Cazadora

by Romina Garber

  No shit.

  Today we finally settled on the wording. After trashing dozens of drafts, we decided I should say as little as possible in this first address, which is fine by me. I manage to escape her room by pretending I’m running down to get a snack, and the first thing I do is knock on Enzo’s door.

  “Come in.” His voice is raspier than usual.

  I find him sitting up in bed, watching Zaybet’s and his favorite telenovela on a handheld pantaguas.

  “How you feeling?” I accidentally lean into his leg as I perch on the mattress, and I shift quickly when I hear his low gasp of pain.

  “Achiness is gone.” He adjusts his back on the pillows. “Headbuzz too. Only reason I’m still lying here is you’re all hysterical.”

  He was unconscious for a day and lost much more time than we anticipated. Laura told us the last thing he remembers is my demonstration at el Centro Comercial. He forgot about playing Septibol with us and scoring the only goal of the match.

  “We’re just making sure you’re healthy enough to risk your life for us again.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He digs a spoon into the jar of dulce de leche Laura must have brought him. “I’m only humoring you because I’m outnumbered.”

  Yet he doesn’t actually seem put out; he looks well-tended. I survey the books and snacks on his bedside that Zaybet and Laura probably placed there. They’re not usually this open about their affection for him, and I wonder when was the last time anybody took care of Enzo, or made him feel loved.

  “Listen,” I say, getting to my feet. “I’m sorry we risked your memories like that. It was wrong.”

  “All good,” he says, and he mumbles something else that’s too jumbled to make out. He sets down the jar on the nightstand and raises the volume of his pantaguas, like my visit is over. And a flash of silver by the dulce de leche catches my eye.

  Enzo notices, and he picks up the chipped wolf Laura plundered from the piratas. “Lau knows I like broken toys,” he says with a half shrug.

  It’s only after I’ve shut the door to his room that my brain deciphers his mumble.

  “If only you’d taken them all.”

  * * *

  Before going anywhere else, I close my eyes and concentrate on Cata’s lavender aroma, until I sniff her out downstairs. Probably searching for me.

  I head upstairs instead, all the way to the top, which leads into the dark enclosure where the vampiros sleep during the day. Their stems are planted here, so the ground is covered in dirt. Saysa is buried in a nest of vines, just as she was in my mate-induced hallucination on the morning of my first transformation.

  Only unlike the Citadel’s green ivy, the black vampiros don’t hurt her. They let Saysa clean their teeth, and they even chew the mint leaves she prods into their mouths.

  This alcove is just about Saysa’s size, so I have to hunch down to get in. “Hey,” I say, inhaling the space’s earthy musk. I sit a few feet away to keep some distance between me and the sharp maws.

  “Hey, Cata was looking for you.”

  “Yeah, I’m meeting her in a moment.” I hug my knees to my chest as a few vampiros slither closer. “How’s it, uh, going here?”

  “Good,” she says, feeding mint leaves into the mouths of the black vines in her hands. “Almost finished.”

  “You fit well here.” She looks at me quizzically, and I clarify, “Not this enclosure—I mean the Coven.”

  She releases the squirmy plants, shrugging as they twist away. “I’ve been dreaming of this place since I was a little kid. I’ve always known it was real and I’d find it one day.”

  “That’s amazing.” There’s a slight edge to my words, and I realize I’m a little jealous. I can read all over Saysa that she’s found the true home she’s been chasing her whole life. Her place in the world.

  That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  And at this rate, it’s something I’ll never have.

  “I hate that we haven’t talked much lately,” I say, clearing my throat. “It feels like since Lunaris, you’ve been avoiding—”

  “We’ve been running—”

  “I think my situation is pulling focus from what you’re going through,” I force myself to say in one quick clip. “You won’t talk about what happened with Nacho. Or the Congeladora in Kukú.”

  I don’t add what happened with me in La Cancha, but it feels like we’re both thinking it.

  Saysa reaches for a black vine. This one has a few thorns, and she grabs a small blade to clip them. The vampiro lies docile in her hands.

