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

to him, but she’d grabbed mine by then. I told him to run, and then she killed me.”

A chill ran down my spine. I rubbed my arms. “She did?”

“My first time dying.” Coyote smiled, like it was somehow funny. “Thousands of years of life, and I knew I’d be starting all over again. Just before everything faded, she held my soul up in front of me and promised to bury me in a well.”

My chest squeezed. Criatura’s Well. The one boarded up on the other side of town—the screaming criatura had been Coyote all along?

“She didn’t,” I whispered.

My town hated criaturas, of course, but we knew better than to stop one’s soul from returning to Devil’s Alley. Even when the town executed a criatura, there was a solemn ceremony where the head of police took its soul out of town and left it in the cerros. Almost instantly, the ground would separate around the stone and swallow it whole—returning it to Devil’s Alley, where the criatura would eventually regrow. A lot like how the bodies of the losers had been reclaimed in the Bruja Fights.

Criaturas could be terrifying, but they still belonged to Mother Desert, not to us.

Coyote stared at the ground between his feet. “By throwing me in a well, she denied my soul its return to Devil’s Alley.” His lips twitched. “I don’t think she recognized me, or she would have probably kept my soul. She was blinded by anger, and to her, regrowing in Devil’s Alley must’ve seemed like too lenient a punishment for someone who’d stolen her criatura. In reality, she spared me from ever having to live there.”

Something twisted in my chest, and I wasn’t sure if it was Coyote’s emotion or mine. He really sounded like he hated Devil’s Alley. So—why had he made it, then?

“Did it hurt?” I asked. “The well?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, but his smile faded slightly. “Drowning doesn’t kill a criatura, but it’s not fun.” He sighed. “It took about six months before I had grown enough to escape.” At my horrified expression, he explained. “When criaturas are reborn, they’re in their animal form. And we age quickly until we take human form.” He stretched his arms. “I’m the equivalent of a thirteen-year-old human this lifetime. And I’ll age like a regular human from now on.”

I caught myself clutching his soul and forced my hands to drop into my lap.

“What I’m trying to say,” Coyote said, rousing himself, “is that Little Lion has trust issues that have carried over from his last lifetime. He’s mean because your kindness reminds him of his last bruja, and he’s waiting for you to turn on him too.”

I bowed my head. “I wouldn’t do that to him.”

“Even if it meant you couldn’t save your sister?”

His eyes narrowed, flecks of gold haunting my room.

Slowly, I shook my head. “If he refused to go to Devil’s Alley, I wouldn’t make him.” I placed my hand over the second pebble around my neck. Little Lion’s soul. “I’d go save my sister by myself.”

“You could die by yourself—no, you would die by yourself in Devil’s Alley.” Coyote sat up straighter, like he was afraid I was about to go off on my own right now.

I plucked the hem of my jacket. “You’re probably right. But I still couldn’t force him.”

He watched me with the eyes of someone who’d spent six months drowning in a well.

“Would you force me to go?” he asked.

“No,” I said, before I’d even thought about it. “I’d never do that to you, Coyote.”

He’d helped me so much. And yes, I had to help Juana, no matter what, but I wouldn’t make anyone else die for her. That was my job.

Coyote’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re crying.”

I blinked and blushed when I realized he was right. The room dissolved in color.

“I just really miss her.” I tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. “And it’s my fault that she’s trapped in a place that even criaturas want to escape from.” My throat felt like a wrung-out dishcloth. I coughed.

Warmth pressed against my side. I wiped my tears away and glanced up, just slightly. Coyote’s left arm wrapped around my shoulder. He didn’t look at me, but he held me. He was warm—almost as warm as his soul felt against my skin.

“I would never force you to go to Devil’s Alley,” I said. “But I really, really hope you’ll come anyway. Because I could use the Great Namer on my side. And so could my sister.”

Even though I had his soul, it wasn’t right not to give him a choice in the matter. It was an unfair thing to ask of him, but it was the most I could offer.

He gave a short, hard laugh. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”

I hunched over. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, idiota.” He pulled back and nudged my shoulder. “I mean, I can’t believe you’re actually giving me a choice.”

“I don’t want to be a real bruja,” was all I could say.

He sighed out his nose and faced the wall again. He still sat close enough for his side to warm mine. “You know, I agreed to this to pay you back. I’m choosing to help you save your sister.” His mouth curved upward. “So if you could dry those tears and let me do my job, I’d appreciate it.”

“Hey.” I wiped my eyes. “I thought I was the one giving the commands around here.” A hiccup caught in my laugh.

He chuckled and gave me a light push toward bed. “Get to sleep, Cece. We’ve got the semifinals tomorrow.”

“In a minute.” I shed my jacket and stumbled toward the loft hatch. “I’m just going to clean my cut first. But you go ahead and sleep—I’m glad you’re feeling better. I was worried about you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to pout. “Yeah. Thanks.” He lay down and curled up in the blanket. “Buenas noches, Cece.”

I smiled and descended the ladder to the sounds of Papá’s