A familiar lobizón is standing next to her, clutching the Encendedora uncomfortably close, and I don’t understand why she doesn’t scorch him with her magic.
“Going somewhere?” asks Sergio.
There’s a scuffle behind us, and Tiago, Enzo, and I spin around just as three transformed wolves snap similar collars around Zaybet, Cata, and Saysa’s necks. They brace the brujas’ arms, fangs dangerously close to their throats.
Tiago growls, his eyes aglow, and pain explodes inside me as I rip out of my skin. My spine stretches, my hair thickens, my fangs descend—Sergio looks suspended in disbelief as he watches me transform from up close, his mouth hanging open.
What’s going on? I ask Tiago. There’s a low frequency ringing in my ears, but it’s too faint to make out where it’s coming from.
The collars cancel their magic, he says as he steps toward the three lobizones holding our friends. They raise their claws threateningly so he won’t attempt a rescue.
“There’s a human expression,” says Sergio, and I turn to face him. His eyes are still wide as they take in my lobizona form. “The tiger and the lion may be more powerful, but the wolf does not perform in the circus. These brujas are under the delusion that we actually listen to them … but this is wolf business.”
Humans, brujas, me—sounds like he’s an equal opportunity hater.
“We would rather not fight you, Tiago,” Sergio goes on, though from the way his burgundy eyes are flashing, I can tell his wolf is eager to throw down. “Since these are your friends, we’re willing to pretend this never happened. We won’t even tell the others what the traitor Zaybet was planning to do. But la ladrona stays with us.”
Tiago steps up to Sergio, towering over him as a werewolf, but Sergio looks more excited than scared. His inner monster could burst out any moment.
“Fuck off before you get hurt.” Enzo hasn’t transformed, and he sounds like he’s translating Tiago’s body language for Sergio.
The low frequency sound is getting louder, and my ears feel clogged. I swallow a few times to try to clear them.
“So, Tiago is going to fight off four lobizones at once, with the pair of you for sidekicks?” says Sergio, digging a finger into his ear like he hears the disturbing tone too. “You think a couple of half wolves add up to a whole?”
“You’re forgetting someone,” says Enzo.
“Four impotent witches?” asks Sergio, facial hair sprouting across his face and fangs sliding down his lips.
As his body shifts, Laura frees herself from his hold and says, “My ship.”
The ringing grows sharper, until it’s all I can hear, and I feel myself reverting to human form as I fall to the ground, my head in my hands. My eyes are bleary from the roaring pain in my mind, and I can’t tell if I’m screaming, can’t hear anything, can’t see what’s happening—
The sound and pain vanish as Zaybet places a helmet over my head. I watch Saysa help Tiago, while Laura takes care of Enzo.
We let Sergio and the others writhe in agony while Tiago cracks open the collar around his sister’s neck, and Enzo does the same for Zaybet and Laura. I grip Cata’s collar, and I muster all my wolf strength to crack it open.
“Thanks,” she mumbles once she’s free, rubbing her skin.
Zaybet gestures for us to remove our helmets, and when I do, the sound is gone. Sergio’s cronies have all passed out from the pain, but he’s blinking on the ground like a roach on its back that isn’t dead.
Saysa crosses over and wraps her small hand around his neck. Then her eyes light up like radioactive limes.
The color drains from Sergio’s features, and his gaze widens in horror.
“Saysa, don’t—”
“How does it feel to be weak?” she asks, ignoring Cata’s plea. Veins bulge in Sergio’s neck and face, and his skin takes on a corpselike grayish tinge. “Not much of an apex predator now, are you?”
“You’re better than this, Say,” says Tiago. “Let him go.”
“No,” says Saysa, without looking away from Sergio’s fading gaze. “This is what I am. Because of wolves like him. Closed-minded, arrogant, selfish, fearful little fucks that make the world what it is. He doesn’t belong at the Coven—”
“Is that what you think of me too?” asks Tiago. “That I don’t belong at the Coven?”
“Don’t try your big brother psychological crap. Every chance you get, you make our lives better—but don’t tell me the world wouldn’t be better off without Sergio.”