  “You don’t have to talk about it with me if you don’t want, but at least give me a chance to say thank you. For protecting us.”

  Saysa looks at me sharply. “How can you say that? You saw what I did to you—what I almost—”

  “That’s my point,” I say gently. “You’re going through something. We all are.”

  She looks down and concentrates on pruning the vine.

  “But have you asked yourself what would have happened to us—to me—if not for you?”

  She still doesn’t meet my gaze.

  “My first day of class, Señora Lupe assigned us to collect a dozen petals using magic, but you couldn’t harm the flowers,” I say, keeping an eye on the vampiros so they don’t get too close. “It was hard for most brujas to pull off that level of control, but that was the point of practicing. Have you ever tried studying the darker side to your healing magic?”

  Saysa finally sets down the blade and looks up. Her eyes are shiny as she shakes her head no. “Everyone wants to think of Jardineras as fairy tale princesses who talk to plants and sing to woodland creatures. They don’t want to acknowledge the other side to our power.”

  I scoot closer despite the vampiros and take her hand in mine. “Maybe there’s someone you could talk to—”

  Saysa wrests her fingers free and clasps a vampiro that’s coiled around her neck. She unspools it and picks up the blade to prune it.

  “When a Jardinera … hurts another Septimus,” she mutters, “she has to be reported.”

  The vampiros are now slithering onto my lap, and I slide back a bit. “But it doesn’t seem like Yamila reported—”

  “That’s not her doing,” says Saysa, a hollow look on her face, like a ghost’s just walked through her. “Most wolves wouldn’t want to admit a bruja got the best of them. Especially not a Cazador like Nacho. I bet he told her not to report me because…”

  “He wants to handle things himself,” I finish for her, and she nods.

  “Everyone fears a powerful Jardinera. Even other brujas.”

  “But repressing your fear isn’t a solution,” I say, plucking a vine off my knee. “I get panic attacks too. I think that’s what happened to you when you saw Nacho again, and the other night when the tormenta struck—”

  “I can handle my own shit, Manu!”

  Saysa’s voice and hand shake, and she snips too deep when cutting a thorn, making the vampiro bleed red. “Fuck!”

  The vine shoots away from her, coiling into itself like a snake.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, but the plant refuses to let her get close again. It bares its jaws at her.

  “See?” Saysa rounds on me. “I already know I have the same darkness that destroys some Jardineras—but I can’t talk about it, because if I do, it’ll surface. It’s like this volcanic mass of rage in the pit of my stomach that’s always on the brink of erupting. I know you think deep down I’m a good bruja, but I’m not!”

  Her eyes flicker with power, like neon signs, and the enclosure starts to quiver in warning. The vampiros hunch low to the ground, like they’re afraid.

  “The Coven is the only world I’ve visited that makes any sense to me,” she says as the shaking stops. “Out there, I’ll burst.”

  From the way she’s talking, it doesn’t sound like she has any plans of finishing her schooling. “Have you talked to Cata about what she wants yet?”

 
; “The only thing that matters right now is your broadcast.” So that’s a no. “We all need you to take this seriously.”

  Now she sounds just like Cata and Tiago.

  Some of the vines have draped over my arms, and I begin the dreaded process of detangling myself. Irritable jaws snap in my face, and I can feel a few stings on my wrist and shoulder. I slide back until I’m close to the stairs, too near the daylight for them to follow, relieved to be free of the plants’ coarse caresses.

  “You are a good bruja,” I say as I’m leaving. “Even before I knew you, the Septis you smuggled out saved my life. And once you learned what I am, you were the first to accept me. I don’t know about these Coveners—all I know is you didn’t hesitate. Just like I know the real Saysa would never compromise her values to fit in anywhere.”

  I don’t linger to see her reaction to my words, and I feel sadness welling in my chest as I trade the dim enclosure for the brightness of the artificial sun. Between Cata’s overprotectiveness, Tiago’s tunnel vision, and Saysa’s dual allegiances, I can’t trust any of my friends to guide me through this decision.

