Cazadora

by Romina Garber

  I don’t feel a connection, and I look down at the braided bracelets circling my wrists. My nails aren’t capped with claws, nor do I feel fangs. They’re still stifling my power.

  Nacho shoves me forward as a path parts for us in the crowd. I feel the scrutinizing stares of the Cazadores I pass, but I keep my gaze level. My pulse is all over the place, my legs leaden, my throat clogged.

  Since there’s no white mist, the view ahead is clear, and I can see where we’re going. It looks like an elaborate tree stump that’s the size of a massive stadium, with steps carved into the bark and openings throughout. As I get closer, I think of The Giving Tree, one of the first English stories Perla ever read to me.

  Ma is my giving tree.

  She gave and gave and gave, until she had nothing left for herself. Even now, I’m being selfish. If I die, it will kill her.

  Nacho’s claws dig into my skin as his hand closes around my arm, and we cross through an archway in the bark.

  All the oxygen leaves my body. The tree stump is hollow inside, and above us are mushroom shelves jutting from the walls, spiraling all the way up to the pink Lunaris sky. Every single shelf is packed with Septimus.

  The entire population is here. I can’t make out individual faces, but I know Tiago, Cata, Saysa, my teammates, the Coveners—every Septimus I’ve ever met must be watching.

  By now, Nacho and Gael are practically dragging me across the earth, to the center of the stump, where there are seven towering stone thrones set atop an elevated dais. Sitting in the seats are seven cloaked Septimus, their black robes concealing everything about their identities.

  “Sus señorías,” says Yamila, and the entire place starts to quiet down. “Les presento a la prisionera Manuela Azul.” Your honors, I present to you the prisoner Manuela Azul.

  Yamila’s voice reverberates through the stump, her words floating up to the lobi-luna. Sheets of water glimmer into existence along the walls, reflecting my petrified face in closeup to everyone watching.

  The judge in the middle nods, and Yamila spins to face me. She snips my cuffs.

  I suck in a deep breath, waiting for my Lunaris-granted power to flare inside me, but I still feel too weak.

  The freedom lasts only a moment.

  Thick, ropey vines punch through the ground and coil around my arms and legs, binding me chain-style to the earth, holding me in place. Yamila and Nacho turn away, but there’s an explosive force in Gael’s stare again, and I’m almost relieved when Nacho says, “Tío, come on.”

  Even though all I want is for my father to hold me again, so I can feel like everything will be all right.

  “Sus señorías,” says a recognizable voice, and I turn to see Cata’s father. My uncle.

  Bernardo is in black robes, but his hood is pulled back, exposing his eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. While he speaks, a Septimo comes to stand beside me. He wears his hair in a ponytail and has a ring on every finger.

  “Me duele tener que decirlo, pero hemos sufrido un golpe muy fuerte con la muerte de Zaybet Marina.” Bernardo’s grim voice expands through the air like smoke. “Deberíamos pasar esta luna honrando su memoria y no perdiendo el tiempo con este juicio. La ley está muy clara en estas circunstancias.”

  It hurts me to say it, but we’ve suffered a strong blow with the death of Zaybet Marina, and we owe it to her to spend this moon honoring her memory and not wasting time with this case. We already know what the law says in these circumstances.

  “Sus señorías,” says the wolf beside me, an oiliness in his tone like he’s used to greasing tough situations.

  “My client no doubt knows the predicament she’s in, and she’s not looking to inflict more pain,” he goes on in Spanish. “We will stipulate that her existence is problematic, but we would ask this tribunal to reconsider the usual sentence for this crime.” His voice rises and falls through the chamber like an orchestra. “If we kill her, we miss our chance to study a specimen unique to all of history!”

  I blink.

  This is my attorney, and that’s his defense? That I need to be studied? He hasn’t even met with me yet—how can he defend my right to live without knowing who I am?

  “We can’t take that risk,” argues Bernardo. “She’s too dangerous.” He twists his neck to look at me, and as he advocates for my execution, I see no humanity in his cold stare. He doesn’t know I’m his family, but I doubt he’d be acting differently if he did.

