Are you sure? He pulls back just enough so I’ll meet his gaze.
Yes, I insist, shutting him up with the force of my kiss. My fangs cut into his lips, drawing blood. The metallic taste coats our mouths, subduing the last vestiges of our humanity. Tiago rips my dress off, and I can hardly think after that.
I’m not interested in holding back.
I want to know what happens when I let go.
I took Nuni’s pink pill tonight.
28
The sky is gray by the time we return to Tiago’s room, sunrise just a couple of hours away. I should go to my bed before his parents wake up, but Tiago insists I stay with him. He promises to take all the blame if we’re discovered.
I curl into his chest, like we used to do in our room at the Coven. I wait until his breathing deepens, and within a few minutes, he’s asleep. I watch him dream, trying to commit to memory the sculpted features of his face, the strong curves of his arms, the warm weight of his skin.
I love him so much that I might never leave.
I only force myself to get up by thinking of how much more Zaybet sacrificed. I’m careful not to wake him as I sneak out, and I pad to the back wing where the guest rooms are. But instead of opening my door, I open Cata’s.
She’s passed out on the bed, golden-brown strands strewn across her face, and Saysa’s head rests at her side. I nudge Cata’s shoulder hard enough to rouse her.
Her eyes fly open, and I press a finger to my lips so she knows not to make a sound. Get dressed, I mouth.
I don’t wait around. I head to my room, shower at lobizona speed, and change into indigos and a shirt, tucking my locket under it. Then I make the bed and tidy up the room, stuffing the only thing I’m taking with me in my pocket. I wait for Cata in the hall.
“What is it?” She crosses her arms the instant she sees me, primed to argue.
I pull her farther away, into the library, and say, “I need you to turn me in.”
“Go back to bed—”
“We both know Yamila’s out for blood, and now that we’ve involved Saysa and Tiago’s family, they’re going to be in her line of fire.”
“This is a powerful manada. They can protect you.”
“At what cost? Look at Zaybet.”
Cata grows agitated and starts pacing in front of the shelves. “That was extreme—there’s no reason to think anyone else will die. We’ve been making decisions on our own, and they haven’t panned out. I think we should trust Penelope and Miguel—”
“I do trust them; it’s the tribunal I don’t trust!”
I grab her arms and force her to stop moving and look at me. “We both know Yamila will find me. Our own families have suffered enough by our parents’ bad choices—let’s spare Penelope and Miguel. They’ve done too much for us already. They don’t deserve this.”
From the way she bites her lip, I know I’m right. “What exactly is your plan?”
“I want you to reach out to your mom to arrange a private meeting for you and Yamila, with Jazmín as witness. If Yamila comes alone and agrees to your terms, you’ll turn me over.”
“And what are those terms?”
“Immunity for you, Saysa, Tiago, and your families.”
“And what about you, Manu?” She sounds exasperated.
“This is my choice, Cata.”
She shakes her head and stares at me like none of this makes any sense. “Why are you making me do this?”
I hate myself as I say, “You’re the only one strong enough to do what needs to be done to keep us safe.”
My compliment doesn’t go over as well as I’d hoped because she looks like she’s swallowed something sour. “Tiago—”
“Knows.”
I think she hears the catch in my voice because she stares at me but doesn’t argue anymore. Now she understands.
Tiago can’t do this for me.
Nor Saysa.
It’s only Cata.
* * *
After using Tiago’s parents’ caracola to reach her mom and arrange the details, Cata makes us stop by the kitchen so I can eat something. But I can’t stomach even the thought.
“At least have mate,” she says. “You’ll need your strength.”
I swallow the hot drink, and right as I’m setting down the calabaza gourd, I see him.
Tiago is shirtless, the whites of his eyes lined with red, bed hair pointing in every direction.
I stay completely still, like an animal caught in a predator’s gaze.
Cata takes my arm and tries to move me, but I don’t budge. I want to kiss him one last time, but I know what will happen if I do.