  They’re not objective enough to consider things from my perspective.

  They don’t realize they’re not just asking me to lie … They’re asking me to become a lie.

  * * *

  I leap down the balconies instead of taking the stairs, and when I get to the ground level, I knock Zaybet off her feet.

  “Oh—sorry!”

  I reach out and catch her with both arms, right before her head hits the ground. Our chests bump, and her metallic eyes are round with shock as I pull her up.

  I feel a sheepish grin burn my face. “Still working on my lobizona skills.”

  “It’s … okay,” she says, breathing between words.

  I inhale a lavender bomb’s approach. “Hey, I was hoping to visit el Hongo, but I ran out of—”

  “Sure,” says Zaybet, walking me to the mats and handing me a shot glass full of dried mushroom shavings.

  She looks slightly alarmed by the speed with which I knock it back. As usual, el Hongo tastes dry and chewy. I shut my eyes right as I hear Cata rushing over and calling out, “Tell me she didn’t—”

  Oh, but she did.

  As I launch into the deep end of my mind, at last I’m free to indulge in my thoughts. This is the only alone time I can get lately. Like I do every day, I try sending Gael a message.

  Are you there?

  I don’t feel any kind of connection. It’s like picking up the phone and not hearing a dial tone.

  I’m the ultimate hypocrite for encouraging Saysa to open up when I’m keeping secrets again. I still haven’t told my friends about my ability to deflect magic. Not because I don’t trust them, but because I want to figure out what it means before anyone else decides for me.

  I’m done being the oddity in the room.

  I’m afraid if I keep metamorphosing, I’ll pull a Gregor Samsa and wake up a bug. I’ll shift one phase too far and become unrecognizable to myself.

  It’s the same fear I have about tomorrow. The thought of telling my truth terrifies me, but lying frightens me more. No matter what I say, my identity will change—and I’m not sure which direction it should go.

  And then there’s Yamila’s threat of going after Ma. Once I make this declaration, she’s going to be eager to tear it apart.

  If she hasn’t already caught up to Ma, she’ll double her efforts. I need to know that she’s safe with Gael. That they’re both safe.

  Can you hear me? I try again.

  Still no connection.

  I distract myself by scanning the latest headlines. The word ladrona has been coming up more and more frequently in my searches, and since I’m not in any rush to get back to Cata, I look into the lore again.

  The haunting lullaby starts to play in my mind, and I learn that the whole thing is a scare tactic. La ladrona is a cautionary tale made up to reinforce the border between Septimus and humans. A way of discouraging the birth of hybrids like me.

  As I go deeper into the mythology, I come across the five tenets that apply to la ladrona:

  She will sneak into Lunaris.

  She will steal the lobizones’ power.

  She will match the brujas’ magic.

  She will be the world’s undoing.

  She will only be known by her treacherous eyes.

  My heart pounds in my chest. Any of these traits could be twisted to sound like they’re about me. Especially that last line. It wouldn’t be my life if it didn’t center around my eyes.

  She will match the brujas’ magic.

  Now I know why Tiago didn’t say anything when I broke out of the Invocadora’s force field. He probably realizes if anyone learns I can dodge magic, I’ll be even more fucked than I already am.

  Yamila knows. Just like she knows about Ma. Yamila knows all my secrets, and the only way to protect myself is with a preemptive strike.

  I need to take control of my narrative before she does.

  Are you there? I snap at Gael. I really need to talk to you!

  I still don’t feel his presence, and at this point, I doubt I’ll get the chance to talk to him before my broadcast. But I’m at least going to say what I need to say, even if only the universe is listening.

  You’ll probably never hear this, but we did what you said. We connected with the Coven. I guess you probably realize that by now. You probably also noticed I’ve been using your playbook. Sort of.

  Tomorrow morning is my final demonstration. I’m going to give a broadcast to the Septimus. Cata baked up some story for me to recite about how I was force-fed Olvido and don’t know my own past.