“There are Septimus who will say that about me too,” I murmur.
The light in Saysa’s gaze flickers, just for a blink. Sergio’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he looks like he’s got one last breath left.
“Stop!” shrieks Cata.
But Saysa is so far gone that she doesn’t listen to Cata’s pleas. Nor Tiago’s. Nor mine.
She’s about to cross a line she won’t be able to come back from, and none of us can do anything—
“Did I save your life just so you could take another?”
Zaybet’s voice is low, but her words are heavy enough that Saysa looks away from Sergio. When she meets her friend’s alarmed gaze, recognition crosses through Saysa’s numb expression, and she lifts her hand off Sergio at last.
Enzo springs over and places his fingers to Sergio’s neck to check for a pulse. “He’s alive. Barely.”
“Heal him!” Laura charges Saysa. Her eyes are glassy and she looks beyond horrified.
“He’s a wolf.” Saysa’s voice is thin, her face dull and bloodless. “He can heal himself.”
“Let’s get them off the ship,” instructs Zaybet, and Tiago, Enzo, and I carry Sergio and his friends out. When we return, all four black collars are stacked, and the brujas—sans Saysa, who’s slumped on a chair—look like they’re debating what to do with them.
Tiago sits next to his sister, and I stare closer at the collars.
“What are they?” I ask.
“Maldición,” says Zaybet. “A stone that cancels our magic. Before the bruja liberation movement, some manadas allowed lobizones to construct houses with maldición so their wives couldn’t use magic at home. Others would just fasten these collars around them. Now it’s only used in prisons, but obviously wolves can still find it.”
“Better that they remain in your custody then,” I say, and she and Cata nod in agreement.
“How did your ship know to play that high frequency sound?” Tiago asks Laura.
“I have a maldición detector. It sounds a high frequency alarm that paralyzes wolves with pain, in case piratas try to board.”
“Shouldn’t we get out of here before anyone else comes calling?” asks Enzo.
“We can’t yet,” says Zaybet, and she unfolds a small pouch from her indigo pocket. “Before we go, there’s something we need to do. It’s the only way we can leave without fear of reprisal from the Coven.”
“No,” says Laura. If she looked horrified before, that’s nothing compared to her expression now.
It’s as if Zaybet just asked her to sacrifice her puppy.
“This is the rule,” says Zaybet, but the look doesn’t leave Laura’s eyes, and she cradles her wrist lovingly.
“I can’t.”
Our horarios, I realize. We have to leave them behind.
“You said they’ll die without us,” says Cata. My gut twists in protest as I look down at the black band binding my wrist. We’re in el Mar Oscuro, so the horario is on the surface of my skin, where it’s supposed to be safe.
“Isn’t there any other—”
“No,” Zaybet snaps at me. “There isn’t. As long as we’re connected to the Coven’s network of horarios, our location is exposed. And they’re exposed too. They won’t let it stand.”
“But it’s not like they would come after us,” says Laura, still cupping her wrist protectively.
“How can you say that after what Sergio just did?” demands Zaybet. “They could tip off the Cazador
es anonymously. In fact, when they see we’ve gone, some might try.”
I know this is a stupid question, but I’m desperate. “Can’t we just shut it off for a bit or something—”
Enzo reaches for his horario and yanks the plant off his wrist. It starts to wriggle and writhe like it wants to hug Enzo’s skin again, but he drops it into Zaybet’s outheld pouch. Tiago goes next, so quickly that it’s just a flicker of movement. Then Zaybet removes her own, and she walks over to Saysa, who’s watching us like she’s in some sort of trance.
When Saysa doesn’t react to her presence, Zaybet yanks off her horario for her. Saysa doesn’t even flinch. But when Zaybet walks away, I spot the glint of moisture in the corners of Saysa’s eyes.
When the pouch is held out to me, I think to my horario, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Then I clasp my fingers around it.
