Cece Rios and the King of Fears, page 8
“She has spoken of all the history left behind,” she said, gesturing to the moon. Her nails flashed white with the movement, and I squinted at them. Were they glowing? The way mine did when I controlled water? “You are Cecelia Rios, the one who slayed Rodrigo the Soul Stealer and El Sombrerón. The one who bears criatura souls as the brujas do but who speaks, who listens. Who does not take—who gives. You are the one El Cucuy hunts, and who he hopes will break the seal my sisters set.”
I lifted both my eyebrows. “Wait, the Moon told you all of that?” I’d never thought about what a moon curandera’s power would be. Could she talk directly to the Moon goddess?
She shook her head. “Yes—and no. The Moon is of the same material as the mind—light. It is brightness; it is intelligence.” She tilted her head back to embrace the moon’s touch again. “Light has watched all and understood all. It has seen what you are, Cecelia Rios. And it has seen your sister, Juana Rios, who now crawls in a world made for the damned, to retrieve the lost half of her soul.”
Dread collected inside me like condensation on a chilled glass. Juana was in Devil’s Alley? Again? And half of her soul was gone? That had to be why her heart had stopped beating. Did El Sombrerón still have the other half? My mind whirled, and my breath sharpened. My familia. I gripped the front of my soaking shirt, and tears blocked up my throat. My sister was in danger again, and that meant Mamá was probably at home grieving alone. Again.
It seemed like the harder I tried to put my familia back together, the more it shattered.
“I have to go after her,” I managed to squeak out. Metztli knelt before me as I struggled to push back tears. “But El Cucuy is after me. If I go, I’ll have to fight him like El Silbón said.” I dropped my hands to my side. What was I going to do? I didn’t even know what the curanderas’ ancient seal was, let alone how to finish it.
Metztli’s brows crushed down. “So my sisters were able to trap him without me, at least.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Cece, this is why I have returned.”
I raised my spinning head. Distant heat moved through my friends’ souls, and footsteps treaded toward us, from up the beach.
Metztli’s face was bright and stern. “I will help you finish what we started centuries ago. Before the door to Devil’s Alley closes, we will finish the seal and turn the King of Fears, El Cucuy, to stone.”
I could only stare at her, wordless, as I sunk under the bigness of it all.
“Cece!” Coyote’s voice cried out.
He crashed into the sand next to me and pushed me behind him. Metztli’s eyes widened, and something in her expression darkened. Extra worry curled in my heart. She hadn’t had a problem with La Sirena, but the old legends said curanderas fought criaturas to protect Naked Man. Would she try to hurt Coyote?
“Who are you?” Coyote glared at her and brought out his claws. “Cece, why did you leave the shed? It’s dangerous!”
“Oh, uh. Funny story—I found the Ocean Sanctuary! Turns out it’s not the ruins we found. It’s literally in the ocean,” I explained. Coyote looked baffled. I sent Metztli a trembling grin. “This is my friend, Coyote. He won’t hurt you.” I looked into his eyes. “Right?”
His stance wilted a little. Metztli, on the other hand, straightened to full height, her mouth thinned, her hair dark against the moon. Ocelot and Kit ran in from the shadows of the cliffside and stopped beside me. But her anger didn’t turn on them. It was reserved solely for my best friend.
“Everyone,” I said, “this is Metztli. She’s the moon curandera from two hundred years ago, who fought in the Battle of Tierra del Sol. I found her soul in the Ocean Sanctuary.”
All three of my friends jolted in surprise. The Moon draped Metztli in light, the white ends of her hair drifting in the ocean breeze. She looked beautiful and terrible, her eyes dark and foreboding as she cast a withering glare down at Coyote.
“Great Namer,” she said to him. “You, above all creatures of this world, have no right to be here.”
10
Juana Rios and the Dungeon
“This way,” Jaguar hissed, as we came to a ravine near the castle of El Cucuy.
For the last twelve hours, Jaguar had led the way through the city with the cleverness of a hunter until we reached the outskirts, which was basically a scruffy, lifeless copy of the cerros around Tierra del Sol. Now, we stood at the edge of the creepy fissure in the ground she was beckoning us into.
It was hard to argue with Jaguar’s results. But exhausted as I was—I was ready to argue anyway.