  Is that what you and Ma want? Once I own this story, I’ll be a secret forever. And our family knows better than most that secrets are defined by their proximity to exposure. I’ll always be one step away from losing it all.

  I guess I’m just cursed to carry out the cycle I was born into: Hide like Ma, or become a lie like you.

  The anger spiking my voice surprises me, but I keep going, needing to pull on this thread until I’ve undone the knot in my chest.

  In Lunaris, you told us to plant a new garden. I even saw your disappointment when I chose the brujas’ locker room instead of the lobizones’ before the championship. You must want me to speak my truth, no matter the consequences. Right? Even if it kills me?

  You sent us on a suicide mission! Didn’t you realize the odds? Why didn’t you help us?

  Why didn’t you protect me?

  Why haven’t you ever protected me?

  I suddenly feel claustrophobic in this realm, and I need to return to my body.

  I open my eyes so abruptly that the Coven spins around as I yank myself back to reality. I suck in shallow breaths until the world stabilizes, relieved I only spoke those words in my head.

  No one else ever needs to hear them.

  * * *

  “One more time.”

  “Cata, the speech is short,” says Saysa. “Manu’s got it down.”

  “It’s seriously so ingrained in my brain that I think it’s what really happened.”

  “Good, then maybe you’ll have a shot at pulling it off,” says Cata. It’s late, and the four of us are gathered once more in her and Saysa’s room.

  “Is this about me being a bad liar?” I ask.

  “This is about your survival,” says Tiago, and I close my eyes, breathing out my frustration that he’s always on Team Cata.

  Then I stand straight, stare at the wall in front of me, and say, “Hi, my name is Manu, and I’m a lobizona. Until last moon, I was in hiding because I’m different. My powers were repressed, and I couldn’t reach you.”

  Be contrite but tough, I hear Cata directing me in my head.

  “I don’t want to be on the run like this, but it’s hard to know who I can trust, aside from the friends protecting me. They’re my manada.”

  Now is when I let my feelings show. Since lobizones think brujas are
too emotional to lead, Cata thinks the more vulnerable I seem, the less of a threat they’ll find me.

  But not too vulnerable, Saysa likes to remind me. Or I’ll risk looking weak to my new followers.

  “Last moon was the first time I remember visiting Lunaris.” I’m supposed to pause a beat because this revelation is what Cata calls a Very Big Deal and Septimus hearing it may need a moment.

  “The first time I dared to exist. I couldn’t show myself to you before now because…”

  I swallow.

  “I don’t know my past. I was drugged with Olvido.”

  19

  In the morning, new crews rotate into the Coven, and when the star-studded calabaza gourd comes sailing at me on a gentle breeze, I smile because it means Rocío is back.

  “¿Cómo estás?” I ask, trying to engage her. I know she has a rough time at home.

  “Mejor,” she says with a rare and radiant smile. “Desde que apareciste, me siento más aceptada en mi manada. Tu presencia lo cambió todo.” Ever since you showed up, I’ve felt more accepted in my pack. Your presence has changed everything.

  “English!” snaps Zaybet, coming up behind us right as I’m opening my mouth to speak. “Time to go,” she says, pulling me along.

  “I’m happy for you, Rocío!” I call back. I slurp down the mate, and I rest the starry gourd on a table on our way out.

  Once the seven of us are on La Espiral, tension tautens my vocal cords. Juramento is a mountain that can be accessed by land, air, or sea, where anyone can make any kind of confession. It’s up to the individual whether they want their admission to be made public or to remain private among the affected parties.

  According to Cata, in a pack species, secrets are poison. Juramento is so sacred to Septimus that on-duty Cazadores aren’t allowed on the premises because Septimus have to feel safe enough to open up.

  Cata, Saysa, and I agonized over whether or not I should match my clothes to my eyes for this broadcast. Saysa felt I shouldn’t because I’m not a bruja, but Cata insisted the gesture would go a long way for the tribunal. In the end, I decided on a gold sweater.