Cece Rios and the Desert of Souls, Kaela Rivera [english novels for beginners TXT] 📗

“Ugh.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m going to regret this.”

He stooped down and picked up the fallen torch, handing it to me. As I palmed it again, he grabbed a leather strap hiding beneath his red shirt and tugged it out. A stone pendant caught the torchlight as he whipped off the necklace and held it out to me.

His soul.

My mouth opened in wonder.

“To own a criatura,” he said, “you must carry their soul. From now on, your pain is my pain; your will, my will.” His nose wrinkled slightly. “Take it. And whatever you do, don’t lose it.”

The soul spun in the air. With a reverent breath, I cupped my hand beneath it. Coyote let it fall into my palm.

It was warm and, for a moment, a vibration fluttered through it almost like a nervous heartbeat. I pulled it close to my chest and angled it in the light. It was a simple reddish-brown stone, not even large enough to fill my palm. It was smooth but for one deep, large scratch running horizontally across its back, and the jagged, carved lines of a coyote howling at an invisible moon on the front. I could almost hear the lonesome sound.

So this was the soul of the legendary Coyote.

“Congratulations,” Coyote said. “You’re an apprentice bruja now. Happy?”

I squeezed his soul briefly and slung the necklace around my neck. It sat below my collarbone, heavy and warm and full of all my hopes. The moment it touched my skin, a rosy fire pressed down into my bones. I took an unsteady breath as the sensation rolled through me.

His soul was tangible—more than just a smooth rock against my skin. It was the sensation of who he was. It was an awkward, new presence seated beside my heart, deep in my chest.

“Thank you,” I said.

Because I was one step closer to winning the Bruja Fights, one step closer to Devil’s Alley, and one step closer to rescuing my big sister.

Coyote’s nose wrinkled a second time. “You’re crying again. I don’t know what to do—stop.”

I wiped my eyes and laughed. The joyful sound echoed in the tunnel. I imagined it reaching Juana, on the other side of Devil’s Alley’s hidden entrance, telling her not to give up hope.

I was coming for her.

9

The First Fire

By the time Coyote and I climbed out of the mine, the moon hung high in the sky. The desert air was chilly now, just a bit too icy to bear. I rubbed the cold tips of my ears and shivered. Coyote pouted at me like human frailty was annoying.

He strolled forward. “So where are we going, bruja?”

“Cece,” I said and started after him. “I know you know my name. If you’re going to be my criatura, you might as well use it.”

He gave me a cold, sideways glance. The moon caught his hair and lit the white parts with a ghostly glow, leaving the gray and brown patches dark.

“Is that a no?” I asked.

“You can force me to say yes, if it will make you feel better.” His black eyebrow lifted in a taunt.

“I don’t even know how to do that.” I glanced around the landscape, trying to get my bearings. Tierra del Sol was to the north, where small lights roamed the town. Oh, that’s right. During the criatura months, the police enacted a curfew and nighttime patrols to keep everyone safe. “Do you think you can get us back inside my house without my parents noticing?”

He pouted at me.

“Please? I really don’t want to spend the night in the desert.”

He grinned. “What? You afraid of the big, wide, scary, dark desert?” He wiggled his clawed fingers at me.

I leaned away from him. “Mother Desert doesn’t exactly like humans the way she does criaturas, you know.” I frowned and finished dusting sand off my jacket. “Can you get me home or not?”

He sighed, crouched, and motioned for me to climb up his back. I hesitated. He gestured more impatiently. With a sigh, I came over and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He straightened up.

“So, to Tierra del Sol?” he asked as he pulled me into a piggyback ride.

“Yeah. My house is northwest, around—”

“It’s fine. I’ll be able to smell it.”

And suddenly, he took off, and the dust fell far behind us. We practically flew through the landscape, streaking past Criatura’s Well, weaving through the Ruins, and jumping onto roofs once we hit the town proper. I dug my fingers into his shoulders. He was so fast, I was sure my stomach had blown out of my body about a mile ago.

He slowed a bit. “You okay?” he asked.

I peeked an eye open. Had he noticed I was scared?

“Yeah,” I said.

He leaped more carefully, and ever so quietly, from one roof to another. Now that we weren’t going so fast, I could see the streets below. Police held torches above their heads, scanning each dirt path between houses. They did these kinds of patrols every year during the criatura months, but there were more police around than usual. Probably because of Juana.

Coyote skated to a nearly soundless stop on the roof of my house. He glanced down at the adobe beneath his feet. “This is your place, right? It smells like you.”

“Yeah, this is it—wait, what do I smell like?”

He tilted his head. “Kind of like . . . salt. And water.”

“I smell like sweat?” I gawked at him. “I’m not even that hot right now.”

“No—more like ocean spray, or brine, or um . . .” He suddenly looked nervous. “It’s not a bad smell.”

“Never mind, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” If it wasn’t sweat he was whiffing, why would I smell like water? Unless—it was my water curse. Had it somehow changed my scent? Embarrassing. “Is there any chance you can sneak me in through my window?” I pointed to the right side of the house.

Coyote walked us over to the edge and looked down. “No problem.”

He leaped down and crouched in my windowsill.