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

Coyote leaned inside slowly, carefully, to avoid notice. But a light filled the alley behind me. I glanced back. A member of the police, holding his light aloft, was headed past my house.

I lunged our weight forward, and Coyote and I tumbled onto my bed. He rolled off and hit the floor. I winced.

Coyote scowled and looked up from the floor. “What in Desert’s voices was that for?”

“I don’t want the police to see us,” I hissed. “They execute brujas and criaturas, you know.”

He looked like he was going to snap back, but he paused and looked at the floor. “Are those your parents?”

“Did they wake up?”

He pointed to the hatch. “Yes.”

The hatch started to open. I scrambled forward and threw myself in front of it, to block Coyote from view. He caught on and moved to the other side of the hatch flap, crouching in the darkness.

“Cece?” Mamá’s sleepy face surfaced. “Why are you making so much noise? You know I have to get up early—”

“Just a nightmare, Mamá,” I whispered. I made a low sniff for good measure.

She sighed and peered at me blearily. “Cece, don’t cry.”

My heart sank a little. I grabbed the hatch and started closing it. “Sí, Mamá. Lo siento. I didn’t mean to wake you up. You can go to sleep.”

Mamá let me lower the hatch, but stopped it halfway down. “Do you need me to hold you?” she whispered.

Her voice was tender now. I gripped the hatch’s edge. I’d wanted her to ask that question so many times. But I couldn’t indulge it right now.

I swallowed and shook my head. “No, Mamá,” I said. “I’ll just go back to sleep.”

Her dark eyes caught the police’s torchlight from my window. “Cece—I’m sorry about earlier,” she whispered. “You know I just want to protect you, mija.”

My throat tightened. I nodded. She watched me for a moment longer before descending the ladder into our living space. I eased the hatch lid down and stepped back. Coyote watched me from the darkness.

I wrapped my arms around myself and turned away from the question in his eyes. I wish he hadn’t heard my conversation with Mamá. He was probably going to think I was weak too, if he didn’t already.

“It’s freezing in here,” I whispered, like that would distract from what had just happened, and tunneled into my bedcovers. I wrapped them around me as closely as possible, but the desert’s cold felt like it had sunk into my bones. “Good night, Coyote.” I shivered beneath my covers, staring across my bedside cabinet, hoping that I’d feel better in the morning.

Coyote slowly crossed into view. I stiffened as he stopped in front of my bedside cabinet, eyeing my candle stub.

“What?” I asked him, careful to keep my voice low.

He pulled out a match from my matchbox and lit the candle. I furrowed my eyebrows. He shifted awkwardly under my stare. “Are you still cold?”

“Well—” I looked down at myself wrapped like a brightly striped burrito. “Yeah. But it’ll be fine.”

The moment I said yeah, Coyote brought both his calloused hands around the flame. I sat up in my blankets. “Hey, careful. You may be a legendary criatura, but you could still burn yourself.”

His top lip twitched upward, but otherwise he ignored me. He closed his eyes, hummed quietly, and started tapping a small, steady beat on the candle’s wax. Suddenly, the flame crackled and roared with life, now four times its previous size. My mouth dropped open as the heat pulsed out from the wick and rolled over me.

Coyote pulled back without a single burn and looked at me. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” I looked from him to the fire. “But—how did you control it like that?” I asked.

The most famous legend about Coyote was, of course, his role as the Great Namer. But in his earliest tales, he was called the Bringer of Fire. Legend said that after the Sun god sacrificed himself so humans could be born, Naked Man was happy and well—until the first winter began. Then, we started to die off as the cold reached its peak. Thankfully, Coyote descended from his cerros and gave fire to Naked Man to save them from freezing. It was one of my favorite stories.

But nowhere did the legends say he could control the fire he brought.

Coyote sat back in my chair. “I didn’t always know how.” He lifted his thumb and traced down the white side of his hair. “This is where the first fire burned me.”

“You mean when you gifted it to Naked Man?” I hunched forward, grinning.

“Gifted it?” He looked at me in surprise. “I didn’t give fire to Naked Man. You all made it.” He looked back to the candle. “It was the first humans who taught me how to avoid its burning and inspire its flame.”

My eyes widened, and I scooted to the edge of my bed. “What? But the legends I know said you gave us fire.”

He shook his head, still staring into the candle. “When I came down from the cerros, I brought Naked Man music.” He closed his eyes for a second and hummed. The fire crackled, just a little, on the wick. “They were so cold, huddled up on the ground, freezing away. So I taught them to get up. I taught them to use drums, to sing. I showed them how to dance so they could stay warm.” He opened his eyes, and they lit up as he looked at me. “And when Naked Man danced, they were beautiful. They danced so ferociously, their feet kicked up sparks. And from their twirling, they made the first, magnificent fire.” He’d nearly started grinning but suddenly caught himself and coughed. “Anyway. The flames burned my hair and all the way down my back, to the tip of my tail.” He fingered the white bits of his hair again. “Naked Man rushed to put it out. Before long, they mastered both fire and my music and dance. Soon they were the ones