  “As far as we know, she’s the first of her kind to survive birth. She’s evaded us for seventeen years. We don’t know what she’s capable of—”

  “Precisely why we shouldn’t execute her yet,” says my lawyer. “We need to examine her limits. Don’t tell me you’re actually afraid of this niña—”

  “Why not?” asks Bernardo somberly. “She’s already cost us a promising young Congeladora.”

  The silence that follows falls over me like a shroud.

  My own attorney isn’t arguing for my innocence or freedom. Just my scientific worth. This isn’t a mistake … It’s a travesty.

  “I want to speak.”

  My voice breaks the tomblike quiet.

  The middle judge bangs a gavel so hard my teeth chatter.

  “The accused may only speak to her lawyer,” says Bernardo, his jaw tight. This time, his voice doesn’t carry to the spectators. Then he steps away from my lawyer and me, as if to give us privacy, even though his wolf ears can pick up every word.

  I look up at my attorney, but before I can open my mouth, he says, “No tenés elementos para ganar un caso.” You don’t have a case. “Plead guilty, and I’ll get you clemency in your sentencing.”

  His private demeanor lacks the passion of his public performance, and as his gaze drifts to the nearest screen, his ringed fingers tuck back a strand of hair.

  “Trust me, niña, this is your only chance.”

  My heart stirs in my ribcage, like an animal trying to break free. It’s a different power coursing through me now. I didn’t come all this way just to be silenced.

  “I think I’ll represent myself,” I say. Then I peek at Bernardo, who’s standing against the far wall. My words must have carried to him, but he doesn’t react.

  “You need a lawyer because you don’t know the law.” The attorney’s bushy brow furrows in indignation. “And I’m the best there—”

  “Can I hire someone else?”

  “Hire? With what semillas? I’ve taken you on out of the goodness of my—”

  “Ego, I know.”

  His face grows so contorted, I think he’s going to transform. “I want a different attorney,” I insist, waving Bernardo over. Confusion fogs his gaze as he approaches us, but movement by the judges catches my eye.

  The head judge tilts their neck a little.

  “What’s going on?” Bernardo looks from me to my lawyer.

  “Couldn’t you hear us?” I ask.

  My former lawyer lets out a harsh laugh. “For our safety, magic is suspended in a capital punishment case. Only the judges can access their powers. You don’t know anything about the law, and you want to represent yourself—?”

  “What are you talking about?” asks Bernardo, rounding on me.

  “I want a new lawyer,” I say, forcing my chin to stay level.

  “And who do you think is going to represent you for zero semillas?” asks my uncle.

  “Diego … I don’t know his manada name. He’s a student at El Laberinto.”

  This time, five of the judges shift in their seats. Only two of them don’t react. Those must be brujas.

  “You’re not serious,” says Bernardo.

  “I am.”

  We stare at each other for a long moment, then he turns to the tribunal and says, “Sus señorías, we ask for a recess.”

  I raise my shoulders to my ears as the head judge bangs his gavel again, and the images on the screen are replaced by a countdown from 5,000.

  Every second, the number ticks down.

  The
n the ivy tightens around me, and I’m yanked belowground.

  When the spinning in my head stops, I’m alone in some kind of burrow, with only dirt surrounding me. I feel the walls for an opening, but there’s no way in or out.

  “Hello?”

  No one answers me, and I can’t hear any sounds. Are they just going to let me suffocate down here?

  “What the fuck’s going—on,” I finish lamely as a wolf-shadow lopes along the wall, coming closer.

  Then at last, a flesh-and-bone being steps out.

  “Diego!”

  I throw my arms around him, and he gives me a tight squeeze. “Are you okay?” he asks, his periwinkle eyes shiny as they search mine. He looks shaken to his core.

  “I need you to defend me.”

  “Me? I’m nowhere near qualified! I’m just a student—”

  “Please.” My voice cracks. “I just—I want a chance.”

