Labyrinth Lost (Brooklyn Brujas #1)(51)

“Pardon.” An ada with a blue face and silver hair bumps into Nova. She clutches her stomach and makes a run for the line of trees, a rank smell trailing behind her.

Look, a little voice whispers in my ear.

I shut my eyes and try to focus. My mind feels like cotton. Cotton candy. Pretty cotton candy, pink and fluffy and melty on my tongue.

“Earth to Alex,” Nova says, squeezing my nose.

I slap his hand away. “What?”

“Look at me,” he says. Maybe Nova was the voice I heard just now. Maybe I’m imagining things. “Look at what the meadow is doing to me.”

Nova holds his arms out. The black burn marks I mistook for tattoos are changing. His glossy eyes are full of hope. “They’re getting smaller. Can you believe that? This means I might have a chance.”

“What do you mean ‘a chance’?”

His smile falls, and he jerks back, like he can’t believe he just said that. “I—I can’t remember.”

Look harder! the voice yells.

I whip around to search for the source when a cold splash hits my face. Red berry wine trickles down my neck. I wipe it out of my eyes and spit the droplets that make their way into my mouth.

The music dies, replaced by whispers. Hundreds of eyes turn to stare at me.

“What the hell was that?” Nova turns to Rodriga. The salamander girl throws her goblet on the ground.

I hold up my hand to Nova. This isn’t his fight. It’s mine.

“Come on, encantrix,” Rodriga says. “Let’s see that power fly.”

“What’s your problem?” A dark coil of energy wraps itself around me. I could unleash it. I could make her hurt.

“Your weakness. Your lies. Your fear. I could smell it on you before you entered the meadow. You get to sing and dance and fall in love, while the rest of us have to be this for eternity.”

My anger snaps like a whip around her throat. I can feel her struggle for breath. Her pulse slowing in my veins.

I gasp and let her go. This isn’t me.

But it is, the voice in my head whispers.

Rodriga coughs, managing a weak laugh. “Maybe there is hope yet.”

I grit my teeth and keep my fists balled at my sides. “Why can’t magical people ever say what they really mean?”

“My Meadow King,” Rodriga hisses. Agosto is walking across the meadow. “I’m bound to him and the meadow. You don’t belong here, wretched girl. Get out before it’s too late.”

“But—”

“Rodriga!” Agosto shouts. His face is all shadows. His powerful, hoofed legs stomp across the meadow. His voice is a thunderclap. “I warned you.”

His fists hit her in the chest. She flies back and slams into a tree. The air around her splinters for the blink of an eye. She grabs her side and then slowly picks herself back up.

“Did you see that?” I whisper to Nova. Nova shakes his head. He holds his hand out, like he’s telling me to keep whatever I’ve seen to myself.

Agosto’s dark eyes trace the perimeter of the meadow, then fall back to me. “I am sorry if she has displeased you. Please, eat.”

Eat? How can I eat after this? At his command, dozens of adas run to the banquet table.

A fat bird with thorns coming out of his side lands on Agosto’s shoulder. It squawks in his ear, but Agosto shows no sign that it bothers him.

“Excuse me,” Agosto says. He conjures his flute and begins to play. The notes sound rougher, deeper than before.

Despite the openness of the meadow, it starts to feel small, like the trees are encroaching. A shadow howls in the wind, sending shivers along my skin. You don’t belong here, wretched girl. Get out before it’s too late.

Too late for what? My senses are groggy, like I’m waking from a long, long sleep. I know something isn’t right, but part of me still wants to believe in the spell of the meadow. Spell.

It’s all a spell.

Wretched girl. That’s what I am. That’s why I’m here in the first place. A jolt runs through me like lightning. My mind clears, and all at once, I can see their faces—my family. My mother. My mother was here and I turned my back on her again.

Wretched girl.

Too late.

“We have to go,” I shout at Nova.

“Wait.” Nova presses his hand to his stomach and shakes his head. “I’m going to be sick.”

He doubles over and throws up at my feet. I rub his back until he stops. I try to help him stand, but his knees give out and we fall on the grass.

“I can’t,” he cries.

“I’m going to get Rishi. Wait here.”

I search for her in the clusters of adas but can’t find her. The stench of rotting fruit is overwhelming. When I look down at the banquet table, all I see is moldy bread and fruits cracked open like skulls. Feverish fingers scoop the sloppy meat down their gullets. Fat tears run down their faces as they binge on the rotten feast. All the while, the music plays on. The adas stomp their hooves, claws, and feet to the rhythm of the flute and the strum of golden strings.

“Rishi!” I scream for her.

Rodriga’s words start to make sense. I fell for the spell of the meadow. We have to be this for eternity.

Then I see her.

Panic rushes through me as Rishi extends her arm to a fairy girl. The acrid smell of rot and bodily waste makes my head spin. Look twice.