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

crowd whispered to each other in deep, suspicious tones. They looked from me to my opponent. “That’s never been done,” I caught one saying. “Are they testing her?” asked another. “Is it because she can carry two criaturas?”

Coyote ducked his head to say, “I think the Dark Saints are onto you, Cece.”

My blood grew cold. So this wasn’t normal at all. And if it was true that the Dark Saints were suspicious, they must have sent this brujo to test me and see if I acted like a bruja. But how was I supposed to prove that to them?

“Some of you may not recognize our guest, so I’ll give him the only introduction befitting someone of his station.” El Silbón slipped an arm bone from his bag and used it to point to the brujo. “Criatura and Naked Man alike, look upon the third Dark Saint of Devil’s Alley, Brujo Rodrigo, the Soul Stealer!”

I stopped half a foot from the ring’s outer edge. My chest felt empty, like I’d accidentally left my heart behind. Brujo Rodrigo met my eyes, and his smirk widened, like he was happy that I finally knew exactly who he was.

Fear squeezed my throat. I was fighting a Dark Saint . . . ?

The thought threatened to turn me inside out. But I managed to raise my shaking finger and point forward. Obediently, Coyote stepped into the arena. He rolled his shoulders and scraped the dust with his bare toes. Kit Fox stared up at him, eyes wide, mouth separating in what could have been a gasp of horror.

He wasn’t made for fighting. That much was obvious.

But I was supposed to beat him. My heart quickened as I look up at Brujo Rodrigo. A Dark Saint was here, in the apprentice Bruja Fights, and he’d brought the most inexperienced criatura I’d yet seen to fight? Surely he knew Coyote outmatched him. How was this a test?

Suddenly, Brujo Rodrigo pulled a necklace out of his shirt. He swung it back and forth between his fingers, making sure Coyote could see it. Coyote looked back at me and, slowly, held up eight fingers.

Eight scratches.

Kit Fox was one death away from the forever-last death.

Brujo Rodrigo lifted a single, taunting eyebrow and swung the damaged soul back and forth, back and forth. And then I knew what his test was: to see if I would kill Kit Fox—permanently.

Only then would the Dark Saints believe I was the bruja I claimed to be.

“And now . . .” El Silbón grinned as he leaped away from the circle. “Begin!”

21

The Fox Test

As expected of a Dark Saint, Brujo Rodrigo was faster than me.

Kit Fox sprang forward, looking dazed and confused, slashing his little claws. Coyote evaded easily. I gripped Coyote’s soul in my hand, ready to fuel him with rage, when his emotional feedback hit me. Guilt, pain, sadness, fear—it combined with my own, and I cringed until my chest felt like it would burst.

Kit Fox tripped over himself trying to scratch Coyote. “What—are you—doing here?” he panted between swipes.

Coyote didn’t answer. He just danced out of reach, never retaliating. He held Kit Fox’s gaze as he dodged.

“Legend Brother,” Kit Fox said, already out of breath. “What have they—done to you?”

My fingers trembled around Coyote’s soul. The reverence and horror in Kit’s eyes drowned out the thumping roars of the crowd. The legendary bringer of music, the Great Namer of Criaturas, and I was making him scrap in the dirt with the criaturas he’d created.

The moment the thought went through my mind, Coyote’s eyes cut across the ring to meet mine. I knew he needed my fury. Without me blocking out the reality of it all, he couldn’t bring himself to end Kit Fox.

But neither could I.

Sharp emotions twisted in my chest. I did my best to keep them from Coyote as I considered my options. If Brujo Rodrigo had organized this to test my resolve—then I had to pass it. For Juana.

I closed my eyes to block out the sight of Kit Fox’s scratched soul and gripped Coyote’s stone. Rage, heat, pain, fear—I sifted through them and settled on the picture of El Sombrerón in my head. Of his hand wrapped around my sister’s waist. Of her voice screaming for me to run even though she was the one in danger.

Rage swelled up in my chest and into my fingers. Coyote let out a roar and punched Kit Fox clean in the face.

A snap echoed through the ring. My stomach twisted as Kit Fox stumbled backward, clutching his nose and mouth. Coyote winced.

But I couldn’t lose my grip. Even if Kit Fox was on his last lifetime, Brujo Rodrigo was watching, and my sister needed me. That had to be more important, right? Mamá would say so.

Coyote looked away as his foot connected with Kit Fox’s jaw, and the young criatura flew through the air. He rolled, streaked with dust, to the opposite end of the ring.

Brujo Rodrigo didn’t even glance at Kit Fox as he landed on his side of the circle. The brujo’s dark stare stayed pinned on my face. I could feel him cataloging every nervous glance, every emotion I struggled to keep from surfacing. He cocked his chin upward once, Kit Fox’s soul swinging leisurely. In response, Kit Fox lumbered to his feet. Bruises already purpled his nose, but Brujo Rodrigo made him face me as Coyote backed him against the side of the ring.

Brujo Rodrigo didn’t even make Kit Fox attack this time. He stared, waiting for me to deliver the final blow. Kit Fox threw his arms up around his head, shaking as Coyote loomed over him. Excited cheers rose from the crowd. People chanted my name. My guts tangled up, and just as Coyote readied another blow, I thrust a feeling into him:

No.

Coyote’s hand froze as the word rolled through both of us. No. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—end this criatura. There had to be another way.

Brujo Rodrigo’s eyes thinned to dark, amethyst slashes at Coyote’s hesitation.

I looked at Kit Fox’s soul, where