  Diego exhales, and I’m sure he can see that I’m one breath away from falling apart.

  “Manu, I give you my word I will do everything I can to get you out of this, but I think you should reconsider.” When I only cross my arms, he says, “Fine. Then I need you to be brutally honest with me, and we don’t have a lot of time.”

  “What I say to you is protected by attorney-client privilege, right?” I ask, proud that I watched so many legal procedurals growing up.

  “No, that’s human stuff. In our legal code, the individual is always dwarfed by the common good. So, say you were to tell me about an organization you came into contact with that according to the tribunal presents a clear and present danger to our commonwealth, then I would be honor bound to report it, and you would be obligated to testify to what you know.”

  He obviously pieced stuff together at the Septibol match. He must have realized the Septimus in the audience weren’t members of the press. I take a moment to think, then I share as honest an account as I can about my life, including everything that happened since I arrived at El Laberinto, without mentioning the Coven or naming any individuals who helped me.

  When I finish, he says, “This is great, Manu. We’re almost out of time, so is there anything that Yamila or Jazmín might have on you that you think could hurt you?”

  What comes to mind is how I dodged Yamila’s magic. Yet the fact that Tiago never brought up what he saw me do when the piratas attacked makes me feel like he’s sending me a message without sending it. If he’s hiding the knowledge even from himself, and Diego just told me that as my lawyer he still has to prioritize the greater good over me, I decide against it.

  “Just everything I told you. So will this be like a human court? With witnesses and a jury and everything?”

  “Yes and no. Bernardo is the prosecutor, and I’m your defense attorney—but the tribunal is both judge and jury. They stay silent throughout the proceedings, ruling on motions only through the gavel, until they’re ready to deliberate. Then they’ll speak.”

  “Why are they hooded?”

  “There are more judges on the tribunal, and they protect their identities in capital punishment cases so they don’t suffer reprisals. They can choose to reveal themselves at sentencing.”

  “Do they force witnesses to take truth potion?” I ask, thinking of what Jazmín did to me. Diego’s jaw dropped when I got to that part of my tale.

  “No. Lunaris has her own way of determining trustworthiness. You’ll see.”

  I blow out a hard breath.

  “Why?” he probes. “What other secrets do you have?”

  I swallow. “Well—Fierro. Aren’t you honor bound to report that too?”

  “Guess it’s a good thing I’m not honorable then,” he says with a flash of teeth. “Now, we need the tribunal to see that you don’t pose a threat. So we’ll argue you’re innocent because … because you’re not guilty. You had no say in the circumstances of your birth. You may be part human, but you are also Septimus, and to execute you without a real crime sets a dangerous precedent.”

  “Sounds like we’d be shifting the blame to my parents.”

  “Technically—”

  “I can’t let the tribunal turn their attention to them.” I shake my head vehemently. “I need to know they’re safe, even if I have to use my life as a distraction.”

  Diego nods like I just said something smart. “Yes. We need to hold their attention. And to do that, you have to tell a good story.”

  He looks around us like he’s seeing beyond the dirt walls. “The past couple of moons, you’ve lived out the kind of adventure they write books about. So we engage them with your tale, and we force them to see you as not just a biological specimen, but a living being. We’ll call character witnesses so the judges get to know you through your friends’ eyes. We’re going to make the case that regardless of birthplace and birth parents, you’re one of us.”

  “Bernardo will just twist everyone’s testimonies to make it sound like I’ve manipulated them. Like la ladrona.”

  “Manu, you can’t lose hope now,” says Diego, grimacing. “Whatever fight led you to this, you need to channel it because this is the moment you’re going to need it. Your trial hasn’t even started yet.”

  I nod and ball my hands into fists. “What happens next?”

  “Defense goes first. I can call up to three witnesses, then it’s the prosecution’s turn. If the judges still need to hear more after that, we each get to go another round. Then they’ll deliberate.”

