Cece rios and the king o.., p.18
Cece Rios and the King of Fears, page 18
But he smiled, and it was stalwart and clear and ready. “I know how it sounds. But por favor—give me a chance to offer him the Name he should have had all along.”
24
Juana Rios and the Cager of Souls
My mind churned as the woman in the doorway kicked El Sombrerón to the ground. She held his soul in her hand, rolling the smooth, dark stone in her fingers. The moment our eyes met, her smirk widened.
“I’ve waited years to get inside this room,” she said, her voice honey sweet. She had long, silky hair and wore a flowing white dress. But the bloodstains on her hem betrayed the illusion of gentleness. “Gracias, Juana.” Her gaze slid to Lion. “It’s nice to see you again, too, Little Lion. I hope you’ve been doing well.”
Beside me, Lion flared up. His shoulders set, and his lip curled back in a snarl that shook the room. It was a wordless, seething rage—the kind that melts metal.
She just kept smiling. “Seems you couldn’t help but be drawn to the Rios familia again, hmm?”
Lion’s face twisted. He stepped forward once, opening his mouth to shout. But something changed in the air. A sort of pressure, like a hot wind skating past me from where Tía Catrina narrowed her eyes. Lion’s voice caught. His tongue twisted. And something terrible shook through his body.
Throughout our adventure, Little Lion had been as steady, and sometimes as sharp, as obsidian. But obsidian is also brittle. And at that moment, I found out what obsidian looks like when it shatters. Lion seized up as if Catrina had wrapped her fingers around his heart and squeezed. His eyes widened; his entire body shook like his world had been pulled out from under him. A film covered his eyes, the same way it had when Brujo Antonio had controlled him. Only, Lion still safely wore his soul. And Tía Catrina stood nearly ten feet away, framed by the door.
But Catrina’s gaze stayed fixed on him, too intentional to be a coincidence. It didn’t make sense, and I didn’t know how, but I knew she was messing with Lion’s soul, even from a distance.
I planted myself in front of him and spread my arms to block him from view. “Stop hurting him!” I said, so loud my voice echoed.
She finally broke her stare. Lion gasped behind me, like she’d released his lungs from a vise grip, but he couldn’t seem to find words just yet.
“Juana,” Tía Catrina said, her tone gently chastising. “Is that any way to speak to your tía? Cece at least tried to be polite.” She clucked her tongue, and El Sombrerón moved mechanically to meet her at the doorjamb.
A punch moved through my gut. Cece was here? But I didn’t rise to the bait. I wouldn’t lose my head this time.
She hummed a laugh. “You should be more grateful. I even sent someone to help you through the city.” She tilted her head. “Jaguar! Tell my niece not to be so unkind.”
Slowly, Jaguar stepped into view. Her dark skin caught the light, and her glassy eyes found us. She stopped beside Tía Catrina, her braids rustling. Her shoulders were up by her ears, though. And she seemed afraid to take up the space she stood in. Tía Catrina rested a hand on her shoulder proudly.
“But she had her soul stone!” I said.
“Points for observation, mi sobrina.” Catrina smiled and tugged Jaguar’s collar down. Jaguar was still wearing the necklace. “You may think I’m a villain, but I’ve always cherished my criaturas.” She tried to peek at Lion around me, and I shifted to keep him from view. “In fact, I know them so well, I can speak to their souls even without holding them. You probably haven’t heard of that ability,” she said, with a smirk. “It’s called soul language. After a little bit of trust training at the beginning, I let my criaturas keep their soul stones. Because, after a while, they carry my voice inside them. Everywhere. They. Go.” Catrina patted Jaguar’s soul stone through her shirt.
My stomach twisted upside down. Heat and bile climbed up my chest. I’d never heard of “soul language.” I didn’t know how it was possible to control a soul from a distance like that. But I knew it was too similar to what El Sombrerón did to me. She was breaking the souls of criaturas with this soul language, so no matter what happened, no matter where they went, her commands haunted them. The same way my soul carried the scar of what El Sombrerón had done.
“Soul language is a valuable tool,” Catrina said. “Initially, it can take some time to embed your voice into a criatura’s soul, but the effects are long-lasting.”
