Cece rios and the king o.., p.19
Cece Rios and the King of Fears, page 19
“Coyote’s right,” I said. “And we have a way to stop El Cucuy without killing him!” I looked to Metztli, who smiled and nodded. “That means Tía Catrina won’t get her way, so it’ll be all right, Juana.”
“But—it’s so dangerous—” She looked at our steady expressions. After a second, she sighed and gestured us forward. “I guess I did promise Lion I’d help him save his familia. Fine. On to El Cucuy, then.”
I hesitated at the expression on her face. It looked like she was wrestling with two different feelings. But after a moment, she smiled at me.
“Don’t worry, Cece,” she said, in a softer voice than she’d used in months. “I know you can do this. If anyone can stop him, it’s you and your friends.”
My heart surged with warmth. My big sister believed in me.
Juana chuckled as we all turned and faced the stairs to El Cucuy. She drifted toward the back of the group, to stand with Lion. Her confidence filled my chest, and I raised a fist.
“Then let’s go!” I cried.
And we all charged forward.
When we arrived on El Cucuy’s floor, El Silbón was the only thing standing between us and the throne room.
We stood silent. His long, clawed hands scraped the ground as he strode toward us, stopping just a few feet shy of our group. La Lechuza and Tzitzimitl stepped toward the front. Ocelot pulled Kit closer to her. Damiana clutched Axolotl. I froze, staring up at the man turned dark criatura.
“Are you going to try to stop us, El Silbón?” Metztli asked.
His white eyeholes looked sad. “I cannot disobey El Cucuy’s will.” Slowly, he lifted his sombrero. The cool torches on the wall lit up his gaunt face and bald head—and a thin, pale line scratched into his forehead, where it glowed softly. Dread and sorrow swept through my stomach.
“The Mark of the Binding?” I whispered. “I didn’t know El Cucuy put it on criaturas.”
“Just those closest to him,” Bruja Damiana whispered. She touched her own forehead, nodding to herself. “After the Court of Fears rebelled, he instituted it to ensure absolute loyalty.”
The Court of Fears looked at one another. I glanced up at El Silbón apprehensively. But slowly, he stretched his clawed hand out to me. His face crinkled with something like a smile.
“Fortunately,” he said, “there are times when his orders have loopholes. And this time, he’s ordered only that I bring you to him. Not that I keep anyone else out.”
El Silbón didn’t have true freedom. But he was doing what he could with what he had. I took his hand, and he led us to the doors at the end of the hall. There, he hung his head and gave me one last meaningful look.
“Be careful, Cece,” he whispered.
He withdrew, slipping away from our group. Everyone moved past me, huddling around the door. Metztli was saying something, but I couldn’t hear her. Coyote and I looked at each other. I squeezed my shirt in my hands. He nodded.
I turned back around and pushed to the back of our group, searching for El Silbón. But when I stopped in front of him, he was no longer stretched tall and grotesque. He stood there before me, small again, back in his original form. Was it because he’d completed his mission? He held his father’s bones in his bag, his face blotted out, his human expression completely hidden. Big feelings bubbled up in my soul, but for the first time in a long time, I was at a loss for words.
“You remind me of my daughter sometimes,” he said, in that electric voice. He chuckled, just once. “Look at that sad face. You’re not worrying about me, are you, chiquita? You’re the one who has to fight El Cucuy.”
“Can’t you come with us?” I whispered. “Damiana has a mark, but she’s coming.”
El Silbón sighed. “Sí, and she’s lucky she’s so low in ranking that El Cucuy hasn’t given her orders in years. He probably doesn’t even remember she’s a weapon in his arsenal. But if he gives her a direct order, she will still have to obey.” He patted his chest. “Me? I hold the fourth-highest rank in Devil’s Alley.” His hand lowered. “I . . . am one of his most-used tools. And I already have my next order. I have to get going soon.”
Coyote stumbled into place beside me. “Then—then let me give you your Name back.” His eyes shone. “You never deserved this form, Alejo.”
