Cece Rios and the King of Fears, page 16
“It’s empty,” Little Lion said.
For a second, I thought he was talking about the chain. And I took a looser breath when I remembered it was true. I was free. I could stay free. Just as long as I got my soul back.
But then I realized what Little Lion actually meant: El Sombrerón was nowhere in sight.
“He’s not even here?” I stomped into the room, searching for where he could be lurking above our heads. Nothing. I balled my hands into fists. Everyone had made such a big deal about how his room was locked and no one could see him, but here the place was, empty. That was just like El Sombrerón. Skipping out just when I’d reached my opportunity for revenge.
“Wait, Juana.” Little Lion pointed at my feet. “Look.”
I forced my chin down.
A tiny child stood there, craning his head to stare up at me from under the brim of a wide black hat. He wore a cloak so smoky and dark it could have been made of shadows.
I froze.
El Sombrerón—my chest tensed—was a child?
“Do I know you?” he asked. His voice was squeaky.
He could’ve been playing fútbol with any kid in Tierra del Sol, the way he fumbled with his hands and scratched at his shadowy chin. He stepped toward me, scanning and squinting with his large red eyes beneath his sombrero. I stumbled back from him as heat scorched through my ribs.
“Did El Cucuy send you to play with me?” he asked. “I thought he said only he was allowed to play with me until I’m older.” He clapped, clearly grateful the rule had been broken.
“No,” I said. “I’m not.” My mouth went dry. I set my jaw as El Sombrerón tilted his head. “I’m Juana Rios. And—and you—”
Little Lion watched me struggle to speak. I’d planned out what I wanted to say: You stole me and broke my soul. Now I’m back to shatter yours and take back what always was, and always will be, mine. I’d recited it to myself each night I couldn’t sleep. But I couldn’t seem to grab hold of the words now.
I’d come here to destroy this criatura. To grab the soul peeking out of his collar and turn it into powder. But a child stared up at me, waiting and confused. His pudgy hands played with his cloak as he waited. And I wondered, even though what he’d done was terrible, horrible, wretched. I wondered, even though I shouldn’t have to wonder: What would revenge really get me now?
All the painful, raging heat slowly slipped away from me as I stared down at the once-towering criatura who’d caused me so much pain, now just a small and curious child.
My mouth opened and closed as I struggled for words.
“You stole something from me,” I finally whispered.
Little Lion’s eyebrows lifted. El Sombrerón tilted his head curiously.
“I’m here to get it back.” My voice was thin and scratchy.
“I don’t have that much stuffs.” He pointed to the shelf at the back of the room. “Is it one of my shinies? El Cucuy said I collected them.”
The shelf behind him was comprised of tiny cubes, and in each one sat a soul stone. I drifted a bit closer before stopping short. The souls caught the light of the torches. Gleaming fire opals and rubies. Limestone and coyamito agate souls, striped and solemn. A few moonstone drops, and even the occasional turquoise soul stone, shone silently. Every single one of them had a scar running through them. I hadn’t known what that was before, when I was trapped in this room. But I did now. The scar left behind from where El Sombrerón had broken each of them in half and then forced the soul back together.
A legacy of women stolen from their homes. Trapped, voiceless, forever.
On the centermost shelf, a tiny fragment of fire opal sat all alone. My chest stretched and sparked as I stared at it. I knew without a doubt it was mine.
I pointed at it. “That one,” I said. “It belongs to me.”
Tiny El Sombrerón turned and looked at it. He toddled over, pulled it off the shelf, and brought it back over. No fight. No fuss. My chest quavered as a warm bubble began to push out the sharp heat from earlier. Finally, El Sombrerón stopped in front of me.
“It’s one of my favorites,” he said. “But you can play with it for a little while.”
The bubble popped, and anger roared through me. “I’m not borrowing it,” I barked. “It was mine in the first place. You don’t get it back.”
His shoulders slumped. “But El Cucuy said they belonged to me.”
“Well, they don’t.” I raised my voice. He jumped. “You stole them. That doesn’t make them yours.”