Fighting back the urge to cry, I tug the band off, and my skin itches and stings as my horario peels away. After the massacre is over, Tiago leaves the pouch by the lobizones’ bodies for the Coveners to find. Then we detach from the Coven and spiral into el Mar Oscuro.
Already, the homing instinct that alerted me when we were close to the base is receding. And I realize the feeling of excitement and safety and home that I felt when we approached this rock was never mine.
It belonged to the horario.
It felt.
22
Long after the blackness has drained from the atmosphere, everyone is still in a sour mood. Saysa and Cata are asleep in their reclined chairs, blankets up to their shoulders, while Enzo and Tiago stand to either side of Laura at the helm and survey the view ahead.
We sail through an ocean’s watery depths, past schools of fish and beds of coral. Laura’s hands have been burning into the ship since we left the Coven, hours ago.
“You need a break,” says Zaybet yet again. She’s sitting in the chair adjacent to mine.
“We don’t even know where we’re going,” Laura snaps.
“All the more reason to get some sleep and float. No one has any idea where we are, and we can’t be tracked.”
“I’m fine.” Laura’s curls lie limp on her head, and her ebony features lack their usual glow. But it’s nothing compared to the shadows in her voice.
I miss her sunlight.
“You can channel me if you want,” I offer, sitting up in my chair.
She pulls away from the wall. La Espiral starts to slow as the firestorm in her eyes dims, and she stalks toward us.
She sways a little but steadies herself on the back of Zaybet’s chair, then she drops into the empty one next to her.
“This ship has a symbiotic link with Laura’s fire magic, so energy cycles between them,” Zaybet explains to me as Laura pulls the blanket over herself. “It’s the same with Invocadoras, since air balloons are sewn from a floating fabric that wants to be in the air. Transportation doesn’t drain us as much as you might think—unless you overexert yourself.” She casts a pointed look at Laura, who scowls at her.
Now that Zaybet knows I wasn’t raised among them, she’s taken to explaining things like a teacher—which works out great for me.
“Different spells require different degrees of energy,” she goes on, continuing the lesson. “For instance, it’s easy for me to modify water from liquid to solid to gas, but it takes more energy to summon water if it’s not nearby. That’s why spells are more effective when performed in a group.”
“We don’t have enough oxygen to keep going like this,” Laura interjects from under her blanket. “We’re going to have to surface soon. Not to mention the full moon is in four nights—”
“I know,” says Zaybet, reaching out and resting a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’ll find us a safe space. Once we’re settled, I’ll reach out to the Coveners who stood up for Manu so they can join us. We can still open our own path to Lunaris.” She looks at me. “All isn’t lost, because you’re not alone.”
Her undaunted spirit loosens the knot in my chest. Tiago and Enzo peel their gazes from the window to look at her. Tiago’s eyes are bright with Enzo’s same admiration.
“We should get some sleep,” says Enzo. “I’ll take first watch.” He dims the ship’s lights, and Tiago takes the chair to my other side.
After everyone’s eyes go dark, I’m still wide awake. The harder I try to force myself to sleep, the more alert I feel.
“I can take over.”
Enzo jerks around, like I snuck up on him. “Can’t sleep?”
“Nope, so one of us might as well.” I stand beside him, and he nods in agreement, but he doesn’t leave.
“That was brave,” he says. “The way you stood up for yourself.”
“Thanks, but I feel really stupid right now.”
“Don’t. If they don’t accept you as you are, they’re the stupid ones.”
I think of how he wished the dormilona potion had taken all his memories, and in a softer tone, I say, “Thanks for not being one of the stupid ones.”
He grins at me, and I muster the courage to ask, “How come I’ve never seen you transform?”
“I can’t.”
I frown. “What do you—”
He swings his leg up against the window and raises the hem of his sweatpants to his knee. The bone has been amputated and replaced by a braid of green foliage; the implant is shaped to look like muscle and sinew, with thin ropes webbing across it like dark veins.
“What happened?” I whisper.
“It was bitten off.”
“Bitten—?”
“By a Lunaris creature. Jardineras couldn’t get to me in time, and I lost part of my leg. A healer was able to create a Lunaris limb so I can still move like a wolf … but I can’t transform.”
