Labyrinth Lost (Brooklyn Brujas #1)(24)

“I have five thousand saved up.”

“You don’t know who Los Lagos belongs to. It’s not a walk in the park. And if I’m going to be risking this pretty face…”

I curse at him. “What are you talking about? The land can’t belong to anyone. It belongs to the Deos.”

Any trace of smile vanishes from his face. “Sure, the gods created Los Lagos. But my gran tells this story of a creature who took over. It lives right at the heart of the land, where the Tree of Souls is. You saw it in the portal. The creature that you said tried to take you.”

My heart is like a hummingbird in my chest. “What is it?”

“They call her the Devourer.”

“I’m guessing she’s not a unicorn princess.”

He puffs out a laugh and looks to the sky, like he’s asking for patience. Then he sets his intense eyes on me and I don’t dare look away. It feels like the most important staring contest of my life.

“You were willing to risk your power to have freedom,” he tells me. “Instead, you banished your family to another dimension. You owe them your life, but I don’t owe them mine.”

I can’t stand to look at him, so I turn around. “My mom could give you more. She has some jewelry. Look around you. That’s everything. That’s all we’ve got.”

He doesn’t try to haggle, just stands behind me. Why am I so surprised? A guy like Nova is no good. Didn’t Mayi say he’d been locked up? How could I even think he’d just help me? He doesn’t owe me anything. He’s right. I owe my family my life. I owe them everything I am.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he says after a long silence. “I’ll get you into Los Lagos. I’ll take you to your family. But after that, you’re on your own.”

“No. You don’t get a dime unless we make it back safely.” I turn around to face him.

I hold out my hand. Nova takes it. The light he conjures hits me in the gut, but I push back with my own. It’s the release I’ve been looking for. I can feel his arm shake as I hold it, but he won’t let go either.

“Deal.”





12


Drunk with their magics, brujas thought themselves as high as the Deos.

So the Deos slowly took away their powers,

leaving the brujas barely above humans.

Except the encantrix. The encantrix is always Chosen.

—The Creation of Witches, Antonietta Mortiz de la Paz

While Nova runs off to gather an ingredient to create the portal, I shower and pour peroxide on my cuts. I could try to heal them, but I choose not to. I don’t deserve it. I change into a black shirt and black jeans. I turn my backpack upside down and shake the contents onto the floor.

In the pantry, I grab a couple of bread loaves, apples, a jar of peanut butter, a dozen protein bars, and six water bottles. I start to think about how empty the house feels. That it hasn’t been an hour and I miss Lula’s teasing. I miss finding Rose in different corners of the house, reading her books. I miss the smell of my mother’s midnight teas. Their absence is a punch in the gut, and it’s hard to breathe.

There’s a noise coming from the front of the house. Nova’s back. He runs in and shuts the door behind him. His shirt is speckled with raindrops.

“What is that?” I motion to the shoe box rattling in his hands.

“Uhhh—”

The familiar squeak of a New York City rat answers for me.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t have an extra parakeet.” He sets the box on the table. The rat scratches and bites from the inside. Nova sets one of my mother’s good luck roosters on top of it to keep the box closed.

“I’m not paying for a comedian.”

He unbuttons his stained blue shirt, revealing a white undershirt that clings to his muscles. He winks. Blue eyes now. “I’ll throw that in for free.”

He grabs a mortar and pestle, then riffles through the pantry for a handful of ingredients. He works fast and confidently, grabbing a pinch of dirt from our cactus, a feather from the dead parakeet, ash from the charcoal bowl, and a vial of seawater. He grinds it to a paste and dots the cardinal scars of his face. Then he does the same to me.

“It’s disconcerting to me that you know more about what’s in my kitchen than I do.”

“Don’t use your big words on me, Ladybird.”

“Should we bring a dictionary on our journey?”

“Do you want me to help?”

“Do you want your money?”

He wipes his hands on a dish towel. I wonder how badly his tattoo hurt.

“What else should I know before we go?” I ask.

“Be prepared for anything. Los Lagos is another realm. My gran used to tell us bedtime stories about a river of souls and a bloodred lagoon.”

“That actually put you to sleep?” I ask, zipping up my backpack.

“Nah. But it got me to behave.” His smile is all mischief. “For a little while.”

I make a face at him. “I used to think Los Lagos was just a waiting realm for spirits between lifetimes.”

He smirks knowingly. “Not all dead are created equal. Honestly, I find your disbelief a little unnerving.”