He paused. Then he bowed his head and kicked his booted toe into the tile. “Are you mad at me?” he mumbled.
“Yes,” I said. My throat tightened with red-hot tears, because there weren’t words for how angry I was, or had been, and probably would always struggle with being. “This is my soul. It’s very important to me, and you hurt me a lot when you broke it and took it. What you did was so bad. So—so awful, that I can barely think straight because of how angry I am.”
El Sombrerón’s face crumpled. “Will you stop being mad at me if I give it back to you?” He lifted the small shard of fire opal.
My hands shook as I picked it up. The fire opal immediately began to glow, and it was as warm as a candle’s flame in my hands once again. Tears prickled the back of my eyes. I’d missed this feeling. I laughed, just a little, as I pulled it close and savored the warmth.
When I opened my eyes, Lion was smiling. I smiled back. But slowly, his face tightened with something like concern as he glanced from my soul fragment to the place my heart should be beating.
“Can you fix it for her?” Little Lion asked, and El Sombrerón looked at him. “It’s supposed to be in her chest. She’ll probably be a lot less mad if you put it back.”
I released a shivery breath. “Yeah. Fix it,” I said. “Put it back.”
“Um.” El Sombrerón played with his cloak. “I can’t.”
All the warmth from holding my soul evaporated into rage. I snatched up my knife, and El Sombrerón flinched as I wielded it over him.
“What do you mean you can’t?” I bellowed, advancing on him. El Sombrerón retreated in a hurry, his little legs scurrying, until he stumbled and fell back against the wall. I had him cornered, and my skin was filled with magma. “You’re the one who broke it!”
“I—I don’t know how!” He held his arms over his face. “El Cucuy said he’d show me when I’m older.”
The blade trembled in my grip. Slowly, Little Lion came up beside me. I felt his gaze as the warmth and the burning fought inside me.
After all this, I was still going to be damaged. Water burned my eyes. I’d spared his life when I could have picked vengeance, and El Sombrerón couldn’t even fix what he’d destroyed in the first place.
“I hate you.” My voice trembled as my throat started to close up. I wanted to strike him as he cowered there beneath me. I wanted to show him what being broken felt like. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone? You did this to me, and now I have to live with it!”
El Sombrerón shrank beneath me. I squeezed the knife hilt. It would be easy to just take it out on him. Both worlds would be better off.
But beneath all my broken, sharp edges—beneath the burning coals and ashy fragments left inside my chest—there was still a quiet, warm place that would not give ground. That would not give up.
I let the knife slide through my fingers.
It clanged on the ground beside El Sombrerón. He hugged the corner as I turned away, two steps, three steps, before falling to my knees in the middle of the room. I slammed my fists to the stone ground and sobbed.
“I just wanted to be normal again!” I cried, clutching my soul to my chest. “I—I wanted to be me again . . .”
Little Lion knelt down beside me. He placed a soothing hand on my shoulder. El Sombrerón didn’t move from his curled-up place in the corner as I sobbed and screamed and raged so loud, the only noise in the room was my wrath and my pain. It banged from every wall and shook in my bones, and I wailed for everything I’d lost, and everything I was afraid I’d never have again.
21
Cece Rios and the Prison of Fears
When I woke up, I was screaming.
The terrified sound echoed in the darkness surrounding me. I choked off my scream, gasping for air. I was lying on my side on a cold stone floor. How did I get here? Where was I? I scanned my surroundings, but there was nothing but darkness.
My mind whirled. Tía Catrina had mentioned the dungeon. So that’s where I had to be. Oh! El Silbón and the hunting party had sent my friends down here too. Maybe they were nearby.
“Coyote?” I called out. The sound echoed and bounced back to me. I cringed at the volume. My stomach crumpled inward. “K-Kit? Ocelot?”
My whispers roamed around the darkness like flies, buzzing back at me, noisy and disturbing, before eventually flying away. I swallowed. Was I alone? If they were here too, why weren’t they answering me? I squeezed my hands into fists, and my heart raced. What if they were ignoring me? What if they were upset because I’d landed them back in Devil’s Alley? My breaths came sharp, panicked. What if they—hated me now?