El Silbón stared at us—or I thought he did, since it was hard to tell without his face being visible. “I’ve waited a long time to hear that.” He scratched his ear. “Ay. Such bad timing. You know as well as I that you need to reserve that power for El Cucuy. It will take all you have.” He faced me. “Let me ask this instead. Will you come back for me?”
Tears welled up inside me. “I promise, Alejo.”
His chuckle scratched the air. Gently, he tipped his sombrero and ushered me forward.
“Go, then, curanderita,” he whispered. “Go help the Great Namer set right a thousand years of sorrow.”
26
Juana Rios and the Last Fight
I lingered behind as Cece led her friends up the stairs to fight El Cucuy. She had a plan for him. And even though some part of me prickled at the idea of Cece facing the king of Devil’s Alley at all, she was strong. I knew she could do it.
So I had to do my part and make sure Tía Catrina didn’t interfere. I pulled my knife out, turned from the stairs, and hunted down the tiny drops of blood Catrina had left behind on the hallway tiles, from the wound I’d given her.
The crimson splotches made a trail. I followed them until they stopped in front of a tiny opening in a dead-end, crystal wall.
Tía Catrina’s wound hadn’t suddenly closed here, that was for sure. I peered closer. There was a thin crack in the wall, between slabs of crystal. Hmm. I pressed my blade into the opening and wiggled it. The crack widened. I wedged the blade deeper and pushed until the wall suddenly rolled back, revealing a twisting, turning set of narrow, shadowed stairs.
Aha. A secret passage.
“Wait, Juana!” a voice rang out behind me.
I whirled around to find Lion running toward me. He was raring to go, even with my bag and its precious contents draped over his shoulders. His black eyebrows lowered as he stopped in front of me.
“You’re going to find Catrina, right? To make sure she doesn’t pull something while Cece’s fighting El Cucuy?” His hands shook slightly, but he spoke with confidence. “Then I’m coming too.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Oh no you’re not. Last time you saw her, you completely froze.” It came out harsher than I meant. Lion bristled, and I softened my voice. “What I mean is—she really hurt you. You shouldn’t have to face her again.”
“But that’s why I need to,” Lion insisted, even though his arms trembled. I went still, silent. He swallowed. “I’ve got to be able to . . .”
Tinges of melting sorrow moved in my chest. I knew what he meant. I sighed and stepped forward, placing my hands on his shoulders.
“You don’t have to prove anything to her,” I said, in the gentlest voice I had. “You’ve saved my butt a lot lately. But now I’m going to protect you. Plus, Cece and Coyote need all the help they can get going against El Cucuy. That’s why you came down to Devil’s Alley, right? Go free your familia, kid.” I stepped back and pointed down the hall.
“I’m not a kid,” he mumbled, but he didn’t follow as I turned into the secret passage.
I smiled over my shoulder. “The second I’m done with Tía Catrina, I’m coming to help you. Don’t lose in the meantime, okay? You’ve got to keep that bag safe.” I nodded toward it and the hundreds of small stones now stuffed inside. They were heavy, but Lion carried them well. “We’re going to set them free too. Okay?”
Lion mumbled an ambivalent response. I sent him one last smile before disappearing up the passage.
The stairway was cold and stuffy, with only one torch hanging on the wall halfway up the narrow, suffocating space. I grabbed it on my way past. The blue flame’s light spread over the crystal walls and lit up the door at the top of the stairs. I sucked in a steadying breath.
I had to face the fact that, as much as I wanted to be the biggest, scariest thing in any room—I was human. I was fast, and I was a fighter, but I was just human. Tía Catrina was a bruja with criaturas under her control. And one of them had captured and shattered me once.
I gripped the cold, silver handle. This might not go well. I’d definitely get hurt again. But that was okay. I knew what I was fighting for now. I was fighting for Cece. I was fighting for Lion. And I was fighting to make sure that no one else, human or criatura, would go through what I had.
So I turned the knob and kicked in the door.
Tía Catrina stood by a large, stained glass, half-moon window on the far side of the empty room. She glanced over her shoulder. The cool torches lit her calm expression. I readied my hunter’s knife.
She smirked. “Made it out already? You must have wanted to stay a captive months ago, if you were able to break out so easily this time.”
