.
Inside, there’s a vast panoramic window, just like on La Espiral, and seats are bolted to the floor. I go to take off my mask, but Laura grabs my arm to stop me. “There’s no oxygen here,” she says, her voice muffled.
“So how do they breathe?” The fabric tickles my lips when I speak.
“They fly with their masks on.”
No wonder the piratas got excited about the vampiros.
The walls are riddled with cabinets, and Laura starts opening them. In addition to food and clothing, she finds precious stones and sacks of every variety of semillas, like the piratas have been plundering. While she searches their stores, Tiago and I return to La Espiral to collect the unconscious crew.
El Mar Oscuro’s atmosphere makes it easy to lug the bodies over. Once the piratas are packed inside their own ship, Laura hands me our loot—a few sacks of yerba for mate—and she pockets a small silver wolf with a chipped-off snout. When we disembark, she presses her hands to the ship’s exterior, and the spiky ball rockets into the blackness beyond.
We keep watching until the invisible current carries it from view.
Morning is just a couple of hours away by the time we head back to our rooms to get some sleep. Zaybet said the Olvido in the dormilona potion erases the past couple of days to disorient its target, and now all I can think about is how many memories tonight cost Enzo.
How long until he wakes up? Will he be okay? Will he forgive us?
Adrenaline is still coursing through me when Tiago shuts the door to our room. We watch each other, and I expect him to say something about what I did. How I broke out of the pirata’s force field.
I wait for him to ask me the same question as Yamila and Ariana’s mom.
What. Are. You?
We’re not in our transformed state, yet a wolfish energy remains between us. I’m irritated with him, but I don’t remember why.
He pulls off his shirt, the look in his eyes far from rational.
I don’t know which of us shoves the other onto the bed.
Our mouths are fused, and our limbs are as tangled as our tongues. Tiago’s hands dig into my spine, massaging lower and lower, pressing deeper and deeper into my skin, until my muscles are rubbery and loose. I run my fingers through his thicket of hair, while my nails scrape down his rippled back.
He sucks in a sharp breath, and his tongue travels down my neck while his hand slides up my inner thigh.
Desire rushes to my brain like
a drug, softening the edges of my vision, burning my skin from the inside. Every part of me tingles, down to my fingertips. My hands curl on Tiago’s shoulder, and as I shiver, I slice open his skin.
I gasp and pull my hand back.
My claws are out, and Tiago’s blood is trickling down my finger. There’s a twist in my uterus, like the transformation is about to set in—
I draw away from him and lie on my back, gasping for air, pushing down the impulse. When Tiago comes closer, I flinch away, afraid I’ll shift on contact.
“It’s okay,” he says gently. “You’re not going to change.”
He lies beside me for a long time, while I rake in deep breaths. Finally, I ask, “Did I hurt you?”
“Not at all. Are you okay?”
“I don’t understand what happened.”
“It’s why I was trying to slow us down.” He goes quiet like he’s nervous, and I can’t imagine what he’s got to feel awkward about. “I’ve only ever been with brujas before. I-I don’t know what sex with another werewolf is like.”
I blink.
Somehow, I didn’t see that coming.
“But from what I hear,” he goes on, tentatively, “it’s primal enough to trigger the transformation.”
“Oh.” After a beat, I’m too curious not to ask, “How does it work with brujas?”
“Brujas can handle themselves because they have magic. Sometimes they like to use it during sex. And for wolves who can’t control their shifts, there’s potions that help. That’s a big part of why everyone looks forward to Lunaris so much.”
“What do you mean?”
Now he looks like he’s biting back a grin. “Well … we can let go completely, without fear of getting hurt.”
“Meaning?”
“Put it this way,” he says, his crooked smirk breaking through. “Most of us were conceived under a full moon.”
18
Tomorrow is my broadcast. It’s happening in Juramento, a place that is supposed to be a sacred confessional for Septimus.
These past two days, Cata has been drafting speeches and making me rehearse them on a continuous loop, interrupting with notes like: Look more contrite! Chin up for this part! You sound rehearsed!
Cazadora Page 16