“Moon above, where are you taking us?” I crouched at the edge of the sheer drop and pointed behind us, to the southwest, where the tower loomed. “The castle’s that way!”
Little Lion perched beside me, frowning. Jaguar had already climbed down several feet into the ravine. But she sighed up at me.
“This path leads to the only unguarded part of El Cucuy’s castle—the dungeon,” she said, like she didn’t understand why I hadn’t already thrown myself down her way.
Lion bristled. “The dungeon? But it’s—”
“Your best path inside?” she asked.
“I was going to say ‘the worst.’”
“True. But it’s your only option.” She cocked her head. “Unless you want to be caught?”
Lion sighed. Grumbling and spitting, I eased myself off the edge and slunk into the cavern. The craggy stone wall offered precarious hand and footholds, and my weary legs shook as I crept down several feet. I clenched my gut to ignore the trembling.
“You okay, Juana?” Lion asked as he made his way down close by.
“Of course!” I moved faster.
Jaguar crawled along the wall to my left. “I’ve never seen you so worried over someone else, Little Lion.” She shot him a wide, toothy grin. The film on her eyes faded, just for a moment, before she descended into the dark.
“Ugh. When are you going to drop that stupid nickname?” Lion scowled as he plunged into the darkness too. “You’re the reason everyone thinks Little Lion is my actual name. It’s supposed to be Black Lion. Why are you always trying to embarrass me?”
She cackled. “I’m your big sister. That’s my job.”
“Wait, you think you’re his sister?” I joined them in the total darkness and tried to ignore my discomfort. “I didn’t know criaturas thought of each other as . . . familia.” More like a pack of rabid wolves or something. That’s how it had been in El Cucuy’s castle, anyway. I’d once seen El Sombrerón rip a criatura in half just for coming into his open room unannounced.
Little Lion made an aggravated noise in the dark. “Of course we do. Coyote Named us to be familia, remember. Some of us are estranged, but the closer together we were Named, the, uh, I don’t know—closer we feel . . . I guess.” He seemed reluctant to admit it.
“Coyote Named Little Lion right after me,” Jaguar’s voice prowled around in the dark, echoing around the ravine so I couldn’t pinpoint her location. It made me wish I could hold my knife and climb at the same time. “I was there the moment he was born. So he’ll always be Little Lion to me.”
Lion growled in the dark.
Their sibling banter made me uncomfortable, so I tried to focus on climbing. But as I extended my leg down, my toes scraped something wet and pebbly instead. “What’s that?”
There was a splash on my right.
“It’s just water,” Little Lion said, from below me. “Runoff from the dungeon.”
Gross. I jumped down and landed next to Little Lion, ankle-deep in a cold, shallow stream of water.
“This way,” Jaguar called. Sparks lit up in her direction as she scratched her claws against the stone, indicating where she was in the dark. The brief flash of light illuminated a small tunnel, only big enough for us to crawl into. “The path is narrow and wet. Room enough only to breathe.”
“I hate this place,” I said, but moved forward anyway. The tunnel was uneven to the touch. I scrunched my nose and crawled inside. Sour water soaked my skirt as Little Lion followed after me.
“There are two rules you must keep in mind once you reach the dungeon,” Jaguar said as we moved forward. “One: keep moving. In the dungeon, fears make themselves realities for the vulnerable. Two: you must find the keeper of the dungeon, Bruja Damiana, if you want to escape.” Jaguar’s crawling made light splashes. “She is the only one who can open the door from the dungeon to the rest of the castle.”
I scoffed. “Oh, so we just have to fight the bruja entrusted with guarding the enemies of El Cucuy?” I threw my head back at Lion. “I told you she’s not trustworthy.”
Jaguar only chuckled. “You mistake her position in the castle. Bruja Damiana was demoted from the higher ranks years ago because she prizes her young criatura over all else.” She glanced back at me meaningfully.
I paused. “So you’re saying, if I threaten her criatura . . . ?”
“Then you can get inside the castle. And reach El Sombrerón at last.” She sucked in an eager breath.
Sharp prickles crawled over my skin. I knew why Jaguar was invested in our mission, but something about her still put me on edge. It was probably the glimpses I’d caught of her wearing two different expressions at the same time, like a doll that had dropped stitches in only one side of its face. When I’d pointed it out to Lion earlier, he’d snapped at me about it.
