Cece Rios and the Desert of Souls Page 9

  Someone banged a pair of drums. My chest felt tight and icy as Coyote and I stopped just short of the battlefield.

  It was just a large circle on the dusty concrete floor. It had been marked with chalk, and already some of the circle had been smudged by feet and hands. On the other side of the circle, the bruja I’d noticed and her Criatura of the Scorpion stepped up. I stiffened as the other two Coyote had pointed out also took positions along the circle. Each of them checked the others out, but all their sharp gazes inevitably landed on Coyote and me.

  “Our four brujas are in position for the first round. We have Bruja Cece with—get this—the famous Criatura of the Coyote!” Whispers and awed sounds echoed as confused spectators scrambled to get a look at him. He didn’t react. “And going clockwise, we have Bruja Adriana with the Criatura of the Grisón; Bruja Manina with the powerhouse, Criatura of the Scorpion; and Bruja Ximena with the Criatura of the Pygmy Skunk! Is everyone ready to see who deserves a place in Devil’s Alley?”

  The spectators screamed and stomped their feet until their passion drowned out the sounds of the drums. There were a large number of apprentices who, from their clothing, must have come from regions across the western cerros and the south. As the birthplace of Naked Man, Tierra del Sol was as important to brujas as it was to my people, so the Bruja Fights were always held here. Some said the power of the sun still lingered in the sand, and that being born here made a soul’s inner fire—inner power—stronger. I wasn’t sure about that. But the bruja community must have been, since they continued meeting, training, and holding Bruja Fights here, even with the police always after them.

  “All four will enter, but only one bruja makes it into tomorrow’s second round.” El Silbón turned to look at us. “Now—begin!”

  Coyote, Grisón, Scorpion, and Pygmy Skunk stepped into the ring at the same moment. And then lunged at each other.

  Coyote moved with the ease of a dancer and punched Grisón unconscious. The criatura went limp, and after a moment, the concrete broke open and let her body sink into the desert. Then the thin stone stitched back together into a smooth block. Grisón’s bruja wailed with rage. I gaped. Holy sunset, that was fast. Across the circle, Pygmy Skunk dove on Scorpion, and the two struggled against each other. But Scorpion was faster. And his tail swiped across the smaller criatura’s neck in near seconds. Pygmy Skunk dropped to the ground. The ground swallowed him next, his bruja’s scream sending him off. My stomach felt queasy.

  It was just Coyote and Scorpion now, eyeing each other. Bruja Manina smirked at me from across the circle.

  Coyote made the first move. Scorpion tried to dodge the incoming attack, but Coyote’s claws scraped the criatura’s face, leaving marks. Scorpion dodged left and landed a punch in Coyote’s stomach. I winced. Holy sunset, that had to hurt. Was that what he’d done to my abuela?

  Coyote slammed relentless fists into Scorpion’s jaw, until the shorter criatura had to stumble back. I winced again. No, I shouldn’t care—this should be payback for my abuela. I’d never known her, but I knew the story so well, I could almost imagine Abuela cowering beneath Scorpion.

  The thought made me sick, and every flash of Scorpion’s shining green eyes sent chills down my spine.

  Coyote was about to punch again, but he grimaced suddenly. Scorpion’s black tail scraped down Coyote’s arm. A deep red line appeared on his skin.

  “Coyote!” I screamed.

  The crowd started to laugh at me. “Can you believe how the legends described Coyote?”

  “Look at him now, he’s pathetic.”

  “He’ll die with his tail between his legs.”

  I grabbed the stone hanging around my neck. He could do this, right? “Leave the fighting to me,” Coyote had promised last night. He didn’t need me controlling him to win.

  But cold coiled up in my chest as Coyote lunged backward and sideways, barely dodging Scorpion’s venom-tipped tail. He was faster than Scorpion. But the longer this went on, the more his knees seemed to tremble. Flickers of fear appeared in his eyes between each strike.

  I gritted my teeth so I wouldn’t scream again. But thoughts of Mamá crying over Abuela shook my bones. My throat tried to close up. What if Scorpion killed Coyote like he’d killed my abuela?

