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

her back. It bubbled over the top of the open tub and careened into her face, sending her toppling back into the dirt. Where—how? But I didn’t have time for questions. The last of the stored water dribbled out on Bruja Bullring as she climbed out of the mud, and I turned to dash away.

I made it only a few steps before something metal struck my head.

The disorientation was instantaneous. My head rang like a bell, vision blurring until my feet staggered sideways. The bruja stood above me, tossing aside the lid of the nearest trash can, and tackled me.

We landed in the wet dirt. “I was going to let you live, chiquita.” She slammed my head into the ground. “But now I’ll take your life along with your criaturas.”

I wrapped my hands around my friends’ souls. She was sitting on me, her weight compressing my chest. But as hard to breathe as it was, I still forced out, “No—you—won’t.”

Her piercing glinted. She wrenched her fist back and aimed squarely for my nose. I gripped Coyote and Little Lion’s souls tighter.

Two bare brown feet slammed into the ground in front of me. “Get away from my friend.”

I looked up and saw Coyote glaring down at the bruja. She fell backward off me, landing a few feet away.

I took a large breath and tried to sit up, hands shaking around his and Lion’s souls, when Little Lion landed beside me. I yelped, but he didn’t look annoyed. He just nodded up at Coyote, reached out his hand to me, and helped me stand. He steadied me as I swayed a little.

Coyote stepped forward, his shadow crawling up the bruja’s kneeling body. He gritted his teeth as he closed in on her. Her dark eyes widened, but there was no fear in them. Yet.

“If it isn’t the Great Namer himself,” she whispered. Her lips were bloody. “Up close, you look younger than I thought—no, I get it. You’ve died.” Her grin spread. “What did you in? Another bruja, or was it El Cucuy himself?”

Coyote’s face was stone. “You hurt my friend. You deserve everything I’ll do to you.”

The bruja’s face slowly lost its exuberance. Coyote’s upper lip pulled back to reveal his sharp canines. She scooted back, kicking up dust. He followed her, matching inch for inch, retreat for threat.

“Coyote?” I asked. He didn’t even look at me as he cornered her against the nearest wall. “Coyote, please stop, she can’t hurt me anymore—” I stepped forward.

Lion grabbed me. “Don’t get close to him right now.”

I turned to scowl at him. “What do you mean? I’m just talking—”

“And he’s not listening.” Little Lion looked at Coyote, and I noticed something new enter his soul. Something cold and white like fear. With a tinge of deep blue, like sorrow. “You don’t want to be close to him when he’s like this.”

What did he mean? I turned back to face Coyote, ready to march forward, but stopped in my tracks.

Coyote already had Bruja Bullring by the collar of her shirt, holding her a foot off the ground with only one hand. The bruja trembled in his grip, face pallid. He held her gaze, pulled her close, and growled right in her face. “You, I’ll Name La Luz Mala. You’ll live in a tormented mist, lost for eternity, as a prisoner of your own existence. Because you’re everything I hate about Naked Man.”

Sharp purple and white tattoos sprang up on Bruja Bullring’s chest and neck, stemming from the spot Coyote held her aloft. I gasped, but Little Lion again held me back. The colors stretched like jagged Joshua tree branches up to her pained face. Tears trembled in her eyes as they neared her bottom lashes.

“Coyote, stop!” I called.

I shook off Little Lion’s hold and dashed for the two of them. Normally, Coyote’s soul battled between gray and pink. But in the last few minutes, the pink had vanished entirely. And the gray decayed into a roiling navy blue. It darkened into a burning, painful mess as more tattoos covered Bruja Bullring’s skin.

Little Lion called after me, “Cece, don’t touch him while he’s Naming!”

I skated to a stop behind Coyote, reached out both hands, and grabbed his shoulders. “Coyote, please stop!”

The moment I touched him, a shock of heat rolled through me. His soul was at the center of it, nearly twice as hot as Little Lion’s. I trembled as it sent images through my mind. A wide chasm in the earth, filled with darkness. Dark criaturas, flashing from Tzitzimitl to La Llorona, flickered across my mind, until the images settled on the looming, terrible figure of El Sombrerón.

The heat reached a burning peak. I fought against it, aching. I didn’t know what was going on, but I had to help somehow. Somehow.

Suddenly, a wave of something cool bubbled up inside my chest and washed over Coyote’s pain. The heat in his soul went out.

I opened my eyes. The air settled into a chilly peace. Coyote dropped Bruja Bullring, and the tattoos immediately vanished from her skin. She hit the ground with a loud thump but didn’t pause to recover. After finding her feet, she fled down the alley, only glancing over her shoulder once to check we weren’t chasing her.

Once she disappeared around the next turn, Coyote turned and gaped down at me.

“Cece!” he spluttered. “Why—why did you—?”

“You don’t want to be like them,” I said. “Like the dark criaturas. Do you?”

His chin trembled. Slowly, Coyote looked away and bowed his head. “No,” he whispered. He sniffed and wiped his nose. “No, I don’t. I’m . . . I’m sorry, Cece. I just . . . I didn’t want her to hurt you.”

That was—confusing, but also really nice to hear. “Well, thank you,” I said. “I’m glad to have a friend like you. But what exactly were you trying to do to her?” From the feelings in his soul, it wasn’t good.

Coyote didn’t look at me. “I was trying to . . . remember how to . . .”

“Rename her,” Little Lion finished as he stepped