  My gut knots up, and nausea churns in my belly. “I don’t know why I thought I could do this,” I say, my eyes burning again. “Cata tried to talk me down, but I wouldn’t listen.”

  “That’s because you were listening to yourself.” He takes my hand. “We don’t discuss it, but there aren’t a lot of students that look like me at El Laberinto.”

  I nod because I saw that there weren’t many Black students at the school.

  “I get what it’s like to want to make the system see you,” he goes on. “Colorism isn’t just limited to humans.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, thinking of the Coveners, each one ostracized in their own way by a social narrative.

  Diego’s fingers squeeze mine, and as my gaze refocuses on his, he says, “There are as many reasons to think you’re la ladrona as there are to think you’re the long-lost turtle Manuelita from the lullaby we ironically stole from humans. It’s all a matter of perspective.”

  He infuses his voice with warmth. “Bernardo will use scare tactics to make you out to be a monster … but we’re going to open the judges’ hearts and show them you’re really Manuelita come home.”

  31

  When I’m back in the courtroom, everything is as it was before, except the screen is no longer counting down. It shows me with Diego by my side.

  “Now that the accused has settled on counsel, she’s shown us just how seriously she’s taking the situation,” says Bernardo in Spanish, emphasizing the word like he sees Diego as a joke. “We submit she comes from a tainted lineage and presents an existential threat, therefore we charge her with treason and recommend her execution.”

  I feel the blood drain from my face. Conversations break out, but I can’t hear the words.

  “The defendant, Manu”—a hush falls as Diego speaks—“pleads not guilty.”

  Now everyone’s talking louder, and the head judge has to bang his gavel.

  “How do you figure?” Bernardo demands.

  “Easy,” says Diego. “She’s done nothing wrong.”

  “For starters, she ran from the law.”

  “So did her friends, but you’re not asking for their heads.”

  “Her antics caused the death of a promising young bruja!”

  “From what I understand, that was a botched Cazadores operation.”

  Bernardo bristles. “All of which is ancillary to the fact that she’s illegal.”

  “Something over which she has no control and can therefore not be found guilty of—”

  “She’s not one of u
s!”

  Diego’s expression clears, like at last Bernardo has spoken the right words, and he says, “Prove it.”

  “She confessed in her broadcast that she’s half-human—”

  “You’re quoting her out of context. She also said she’d been in hiding, her strength repressed, until she found us and made friends for the first time and discovered her power. She belongs in our world.”

  “That is not for her to decide.”

  “Exactly,” says Diego. “It’s up to this tribunal.” He turns to face them. “As you don’t know Manu yet, I doubt you’d take her words very seriously right now. Instead, I’d like to call forth witnesses whose testimonies will paint a picture of her ordinariness. Yes, she’s a lobizona and a hybrid, but in every other regard, she’s no different from you or me. She deserves a chance.”

  My heart pumps extra hard as he echoes my plea. “Among humans, she was a seed planted in the wrong garden, a bud that wouldn’t bloom.” A crescent moon dimples Diego’s cheek. “But in Lunaris’s soil, she’s blossomed.”

  “So goes the tale of la ladrona,” says Bernardo.

  Diego chuckles. “Nice try, but a bedtime story won’t sway this tribunal, especially when it’s obvious you have a political agenda.”

  Bernardo’s eyes narrow. “Meaning what?”

  “You want to believe she’s la ladrona because if her existence is normalized, then you have to accept she’s the next evolutionary stage of our species. There are as many reasons to believe she’s one as the other. Yet to embrace that would reinforce the opposition party’s view that in-species procreation is not enough to grow our numbers and the only true path is to make inroads among the humans and open our borders to some of them. You’re using her to further your politics—”

  “That’s preposterous! You better watch yourself.” He strides up to Diego, who to his credit holds his ground. “You’re still a schoolboy, so let me enlighten you. We don’t bring our personal politics into this sacred chamber.”

  Diego doesn’t back down. “Then admit it’s equally possible that Manu is proof that cohabitation with humans could be a path to the future.”