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

door. “I have experience with criaturas, mija. I am not afraid, and I am not weak.”

My toes curled at the implication. “But Mamá, it’s one thing to take on a criatura when they come to attack you. But running into a den of brujas? That’s—you shouldn’t—”

“Do you remember your tía?”

My shoulders slumped. I should have known this talk was coming. Mamá had found a way to give Juana and me this lecture every year during the criatura months since I was little.

“Mamá, please,” I whispered.

“Tell me what happened to her.”

“She went too often into the desert,” I whispered, reciting what she’d taught me. “And because she was vulnerable and trusting, she was seduced by the power of criaturas and fell to the greed of brujas.”

I scanned Mamá’s expression. She always looked like this when we spoke of Tía Catrina—her eyes granite, her hands balled into fists and ready to face a criatura even now. Only this criatura lived in her memory, and I wasn’t sure she’d ever defeated it.

I bowed my head. “And once she became a bruja and left for Devil’s Alley . . . criaturas seeking revenge came back to our home and killed Abuela.”

Her eyes filled with burning, glistening tears. Mine filled with tears to match the ones she didn’t let fall, because the air filled with her memories, and I wished I had gotten to meet Abuela before she passed away. Besides Dominga del Sol, almost no one spoke of her. But my heart always reached for her when they did.

“And you remember who defended our familia when the criaturas came?” Mamá asked.

“You,” I said, voice even smaller. Abuelo used to talk about it all the time before he died. Every year on Noche de Muerte, he’d recount the way she’d stood by him to defend their home.

“I have fought against criaturas since I was your age,” she said. “They took my sister thirteen years ago, they took my mamá soon after, and now they have taken my daughter. I will not let this go on. Someone has to stand up to these monsters called brujas and show them that the Sun god did not make us to be even worse than criaturas.”

She slammed the door behind her before I could get out another word.

I stood alone, facing the front door, feeling lost and small and queasy. Mamá hated Tía Catrina. How would she feel if she knew I was following so closely in her footsteps?

A groan came from upstairs. “Cece, you’re making me sick.”

Coyote! I snatched my dinner from the table and scampered up the ladder to my loft.

Little Lion sat cross-legged on the floor, glaring as I closed the loft hatch behind me.

“Try to hold back your manipulative little emotions, bruja,” he said.

I frowned. “Sorry.”

Little Lion pushed off the ground and strutted over to Coyote’s curled up body. He kicked his foot. “Hey. Wake up.”

Coyote jerked his head up. He must have been only half awake when he complained through the floorboards, because he still looked a bit dazed. Once he spotted Little Lion, though, his face transformed almost instantly from sleepy pup to carnivorous animal.

“Little Lion,” he said. “You’re younger than when I last saw you.”

A crease formed between Little Lion’s eyebrows, and for a moment, a flash of something less steaming moved through his stone. But before I could figure out what it was, the quartz heated back up, and he looked as perturbed as usual.

Little Lion frowned. “So are you.” His mouth flattened. “After this favor, we’re even. You got that, Legend Brother?”

“Perfectly.”

Little Lion stalked to the end of my bed, kicking aside worn clothes and sending spare books spiraling, and plopped down, expression dry.

I scowled. “Can you try not to ruin my stuff?”

His red eyes leveled on me. Then, he kicked my nearest notebook and sent it flying onto Juana’s bed. It slipped off quickly but dragged the quilt down with it.

I turned on him. “Were you Named a jerk, or do you just enjoy being one as a special pastime?”

Little Lion glared. “Funny hearing that from a bruja.”

“The name is Cece.” I rushed forward, fists clenched. “And please, keep it down. You have no idea what trouble we’ll be in if my papá comes home and finds you here.”

Little Lion threw a hand in the air. “What? You don’t want me to kill anyone who gets in your way?”

“No, I do not want you to kill my familia.” I threw my hands up in the air. “Or anyone, for that matter!”

Little Lion just smirked. “Oh yeah, because as a bruja, you’re known for your selfless love for all living things.” He batted his eyelashes to emphasize the sarcasm.

My cheeks flushed. “I—I’m not—”

“Not what? A stammering idiota?”

Coyote kicked Little Lion’s foot. “Hey! Don’t tease her, burro.”

Little Lion scowled at him. “You’ve always been too soft on humans. When are you going to learn they’re not worth your time?” He glared at me. Coyote stiffened. “This one isn’t any different. She’s just overly sensitive about her familia.”

I was tempted, for a hot, blistering second, to grab his soul and send waves of anger and sadness through him, but I fought back the urge. I had to pretend to be a bruja, but I didn’t want to act like one.

“Yes,” I settled on saying. “I am sensitive about my familia.” I put my hands on my hips. “Familia is life. Without it, there is nothing, and I am nothing. Which is why you’re both here. Now scoot over, I’m sitting there.”

Little Lion didn’t move. I huffed and took the only spot left, perched precariously on the corner of my bed, and offered my dinner to Coyote. He lifted his mismatched eyebrows.

“You haven’t eaten anything but jerky all day,” I said. “Here. And you can have some too, Little Lion.”

Little Lion folded his arms, like he was too good for rice and beans. Coyote took the plate from me cautiously. A bit at a time, he scooped the dinner up in pieces of tortilla until at