  “Cece!” Coyote just barely managed to slice open Scorpion’s shoulder. “Stop!”

  Stop what? The audience hollered and cheered as Scorpion pulled his tail back and struck Coyote full in the stomach. Coyote flew across the ring. His limp body skidded to a stop just on the inside of the circle at my end. I gasped. He didn’t move.

  No, no, no. My heart squeezed. If he didn’t win, I’d never see Juana again. Coyote would die and it would be my fault, and I would have to live without my sister for the rest of my life.

  “Coyote!” I cried.

  The crowd whooped and stomped its feet. Jeers and taunts rained over me. But I couldn’t react.

  I was busy watching my hopes and dreams pass out on the floor.

  12

  The Fighting Ring

  Coyote lay with his face in the dirt, motionless on the ground.

  I came down on my knees, just outside of the ring, beside Coyote. “Coyote!” I hissed. His face was shielded by his hair. “Coyote, are you okay? I’m sorry—what do I do?”

  He didn’t react. I bit my lip. Was he unconscious or—dead? Across the ring, Scorpion nursed the bleeding wound on his shoulder. His bruja just laughed. The announcer, El Silbón, leaned forward and watched. Everyone was waiting to see if he was a goner and would sink into the desert.

  Suddenly, Coyote’s finger twitched. He barely managed to lift his head and pin me with tired golden eyes. “Stop being so afraid.”

  I balled my hands into fists. “You’re dying out there! I think I have a right to be scared half to death.”

  He planted his hands firmly in the dust. “Your fear is what’s killing me.”

  El Silbón lifted both arms from his perch. “And he’s moving! The Great Namer’s not out yet, damas y caballeros!”

  “Ha!” On the other side of the circle, Bruja Manina grinned. “I’ve heard so many legends about the great Coyote, but it looks like you’ve been tamed by a weakling. Don’t worry, this time Scorpion will send you back to Devil’s Alley.”

  Scorpion rolled his shoulders and readied himself to strike. “No!” I cried, but before he could leap forward, he winced and stumbled, holding his wound again. Bruja Manina scowled as she waited for him to recover.

  Coyote leaned toward me. “Listen to me,” he said. “You carry my soul, Cece. Even if you choose not to control me, your pain is my pain, your will is my will. I draw on your power, your emotions. Do you understand?”

  The crowd hissed at me. Over Coyote’s shoulder, Scorpion started advancing toward him again, but slower than before.

  “I’m only as powerful as you let me be.” Coyote pushed off the ground and managed to sit up. “Right now, I don’t need you to be scared. I need you to be angry.”

  Across the ring, Bruja Manina paced, her bare feet kicking up dust. “Hurry up, Scorpion!”

  Coyote’s words burned through the insults from the crowd as Scorpion limped up behind him: “I need you furious.”

  Furious?

  Maybe I couldn’t do fierce. But I could try furious.

  I leaped up. Air stung my throat as I sucked in a breath—and let out an animalistic scream.

  I screamed at my abuela’s death. At the pain in my mamá’s face when she told the story, at the confusion I felt over Tía Catrina causing abuela’s death and yet being so similar to me. I screamed as hard as I’d wanted to when I realized my sister was stolen. Even harder, because it was my fault.

  Coyote got to his feet just before Scorpion reached him. “That’s it, Cece.”

  Everything inside me boiled over. The fear—so real before—hid beneath the blinding rage. Everyone here thought I was a weakling? Well, I was going to show them exactly how strong a weakling could be.


  “Go, Coyote!” I called out.

  He turned and leaped on Scorpion before I could finish, before Scorpion could prepare. Bruja Manina jolted to attention and stretched out her arms, ready to command Scorpion to block, but it was already too late—

  Coyote slammed him to the floor.

  The impact reverberated through my feet. Scorpion went limp. His bruja stumbled back, gaping. I forced back a shiver as the factory fell silent. He didn’t move.

  Everyone’s eyes were on the fallen criatura. Was he dead? Or just biding his time, like Coyote had earlier? The answer came as the concrete beneath him crumbled, and Scorpion’s body sank into Mother Desert, its original home. His bruja gaped. She still had his soul, so Scorpion would regrow from it eventually. It was an unnatural thing, Mamá always said. When a criatura died, their soul should always be returned to the desert, so they could return to Devil’s Alley and regrow back in their true home.