“You don’t know what she’s gone through,” he said. “She has her soul stone, so she’s safe. Back off, Juana.”
Naturally, I’d yelled at him more for that, and he’d yelled back, and then we’d had to outrun a patrol that we’d attracted because of the noise. Lion was pretty defensive of his so-called sister, it turned out. So I kept my mouth shut about my eerie feeling now. But I made sure not to take my eyes off Jaguar as we moved.
After a damp, sloshy crawl, Jaguar stopped. There was just enough light that I could see a grate made of iron and fire opal barring the rest of the way.
“You will need to be careful from here on,” Jaguar said. She slid back around us, leaving me and Little Lion crouched near the grate. “Once you pass this and reach the end of the tunnel, you will be in the dungeon. Remember the two rules.”
“Why are you talking like that?” Little Lion reached out to her, but she withdrew in a rush and crawled a few steps back. “You’re coming with us, right?”
Jaguar paused. “I can’t.”
His eyebrows crushed down. “Why not?” he demanded, but slowly, his voice softened instead. “Are you—really going to leave me alone again?”
He sounded younger asking that than he had this whole journey. Jaguar’s dark brows pulled together, and light caught on the curve of her soul stone. It swung as she placed her hands on his shoulders.
“Be careful, hermano,” she said, hard and deep and insistent. She sounded more alert, more awake, than she had earlier. “You have to get to El Sombrerón. But I don’t want you to get hurt, Little Lion . . .” Her breath came faster. “Promise me you won’t get yourself in trouble again while I’m not around to protect you.”
“Then come with us,” Lion insisted.
She shook her head, and he scowled.
“So you’re going to just run off? Like a coward?” He growled.
There was a hurt beat of silence. Then Jaguar squeezed out, “Coward? I . . . I risked my life for you.” A twitch ran through her arms; Lion winced. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty for leaving you here,” she suddenly snapped, and crawled back again, so shadows disguised her face. “This is your mission, not mine. The least you can do is be grateful for what I have done.” Her voice faded into something dreamy and distant. “Say, ‘Gracias, Jaguar.’ You still remember how to thank those you owe, don’t you, Lion?”
Lion’s face tensed. There was a stiff beat of silence—before his face screwed into a violent scowl. I’d thought he’d glared at me before. But those expressions were barely annoyance compared to the sheer wrath gritted in his bared teeth now.
“I didn’t ask you to risk yourself,” he roared. “You asked us to follow you. I don’t owe you anything!”
“We both know that’s a lie,” she said.
Lion stiffened.
“Go on, now. The keeper of the dungeon is on her patrols; you want to catch her before she leaves.”
Little Lion’s nostrils flared. “Fine.”
He whirled around and grasped the bars with his hands. The fire opal in the bars glowed, and his hands smoked the moment they touched them. I nearly yelped, but he just growled and pressed through the pain until the grate gave way. He released it, shaking.
“We’re leaving,” he said, gruff and hard and ignoring the smoking burns on his skin.
“Idiota, what’d you do that for?” I snapped. Lion held his injured hands to his chest. I finished shifting the grate out of his way, and when I glanced back, Jaguar had vanished. Hmph. Coward. “You shouldn’t hurt yourself just because you’re mad.” I clucked my tongue. Little Lion looked up, eyes glistening. “I could have moved the grate—the fire opal doesn’t burn me. How are you going to crawl on those hands now?”
Lion shrugged as I fumbled through my bag and found some stray pieces of cloth. I pulled one of his hands over.
“Here. This’ll help.” I started wrapping a cloth around his reddened palm. “This gato estúpido. Thinks he’s indestructible just ’cause he’s a criatura.”
“I’m a black lion,” he insisted.
I rolled my eyes as I knotted the cloth around his blistered hand.
“You know, you’re surprisingly naggy when you’re not trying to stab things,” he grumbled.
I threw the next cloth at him. “Wrap it up yourself, then. Hmph.”
I crawled forward. Little Lion followed, silent for a few minutes, before his voice crept back up behind me.
“Jaguar’s never said something like that before,” he murmured. “I know she’s gone through a lot since we last saw each other. But she never demanded I be grateful.” His voice caught. “For a second there, she reminded me of . . . Catrina.”