See what you’ve done? A voice slithered through the darkness. It came from everywhere and nowhere—but it sank straight into my heart. You’re alone after all. You couldn’t find your sister, and now your friends have abandoned you because you didn’t do enough.
“I’m sorry!” I bawled. I tried to crawl forward, to search for a way out, but my arms and legs gave way. I collapsed on the ground, wincing at the scrapes on my hands. “Coyote, Kit, Ocelot! I’m sorry—pero, I never meant for this to happen . . .” My breath stuttered and started. “I just wanted . . . to take care of you. I’m sorry I’m not . . .”
That’s right, the voice echoed around me. You’re not enough.
The words scurried around me like spiders. They were paralyzing, sinking into my bones.
And that’s why you have to bear this all alone now. You don’t deserve their love.
I buried my face in my hands, trembling. My hair stuck to my sweaty forehead. My insides withered like useless, discarded scraps.
You don’t deserve more than this. You don’t deserve to be a curandera.
My eyes burst open.
I’d heard that before. My skull felt heavy as a stone, but I craned it back to look up all the same. I’d listened to this voice lurking in the back of my head since I was little. I’d used this voice to fuel my determination, so I didn’t lose everyone I loved. The darkness surrounding me suddenly seemed—small. I reached out, hand still shaking, and touched something cold. I traced its jagged surface and found myself trapped in some kind of crystal sphere, a prison cutting me off from the light.
You’ve ended up alone because you’re not worth having, the voice insisted again.
But I smiled, just a little, as tenderness softened the panic in my soul. Because this was my voice. My fears, and my grief, and the part of me that was afraid I didn’t deserve the love I’d found.
In the absolute darkness, my soul flickered back to life around my neck. The turquoise glow caught on the walls around me, and the edges of the dark crystal reflected my own light back to me. I pushed myself off the ground and stood in the orb, with the ceiling only a few inches above my head, and planted my feet even when my knees tried to buckle.
The best thing you could do for your friends is stay here, the darkness said. Then you could finally stop disappointing them.
If this was my voice, and my lie, then I knew what to do. Memories of Metztli’s tenderness on the beach, of Dominga del Sol’s kindness, of Coyote’s words and steadfastness, of Kit’s and Ocelot’s and Lion’s friendship poured into me. Images from the last few months, of Juana holding me, of Mamá tenderly apologizing and appreciating me, gathered inside me like bolts of powerful lightning. I cupped my soul between my hands. It brightened, filling the whole space with blue light. I raised my head and looked, searching, into the darkest parts of myself.
“I know we were scared and hurt growing up.” I wiped my wet eyes. “I—I know we still are. But we don’t need to believe what everyone told us—that we’re somehow not lovable. Your friends didn’t love you because you saved them. They loved you because you’re you. The same way you didn’t love them because they helped you save Juana—you loved them, and they helped you.”
I raised my head to the dark gem ceiling, filling my chest with a great, swelling breath.
“And you know what, me? I love you too!” I shouted, and the voice of the prison shriveled back. The light of my soul brightened into a blue star and lit up my reflection in the gem walls. Tears ran down my cheeks as I took in my small and round shape, my large warm eyes, and my short black hair. I watched my soul gleam on the outside—vulnerable, but always, always doing its best. I hiccupped. “I love you just because you are.”
The darkness shattered.
Black crystals broke open around me with a mighty crash and clatter. I stood there, shivering, as my soul exploded with bright and brilliant light. The orb finished crumbling in large chunks around me. I laughed and bowed my head as a few crystal shards caught in my hair.
“Cece?”
I looked up, wiping my tears with my jacket sleeve, to find a bruja, her criatura, and four dark criaturas standing around me in a semicircle—and Ocelot and Kit directly in front of me.
I gasped and wiped my running nose. “Ocelot! Kit! You’re here!”
I’d thought I was alone. But my friends had been waiting for me just outside my crystal prison. Kit’s eyes lit up, and he dove for me. I squeezed him close. My soul bubbled over with warmth and light, and I poured the excess into him. I’d missed the feeling of having his soul so close. I peeked at it, where it hung safely around his neck. Even separated, the sunshine in his soul drifted free and danced around mine.
