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

“Cece,” she whispered.

Her hand reached for mine. I took it and then took her, and we were holding each other, desperate and sopping wet in the cerros. I buried my face in her shoulder as she clasped me to her chest.

And then, for the first time since she erupted from the braid, she gave a light, shivering laugh. “It’s really over,” she whispered in my ear.

I beamed into her collarbone. It was a weak chuckle, almost a sob, but it sounded a lot like hope. I squeezed her as tightly as I could, and the aching parts of me began to heal.

We were still hugging, almost laughing, almost crying, when Coyote, Kit, and Ocelot helped Lion limp over to meet us.

29

La Casa de Familia

Juana stood before the door to our house, looking up at it as if it were a foreign entity.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered. I tried to stay as quiet as possible. The police would probably be patrolling the street soon, though we hadn’t encountered any on our way back through town. Either way, I didn’t want to be banished before I could see my familia put back together.

Coyote’s soul stone warmed my ribs, and I glanced up at him. He sat on the edge of my roof, nursing his arm. Ocelot, Kit, and Lion were there too—but only Lion’s feet were visible, since he was resting. I was glad his wound had closed so quickly, though he’d need to rest for another day before he was back to his old self. Kit swung his legs off the edge of the adobe and chatted to Ocelot between frequent checks on Lion. Ocelot focused on him, clearly listening carefully, even if she made no reaction outside of the occasional abrupt nod.

Coyote was the only one watching me. My chest warmed with the pink in his soul. The gray had vanished for now.

I hoped it would stay that way for a while longer. After all he’d done for me, and after all the battles he’d waged inside himself, I thought he deserved to bask in hope.

I smiled up at him before looking back at Juana.

“Mamá and Papá have missed you,” I said.

She nodded, slowly. The light from inside the window shone in her eyes. They seemed fuller, now, than they had when she’d first unraveled from the braid.

“I missed them too,” she said. “It just looks so much smaller than I remember.”

There was something unsettling in the way she said it. Like our adobe house, our home, was a distant memory she had returned to unexpectedly.

I stepped closer. “Do you . . . not want to go in?”

I’d never considered that she might feel uncomfortable coming back here. But I understood the expression on her face. I’d only been gone for a few hours, and the house felt less like home than it had earlier that day. Maybe because I wasn’t sure whether I’d even be able to stay.

Juana didn’t answer my question right away. Her eyes ate up the light, and she took a hard breath. “Cece?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m scared.” She took another breath, this one shuddering. “I’m scared, and I hate it.”

In all my life, I’d never heard Juana admit to being afraid.

Juana had always been iron, a mountain, a fire, just like Mamá. And she’d been so angry with me for not being the same way. She’d yelled at me to hide my tears. She’d scoffed like she thought I should be above it.

But there was something I had finally learned that she hadn’t yet.

I stepped forward and took her hand. It was calloused but warm. She looked at me like a candle on its last bit of wick.

I squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” I whispered. “As long as you don’t let it stop you from being the best of who you truly are.”

Her lips tipped upward, just slightly. She glanced up, then, at the edge of the roof. Coyote waved at her when she spotted him. Her hand twitched, like she might return it. But then she let it fall limp to her side, like she was too tired to finish the gesture.

“How long was I gone?” she asked. “Here, for you?”

“Just about a week,” I said.

She winced, like there was an ache in her chest. “Only a week?”

Only? Those seven days had been agony. But if it seemed short to her—how much time had passed in Devil’s Alley?

She dropped her gaze to the front door. “Cece?”

“Yeah?”

“You became a bruja in just over a week,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

When she said it like that, it really did feel like a short time. I nodded. “Yes.”

She swallowed. “And you did that . . . for me?”

I glanced at her. She didn’t meet my stare. “Yeah, Juana,” I said. I wrapped my arm around hers to keep her warm. “You’re my big sister.”

She cracked a weak smile. “You’re unbelievable.” Her next inhale came in shaky. “Cece—will you stay with me?”

She stared at our front door like it was the entrance to El Cucuy’s castle. I looked at it with her and couldn’t help feeling the same way.

“I’ll stay with you,” I said. “I promise.”

And yes, I was frightened. I was worried about what Mamá would say when she saw me, when only five hours ago I had broken her heart. I was afraid to see Papá again—afraid to let him see the way he’d bruised me, and afraid that he would try to do it again. But I also knew I had a choice in how all of this turned out. So for now, I would choose to walk in with Juana, and be by her side, and share in this all-important moment. The rest I’d figure out later.

“Good luck,” four voices whispered above us. I looked up and found my friends cheering us on.

Coyote sat in the middle, smiling softly, as he propped up Little Lion on his right. Lion, looking tired but peaceful, nodded toward us. Kit Fox beamed on Coyote’s