Bruja Born (Brooklyn Brujas #2)(14)

“Yes, yes,” I say, pulling my covers off to stretch my legs, even though I hurt from my finger joints to my toes.

“Did you bring the book?” I ask Rose, my words coming in a rush.

She holds up her backpack and pats it with her hand. “And supplies.”

“Did you really have to take my voice?” I turn to Alex, rubbing my throat.

She coughs, already feeling the recoil. “It had to be convincing. They won’t suspect a thing.”

“How did you get that off Lady?” I ask out of curiosity.

“An encantrix never reveals her secret.” She holds up the necklace of a dozen tiny mirrors.

“Transportation canto,” Rose says.

“Can you not?” Alex hisses.

I assess everything we have. I hold the prex Gustavo gave me. Onyx for the dead, for the spirits. Always given to the sickly and ill. I take a tiny pleasure in knowing that his gift is helping us complete the canto.

It’s all here. Hold on, Maks. Please hold on.

Alex helps me out of bed and says, “Let’s wake up your sleeping beauty.”





7


Follow my voice, my love, my love.

Death cannot tear us apart.

Take my hand, my love, my love.

Follow the light of my heart.

—Lula’s Healing Canto, Book of Cantos




We go over the plan once again.

After our parents went home for the first time in four days, Alex helped me put on a loose nightgown. Naked, I traced the horrible scar on the lower left side of my belly, where they pulled out the metal pole.

As my sisters pack up everything we need, I wonder if one day I’ll be more than a patchwork of scars.

“We have the Book, onyx, and blessed mirrors, candles, matches, Alex’s dagger, and a bundle of desert sage for added witchery,” Rose says. She’s in charge of supplies because she’s the most organized.

“We’ll do a few laps around the floor so as to not raise suspicion before going to Maks’s room,” Alex says.

“Then comes the easy part.” I chuckle nervously.

“Healing Maks so he comes off life support? Right. Easy.” Alex gnaws at her bottom lip like it’s second breakfast. “You’ll have to cut yourself for this. Cantos like this require blood. Lots of it. Are you ready for that?”

My heartbeat spikes. My power is to heal, not to destroy. And yet, it’s the only choice I can see. Alex has her own scar on her wrist from when she closed the portal to Los Lagos. If the gods require blood, I’m prepared to give it to them. “I’ll make myself ready.”

Alex holds my stare. “Then let me ask you this. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”

“Don’t,” I tell her. “You said you’d give me this one try.”

“I know you believe we’re doing the right thing,” she says. “But you saw how the High Circle reacted. A literal actual goddess revealed herself to you. You said Maks’s name was on her creepy death list. We might be going up against Lady de la Muerte. Even if you’re not afraid of that, you’ve always feared the Circle.”

Part of me wants to tell her about another name I saw on there. Noveno. Nova. I mean, how many Novenos are there in the world? It has to be him. But I need her focused, so I don’t.

Rose stays silent and brings my chair around. She’s our peaceful middle ground.

“The High Circle is wrong.” Words I never thought I’d say.

“Since when have you thought that way?” Alex asks.

“Since they were willing to let me die.”

? ? ?

Alex pushes my chair, and we start to make our way to Maks’s room on the other end of the floor.

Hospitals give me the creeps. I’m a healer, and places like this make me feel as if my magic is being dampened by the wires and tubes and needles. I hold on to Rose’s hand tighter to make the feeling stop.

“I hate it here too,” she says. She can’t focus right when she’s surrounded by so many people who are crossing over. “It’s like a bus station for the spirits.”

That makes us laugh, but we stop as a nurse rushes past us. She’s too busy to look at the way I grip the armrest settle on or how I can’t stop my legs from trembling. When we turn the corner, we pass metal racks of supplies and more people rushing back and forth. No one stops to look at us or ask where we’re going.

Except one.

A nurse.

He looks up from his chart as we approach. There’s something that makes him look out of place. His scrubs are a lighter blue than the others, and his brown hair is tied back at the nape of his neck. His face looks much too young to be working here, but he’s got the dark circles of someone who works these graveyard shifts often.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks.

“Just tired of staring at the wall,” I say. My heart leaps at the thought that he’d make us go back. He’s going to ruin everything. I look up at Alex. “Let’s go.”

But he stands in my way, brown eyes taking in my state from head to toe. “Is your TV not working? I can get someone to fix it for you.”

“No.” I grab the wheels of my chair. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“You’ve gone through a lot,” he says, lowering onto one knee. At eye level, I can see the thick, red scar that cuts across his stark black eyebrow. When he frowns, he looks older, maybe twenty, but still not old enough to be a nurse. “You need to rest.”