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

a short distance away. His eyes flashed turquoise just for a moment, and he nodded to me. Behind us, Coyote dove on El Sombrerón, fighting to keep him back. Ocelot and Kit joined him, all three of them and the rain barely enough to hold him at bay.

“Juana.” I clasped the braid.

I wasn’t sure this would work. Just because criatura souls could be communicated with using feelings and memories didn’t mean that whatever El Sombrerón had transformed my sister into would react the same way. But if I had a soul stone, and I had been able to control mine, surely I could call to hers.

I pressed the braid to my turquoise stone. Come home, I pleaded with her, pushing those feelings through my stone and into her hair. The braid pulsed with static electricity. I held it closer and closer. “Come home, hermana,” I whispered.

Despite the rain, the braid caught fire. I thrust my head back, away from the scorching heat, as the flames licked up between my fingers. Somehow, they didn’t burn my skin, but I tucked my soul stone back in its pocket for safety. Was it working? Could Juana hear me? The braid of hair in my hand crumbled—and then something exploded out of my grip.

“No!” El Sombrerón cried.

I fell back from the fire, shielding my face. The fire roared and raged, screaming, screaming—until it was an actual voice.

Juana shrieked as her body formed from the flames.

It wasn’t like her scream of terror on Noche de Muerte. It was the scream of a wounded creature on the edge of vengeance.

The heat vanished. My jacket steamed and the edges smoldered. Slowly, I dropped the hand I’d been using to shield my face.

A couple of feet away, Juana swayed lightly on her feet. Great shadows stained the skin beneath her eyes. Her hair was shorter than before, hanging in thick waves just above her shoulders, curling in the rain. She was still in the Amenazante dress I’d sewn. Its hem hung in tatters, stained with dirt and riddled with holes.

Her gaze targeted El Sombrerón before she could see me. Her hands coiled into fists. Her stance was caught somewhere between predator and prey.

“You.” Juana gritted her teeth until she looked as animalistic as any criatura. “This time, I’m not going to steal your soul. I’m going to shatter it.”

“Juana!” My shoes sloshed through the rising water as I came up behind her. “Juana.” I caught her arm and spun her around.

Her face lit up. “Cece?” she whispered, and her voice was the one I remembered again.

I laughed and threw my arms around her, tears gushing.

She grabbed me desperately. “Cece,” she said again. Her hands darted over my shoulders, fingers caressing my shorn hair. “Holy sunset, Cece, it’s you. But you’re glowing. And your hair! Am I—?”

I squeezed her closer. She was cold and shivering, but the harder I held her, the more her skin warmed. She flickered like a candle nearly blown out, but she was still fire, my sister.

“You’re home, Juana,” I said.

El Sombrerón’s feet shook the earth and sent waves through the water at our ankles. I jerked out of our embrace as he materialized above us, his cloak hanging in strips, his skin furious smoke. But most importantly, his guitar was back in hand. How’d he find it?

“You’ve earned your death well, Cecelia Rios.” He lifted his silver guitar.

Juana shoved me behind her and spread her arms protectively. Coyote plowed into El Sombrerón’s side and drove him to the ground. Lion and Kit caught El Sombrerón’s feet while Ocelot struggled to pry the guitar out of his grip.

Just then, El Sombrerón rose to full height and lifted his guitar so Ocelot dangled from its neck. He kicked her off it and stomped her into the ground. Ocelot gasped. El Sombrerón rose again, grabbed Coyote and Kit Fox in one hand, and crushed them into the ground beside her.

Their pain reverberated through me. I lunged forward, hand out. “Stop! Don’t hurt them—”

“No!” Juana screamed as she rushed past me, her hair whipping around, wild strands sticking to her face. She leaped for El Sombrerón’s guitar. “No, no, no!”

Lion dove in with her and kicked El Sombrerón’s elbow. The dark criatura grunted as the impact sent him stumbling. Juana grabbed the guitar. Ripped it straight from his hands. El Sombrerón reached for her again as she turned her back.

“Juana, watch out—” I made to run for her.

As always, Lion was faster.

El Sombrerón caught him in the gut. Little Lion’s body bent with the impact, and he flew straight into a rock wall. He collapsed at its base and lay motionless. Pain rocked his soul. Coyote lumbered to his feet and ran to him.

Halfway between me and El Sombrerón, Juana planted her feet and heaved the silver guitar over her shoulder in one swing, despite how easily it had sent me tumbling. Rain ran down its silver edges, and fell like tears down its strings.

“No!” El Sombrerón’s command rolled through the ground.

“No?” Juana roared. She looked back at him, her eyes wild. He started to come after her, but Ocelot and Kit scrambled up and clawed onto him. Juana hefted the guitar up and slammed it into the ground. A hot crack of lightning cleaved the sky as stones pierced through the guitar’s sides.

El Sombrerón winced.

“No!” she repeated, like she was taking the word back from him. She kept slamming the guitar down again and again. It shattered, strings flailing, until only the useless neck was left. “No, no, no!”

I wondered what she was saying no to. No to him hurting me, no to him hurting her, or no to whatever he’d already done.

Rain dripped down the broken neck as she tossed it away. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” she said.

El Sombrerón made to charge at her. But Coyote leaped up and grappled with him, their hands locked in a deadly push and pull. “Your guitar is gone—you’re not indestructible anymore!” he yelled. “It’s over.”

“Over?” he