Labyrinth Lost (Brooklyn Brujas #1)(32)

He chuckles. His eyes are so bright, like tiny stars gracing his brown skin. It’s hard not to notice how pretty they are. But Nova said it himself. I can’t just go running for something because I think it’s pretty. After seeing my mom hurt so much, I told myself I’d never get fooled. My dad had pretty eyes too. The same stark gray as Lula’s. Me, I got plain brown eyes to match the plain girl I’ve always wanted to be.

Nova turns back around and faces our destination. “Relax, I’m not hitting on you. I’m just impressed that you aren’t tired yet.”

I am tired, but I won’t slow us down.

“If you must know, during the fall semester, I do indoor track, volleyball, and weight lifting.”

“Weight lifting?”

“Don’t seem so surprised. It’s an easy class. The teacher is this old meathead. He looks like a fifty-year-old Ken doll.”

“Gross, you think he’s hot.”

“I do not.” I can feel myself slowing down. Nova’s breath is ragged. I know he’s trying to distract me, to make me laugh so we keep going, and I appreciate that.

“It’s not like I bench two hundred pounds or anything. But I like keeping my legs strong for when I run.”

“What about in the spring?” He looks over his shoulder at me again. A crooked smile appears. “Outdoor track?”

“Yes. And pole-vaulting.”

“Damn, girl. I never would’ve guessed.”

“You can guess all day long. You don’t know a thing about me.”

He sucks his teeth. “I’m just saying. You’re kind of uptight. I shouldn’t be surprised that you like sports where you don’t have any teammates. I would’ve thought you’d spend all your time in the library. But then I saw you in that dress.”

“Don’t try to flatter me, princess.” My voice is hard, but I think my cheeks might be melting off, and I’m glad he isn’t facing me.

“And it just so happens,” he says, “I’m adding another five hundo to our deal.”

“What?” I miss three rowing beats and now we’re scrambling to get back in sync. My voice goes up an octave. “Why?”

“That’s how much my earrings and prex cost.”

“You know,” I say, “I did you a favor. You dress like you’re in an R&B music video.”

“The ladies happen to love it.”

During my party, Mayi and Emma, even Lula, were drooling over him.

“How about,” I suggest, with a smile, “the next beast we come across, I let it eat you?”

He shrugs, sweat dripping between his shoulder blades. That’s when I notice the marks on his back. I’ve been so busy cursing Oros and the skies and staring at the shore we’re rowing toward that I didn’t see what’s right in front of me. Long, violent scars crisscross from his neck to his lower back. I wonder when this happened. I wonder if he would even tell me the truth.

“You could go back to Oros and give him your little moon,” he tells me. “But you wouldn’t, would you? I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Ladybird. If you can’t learn to sacrifice the small things, you’ll never get the thing you’re after.”

I focus on the silver waves that undulate beneath us, the dark shore that starts to take the shape of caves. One step closer to getting to the labyrinth.

As we keep going, every face that I see in the wave fills my heart with more hurt. I regret the choices I made that brought us here. I regret putting my family in danger. I breathe the sorrow in the wind, and its breaks my concentration.

“Alejandra—” the souls call to me, cut off by the wind.

“Alex,” Nova says. “What are you doing?”

I realize I’ve started to lean toward the water. The oar starts to slide through the ring holding it in place. I lunge for it, but filmy, silver hands reach up and grab it. I manage to grip the top of the handle, but they’re so strong.

“Nova, I can’t hold it.”

“Let it go!”

The souls pull the oar out of my grasp. On the other side of the vessel, the souls yank the other oar from my grip. The momentum makes me fall backward. My head hits the ledge so hard I’m afraid to open my eyes out of fear of seeing stars. What was it Oros said? If you make it to the other side.

“Take my oars,” Nova tells me.

I step around him to swap seats and start to row. He unzips the backpack and grabs the mace club by the handle. He swings upward and smashes the first hand that tries to climb over the side.

“To your left!” I shout as another soul pushes itself over the side. The spiked head of the club slams into its face, and it flies back into the river.

“Thanks.” He turns to me with a flashing smile that doesn’t last. His eyes widen when he sees something behind me. He jumps over my seat, rocking us precariously. I try not to look back, to focus on rowing, but his screams are distracting.

“It’s like Whac-A-Mole for the dead,” he says, panting more and more with every swing.

There’s no way he can handle every one of them on both ends of the boat.

“Keep them away with your light!”

He looks at his palm. The worry crease on his forehead is deeper than ever. He shakes his head.