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

ground the way a bird first takes flight—quickly, unexpectedly, and with a scrambling, raw instinct that makes up for lack of experience. I rolled, legs tucked in, and finally hit the fence. I sat up, hand pressed against the unstable wooden posts. For a moment, I could only stare at the window I’d just leaped out of.

Had I really just done that?

My legs shook, but I crouched and ventured ahead anyway. I followed the wall of my house until I came beneath the kitchen window, where I paused, listening. The smell of cinnamon and the sound of a spoon’s steady stirring made it clear Mamá was preparing the atole. My stomach cramped a bit. I crept a little farther before breaking into an all-out run.

My bag thumped against my back as I raced down the street. I still had no idea what catching a criatura entailed, but for the first time in my life, I hoped Mamá was wrong about me—and that Dominga del Sol was right.

It took about half an hour for me to reach the south side of town. I ducked under signs and the old, tattered rope warning that I was about to enter the Ruins and exit the town proper.

Tía Catrina had drawn several maps in her journal. The one that I was following right now led to the old silver mine, where she’d apparently found her criatura.

I kept myself on track, heading toward where x marked the spot. I knew I was nearing the mine when I passed Criatura’s Well. It was a crooked stack of stones surrounded with signs warning people not to drink from its poisoned water. Stories said a criatura had fallen in it before I was born, and the townspeople had boarded it up to keep it from escaping. Some even said the criatura’s cries could still be heard all the way in the town proper in winter, when the world was quiet.

But I noticed that the boards were broken now. And the exposed hole, decorated with clawmarks in the surrounding stone, was deafeningly silent. I shuddered a little before moving into the mine’s treacherous landscape.

Craggy rock surrounded me, seeming to fill the area, and tunnels punctured horizontally through the ground on each step down. The nearest tunnel opened up on my right, set into the top layer of the mine. The opening was intimidating, dark—exactly the kind of place criaturas might hide. As I ventured toward it, I tugged the stinky torch I’d prepared out of my bag. After a couple of nervous strikes of a match, I got the torch to catch fire.

I stopped in front of the opening, and red light bloomed into the stone tunnel. My heart pounded. Above me and the mine, the sun lowered on the horizon, like a tired man returning home. If I wasn’t careful, I wouldn’t be so lucky.

I entered the tunnel. The ground sloped downward almost immediately. My feet grew heavier with every step I took deeper into the earth, and after about ten minutes of trekking into the darkness, I heard scuffling and hissing sounds. I held my breath. Criaturas.

I pulled the torch as close as I could without burning myself and took Grimmer Mother’s knife out of my bag. I held it out with my free hand, the way I would to cut onions with Mamá.

I took a trembling breath. “You can do this, Cece.”

The ground finally evened out. It was colder down here than I expected. I gripped my light source as the tunnel walls widened. I came up on a turn and held my breath. The hissing sound came from beyond it.

Something was in here with me. I just had to hope it was a criatura I was capable of capturing.

Ever since I was seven years old, the idea of capturing a criatura’s soul had reminded me of Tzitzimitl’s pained gasp. But I couldn’t let that stop me. I held on to Mamá’s advice and tried to drown out Tzitzimitl’s memory. As I took the next turn, a deep, grating snarl filled the shadows beyond my light.

“Pesky, pesky, human,” a voice came from the darkness.

I jumped backward as the slithering sound grew louder and closer. Just out of reach of my torch’s light, two large yellow eyes opened. The pupils were pin-thin slits.

My mouth went dry.

“The human is quiet,” the hiss continued. A snake criatura? I hated snakes! “Does it want to fill Cantil Snake’s stomach?”

No, I did not.

The eyes moved closer, their narrow glint so monstrous I felt as if I were falling backward into a nightmare. The figure paused in the light. He looked mostly human, but like all criaturas, the animalistic features were a dead giveaway. It was easy to tell what he was by his scaled face, flat nose, and snake eyes.

His gaze fell to my black knife, and his sharp teeth came into view. “A bruja?” There was more venom in that word than in his fangs. “You will never take Cantil Snake’s soul!” he cried.

His body coiled up. With a hard pop, his shoulders came out of their sockets, his spine stretching apart so he loomed over me. His jaw unhinged, his mouth widening and poised directly over my head, ready to swallow me whole.

My mind finally jolted back to life. Plant your feet, I remembered Mamá’s words. Keep your stance. Let them come to you. When it is near victory, a criatura is its most vulnerable.

He lunged down at me. I gripped the knife, locked my knees, and braced myself to take his soul.

“Stop!” someone cried out behind me.

A dark figure rushed up behind me and seized Cantil Snake by his open jaw. Cantil Snake screamed as the stranger yanked him down to the ground, and the two started thrashing across the floor. Pebbles shook free of the ceiling. The ground rumbled. My torch fire gave off a wicked spark. I stood rooted to the spot, just trying to keep track of the wild fight, until they slammed against the