Her smile widened. Little Lion’s breath dried up in a painful hitch. So she was able to use their connection from his last life on his soul now? My blood boiled, heat rising up my throat. This woman was—she was—
“You can pretend like this makes you special all you want,” I exploded. Catrina jumped at my sudden outburst. I stomped up to her, so we were nearly nose to nose. She reared back with disgust, and I didn’t flinch at it. “But I see you for what you are, Tía Catrina. You’re nothing but a pathetic parasite.”
Disdain festered on her face. She either didn’t realize, or didn’t care, that her calm mask was slipping.
“You’re just like your mother,” she hissed.
I sneered back. “That’s a compliment.”
“Fine.” She summoned a stiff smile. “Have whatever opinion of me you want. You were necessary to get into El Sombrerón’s room, but you’re not important anymore.”
Jaguar suddenly leaped forward and shoved me away. The blow wasn’t aimed to wound, but it sent me stumbling as Catrina stepped out into the hallway. El Sombrerón followed, but his movements were delayed, mechanical, while Jaguar came easily. With a flourish undermined slightly by a pained tremble in her hands, Catrina looped El Sombrerón’s soul around her neck and tucked it into her dress collar. My heart clenched.
“You sent Jaguar to help us because you needed me to open this room,” I said. “It was for El Sombrerón’s soul, right?” I stabbed a finger at him. “What do you want with it, cucaracha?”
“A bit slow, aren’t you?” she asked, with a self-satisfied smile. Sparks flew through my blood. “Who do you think told El Sombrerón you were the most beautiful girl in Tierra del Sol?”
My heart skipped one of its newfound beats. She nodded.
“And why, do you think? Perhaps to awaken the only power that could stand up to El Cucuy—your devoted little hermana,” she said. “She’s such a predictable chiquita. My favorite thing about her. And she’s played her part well again, following you down here. Now that I have El Sombrerón’s soul, I only have to wait until she kills El Cucuy so I can get my hands on his next.” Her hand shook slightly around his soul stone. Was she having trouble carrying it? Her smile swiped up like a knife on one side, wide and sharp and cutting.
My brain felt like mole sauce. But I scoffed.
“So let me get this straight,” I said. “You ruined your familia’s lives so you can rule some crummy hole in the ground?”
“Oh, I’ll rule far, far more than that.” She snapped her fingers. “But, fortunately, you’re not needed for those plans.”
El Sombrerón raised a hand, and the door began to close.
“No!” I sprinted forward.
But the exit was shutting fast. I wouldn’t make it. So I took a deep breath. Grabbed the throwing knife at my belt, aimed, and flung it through the air. Tía Catrina gasped as the blade whizzed past her criaturas—and lodged in her arm.
I heard her cry out just as El Sombrerón sealed the door shut.
I crashed into the stone as it locked into place. “No!” My shoulder blazed with pain, but I kicked and slammed my fists against it. I was locked in El Sombrerón’s suite again. “No, no, no . . .”
I had to escape. I’d wounded Tía Catrina, but that meant nothing if I couldn’t get out of here. If Cece was already on her way to fight El Cucuy, I had to get there first. I rubbed my hands down my face. Sure, I’d tried every way out of this room before and had never made it. But I wasn’t chained this time. I had Little Lion with me now—
Holy sunset, Lion.
I turned around. Little Lion stood stiff and frozen in the exact same spot he’d been all this time, his entire body shaking, staring at the door like he could still see Tía Catrina. I rushed to him.
“Hey, hey,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t respond. His mouth moved, like he was trying to talk, but nothing came out. I wrapped my arms around him. He shuddered like a newly born animal. Angry, resolute heat roared up my chest. And right then, I promised myself I would never let that woman do this to him again.
Lion finally took a full breath. “Sorry,” he said, voice paper-thin. “I—I should have grabbed the door. Now we’re trapped.”
“None of this is your fault.” I rested my cheek on his spiky hair. “It’s Tía Catrina’s.” I rubbed soothing circles on his back, the way I used to for Cece when she’d had a bad dream. “We’re going to make it out of this.”