He’s stoic, but I understand. If he moves a muscle, he might stop me.
I have no idea how I make it out of the house, but when the door shuts behind us, I drop to the ground and take deep breaths.
I hear something break in the distance.
Like a sob.
Cata steadies me, and without a word, she leads me to the elevator. We take it up instead of down. “How’d you know this was here?” I ask when we step out onto the wooden platform with the hot-air balloons.
“You weren’t the only one out on a rendezvous last night.”
She picks a nondescript gray balloon speckled with subtle stars, something that won’t draw eyes in the predawn light. As soon as I’ve climbed in, we shoot straight up in the air.
It’s a good thing I didn’t eat, or I would have regurgitated by now.
I look down as we climb higher, squinting to spy a trace of the spiderwebs or the midnight garden, but I can’t see any of it. The ground is just a tapestry of green enclosed in a sea of blue, and soon we’re flying through the clouds.
“How do you know where you’re going?”
Her pink eyes bright, Cata says, “I’m calling on the wind to lead us to Belgrano.” Her face is pallid, and it’s not from the flight. “Why are you doing this?”
From the sound of her heart racing, I know her emotions are at the wheel. So I try to make her understand, both for her sake and the sake of our flight.
“Do you know my eyes don’t change in the human world?”
From her lack of surprise, she does.
“Saysa told you?”
She nods.
“My whole life, I wore sunglasses. I understood all the reasons why, but that logic didn’t shield me from the shame. I felt ugly and wrong and abnormal.”
I see the word written in Ma’s writing on the back of the photograph Yamila burned.
“It wasn’t other people who made me feel bad about myself. It was the hiding.”
The flight smoothens out as Cata’s pulse slows.
“You and Saysa knew Tiago was trying to tell me he loved me, but I didn’t have a clue. Not just because he’s the first boy I’ve ever even talked to, but because growing up, I could never imagine anyone loving me.”
I feel my eyes welling with water. “And if I keep hiding now, I’m not just saying I’m unworthy. I’m saying everyone like me is too.”
“You’re not the only one who feels unlovable,” says Cata, and the balloon shakes with the quiver in her voice.
I frown. “Saysa is head over heels in—”
“She wants what I can’t give her.”
I stare at Cata and see a young Marilén forced to make an unconscionable choice. Saysa or society. Cata is the true Lily Bart.
“What about what Marilén said?”
“It’s easy to long for the life you didn’t live, Manu. It can never disappoint you.” Sometimes Cata seems older than the world.
“Every day,” she murmurs into the wind, “I grow more and more like her. It’s my curse. To become my mother.”
“Cata, you’re not—” I go to take her hand, but she slides out of my reach.
“I am. I’m turning you in. I’m betraying our pack. Saysa will never forgive me.” Her voice is thick with emotion.
“I’m sorry,” I say, her agony a dagger twisting in my gut. “I didn�
��t think it would be good to bring her to meet Yamila right now. I was worried she wouldn’t take it well.”
Cata’s eyes look almost watery, and I panic that I’ve just broken them up. “You make the hard decisions, but Saysa knows you don’t make them on your own. Tiago will back you that this was my choice. You obviously wouldn’t turn me in without my consent—and you’ve had plenty of chances and lots of good reasons! You told me I was your mom’s redemption with the Cazadores. No one would have blamed you if you’d turned me in at the start, when you didn’t even know me. But you didn’t.”
“I—”
She looks like she’s going to say something but changes her mind. Then her shoulders droop in defeat. “I came so close, Manu,” she admits. “I knew how much my mom wanted it, and I was so desperate to impress her. If you’d never transformed, I-I don’t know what I would have done.”
The last words blow out like a dying wind, a dark admission of the soul.
I’m not sure what Cata is truly capable of either. What I do know is she needs someone in her corner as much as I do.
“Choice reveals character—not what-ifs,” I say, staring into her pink eyes. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have betrayed me.”
