Cece Rios and the Desert of Souls by Kaela Rivera (online e book reading .txt) 📕

I shuddered. I didn’t mind the ritual cleansing, but I didn’t like all the sneaking around we had to do to perform it.

I scampered up the ladder and back into my room. After tugging on proper clothes, I scanned the red leather book I’d grabbed. Strange. It looked much newer than anything else in the trunk. I frowned and flipped the book open.

The first page was signed by Catrina Rios.

My heart nearly stopped. What?

After my run-in with Tzitzimitl when I was seven, I’d learned that Catrina, my tía, had left home to become a bruja—and disgraced our family in the process. Mamá couldn’t even say her name without looking disgusted.

So why was her diary still in our family trunk?

“Mija,” Mamá called from below.

I dropped the journal, and it landed on Juana’s bed, in the dip she’d left behind. “Coming, Mamá!”

I gave the journal that shouldn’t exist one last look before running after her.

Mamá pressed her hand against my back, guiding me through the still-dark streets toward the Sun Sanctuary.

“Almost there, mija,” she said.

“Are we going through the back door again?” I asked quietly.

“Sí,” she whispered. “Now hush until we’re inside.”

I frowned to myself. I loved how peaceful it was inside the Sun Sanctuary, but because I was me, I’d only been allowed to come a handful of times, and never through the front door.

We took a last turn, and suddenly the Sun Sanctuary rose above us, its golden dome and white-painted brick clean and welcoming. It wasn’t a huge building—only about double the size of our small house—but it was taller than most with three floors of ascending stained glass windows. I tilted my head back to better take in the scenes they depicted. Some had people dancing under the Sun, others animals frolicking across the Desert, others showing people bowed under the Moon, and a chosen few depicted people swaying among Ocean’s waves. I stared at those windows the longest. That was something I never understood about the Sun Sanctuary—why all the gods, Desert goddess, Moon goddess, and even Ocean goddess, were included in the Sun god’s dedicated haven.

When I’d asked Mamá that before, she told me the Sun Sanctuary contained many mysteries. It was the oldest building in Tierra del Sol, nearly six hundred years old, and there were many ancient stories recorded in it that we didn’t remember or need anymore.

That didn’t sound right to me, but it was the only explanation I’d ever gotten.

“Come on, Cece, no daydreaming.” Mamá tapped my head. I looked away from the windows to find us at the back entrance. A red-painted wood door waited up a couple of concrete steps for us. I climbed them first and knocked gently.

The door opened to reveal Dominga del Sol.

The old woman looked a little tired, but she smiled at us both. “Axochitl and little Cecelia! My, I must have done something good for the Sun god to bless me with the two of you before he’s even risen this morning.”

Mamá didn’t look nearly as happy to see her. “Dominga del Sol, can we come in?”

Dominga del Sol stepped aside to let us in, and Mamá closed the door behind us.

“I’m sure you’ve heard what happened last night,” Mamá said. Her voice was low and curt.

Dominga del Sol rested a hand to her heart. “Yes. I’m sorry about Juana—”

“Cece was there when El Sombrerón took her,” Mamá said, and the sorrow rose in my chest like a geyser. “I need you to perform a limpia for her.”

I wasn’t sure whether it was the low light or the sternness in Mamá’s voice, but Dominga del Sol’s mouth hardened at the edges.

“I thought you didn’t believe in the power of the curanderas,” she said. “Isn’t that why you refused to bring your mamá to me when she was hurt?”

Mamá straightened up, eyes harder, face sharper, than Dominga del Sol’s could ever be. “I don’t believe in it,” she snapped.

“Then why are you here?”

I looked between the two women, a clash of firmness and fierceness.

“You know about Cece’s curse,” Mamá said softly. Somehow, the more quietly she spoke, the louder her voice felt. “Curandera magic failed our people. But my mamá believed in it.” She met Dominga del Sol’s unwavering gaze. “So, just in case, and for her sake, I’m asking you to try. It’s better than nothing.”

The beginning of morning slowly swept the nearest window with gray light. It caught in Mamá’s eyes and made them glow. Dominga del Sol’s mouth softened into sadness. But she nodded.

“All right,” she said. “Help me prepare the herbs. Did you bring the book?”

Mamá passed Dominga del Sol the book we’d found earlier and pulled out ingredients as Dominga del Sol named them. Then, they instructed me to undress. I peeled off my dress and waited in the chilly laundry room in my underclothes, listening to the hiss of steaming water as Dominga del Sol filled a pot from the tap. She hefted it onto the counter afterward, stirring in some cooler, fresh water, and outstretched her hand. Mamá poured the ingredients into her palm as she asked for them.

“Rosemary to clear the eyes,” Dominga del Sol whispered as she poured in the leaves. “Basil to protect the skin. Morning glories to bless the mind with truth—”

“And tobacco, to heal from the darkness,” I finished the chant.

I was surprised I still remembered the words from the last limpia she had given me. For some reason, they’d come so easily. Dominga del Sol looked down at me, and her sad face seemed to gain some life back.

“Very good, mija,” she said. “The curandera’s words feel natural to you, hm?”

Mamá scowled. “Don’t fill my hija’s head with nonsense, Dominga del Sol.”

“Sí, está bien. Here, mija. Come stand by the drain.” Dominga del Sol pulled the pot off of the counter.

I planted my feet over the drain in the stone floor. I couldn’t help feeling small and unwanted there, shivering in my underclothes, hidden away in the laundry room so that no one