Labyrinth Lost (Brooklyn Brujas #1)(31)

“Listen, old man,” Nova says, “as long as those things don’t touch us and we can get across, I’m good.”

Oros ponders, tapping a black nail on his chin. “Used to be people paid me to cross the Luxaria with a promise of their firstborn or the tears of their first love. Even a little taste of magic. My services are costly, after all.”

Taste of magic?

“Well, we don’t have firstborn children,” Nova says irritably, “or the tears of our first loves.”

“Not yet you don’t,” Oros says, like a warning.

A silver wave rises high into the air. Arms and faces try to pull away from the imprisoned mass, but an invisible force pulls them back down.

“Isn’t it obvious?” the duende says. He smiles, and the gold in his teeth is blinding. When his cloak parts, I get a good look at the reason for his limp. He’s got a gold foot that stops at the middle of his calf.

His eyes fall to the pendant around my neck, the tiny gold crescent moon necklace I’ve worn my whole life. I grab it protectively.

“What’s wrong, girl?” Oros snaps. His patience is running short. “The man who gave you that wasn’t worthy of your love—what’s left of it, at least.”

My father gave this to me when I was five. I was obsessed with the night sky. I’d take my mother’s silver eyeliner and draw stars on my cheeks and a crescent moon on my forehead. Then, on my birthday, my father gave me a tiny box. He told me that I could wear the moon forever.

My father left. I know the truth. I’m not like Lula or Rose or my mother. I don’t believe that he’ll return. And this duende knows, like I do, that every day, some of that love slips away a little at a time.

Suddenly, he’s right in my face. His dark-gold eyes are expectant.

“Hold up, hold up,” Nova says, pulling at his earlobe. El duende turns an irritated glare toward Nova. “My moms gave them to me for my thirteenth birthday.”

He looks back and forth between us, weighing the diamonds on his palm. The duende smiles when they twinkle.

“It is nearly satisfactory,” he says finally. “But she wears a truly remarkable piece, and it’s been so long since I’ve had the opportunity to help lost travelers.” Oros’s eyes fall on my necklace again. He licks his lips with his dark tongue. I wonder what will happen when the rest of him turns to gold and how that happens in the first place.

“Plus,” Nova says, taking off his prex, “my family’s not powerful like hers, but you can feel how long our lineage is.”

“Nova!”

“Stop,” he whispers. “I got this.”

Something about this pleases the creature. Because he’s not a man—he’s a hideous, greedy creature that belongs in this ashen, cold land. It’s a hateful thing, and this is a hateful place.

“We have a deal.” He snatches the prex from Nova’s hand. “Now get onboard.”

Nova helps me get on, straddling the pier and the edge of our boat. It moves under my weight and then again when Nova sits in front of me.

Then, Oros unhooks us from the pier and gives us a push with his staff.

“What are you doing?” I shout.

“I do not cross, girl.” He shakes his head. “I cannot cross.”

“You little sh—”

“You said you’d take us!”

He shakes his head in that slow way. The oars start slipping from their metal rings. I grab on to them before they fall into the silver river.

“I said I provide crossing. And I have.” He waddles farther up the pier and waves. “Give the boat a push back if you get to the other side.”





15


Where is my love?

Swimming in the River Luxaria.

Has he forgotten me so?

—Folk song, Book of Cantos

“I’ve never liked duendes.” I curse and grab the oars. “Trickster, lying—”

“Forget him,” Nova says.

“I’d like to tear that old beast to bits.” Empty threats are comforting when you’re sailing across a river of vengeful souls.

The closest to rowing I’ve ever gotten was the rowboats in Central Park. Here, the current is quick, trying to drag us downstream and away from our destination. It takes a few tries, but we sync up our rowing.

“You don’t think this is romantic?” he asks dryly.

I make a face at the back of his head. Our blanket of gray sky turns dark. Out here, the cool wind provides a reprieve from the dense heat created by the Selva.

A crooked, white hand reaches for the side of the boat and threatens to capsize us.

“Ignore it!” Nova tells me. “Row faster!”

How do you ignore fear that makes every muscle in your body freeze? It’s so much easier to give in to fear. I’ve done it. After Aunt Rosaria, I refused to leave the house. After Miluna, after my father, I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I didn’t have anyone depending on me then. I force myself to push through the burning in my arms. And soon enough, we’re too fast for the ghoulish hand to hold on to, and in a swift push of our oars, it lets go.

“Do you work out?” Nova looks over his shoulder at me.

“Are you kidding me right now?”