  For now, he was gone. And Bruja Manina had definitely, officially, lost the match.

  Everyone erupted in cheers. Coyote stood up in the ring as the concrete and sand stitched back together into solid ground. He whipped his head back and forth, shaking the dust from his hair, before turning to eye me across the distance.

  I had to lock my knees to keep from backing away when he stalked over to me. He stopped in front of me and smiled. His canines were streaked with blood, and I wasn’t sure whether it was his or Scorpion’s.

  I tried not to throw up.

  “Now that,” he said, “was the strength I needed.”

  El Silbón leaped into the ring, under the lights. “What a stunning turn of events! Bruja Cece and her criatura are our winners! We look forward to seeing more from them tomorrow. Moving on to the next fight, we have our next four competitors . . .” I tuned him out. Coyote and I pushed through the crowd, focused on the exit.

  “Are you okay?” Coyote whispered.

  I glanced up, fully expecting Coyote to be glaring at anyone between us and the door, but he stared at me, face soft and curious. For a second, there was no predator in his gaze. Just soft concern. A pup worried for its caretaker.

  I leaned away, frowning. “Of course, why?”

  “You’re nervous . . .” He squinted, like I was a bigger puzzle than he was used to. “And . . . sad?”

  Sad was an understatement. Even thinking about it, a knot climbed into my throat. I locked my jaw, and I found my eyes filling with water. I squeezed them shut and struggled to keep my breathing even as we pressed for the exit. Come on, Cece. We just defeated three random criaturas. Including the one who killed my abuela. It wasn’t like hurting real people, right? I shouldn’t feel bad.

  Why did I feel so bad?

  As Coyote and I made our way through the doorway, someone on the way in bumped my shoulder. I wiped my eyes and started to apologize—habit, I guess—but the person turned around and studied me.

  He was much older, probably in his early thirties, and the hint of a necklace lined his collarbone before disappearing into a dark shirt. Probably an apprentice brujo, then. And just when I thought I was going to get some sign of displeasure for bumping into him, he smiled.

  The smile was warm and intense, completely intended for me. The knot I felt in my throat eased up, and my heart fluttered for a moment. Strangers almost never smiled at me. It was a weird feeling, to be so welcomed.

  “You did well today, Cece,” he said. His smile twisted wider.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. And then tried not to slap my forehead. Brujas didn’t whisper.

  But the man just chuckled. “So polite for a bruja. But no less talented.” He patted the top of my head and started to turn back to the next match. “I’ll be excited to watch you next round! Keep up the great work, chica!”

  I watched him make his way into the factory longer than I should have. He’d complimented me about three times in the thirty seconds we’d spoken. My lips climbed a bit. It was pretty nice to get a compliment. I guess not all brujas and brujos were unkind.

  I turned and exited the building with Coyote. We’d just made it outside when he stumbled sideways into the exterior wall.

  “Coyote!” I went to steady him.

  He’d caught himself with his left hand, but it was obvious he’d nearly fallen. His face crumpled. His other hand cupped his stomach, pressing against it.

  I rushed forward. “Are you still injured?” I fussed around him, not sure what to do. He swatted my hand away, and I caught sight of blood dotting his shirt. He quickly covered the wound again. “I thought my anger made you better! You took Scorpion down like this?”

  “Sí.” He pushed off the wall. I wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him down the street. “Your fury can’t heal me. It just helped dull the pain.”

  I stood up as straight as possible, so he could lean on me. The desert was dark on either side.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “It was still impressive for your first fight,” he said. “We’ll do better next time.”

  I shook my head. “Not just for that. I mean—we’re partners. I should have asked how to fight alongside you instead of making you do it alone. That was dangerous for both of us.”

  He looked down at me, sweaty and a bit unsure. “Partners,” he said.

  I nodded. “Yeah. If we’re going to do this, we have to do it together.”

  “Like we did with Grimmer Mother,” he said.

  I nodded.

