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

cry out as Brujo Rodrigo and his criaturas walked toward my friends’ unconscious bodies. His criaturas each picked up one of mine, hauling them onto their shoulders.

Brujo Rodrigo lifted my soul up to the sky, his back to me. “A curandera. Who could believe it, in this day and age. So that’s why people say you were cursed by Tzitzimitl.” He looked at me over his shoulder. “I’ll tell you a secret, Cecelia Rios. Curanderas may have been touched with the power of one of the gods, but they died out for a reason. They always chose life instead of death, respect over dominance, and in the end, they were too weak to use the gods’ powers to their fullest. And you’re just the same. Wasted potential.” He bared his teeth. “Tzitzimitl didn’t curse or bless you. She was just the first to tell you the truth—that you’re as weak as spilled water in the heat of the desert, and you’ll evaporate just as easily.”

Between his fingers, my soul flashed with fragile light. I—was a curandera? All along, a part of me had hoped I could be, and that there was some great, ancient power and truth waiting inside me. But now?

I was going to end up just like they had, wasn’t I? Broken and forgotten. Letting everyone down.

My fingers went numb as my soul’s light died out in the distance.

Brujo Rodrigo chuckled. “You’re probably feeling it already. Unlike criaturas, humans can’t live long after being separated from their souls. First, you’ll lose your sense of touch. Then your sight. And, right before the end, you’ll forget who you are.” He paused a few feet away. “I had high hopes for you, for Catrina’s sake. She’ll be angry with me for a while after this. But at least I’ll get to enjoy watching your soul crumble into dust, little curandera.”

He turned his back and strode away.

His criaturas followed with my friends dangling from their backs. Tears filled my eyes, but I couldn’t keep my head up any longer. I dropped my face into the sand. The numbness crawled up my cheeks, just like he said it would, as their footsteps trailed away.

I had really thought I could do this. I was supposed to be braver, and stronger, and able to get Juana back.

But I guess I always failed when it mattered most—just like the curanderas before me.

The numbness burrowed deep into my skin, and my vision went white. Everything was falling away. The desert, my senses, and any hope I’d had of getting my sister back.

26

A Soul Like Water

“Child of Naked Man,” a voice said.

I wasn’t sure how, but by some miracle, I separated my eyelids. Drops of cold sweat ran down my temples. Everything looked gray and blurry. Something stood over me. It was white and thin, barely catching what light I could still see.

“Cecelia Rios,” it said.

Something cold locked around my hands. I wasn’t sure how I could still feel it at all, but the touch was familiar—like fingers made of stone.

“How have you come so far from your home again, your soul stolen by a Dark Saint?”

My lips parted. I could barely feel them, but I knew this voice. And if this was my last chance to speak, I had a question I needed to ask.

“Tzitzimitl?” I said. “Did you curse me to be a curandera?”

Her other hand fell over my cheek. My vision began swimming with shades of gray.

“I am . . . weak as water,” I said. Stolen soul or not, feeling surged back into my heart, and tears welled up in my eyes. “It’s my fault Juana and Coyote and Lion and Kit . . . are suffering.”

There was so much more to say, but I could barely stay awake. I had lost everything. I might as well drain away into the sand.

Tzitzimitl’s hand stopped over my heart. “Water does not have the same strength as fire, so why should you compare them? Water gives life. Without it, there are no animals, no criaturas, and no Naked Man. How can you say that water is not strong, even if it does not burn?”

Through the numbness, I felt something push against my chest—Tzitzimitl’s other hand. My chest compressed and then expanded under Tzitzimitl’s guidance. A sharp breath filled my lungs.

“Water and fire are not enemies. The Ocean goddess and the Sun god are sister and brother. I blessed you to know that, Cece Rios. To know your soul is as strong as water,” she said. “So that you would not lose yourself as the Cager of Souls did.”

Her hands pumped my chest up and down. I almost told her it was pointless, but the hopeless words fell away because I wanted to believe her.

“Your soul has been taken, but it is still yours. The Ocean goddess blessed you with her power, but you made it into your strength. Find it now, Cece. Find your strength, and this time, do not doubt it.”

I dragged in air. I had to breathe. I squinted at the white blur of Tzitzimitl’s face.

“Because I will tell you the greatest secret of all, Cecelia.”

My hands finally twitched. I managed to force them up to my eyes and rubbed them hard with my floppy fingers.

“You already had a soul as strong as water, even before I came to you. You were blessed by the gods from the beginning.”

When I opened my eyes again, the world was sharp and clear—and Tzitzimitl was gone.

Sensation rushed back into my body. I knew what I had to do.

I had to keep fighting.

Because now I knew who I was. I was Cecelia Rios, Cece, sister of Juana, pretend bruja, best friend of Coyote, ally of Little Lion, protector of Kit Fox, and last of the curanderas. I was the blessed of the Ocean goddess. I was—I was strong as water.

I slammed my hands into the dirt. My feet slipped in the dust, but I commanded them to hold their ground. Slowly, awkwardly, I stood.

Because I wasn’t weak. I looked down at