Bruja Born (Brooklyn Brujas #2)(56)

For a moment, he looks at me. His eyes are unnaturally white, and red veins run from the dark center. But there is no recognition there, and he snaps back to Alex. Beside them, Dale rises again.

Raj lashes out, his fingers curved into claws. Alex leans back to dodge, then kicks him in the solar plexus. He curves forward, holding his middle as he falls to his knees. Before he can stand, she thrusts the glass through the gaping hole in his jaw.

Alex dusts off her shaking hands. “One more.”

“Dale,” I say. “Remember me? I introduced you to Lonnie. Remember?”

“That’s not working!” Alex grunts.

Dale bares his teeth and snarls. There isn’t any recognition in his eyes. Just hunger.

But as he reaches for my chest, Raj sits back up too. Then, bricks tumble where the other three casimuertos rise from the rubble.

“I’m going to summon fire,” Alex says. “Run. Get the others and go. I won’t be hurt.”

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

We’re side by side now, facing five casimuertos that block the alley.

“I know you,” one of them tells me, her voice warped and deep. Her hair is burned off, exposing bubbled skin. One of her eyes is missing, and flesh dangles where the hollow space is. The other is white and red.

“Kassandra?”

“You were next to me.” Her bottom lip is split and green with infection. “You should’ve died.”

“Kassandra, listen to me.” I hold up my hands. But what can I say? What can I offer them except death? “I’ll fix this.”

“Do you know what I saw just before I was going to die?” she asks me. “I saw my family. They were waiting for me. My grandmother. My dad. I was walking toward them. And then, I saw you. Ripping me away and bringing me back here. You ripped me out of Heaven.”

“I’m so sorry.” But I know if I were her, I wouldn’t want an apology. I would want revenge. “I’m going to make this right.”

Another lie. I can’t make this right. I can’t bring them back. My eyes burn hot as I realize there is nothing I can do for her—for all of them—expect sacrifice myself. And that feeling of helplessness is worse than anything else.

“No,” Kassandra says. “You’re going to die.”

She lunges for me. I shut my eyes and put my arms up. I should move, but I can’t.

There’s the whistle of wind. The sound of Kassandra grunting. The gurgle of something wet.

I open my eyes. A long, curved blade splits Kassandra in half, carving her down the middle from head to throat.

I blink, my lashes heavy with sweat and blood splatter. I try to breathe, but my chest feels tight. I follow the sword from the hilt to the black-gloved hands that hold it, all the way up to an unsmiling, half-masked face. Eyes dark as ink look down at me.

“I gave you twenty-four hours,” he growls. “You didn’t listen.”

He grabs my shirt and drags me away from the casimuertos. I trip on a pile of garbage and fall forward. I want to shout, but I’m too stunned, a rag doll in his grasp.

“Lula!” Alex shouts. She sends a blast of energy at the guy holding me, and a few moments later, she’s helping me stand.

She revives the orbs of light overhead. We stand before a group of newcomers, three imposing figures dressed in black, brandishing long swords with curved edges and handles that glisten like obsidian.

Though I’ve never seen them before, I know who they are, and my heart thunders. Hunters. The Knights of Lavant.

The guy who spoke to me recovers from Alex’s attack, but he doesn’t advance on us again. His posture is predatory but rigid, as though he’s holding back. His shoulder-length hair blows around his face, and even though he’s masked, his dark, disapproving stare is unmistakable.

“Finish these,” he tells his companions in a harsh voice. “I’ll get the witches.”

The three of them move fast as the wind. I blink, and the next moment the casimuertos are hacked into pieces, fingers still twitching and eyes still blinking.

“Stand back!” Alex holds up her hand up, and the hunter hesitates.

I pick up a brick and fling it as hard as I can. As Alex yanks my hand to retreat, I can’t see it hit the mark, but I hear the hunter grunt.

Headlights beam and a car skids at the alley entrance in front of us.

“Get in!” he shouts. I never thought I’d be so relieved to see Nova. Alex runs around to the front passenger seat.

Maks opens the passenger door and gets out to reach for me, but he freezes at the scene behind us.

“We have to go!” I press my hands on his chest, but he won’t budge.

“Stop right there!” one of the black-clad hunters shouts.

When I turn around, the long-haired hunter is running after us.

“Maks!” I slap my palms on his face and he starts, coming out of his shock and climbing back into the car.

The hunter punches the window on my side, glass fractures, and whatever the hunter shouts is lost in the rev of the engine. Nova hits the gas and doesn’t let up until we’re far out of their reach.





24


When he learned of La Mama’s betrayal,

El Papa cried so long his tears gave birth to

the oceans, drowning La Mama’s other creations.