Huh. I smiled. Maybe—maybe I didn’t have to wear my friends’ souls to feel them now. Maybe I knew them well enough, could hear them well enough, to feel their souls even when they carried them. Did that have to do with the soul language Tía Catrina had talked about?
“I’m glad you escaped,” Kit mumbled, and snuggled his cheek against mine. “I knew you could do it.”
“That is the great danger of El Cucuy’s dungeon.” Ocelot stepped up to us. “You can get trapped here by your fears.” Her lips moved with the hint of a smile. “Kit escaped his by thinking of you, Cece.” She gestured back at a broken circle of dark crystals nearby.
I gasped and looked at him. He didn’t look embarrassed—he just beamed like a mobile sun.
She reached down and patted my head twice. I giggled, even though my throat was still sore from crying.
“I’m proud of you both,” she said.
My soul tingled and flashed. A small distance away, a little girl gasped, and I suddenly remembered everyone else in the room. The criatura looked a few years younger than Kit, with pink hair and eyes. She bounced up and down and pulled on the jacket of the tall bruja staring at us. I stiffened. A bruja? Was she going to hurt us? But Ocelot waved me down.
“Cece,” she said, and gestured to the whole semicircle of people I realized were staring at me. “This is Bruja Damiana, keeper of the dungeon, and her criatura, Axolotl.”
That didn’t make me feel any better, but she gestured to the horde of dark criaturas, and my chest loosened as she went on.
“And these are the criaturas she’s just released from their cages.” Ocelot drew her hand down the line of three dark criaturas. I recognized them vaguely from stories—the Bird King, La Lechuza, and even the ancient Alux. They nodded to me.
“It is good to be reunited,” the Bird King rumbled, so his gold mask moved. “We are the Court of Fears, young curandera. We have long been your people’s allies.”
My mouth dropped wide open as my brain whirled with the info. There was a whole group of dark criaturas who worked with curanderas? Oh, but La Sirena had mentioned the Court of Fears, hadn’t she? Ocelot stepped aside to reveal two more people—familiar faces that made my heart jump.
“Tzitzimitl!” I cried, and sprinted forward. “Metztli!”
Tzitzimitl chuckled and squatted so I could wrap her in a hug. It was uncomfortable, because she was made out of bones, but she held me gently. Metztli wrapped her thick arms around both of us.
“Metztli, I’m so glad you’re okay!” I said. “Tzitzimitl, I didn’t know you were in Devil’s Alley! How’d you get trapped in the dungeon?”
It was technically impossible for Tzitzimitl to smile. But I was pretty sure she was doing it anyway. “You are safe. And I am reunited with the Court of Fears. That is what matters.”
“I am grateful to see you unharmed, young Cecelia.” Metztli brushed back my hair.
My heart swelled, and I beamed. I pulled back from the two of them to check over the space we stood in, with its six empty fire opal cells and a ceiling made of water—oh, was this the cenote Metztli had talked about? It was beautiful. My eyes stopped on a pair of silver doors on the other side of the room. My brows furrowed as I checked over the crowd again.
“Wait,” I said. “Where’s Coyote?”
Bruja Damiana cleared her throat. All of us turned to her. She fiddled with the embroidery on the lapel of her jacket and shuffled up to me, Axolotl tiptoeing alongside her.
“Ocean curandera—” she began.
“You can call me Cece,” I said.
She paused, clearly surprised, then smiled and nodded. “Cece,” she started again. “The last ocean curandera created this cenote”—she gestured to the water above our heads—“to transport El Cucuy to Devil’s Alley so they could seal him here. But he has turned it into a prison. There is no way out, except through those silver doors. Coyote went through alone to try to find you. But they are dangerous.” She shook her head. “No one can control these doors or where they lead. Whether it will take you where you need to go, or keep your trapped and lost inside it forever, no one knows. No one even knows why the passage exists. It’s not worth the risk.” She bit her bottom lip.
I stared at the doors. Eerie lights wandered around its doorframe.
