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

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