Sharp heat flooded my chest. Oh, she was good. Manipulation was her rice and beans. I took a deep breath and let the sharp heat cool to a steady warmth. I stepped forward and glanced around the room. Jaguar and El Sombrerón were nowhere in sight.
I gripped my knife tighter. “Where are your criaturas, Tía Catrina?” I smiled. “Did you send them on another errand?”
Her brows lifted, and suddenly, yellow light poured through the window behind her. I flinched, just a bit. As I came closer, I spotted a grand room down below us, where a giant, bleak, stone throne stood beyond the glass.
“No way,” I muttered.
Tía Catrina smiled. “I have a timetable to keep, Juana. As you can see—” She gestured to the room far below, and the distant people wandering inside. And up in the beams lining the ceiling of the room, El Sombrerón and Jaguar crouched, bearing down over the throne room. “I have a show to watch.”
Of course she’d find a safe place to observe everything, away from the actual fighting.
I spotted Cece’s tiny form far below. El Cucuy wasn’t there yet. Or I didn’t see him, at least. So that gave me some time.
I glanced at the arm Catrina kept limp at her side. Blood stained her long, white sleeve. She’d bandaged the wound with a haphazardly tied piece of cloth. Tía Catrina caught my stare, and her features tightened, just a fraction.
“What have you come here for? You have your soul,” she said. “And the door to your human world closes soon.”
I didn’t bother answering. I started toward her, knife ready.
“So serious,” she said, but her breathing quickened. “Are you’re planning to kill me, Juana? How will you justify that to yourself?”
Tía Catrina was the kind of person who only asked questions to open up cracks of doubt. Or because she hoped to tie you up with your answers. So I didn’t give her any. Instead, I surged forward and grabbed her dress. She kept silent, even as I slammed her against the window. But for the first time, Tía Catrina’s eyes flickered with fear.
“I’m not going to kill you.” I placed my blade at her collarbone. “I’m going to take away your criaturas.” I tucked the knife under the necklace strap still hanging around her neck. El Sombrerón’s soul. “Let’s see how you fare when you have no one left to use.”
I tugged to cut it—and she kneed me in my ribs before I could.
I coughed and stumbled. Catrina fled, twisting away, but I was hot on her heels. I followed Catrina’s every move as she tried to escape, aiming my slashes at the necklace around her throat. She dodged back, careful, quick, like a scorpion’s tail, her long hair swinging. My blade grew brighter and brighter as I struck forward. I feinted and slashed for her necklace again. She lunged back, and I caught the ends of her hair instead. She took the opening.
Her foot struck me square in the chest, hitting the bruise she’d already delivered. I fell backward. My hunter’s knife clattered to the floor as I struggled to breathe.
“You’re as tenacious as your mother, I’ll give you that,” Catrina panted, brushing her hair back. She made for the door, hugging her wounded arm. “But all the passion in the world can’t defeat the third Dark Saint. I have been planning this since before you were born.”
“I don’t need to defeat you. I just have to distract you.” I scooped up the knife and charged to tackle her. But she dodged me again. “You can’t control your criaturas if you can’t focus, can you?”
Her face flashed with frustration—and a hint of panic.
So I was right. I’d noticed how exhausted she’d looked when she took El Sombrerón’s soul. He was the second-most powerful criatura in existence. So even if she was powerful enough to control him, he had to be draining most of her focus and energy. Even without controlling Jaguar too, she had to be near her limit.
Tía Catrina was still quick, but her fatigue was showing. I swept my knife at her, and it cut the collar of her dress. No blood, but another layer of fear crept into her face. I could tell she hated being afraid as much as I had been. But I wouldn’t give her reprieve. I twirled around and caught the sleeve of her already wounded arm. Just the fabric. But it was enough to start unwinding her like the thread of her shorn clothes.
“Just like Axochitl,” she spat. She scrambled around me, glancing back at the window. Checking on her criaturas. Her good hand clutched at a soul stone. “Thinking you can bully your way into getting whatever you want.”
“That’s hilarious coming from you!” I sliced again, but she evaded, clinging to the soul. “You sure you don’t want to call your criaturas?”
