Labyrinth Lost (Brooklyn Brujas #1)(44)

I listen to the steady hum of life beneath the tunnel. The stones, the minerals, even the stream that runs through the caves. I can feel all of it calling to me like a long-lost friend. Madra said the Devourer is sucking up all the life from these lands. If there is nothing left, would she try to find a new place to destroy?

“You all right, Ladybird?” Nova asks, not looking back at me.

“Just wishing I’d brought a bottle of painkillers.”

“Why can you heal others but not yourself?” Rishi asks.

“We’re not supposed to use our powers for our own benefit,” I say.

“That sucks.”

“It’s not so bad,” I lie. I should say, It isn’t as bad as Nova’s, but I don’t. I wonder why my recoil is different from his. My mom says there aren’t truly evil or good brujas. That our powers are the same blessings and it’s up to us to choose how to use them. Perhaps the marks come when a brujo uses his powers for bad. They cover Nova’s hands, forearms. They ring around his heart… Maybe I’m trying to see a good in Nova that doesn’t exist.

Rishi picks up her pace to walk at my side. She’s a funny sight in her black dress and broken black wings, but that’s what I love about her. She’s completely and unabashedly herself, no matter who’s around.

“You’re practically a bird,” I say, playfully tugging at her hair.

“That’s what I want to be in my next life,” she says. “Being people is too hard sometimes. I just want to shower in birdbaths and fly like the wind.”

Nova looks over his shoulder briefly. His bright eyes trace my face. Then he shakes his head. Whatever he might have said is dispelled into the dark of the tunnel. He keeps walking with his hands in his pockets.

“Where did tall, dark, and ugly come from?” Rishi whispers.

Ugly is the last word I’d use to describe Nova. He walks with his head down, and I try to picture him walking down the street. If I saw him walking opposite me, before I knew him, I’d probably cross to the other side. Now that I know him, I want him walking with me.

“Rishi, be nice.”

“I guess if you’re into muscles and tattoos or whatever,” Rishi says.

“He’s a family friend.”

“If that’s what you call a hired lackey.” She makes a face. “It’s like I’m seeing a whole new side of you. I’m not complaining. It’s just that you’ve been this kind of blurred version of yourself and now what I see is more crystal clear.”

“Are you freaked?”

“Do I look freaked?” She looks at me, trying to pull me into a staring contest.

I shove her playfully. “Not enough.”

Her wings brush against my arm. Nova looks at us again.

“I’m glad you’re here though,” I tell her. “You have to know that this isn’t a fairy tale.”

She slings her arm around my shoulders. “You’re magic, Alex. You’re like my human shield.”

Nova reaches the end of the tunnel first. Tiny creatures flutter through miles and miles of sharp-green grass as tall as Nova’s shoulders. The ring of sun and the crescent moon travel across the swirling, purple sky. I’m thankful the gloomy, gray rain is gone. I’m thankful the moon and sun aren’t close enough to eclipse. I’m thankful we still have time.

We cut through the wild grass. It practically swallows Rishi and me whole. Nova could pass for a disembodied head walking across the top of the emerald-green sea. Giant flowers grow in brilliant shades of red, yellow, and orange. We use our knives and the mace to part our way and keep the flower’s thorny vines from scratching our skin. Still, when we reach the road at the clearing, my arms are covered in dozens of thin scratches.

The road here is dusty and sunken in, like thousands of feet have walked across it. Who were they? I wonder. What were they searching for?

Nova reaches for something around his neck—his prex, but it’s gone. Instead, he kisses the back of his thumb. “Thank El Papa for our passage.”

Rishi gives me a sideways glance and shrugs. I’ve got no one to ask blessings to because I know in my heart I don’t deserve it. Instead, I lower my head and ask El Guardia, Protector of All Living Things, to watch over my family.

We get to the fork in twenty minutes. I press on the sides of my watch. When it beeps, Nova’s eye twitches, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stares at the paths in front of us.

“I’m not sure about this,” he says.

“Madra said to take the right path,” I say.

“Why are you so eager to trust the birds over me?”

Rishi coughs into her hand and says something that sounds like, “Thief.”

“Let’s look at this objectively,” I say. “The left path leads to the trail I wanted to take between Bone Valle and the Poison Garden.”

“I don’t know how I feel about bones or poison,” Rishi says.

“See?” Nova asks.

I scoff. “Now you agree with each other.”

The left fork looks bulldozed, cleared of trees and rubble.

“Now let’s look at my path,” Nova says, pointing to the one in the middle. The way is green and vibrant, lined by lush trees. White butterflies flutter by the dozens. When the wind blows, petals and leaves fall to the ground. Fuzzy animals that remind me of overgrown hamsters race from tree trunk to tree trunk. “It’s goddamn angelic is what it is.”