Labyrinth Lost (Brooklyn Brujas #1)(25)

“Do people actually believe in heaven? Olympus? There’s belief and then there’s wishful thinking. I’m allowed to be skeptical of things I haven’t seen for myself.”

“So young,” he says. “So jaded.”

I brush him off with a roll of my eyes. “Where will my family be in all this land?”

“The Tree of Souls,” he continues, tapping the map the Book of Cantos is open to. “It collects power throughout the month. Then on the eclipse, well, that’s when it gets ugly. Everything it’s consumed gets turned into raw energy. The tree used to feed the land, but then the Devourer took over. She feeds off the tree now. The creature you described matches the Book of Cantos’s description. I think it’s safe to say your family is at the Tree of Souls.”

“Why would the Deos create something like this?”

“Why do gods do anything?” Nova asks. “You can have your existential crisis when we return.”

“Get to the tree,” I say. I grab the Book of Cantos and rip the map out of it. “Simple enough.”

“You wish. Everything in Los Lagos is designed to keep us from getting to the tree. Hope you’re ready to use your bruja boxing gloves.”

I feel for the whispering pulse of my magic. I’ll make myself ready even if I don’t feel so just yet. “I am. Are you?”

“Listen, Ladybird. If I can survive these mean streets, I can survive just about anywhere. I’ll keep my promise. I’ll get you to the tree.”

“And you get your payment when we return safely.”

He shoulders the backpack and picks up my dagger from the table. It still has blood caked on the blade. He wipes it off on his jeans, then bends down. With one hand, he takes hold of my ankle, and with the other, he slides the dagger into the loop of the outside of my boot.

“Just in case,” he says.

When he stands, he’s barely two inches from me. Every time I look at him, I find new scars. There’s another one close to his upper lip.

I fold the map and slide it into my back pocket. I go to the storage closet and tuck the Book of Cantos under a loose floorboard. I take one last look at my home. My legs feel weak. I start to picture Lula and Rose and my mother.

“I’ll get you back. I promise,” I whisper.

“Come. We have to make the portal.” Nova places a hand over the shoe box. The rat squeaks and scratches, like it knows this is his end.

“What are you going to do with your money?” I don’t know why I’m asking.

He starts to speak, but something makes him stop. He runs out the door, where the sound of sirens fills the streets. He curses. We’ve thought about the supernatural threat but not the human one. Lights start flicking on in the neighborhood. I can still make out the impatient blare of traffic and the urgent whirl of emergency sirens. One of my neighbors must’ve called the cops after all the noise we made. Right now, I don’t care about exposing our secret. I care about getting to Los Lagos.

“Come on!” Nova shouts.

I look back at my home. A metallic glint catches my eye. The pantry door is open, and my father’s old mace lies on the ground. I run back in and grab it.

I follow Nova through the cemetery of old plastic toys and rusted bicycles that is my backyard. The wind is a cold slap against my face. It strips the scarlet and orange leaves from the tree and carries them through the rain.

“All right, Ladybird. Let’s do this thing! Place your hands on the tree.”

I do as he says. The bark ripples. It’s warm and soft, like flesh. I can hear it whisper, like it’s trying to tell me the secrets of the universe, its energy calling to my power.

Nova takes the squirming rat from the box, then pulls out a switchblade from his back pocket. It unfolds with a metallic snap. The end is curved upward. The sharp edges look like it’s meant to rip though flesh. In a swift movement, Nova slits the rat’s throat. He bleeds it all around the tree while chanting words I can’t understand, and I realize Nova speaks the Old Tongue. He presses a thumb to his forehead. Then turns to me to do the same.

My first instinct is STOP DO NOT TOUCH ME RAT BLOOD STOP. But I realize I’ve set myself on a path I can’t come back from. I’m surprised by the softness of his touch. I let Nova drag his bloody thumb on my cheek.

“Why is it always blood?”

“Blood is life, Alex.”

For beings that don’t bleed, the gods sure ask for a lot of it, I think.

He seems to find the terrified look on my face amusing.

“We’ll be fine,” he says.

“Nova…” The blue and red lights of police cars are nearer.

“Repeat after me,” he says.

The bark bends, changes at our touch. There’s the slip and screech of tires and sirens on the street in front of my house. I start to turn, to look back, but Nova stops me. He takes the dagger sheathed in my boot and slices my palm open. The sting makes me cry out. I squeeze it into a fist. Nova holds my bleeding hand to the tree’s bark.

“By the Deos of eternity. By the blood of my blood. By the light of La Mama and the shadow of El Papa, I offer the blood of the wretched. Open a door to Los Lagos.”

There’s the slam of car doors. The rattle of our chain-link fence.

Nova shoves the dagger in my hand. “Stab the tree!”