I paused. Cece hadn’t told me too much about Lion’s past as our vile aunt’s criatura, but it sounded like she’d been a particularly terrible bruja master. I glanced back to check on him. He’d stopped moving, and his chest shuddered.
“Hey.” I softened my voice. “You okay?”
He rubbed his quivering, bandaged hand against his mouth. He shook his head but couldn’t speak. The blistering heat in my chest lessened, just a little. I knew that look. Or I’d felt it, at least. Tía Catrina really had done a number on him.
I almost reached out to comfort him. But my skin still crawled at the idea, so I kept my hands to myself and shifted just slightly closer instead. “Hey. Let’s talk about something else. Get your mind off that bruja and your jerk sister.” I glared down the tunnel. “I thought something was off about Jaguar—I didn’t realize it was cowardice. She just wanted to sneak us in to do the stuff she’s too spineless to do.”
“Stop.” Lion shook his head. “Don’t talk bad about her. You don’t get it. Jaguar’s—Jaguar’s my Cece.”
My insides went quiet. I turned back to him as he cleared his throat and rubbed his nose.
“Jaguar’s the one who helped me escape Devil’s Alley in my last life.” He took a long, steadying breath. “She smuggled me out when I was about six years old, during the criatura months. She protected me, got scars for me, fed me. We stayed together for a while, but one night she went out to hunt for food and . . . never came back.” He lowered his hand from his mouth.
Oh. I shifted awkwardly. I had been trying to fire him back up by ragging on Jaguar, but I hadn’t realized they were that close. Cece-and-me close. I’d just hit another sore spot.
“Do—you think it was a bruja who got her?” I asked, more gently.
“Don’t know,” he mumbled. After a moment, he started forward again, and we moved together toward the end of the tunnel just up ahead. “It was during Semana de la Cosecha. Anyone would want the royal animal as a prize.”
My chest burned. The image of Little Lion, even more of a kid than he was now, waiting alone in the desert for his sister to come back, made me think of Cece’s tear-stained, bruised face staring up at me the night El Sombrerón stole me. The way she’d screamed my name like each syllable was tearing her apart.
I winced but forced myself to keep crawling, to outrun the memories. I didn’t want to go back there. Never again.
We reached the end of the tunnel quickly. Carefully, we crept out of its confines and, at last, entered the dungeon of El Cucuy.
I stood up in the new, cavernous passageway. To the left, a small river of noxious water flowed into the cramped runoff passage we’d just climbed out of. Now, I stood on a flat, damp stone path that stretched forward before turning and disappearing down another tunnel far ahead. On the left and right side, enormous crystal balls clung likes eggs to the curved walls and floor. Each one was about six feet tall. I grimaced behind my skull mask. The blue torches were bright enough to illuminate the crystal balls’ many sharp surfaces, but the flames offered no heat to warm the cold, damp space.
“What are those things?” I scratched at the nearest crystal globe.
“The reason for Jaguar’s first rule.” Little Lion prowled forward. “El Cucuy’s dungeon feeds on people’s fears. These are the people who stayed in one place too long. Crystals grow up them and form a spherical cage to trap them inside.” He knocked on one of the enclosures and met my gaze. “Let’s get moving—before we join them.”
11
Cece Rios and the Great Renamer
“We must find my ancient home,” Metztli was saying, as we hiked up the beach toward the city, the ocean at our backs. “I have equipment there that will help you grasp the fundamentals. Then, I can show you how to open your own portal to Devil’s Alley’s cenote, as only an ocean curandera can.”
The sun had just bled over the horizon, and only a small group of fishermen was in the area now, ahead of us on the beach. I trailed behind everyone, brushing my left hand against the curved cliff face parallel to our path. From here, I could watch Coyote’s silent back, Kit’s nervous steps, and Ocelot’s easy stride. Metztli was so confident, even though we were planning on entering Devil’s Alley and taking on El Cucuy himself. My stomach tangled up as I thought of Juana, lost somewhere in that awful place again. I hoped Little Lion was with her. I gazed up at the red streaks in the sky, so bright and powerful, just like my sister. Even though they didn’t get along, Lion had been the one to volunteer to stay behind and watch out for her. They’d at least be safer if they stuck together.