And yet, part of me wonders if Cata is right that every bloodline has its curse.
I think of Ma’s favorite book, Como agua para chocolate. It’s a mother-daughter tale about Tita, a girl who longs to be with the man she loves, and Mama Elena, who stands in her way. Tita’s overpowering emotions infect the meals she prepares, affecting everyone around her in ways that spiral beyond her control.
The book ends with Tita’s great-niece—also nicknamed Tita—inheriting her recipes, implying that this story will go on repeating itself. Ma loves that twist, but I remember being overcome with a crushing sense of doom when I read it.
Maybe there are some chains we can never break.
Sunlight cracks the cloud covering, and the sky clears to a cool blue dawn. Then a city of purple trees comes into view.
“As Tiago’s best friend,” I say, “you agree I’m doing what’s best for him in the long run, right?”
Cata slows the balloon down as we get closer to the manada. “In all five years I’ve known him, Tiago has never made a choice of any consequence. Brujas have always courted him, and opportunities have always found him. Coach was the one who asked him to try out for the team. Tiago never pursued anything for himself. Until you.”
Her words lift me up as much as they knock me down, and I’m no longer sure I made the right call.
She crosses her arms. “So no, as his best friend, I don’t agree. I know for a fact you just walked away from the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And knowing that you could do it…”
She doesn’t finish the thought, but I understand.
If I can do it, she can too.
Bald branches pierce the air, their ends flattened into landing pads, most of them packed with parked balloons. Ma told me Argentines are anything but early risers, and from the lack of air traffic, this seems to extend to their supernatural brethren too.
Last time we were here, I saw this manada from the ground up, but this view tells a different story. Every treetop is its own scene. One looks like an amphitheater, another is a skating rink, and we descend over a third that’s an idyllic green park. Cata lands us with a jolt on the outskirts of the greenery, alongside a couple of other balloons, and I reach into my pocket and pull out the bottle I brought with me.
It’s a balmy, breezeless morning, and it seems we’re the first visitors of the day. I take in the foliage, inhaling a medley of sunbaked dirt and sweet flowers. But Cata’s eyes are trained on the invisibility potion in my hand.
“Any idea how it works?” I venture as I scan our surroundings for a sign of Yamila. There are bushes of palm fronds that are as tall as small trees, so it’s hard to be completely sure.
“I’ve read each variety affects everyone differently,” says Cata. “Depends on your magical constitution.”
“How long will it last?”
“Few hours, but you can end it sooner if you want. Every spell is anchored to an element—you’ll know what it is as soon as you taste it. When you’re done, just break the spell.”
I pause my lookout to stare at her. “What?”
“It’s hard to explain. If it’s plant-based, you might feel a tightness somewhere, like a sense of vines constricting your veins. To break it, you just need to move that limb and shake off the paralysis. Make sense?”
“Nope,” I say, and since Yamila could show up any moment, I tip back the potion in one gulp.
I feel a strange watery sensation in my throat, like I swallowed ten times the amount of liquid. The water level keeps rising, drowning my organs and vocal cords, until I can’t speak or breathe.
I widen my eyes at Cata, and she looks on in matching horror as I choke—
“Manu?”
I’m trying to say help me, but the words won’t come. Water just keeps filling every crevice, until I’m sure it will start leaking from my ears and nose.
“Where are you?”
I blink as the water settles.
Even though I’m not breathing, I’m still alive.
I’m here, Cata! I try to speak the words, but no sound comes out. It’s like being underwater.
“Manu! Talk to me!”
Cata sounds panicked as she spins in a circle, squinting. I reach for her hand and squeeze it to let her know I’m okay.
She lets out a piercing shriek, jumping a few feet into the air, undoubtedly rousing every Cazador in the city.
“Calmate.”
The low, commanding voice telling Cata to calm down makes my spine stiffen.