My confidence stemmed from the warmth in my chest. I looked at the window on the other side of the room, next to the wall of shelves littered with souls from past brides.
“We’re going to make it out of this—and . . .” A new thought sparked. “And maybe we won’t be the only ones.”
25
Cece Rios and the Name of Devil’s Alley
Coyote crawled along the stone floor of the dungeon room. He was searching for something, I could tell. But from here, it just looked like he was getting his hands really dirty.
“Um, so, does anyone know how to get out of here?” I asked. “We probably need to escape if you’re going to give El Cucuy his Name. How are you planning on doing that, by the way?”
Coyote let out a breathy chuckle. Tzitzimitl and the other Court of Fears watched him from a distance. They hadn’t said much. But they didn’t watch Coyote with resentment, like I’d expected. Instead, they watched him curiously, like they were trying to understand him for the first time.
“I remembered something,” Coyote said. “Or more like, figured out something while you were all reaching out to me.” He crawled to the far wall, and placed his left hand against it. “You hear us, Cece,” he said. He closed his eyes and turned his head, like he was listening for something in the walls, too. “You listen to our voices, both out loud, and in our souls. Metztli called it soul language. It’s not the same thing as Naming, but it’s related.” He took a long, deep breath. “All this time, I was so busy trying to remake things, I forgot to listen to what they already were . . .”
The cavern rumbled. The ceiling above us shivered, and the crystal lights on the wall blinked out for a second. Coyote’s eyebrows pulled together.
“She’s in pain,” he said. His voice was low and respectful.
“Who?” I asked and tiptoed over.
He pressed both hands to the stone. “Devil’s Alley. She’s grieving.” His face softened as he listened to a song none of us could hear. “I Named her from Mother Desert. She was meant to protect the criaturas, to offer solace and shelter. And she’s been coerced into the opposite.” He frowned, but there was no anger in the expression. His soul swelled across the space with the sunny orange of determination. Confidence. Vindication.
“She doesn’t have the strength to save herself.” He started tapping his hands against the wall. The vibrations echoed in the stone, each one transforming into a mighty drumbeat. “But I do. And I will.”
I gasped in awe as Coyote drew back his arms—and then thrust them into the wall.
The wall gave way, like it had been dying for relief.
A staircase wrapped itself out of the stone. Each step slid into place, fanning out in an upward spiral. I peeked around Coyote’s shoulder as the stairs disappeared into the darkness above. His smile was gentle, his soul softened at the edges with pink, as he looked at us.
“This way.” He gestured forward. “Devil’s Alley wants us to free her, and our familia. She was never meant to be a cage.”
Bruja Damiana stepped up, her hand shaking where she held Axolotl’s. “Is it finally happening?” she whispered. “You’re . . . really going to stop El Cucuy? Set us all free?”
“Sí.” Coyote nodded firmly. “And you’re a part of that now. Right . . . ?” He waited for her name.
“Bruja Damiana,” she said. Axolotl cuddled into her side. “I-I’m Bruja Damiana, Great Namer.”
Coyote reached out to her. “Do you want to leave now, Damiana?”
She held her head a bit higher when he said her name like that, without the “bruja” title.
“Sí,” she said. Her voice almost broke, but a spark of life came back into her eyes. My soul tingled. “Sí, I will stand with you! Let’s go!”
Damiana led the charge up the stairs with a laughing Axolotl. Ocelot and Kit Fox went next, glancing back at me with a powerful resilience I wanted to dance in like rain. But the Court of Fears lingered behind. Coyote met their watchful gazes. His mismatched eyebrows pulled together hard as he waited for what they would say.
“We look forward to knowing who you’ve chosen to be in this lifetime,” Tzitzimitl said, and offered her bone fingers.
Coyote’s smile wobbled as he took her hand and shook it. “I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered. He scanned down the line of them, from patient Tzitzimitl and silent Bird King to evaluative Alux and waiting La Lechuza.
“After you see to El Cucuy,” Alux spoke up, pinning Coyote with a sharp stare. “That must be the first priority, Great Namer.”
Coyote nodded. “As you wish.”
