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

his jaws but couldn’t get a bite in to defend himself.

“Little Lion!” I ran forward but stopped myself at the chalk circle.

Little Lion’s soul raged with heat. Laughter filled the horde, voices taunting me and him. They’d cheered for me last night, but I guess all they wanted was a good fight. They didn’t care who the winner was.

I set my face into its hardest, chilliest lines. Here, there were no second chances. Here, I couldn’t be scared.

Here, I had to be a bruja.

I lifted Little Lion’s soul—safe in my closed hand—to my lips. On the floor, Lion kicked and thrashed, but La Llorona’s hand was stealing his air. I’d expect nothing less from the criatura who drowned children.

I closed my eyes and let all the terror flood out of me with an exhale. Little Lion didn’t need my fear. And he didn’t need my rage, either. Gathering everything I had, I pushed cool waves of calm into him.

It was a struggle. Like Coyote had said, working with Little Lion wasn’t easy. It was like wrestling a goat into its pen, only if you were on fire, and the goat was on fire, and actually everything was on fire.

But I reached into Little Lion’s soul and parted the flames. In the small space left behind, I forced in every memory of cold I could think of: the desert at night, a hailstorm, the shiver of cold water down my throat—and on top of that, I sent him the cold of loneliness, the cold of calmness, and the cold of perfect, isolated, internal peace.

His soul stopped burning.

When I opened my eyes, Little Lion looked back at me from beneath La Llorona’s straggly black hair. His red gaze was, for once, not aflame. Just clear and sharp.

He gave me a subtle nod. I took his soul in both my hands and let more memories of cold flow into him.

The rage in his soul vanished completely. And with it, Little Lion fell limp in the dust. La Llorona grinned. Her bruja screamed for her to finish him. But I could see he had a plan now that he could think clearly.

“Now,” I whispered.

He thrust his knee into her ribs.

La Llorona choked on the surprise attack and lost her grip. While she winced in pain, Little Lion wrenched up both hands, grabbed her by the shoulders, and threw her off him.

She landed on her back and I heard a loud snap. Little Lion leaped on her without hesitation, his teeth flashing. I let go of his soul stone and covered my eyes.

The mob chanted my name, almost drowning out the sound of the floor giving way to swallow up La Llorona’s body. By the time I lowered my hands, she was gone.

I expected Little Lion’s quartz to heat again with victory as he stood alone in the ring.

It didn’t.

“In another shocking upset, the winner is Bruja Cece and her second criatura, Little Lion!” El Silbón roared. “Keep an eye on this one, comadres and compadres. If the fact that she can carry two criaturas wasn’t enough to make her a contender, her battle moves sure are.”

Little Lion started making his way back toward me. I looked away and tried not to think about how he must have taken out La Llorona.

The cheers shifted around me, and suddenly, I realized someone was standing in front of me. I straightened up when I recognized him. It was the brujo with the satin smile I’d bumped into yesterday. He grinned widely at me, as he had before. The ache in my heart started to ease away.

But there was something different in his eyes today. For a second, I thought something was moving inside his irises. Something dark and almost—purple.

“Well done,” he said.

I smiled back hesitantly. “Thank you.”

“You’re getting better with every match, Cece. And now you can even carry two souls.”

Everyone was bringing that up. “Practice makes perfect, I guess?”

“Perfection.” He glanced over my shoulder, toward the ring. “Not everyone is capable of that. But I have high hopes you will be.”

This was starting to make me uncomfortable, but I couldn’t pinpoint why. I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m not so sure about that.”

His gaze lingered on me. The purple-something seemed to sharpen. He reached out and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Cece.” His warm expression disappeared. I froze in his grip. “What are you sure of?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure that you want to be here? That you want to be a bruja?”

My heart rate picked up. I looked into his face as the purple in his irises grew brighter. I hadn’t done anything suspicious, so why was he asking me this?

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, it’s exactly what I want.”

“Why?” he asked.

I stared at him, not sure what to say.

His hold tightened and stung. “Why do you want to be a bruja, Cecelia Rios?”

How did he know my full name?

The scratch of footsteps stopped just behind me. I tugged out of the brujo’s hold and whirled around, my knees shaking, to face Little Lion.

He was covered in dirt and scrapes, but that wasn’t what I noticed first. I was shocked because, for a moment, his soul was just warm. So warm it nearly washed away the fear that had curled tightly in my chest. And the look in his red gaze was almost—though I hadn’t thought he was capable of it—soft.

Then he sneered, and the feeling vanished. “What’s with that scaredy-cat look?” He bumped my shoulder with his own. “Follow me.”

Little Lion pushed out a path for me through the crowd. I scanned the entire room, but the brujo had disappeared. I rubbed my shoulder; it was sore where he’d touched me.

I shivered. I really hoped I didn’t have to run into him again.

I followed Little Lion out of the factory, my stomach still in knots, and stumbled into the open desert air. I breathed it in and hugged myself for comfort.

“By the way, Lion, I’m sorry,” I said.

He cocked an