“Oh,” I say, the word falling from my lips. I want to say something comforting, but I can’t think of anything. “Why, though?”
He shrugs. “Some healers think it’s a side effect of the poison from the creature’s bite. Others think it’s all in my head. So am I still a wolf?” he asks, his voice scratchy. “My family doesn’t think so.”
“I’m sorry, Enzo.” My chest twinges with pain for him. It’s awful enough when the world doesn’t want you, but to feel that rejection from family would be indescribably worse. “You’re one of the bravest wolves I’ve ever met. I’m sorry your family doesn’t see that.”
His green eyes are bright as he shakes his head, his curls bouncing. “Don’t waste your pity on me. I’m not complaining.” He gestures with his chin to Zaybet and Laura. “I found my real family.”
“They really care about you,” I say, in case he doesn’t realize. “When you were knocked out with the dormilona potion, they were so worried.”
“I know.” He cracks a small grin. “I guess our friendship must seem weird, huh? But I like that they treat me like any other wolf.”
He nods in the direction of my friends.
“Just like to them, you’re no different from any other Septimus.”
What can I say?
The wolf’s got a point.
* * *
By the time I wake up, La Espiral is surfacing.
The afternoon sun casts an orange glow across the ocean, the horizon flat on all sides except one. La Boca lies ahead, a forested island built on the back of an active volcano.
“Tell me again why this is a good idea,” says Cata as we stare through the window.
“They won’t come looking for us here. La Boca has been abandoned for decades, since its last eruption, and it’s so far out to sea that most Septimus barely remember it exists,” says Zaybet. “Think about it—had you heard of this island?”
Cata scowls, probably annoyed to have her ignorance pointed out to her.
“It sounds a little familiar.” Saysa’s voice is small, as if she’s testing it out. She’s been rather subdued and has barely addressed us. “I heard it mentioned once.”
She squints like she’s trying to sharpen a blurry memory. “At school, m
aybe?”
“No, because then I would know it,” says Cata, now doubly annoyed.
“If we can bring together a large enough pack,” says Zaybet, “then in three nights, we can open our own portal to Lunaris.”
My ears perk up at the news. “How many Septimus do we need?”
“The strongest number is seven by seven, so forty-nine at least. We want seven brujas of each element, which means we need twenty-four more brujas, plus one wolf per witch. But we’ll need to recruit carefully,” she warns, her gaze sweeping to Laura and Enzo, like she’s doling out assignments.
We grab the satchels with our belongings, and Laura anchors the ship offshore. Zaybet freezes a path along the water’s surface, and we cut across to the coastline.
Tiago and I make it to land first, and we help the others up the dirt-caked rockface, until we reach the mouth of the forest. “You don’t have a hot-air balloon on your ship for emergencies?” asks Cata, huffing as we trek through the trees.
“Sky travel would draw too much attention,” says Zaybet. But I wonder if she’s thinking of our last experience with Cata’s flying in Lunaris.
The volcano’s incline isn’t steep, but the foliage we’re wading through is wild. Tiago is at the front of the pack, thwacking through it with a wooden staff he found on the ground, paving a path for the rest of us. Branches snake through the air, tangling with the limbs of other trees like latticework, and spiky underbrush scratches at our feet. When we make it to the edge of the tree line, we all stand side by side and stare.
The village is gray and ashen. It looks like a movie set in the aftermath of a bombing. A real-life ghost town.
There are fissures in the soil, like gashes, and slabs of melted-down metal. If there were once any tall buildings, they’ve been leveled. There’s just one construction left standing, a single-story stone structure.
Everything else is smothered in soot and half-buried in the lumpy ground.
“It’s perfect!” announces Zaybet, like she sees a thriving garden instead of a dead one.
She turns to face us, the desolate view backlighting her like a bad joke. “The Coveners were in shock, but they’ll calm down and welcome us back. Until then, we’ll be safe here—as long as Saysa doesn’t accidentally set off an earthquake with her magic, so nobody piss her off.”
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