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

made no further comment, but the gray emotions grew bigger. The feelings wrestled with each other, blurring until I didn’t even know which feelings were mine and which were his. I wrapped myself in a hug and tried not to drown.

“Is that you?” I asked. My voice shook.

The feelings suddenly disappeared. I shivered as my chest grew light again, and I could appreciate all the beautiful colors in my room. But I concentrated on Coyote’s back. It was still, calm. As calm as the feelings had been chaotic.

He didn’t answer me. Maybe he really was asleep this time.

I closed the hatch door behind me. I still didn’t understand what Coyote was getting out of this, or what battle was going on inside his soul, but I did appreciate him.

It was strange, really. I didn’t think criaturas were supposed to be this—human.

I managed to follow Coyote’s map into the cerros. It took about three hours of stumbling over rocks, weaving around elephant trees, and bypassing prickly cacti. I paused at the top of a hill, staring across the dry scrub and rising cerros folding over themselves into the horizon. I’d never come out this far before.

I expected to be tired, but there was something about the land out here that gave me new energy. I breathed in the smell. The sharp earth, the bristly strength of the cerros. It was different from the taste of dust in town. It wasn’t concrete or adobe like the houses. Or stale and dry like the faces. It was lighter than the weight of stares at the schoolhouse. Here, there was space to be human.

Ironic, since I was on the lookout for a criatura.

I opened my notebook to check Coyote’s map again. The wiggly dotted line and the X that marked the spot indicated I was in about the right place. Now all I needed was to find a cave.

I followed rocks and boulders all the way to the base of a mountain. The rocks, red and warm from the sun, rose far above my head. I dug my shoes into the pebbly grit and started to climb. Foot after foot, I scaled its craggy face and eventually stopped before a large cave.

Holy sunset. I tugged my torch out of my bag. It was a new one but still smelled of rancid cooking oil. I held the torch at arm’s length, struck a match, and lit it. The light stretched into the dark crevice. Slowly, with the fire to guide me, I took a single, hesitant step inside the cave.

“Little Lion?” I called out.

There was no response. I didn’t exactly expect him to dance into sight and offer his soul to me, considering Coyote’s warning, but I hoped he wouldn’t hide either. With a quavering breath, I held my torch higher. The stone around me transformed from dark gray to warm, pale limestone. I stepped forward, heading farther into the cave.

“Leave.”

The voice was deep, rumbling, with a threatening growl near the end.

My heart quickened. “Little Lion?”

Two red eyes lit up. I stretched my torch out to catch a better glimpse, but the figure receded into the shadow. Only the edge of his eyes caught my light.

So he didn’t want to show himself. That was okay. He hadn’t tried to kill me yet, so I figured I was already doing pretty good.

“Little Lion, I’ve come to bargain,” I said. “I need a criatura—”

“I said leave!”

His voice roared through the stone until even the pebbles by my feet quaked. I fell silent. Slowly, carefully, I dipped my hand inside my rough sweater and pulled out Coyote’s soul. It dangled from my fingers.

“I’m a bruja,” I said. “Coyo—”

A dark blur lunged toward me. I screamed as he tackled me to the ground. The torch spiraled out of my hand and landed with a clatter next to us. Strong hands pinned my arms above my head.

Little Lion’s red gaze flashed above me. The fallen torch lit the side of his face, orange light glinting across his bared teeth and deep brown skin.

“Stop!” I barked. “Coyote! Coyote sent me!”

Little Lion paused. He looked about thirteen years old, with a young face, hard eyes, and black hair that stuck up across his head in spiky waves. His straight black eyebrows lowered on his small forehead.

One of his hands suddenly yanked away from mine, and he grabbed both my wrists in his other hand—the way Juana used to when we’d wrestle. With his free hand, he lifted the stone from my neck.

“Coyote’s soul,” he said. “You stole it?”

I shook my head wildly. “No, no. He gave it to me—”

“I owe him a favor,” he spat. “I’ll repay it now.”

He tugged on the necklace, and I knew he was going to take Coyote’s soul from me.

The world slowed to molasses. Little Lion’s fist tightened as he began to wrench the necklace away. The warmth of Coyote’s soul pulled further and further out of reach, and it felt as if someone were ripping the comforting sound of my heartbeat out of my pulse.

“No!” I cried.

Before he could snap the leather strap securing Coyote’s soul, I slipped my sweaty hand from his grip and grabbed the quartz stone dangling from his neck.

His face froze like someone had stabbed him.

Just like Grimmer Mother and Coyote had taught me, I pushed. I pushed all my fear, all my panic, all the desperate, nervous need to get my sister back into his soul. I piled it on, higher and higher, until I couldn’t even breathe for the panic we shared.

Little Lion’s face twisted. He threw Coyote’s soul back down on my chest.

“Stop!” he shouted.

I gritted my teeth and ripped his necklace from him. The snap of the leather echoed through the cave. Little Lion stumbled off me with a painful sounding gasp. Quickly, I tied the strap around my neck. A feeling like a captured storm settled between my ribs.

“I’m your bruja now!” I sputtered. “You can’t kill me!”

Little Lion had fallen to the ground beside me. His