Tía Catrina scowled. I twisted around, to meet her when she stepped left, and grabbed her arm. She tried to yank back, but I locked my leg around hers, and we were suddenly grappling. I tried to get my knife to her neck. I’d bite the necklace off if I had to.
“You think you’re going to win this, Juana?” she spat. “Your mother will be so proud of you then, huh? You’re two of a kind, thinking you’re better than everyone else.”
I forced my foot down, so we both nearly toppled sideways. My stomach lurched, but I used all my weight to hold her immobile. Our gazes clashed: her stony rage and my unyielding fire.
“This isn’t about pride,” I said, voice low so it rumbled in the air between us. “It’s about power, and making sure people like you don’t get it.”
I ripped my hands out of her grip. Brought the knife up, so close she had nowhere to run. Her eyes widened. I sliced it across the necklace strap at her throat, and Tía Catrina winced as the necklace fell free.
I wrenched it out of her dress and leaped back. Finally! Now, I just had to keep it out of her grip and—I froze. The light from the window traced the soul as I held it up. Jaguar’s andesite stone rotated slowly as it dangled from my hand.
My stomach turned hot and sick. Jaguar and El Sombrerón still crouched on the beam, both focused and ready. Crap. Tía Catrina had swapped El Sombrerón’s necklace for Jaguar’s, knowing it wouldn’t matter if I freed her. Where had she hidden El Sombrerón’s?
I turned back around—just in time for Tía Catrina to punch me in the face with what was supposed to be her bad arm.
The blow cracked through my nose. Jaguar’s soul spiraled out of my hand and skated across the room. Blood dripped down my face, the pain reverberating all the way into my soul. I landed on the floor with a painful slap.
“You have skill and drive, Juana, but you’re impatient like your mother.” Tía Catrina stepped on my stomach.
While I was gasping and grunting, she pulled the bandage off her bad arm and rolled up the sleeve beneath. The wound I’d left her with was gone. I struggled to shove her off, but she pressed her weight down on my diaphragm, and I could barely breathe.
Tía Catrina considered me calmly. “Sucking power from criaturas isn’t my preference, as it was Rodrigo’s, but it has its benefits. Healing wounds, for one.” She kicked my side and strode away.
I searched for my knife, still gasping, still struggling. It lay near Tía Catrina. I moved to crawl toward it, but she kicked it away, and it skidded to the other side of the room.
“Power,” Catrina whispered, “isn’t something you understand. You’ve always had it, just like your mother. You can’t appreciate what it means. But you will, once it’s all mine. As it should be.” Her smile was wide and wild.
A rumble shook the room from below.
Cece was in danger.
When I looked up, Tía Catrina was holding a fire opal knife. Not my hunter’s knife. The throwing knife I’d wounded her with earlier. It didn’t glow in her hands, but it was sharp, and it caught the light. I knew how much damage it could do.
“Adiós, chiquita,” her voice slithered.
I raised my arm to block the incoming blow.
And the window exploded in a vicious rain of glass.
Little Lion burst in, nearly flying through the broken colored frame. Tía Catrina stumbled back. He landed in front of her and bit down on the fire opal knife she held. It steamed, but he swung around, kicked out his foot, and sent Tía Catrina skating across the tile floor in a heap of bloodstained white clothes.
He spat out the knife. “Juana, are you okay? Can you move?” He pulled my bag off and set it down safely.
I waved him off. “I—told you—to stay behind!” I wheezed.
“You’re not my bruja.” He flashed me a grin over his shoulder. “You can’t tell me what to do!”
A fragile laugh burst from my mouth. This kid.
He turned back to Tía Catrina, who was scrambling up against the opposite wall. Her hair hung over her face in streaks as she glared at us. Lion’s legs shook. I could see the tremor travel all the way up his back. That strange pressure moved through the air, and I reached out to him as he struggled to stay standing.
“Lion?” I called. His back shook, and his breathing quickened. He shook his head, grunting, as Catrina began to sweat. I grabbed the back of his shirt. “Hey. Just remember what you told me. It’s awful, and it hurt, but what power she had over you lives in the past. You’re Lion today.” I struggled as I found my feet and grabbed his shoulder. “And Lion today isn’t alone.”