Smiles flickered across the four dark criaturas’ faces. Tzitzimitl glanced my way, and I beamed at her. It was a difficult and brave thing to offer: forgiveness and a willingness to restore. Tzitzimitl led the Court of Fears up the stairs, and then, it was just me and Coyote.
He knelt to the ground, to the stone, in front of the stairs. I padded closer, silently, as he scooped the dust that had fallen from the walls into his hands. It slipped through his fingers like elegant waterfalls.
“I’m sorry, Mother Desert.” He squeezed his eyes shut. The remorse didn’t taint his soul like the shame had. It lit up the crevices of who he was and drove the grays and navy blues away. “I misused your voice. You were always creation and compassion, a beautiful home for What Could Be.” He held the dust to his chest, where it smeared on the worn, red fabric of his shirt like a manifesto. “I’ll strive to be all the best of what you gave me. I’ll use your power well this time.”
Coyote slowly looked up. I smiled at him as I stepped onto the first stair and offered him a hand.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
He leaped up, his soul surging with words even before his hands touched mine. Sí. I heard his soul say. We’ll do it together. And this time, I won’t give up.
The staircase brought us to the second-from-the-top floor of El Cucuy’s castle. Above us, the moths on the ceiling rustled their papery wings, crawling over each other frantically, like our arrival had spooked them.
“Tu hermana should be on this floor,” Damiana said, pointing at a large, stone door down the hall. She’d caught me up on Juana and Lion’s plan. “But—the door to El Sombrerón’s suite is closed.”
That wasn’t a good sign. But I sprinted for the door, ignoring the strange markings on the walls, the moths overhead, and the staircase at the other end of the hall that must lead up to El Cucuy’s floor. I had to make sure Juana was okay—
Suddenly, the window next to me shattered.
Coyote lunged and covered my eyes with his arm as glass sprayed through the hallway. I yelped, and an annoyed, frustrated grunt followed the crash. Coyote dropped his arm as a brown hand reached in from outside, wrapped in fabric, and broke the rest of the stained glass out of the window.
“Okay!” a familiar voice said from outside. “Be careful with my bag, Lion, there are souls in there.” A head of wavy black hair peeked inside. “Let’s get inside before the fire opal burns you even more—”
Juana’s stare met mine through the newly broken window. Her mouth dropped open.
“Juana!” I beamed and raced forward.
“Cece!” Juana, looking the least graceful I’d ever seen, stumbled into the hallway. Little Lion came crawling in behind her, her bag on his back, his cheeks flushed. I laughed and threw open my arms. They were beat up, but they were safe and alive!
Juana caught me in a hug and spun me around the hall. I squealed and squeezed her tight. Tears filled my whole soul. My sister was safe. I rested my head against her chest, cuddling closer to her warmth. A sound knocked against my ear.
I pulled back. “Juana,” I breathed. “Your heartbeat!”
She smiled down at me. She looked tired, but it finally seemed like the good kind of tired.
“That’s right! I’ve got my soul back. The whole thing.” She tapped her chest.
This had been one of the hardest days in my life. But seeing my sister smile and my friend empowered again—that also made it one of the best.
I turned to check on Little Lion and found him scowling at his hands as he blew on them. Oh! Was there fire opal on the castle exterior? Why had they been out there? Fortunately, the burns on his hands were already healing. I sighed in relief.
Coyote and Kit sped over to him. “Little Lion!”
Lion growled as they buried him in an aggressive hug.
“We saw each other just a couple of days ago. Ech. Stop.” Lion’s muffled voice mumbled out from between them. But despite all the protest, he hugged them both in return.
Juana grabbed my face. “Wait, we don’t have time for this.” Her strong brows lowered. “We need to get out of here.” She looked over my head and hesitated. The Court of Fears and Damiana stared at her. “Our crazy tía just stole El Sombrerón’s soul and wants you to help her kill El Cucuy so she can rule the world. Also, the door to Devil’s Alley closes in about an hour. We have to leave now.”
My heart stumbled. “You met Tía Catrina?” Did she know about what Catrina had done to her?
Juana went to answer, but Coyote stepped out of his group hug to face her.
“We can’t leave yet,” he said. He stood tall and resolute. Completely sure. “We have to free Devil’s Alley.”