  A spark came back into his eyes, and he nodded back. “Okay. Well, first thing you should know is that the leaders of Devil’s Alley invented the Bruja Fights to measure a bruja’s inner power—her ability to control a criatura in battle—rather than the strength of the criatura. But it doesn’t have to be that way.” His black and white brows drew down together. “Grimmer Mother was right about one thing—you can push your feelings into me. After a bit of practice, you’ll learn how to pick one emotion to feed into my soul instead of every flash that passes through your heart. That way, you won’t take control of me, and you won’t weaken me like you did earlier. You’ll power me. Make sense?”

  Power him, eh? That sounded similar to what Tía Catrina had said about her feelings making her criatura powerful. A chilly breeze swept down the dusty alleyway. I shivered. I was brushing a little too close to Tía Catrina’s life for comfort.

  “You really don’t like any of this bruja stuff,” Coyote said. “Do you?”

  I didn’t look up at him. If I admitted how much all this disturbed me, I’d probably just get a lecture on how I needed to be stronger, or more fearsome, or less—me.

  “What can I do to help you heal?” I asked instead.

  The Bruja Fights were every night for the next three days. He had to be ready.

  Coyote’s hand shook against his stomach. “Find me a place to rest. Bandage the wound. Feed me. Make sure no one else finds me. I should be all right by Sunday.”

  I whipped my head up to look at him. “In two days?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky I wasn’t hurt worse. Criaturas may heal more quickly than humans, but if it’s bad enough and we don’t get the rest and energy we need to recover, we can die.”

  Fear climbed up my insides. I clasped his side harder, lending more support, as sweat dripped from his hair.

  “Don’t worry, I have a plan for tomorrow night.” He took a hard breath.

  “It can wait, let’s just get you home.” I tugged him forward and bore as much of his weight as I could. Which wasn’t as much as I would have liked. “Hey, why don’t you transform into a coyote? Then I can carry you.”

  He squinted at me. I raised my eyebrows, making my eyes as big and pleading as possible.

  “You won’t make fun of me?” he asked.

  I tried not to laugh at the unexpected insecurity. “What? Why would I? I’ve already seen you as a coyote.”

  He blushed and looked away. “Fine. But be careful, okay?”

  I nodded. In a moment,
his body morphed. It was soundless, faster, and less dramatic than I’d expected. He was an illustration, with his lines changing in soft movements, like the flick of a pencil nib. And then he was a young coyote, scraggly and with a long white-tipped tail, hanging in my arms.

  “Oompf.” I let out a surprised breath as his weight settled on me. He was heavier than I’d expected.

  He glared up at me as I grunted.

  “I’m not making fun of you,” I said and tugged off my jacket with one arm. I laid it across his shivering body and bundled it around him. He closed his eyes. A little coil of worry started inside me again. He really did look so tired. “Just hang on, okay? I’ll get you back safely. I promise.”

  I took off into the Ruins, a cold fear in my bones. I glanced down at Coyote as I weaved through crumbling buildings. His eyes were still closed, his ears wilted and limp. He looked quiet, trusting. Trusting me to take care of him.

  I shook my head and ran faster. This plan of mine was getting complicated.

  13

  The Life Favor

  The next morning, Coyote sat propped up on pillows at the end of my bed, his middle bandaged, drawing in my school notebook.

  “I know a guy,” he said, holding the pencil awkwardly. “Well, a criatura. Lives out in the desert. He’s strong and owes me a favor.” He glanced up at me and offered the notebook back. “Use this map to find him, and you can have him compete tonight while I’m healing.”

  I took the offering but couldn’t focus on what Coyote was saying. He looked so tired.

  We’d made it home safely last night, thank the Sun god. I’d taken a roundabout way, the one Tía Catrina had drawn out in her journal. I’d memorized the path out of nervousness the night before, and I was glad it had paid off. We had to wait a long time in alleys or by trash cans as police went by, but as if Juana were blessing us from afar, we’d made it without them catching us.

  The moment we got back to my room, I’d bandaged his wounds and snuck him something to eat. He’d said he’d be okay, but he looked just as tired now as he had last night.