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

“Axochitl, could you help me?” Dominga del Sol asked.

Mamá came and helped her heft the pot over my head. After the count of three, they tipped it over me.

Bright tingles of hot and cold rushed down my skin. The water rained down until all my worries, fears, and hurts were chased away. And then suddenly, it was done, and I was coughing and spluttering to get the residue out of my mouth.

Mamá grabbed my chin before I had time to rub my eyes. She smoothed my long hair out of my face and gazed at me.

“You are Cecelia Rios,” she said, with a fervor I could feel through her thumbs on my cheeks. “You will be clean and safe, and no one will ever take you away. You will burn as bright as any descendant of the Sun god, and no curse will change that.”

I stared at her. For a moment, I was seven years old again, watching her broken expression. But there was a new and darker depth to the cracks in Mamá’s strength this time. Cracks that spelled out my big sister’s name.

I nodded, trying not to cry.

“Bien.” She dropped her hands and scooped up her bag from the counter. She passed by Dominga del Sol without looking at her. But Dominga del Sol didn’t seem surprised.

It was like Mamá didn’t want to acknowledge her. Like she was afraid that doing so would be admitting that my abuela had faith in the curanderas and their old magic, and that somewhere, deep down, she did too. But with the way the townspeople felt about curanderas—and me—it made a lot of sense. Even if it was pretty rude.

“I have to get to the fields now, mija,” she said. “Dry yourself in the daylight, where the Sun god can claim you. But don’t let anyone see you when you leave here!”

She shut the door behind her and disappeared into the gray of coming dawn. I stood there, dripping like a wet rat. I didn’t have time to dry out in the sun. Every moment I wasn’t looking for Juana was another moment our familia was broken.

Silent tears ran down my face and mingled with the basil. My chest shuddered, and I rubbed the limpia out of my weeping eyes. Turning from the door, I found Dominga del Sol waiting with an open towel.

She smiled over the brightly colored cloth. “It is okay to cry, Cece Rios.” She wrapped it around me and rubbed my shoulders down. I looked up into her small black eyes, at the thick wrinkles framing her large smile. The jade beads in her hair rattled as she drew a second, smaller towel over my hair and squeezed the water out. “Familia is one of the worthiest things to mourn over. Your abuela was like a sister to me, you know. I wept for weeks after she died.”

The sun’s first rays broke through the nearest stained glass window. It touched the crown of Dominga del Sol’s salt-and-pepper hair. “Your abuela always felt different, too. She loved the stories her familia left behind, about curanderas and their ancient powers.”

“Mamá doesn’t like to talk about the curanderas,” I said. “Or about Abuela, either.”

Her smile softened into something sadder. “A criatura killed your abuela,” she said. “The Criatura of the Scorpion, who came to take revenge against your tía, Catrina, the bruja. Your mamá probably doesn’t like to remember it.”

My mind flashed back to the red leather journal. “Did you know my tía too?”

“Yes. She used to like to come to the sanctuary, to light candles to the Sun god.” Her smile fell, just a little. “You have her eyes, you know. But I don’t think you have her heart. If I were to make a guess, I’d say you have the heart of Etapalli, your abuela.”

She said that like it wasn’t a bad thing. Fragile hope filled my chest.

“Dominga del Sol,” I said. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you promise not to tell anyone? Not even my mamá or papá?”

Her face grew more serious. “What is it, mija?”

My heart beat faster. “I want to get my sister back. I—I’m going to get my sister back. I don’t know how. But I’m going to find a way.”

She stared at me for a long moment, and my guts churned. I wondered if she’d ever smile at me again after I said something so ridiculous. I was the weakest person in the village. How could I get my sister, the brightest soul in Tierra del Sol, back?

But to my surprise, she just smiled again. “Do you know what a limpia is for, Cecelia Rios?”

It felt like a trick question, but her eyes held no guile. “For cleansing,” I said. “Mamá says it’s supposed to help fight the power of the water curse Tzitzimitl put on me, to make sure my soul’s fire isn’t put out.”

She folded the towel she’d used to dry me. “A water curse. That’s an interesting choice of words.” Her smile widened. “You see, a limpia is old magic left over from the curanderas, made of herbs, a chant, sunlight, and clean water. With those ingredients combined, curanderas asked the four gods to purify their souls in preparation for a great quest or battle.” She placed the towel down on the nearest counter. “That means you are ready now, Cece, to take on whatever challenge is set before you.”

I stared up at her, soaking in her words like they, too, were a limpia.

She patted my cheek. “If there is anyone in Tierra del Sol who can do this impossible thing, it is you.”

6

The Path of Brujas

All the way home, I did my best to hold on to the warmth Dominga del Sol had given me. I could do this. There had to be a way for me to get Juana back.

When I arrived, I went up to my room first thing to grab something warm. I tugged on my old woolen serape cloak