Yamila is approaching from behind a thicket of palm fronds, wearing tight red pants and a black sweater. Her eyes are ablaze like her magic is locked and loaded. “You’re the one who asked for this meeting, so no hysterics.”
Cata’s cheeks grow as pink as her gaze, and she climbs out of the basket to meet Yamila on the grass. I’m not sure how much energy I’ll have without breath, so I take a test step. When I don’t hear any noise or feel any dizziness, I leap down from the balloon as lightly as possible, standing astride Cata.
I brush her arm softly to let her know I’m here. Please don’t let her scream again.
“Let’s get this over with,” says Cata, her fingers itching the spot where I touched her. “Call my mom.”
“Aww.” Yamila’s bloodred gaze dims down. “It’s so inspiring how close you two are.”
“I was going to say that about you and your brother—only I mixed up inspiring with incestuous.”
I brush Cata’s arm again, more firmly this time. I don’t need her pissing off Yamila. I’m trying to keep her and the others out of trouble, so if she risks her own chances of getting a deal, none of this was worth it.
Yamila stares at Cata in silent evaluation, and I notice something’s changed about her. She seems less … smug.
Maybe Zaybet’s death humbled her. Or maybe she’s not taking this meeting seriously.
“If you’re wasting my time, I will arrest you,” she says.
Cata rolls her eyes. “Why would I risk everything by coming here just to waste your time?”
“Why would you risk everything for an outlaw you barely know?” Yamila’s throaty voice seems to sharpen the edges of her words.
“You know, I never got what Saysa saw in you,” muses Cata, adopting the Encendedora’s sultry low register. “She thought you were this trailblazer because you were the youngest Cazadora, and you won a bunch of distinctions for upholding the law … but all I see is the wolves’ good little lapdog.”
Yamila’s eyes smolder like a dragon ready to strike.
I feel my transformation trying to break through the potion’s power, as the Encendedora steps up to my cousin, just inches from my face.
“I guess that’s why your mom prefers me.” Yamila’s voice is now a purr. “If m
y daughter was a deviant, I would be just as disgusted.”
The temperature drops as Cata’s eyes swirl with light, and I feel my body trembling, caught between the shift and the potion—then Yamila reveals a handheld pantaguas that was tucked into the back of her pants.
“Down, witch. Mommy’s watching.”
Jazmín’s watery image ripples onto the waterscreen. As soon as her amethyst gaze settles on her daughter, her stern expression cracks with concern. “¿Cómo estás?”
“I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
“I’ve written up an affidavit that I shared with Señora Jazmín,” says Yamila, her demeanor now dispassionate and completely different from before. “In it, you swear that you and your friends were confused and swept up in youthful idealism, and what happened in La Boca snapped you out of the lobizona’s spell. This document ensures that you and all your families will be immune from prosecution.”
Cata looks at her mom, awaiting confirmation. “It checks out,” she says, bags under her eyes. “I woke up the school’s lawyer to review it. As long as your information leads to Manuela’s capture, no one else will be in any trouble.”
“Okay,” says Cata, sounding less confident now. “If you’re sure then. That this is the right thing.”
She’s not talking to them.
“It is, mi amor,” says her mom, and Cata cringes.
“So where is she?” Yamila sounds suspicious.
“How do I know you’re not just going to arrest me as soon as I tell you?” challenges Cata. She’s buying me time.
“What?” snaps Yamila.
“Catalina, she’s not going to do that,” says Jazmín, her expression stern.
“She’s not trustworthy!” says Cata, arms crossed.
“That’s it. I’m arresting you.”
“Told you!” blares Cata at her mom, as Yamila whips out a pair of braided bracelets.
“Yamila, don’t—Catalina, please—” Jazmín sputters, while Cata’s eyes light up with magic, and the Cazadora moves in with her handcuffs—
I open my mouth and suck in a breath of air.
Oxygen fills my lungs, and I feel a headrush as my body manifests. When I look around, all three of them stare back in shock.
Cazadora Page 27