Bruja Born (Brooklyn Brujas #2)(61)

Three figures emerge from the shadows. They squint against the bright threads that pierce their hearts. One of them I recognize as Derek Ferreira, number five on the team. His pale skin is shiny with sweat, and his once-brown eyes are covered by a milky-white film. He takes a step forward, and I can see that his mouth is red with dried blood. He’s wearing a letterman jacket with nothing underneath, displaying a canvas of pink scars.

“Derek?” I say his name, because part of me still doesn’t believe that he’s here. When I blink, I can picture him getting thrown from one end of the bus to the other.

The other two boys are Dylan Monroe and Paul Gopal. Paul doesn’t look like he has a scratch on him. His dark skin is smooth and unblemished. He looks completely alive, and if it wasn’t for his colorless eyes, I wouldn’t be able to tell he’s a casimuerto. Dylan is another story. His pale-gray skin is badly bruised over the right shoulder, where a nasty scar was stitched up and never healed properly. Again, my mind flashes to an image of the bus tumbling and flipping over. A pane of broken glass wedging itself deep into his shoulder.

“I know you,” Paul tells me, blinking a few times.

“You’re Maks’s girl,” Derek says, stalking toward me. He’s my height and made of lean muscles that ripple with each step he takes. He extends his bloody fingers toward the silver thread that links us, but they touch only air. “You’re the one who’s been calling out to us this whole time.”

“Me?”

“Haven’t you felt it?” Derek quirks up a dark eyebrow. “That tug in your heart. That’s all of us.”

I look on either side of me, but the boardwalk is dark. Other than the waves, we’re alone.

“I have,” I say, trying to stop myself from running. If I run, they’ll follow and I don’t know how much longer the elixir can sustain me. “I’m here to help you.”

“Help us?” Paul says. Thick, black hair falling over his stark-white eyes. “I’ve never felt better.”

“It was weird at first,” Derek says, his mouth spreading into a wicked, wide smile tinged with blood as he gets closer. “I couldn’t think straight. It wasn’t until we ate that I felt like myself again. The more we eat, the better we feel. I can smell things I never could. The fear on someone’s skin. How sweet it turns the blood. Like you…”

“There’s a moment,” Dylan says, “right after we eat. All the pain, all the confusion goes away. But beneath that, you know what I feel? What all of us feel?”

I take a step back and hit the metal railing separating the boardwalk from the sand.

“Your heart.”

“Speaking of.” Derek breathes the air around me, dark eyes falling to my chest. “We don’t have to hunt tonight.”

I swing my fist, colliding with his nose. There’s the crunch of cartilage and a soft trickle of blood, but the other two grab my arms. I kick frantically until my knee hits flesh. One of them lets me go, and I pull the other to the ground. They growl like wolves and look up behind me as the sound of footsteps draws nearer.

Derek snarls, and when he lands on me, I grab him by his throat.

“I don’t need to breathe.” He laughs and threads his arms between mine to break my hold.

I scream as his nails rake across my chest. The metallic scent of blood sends him into a frenzy.

I realize he’s going to rip out my heart. I think of my family scattered around the city, my sisters fighting alongside me, La Muerte waiting for me to free her, Maks—and I know, I know I can’t let this happen. If they consume my heart, they’ll be unstoppable, and the city falls. If I have to die, I’m taking them all with me. A primal instinct within me ignites. I punch and thrash and I fight back.

There’s the stampede of footsteps and my name on the wind. A blast of light hits the casimuerto in the face and he flies backward with a thud.

“Alex!” I shout, scrambling to my feet.

But it isn’t Alex. It’s Rose. And her entire body is bathed in light.





25


El Terroz rose, lifting the earth

above La Ola’s drowning waves,

forever scorned by his sister’s wrath.

—Tales of the Deos, Felipe Thomás San Justinio




“How did you do that?” I take her hands and she helps me up.

“I don’t know.” She trembles in my grasp. I brush her hair back to examine her face. She wraps her arms around me and holds me tight. “Are you okay?”

Behind her, Nova’s arms are shaking as he holds a phone to his ear. “Come west on the boardwalk.”

“Is that Alex?” I ask. “What about Frederik?”

“He wasn’t going after you. He could sense Maks’s change,” he says. “That’s what set him off. After we calmed Frederick down, we split up to find you. What happened?”

“I needed space,” I say, the adrenaline in my veins causing me to shake. “I spoke to Lady de la Muerte again. Then I found them.”

I keep a tight hold of Rose and think back to the night of the spell—the way her power shined brighter than Alex’s and mine. The strength of it was raw and pure. Could our canto have changed her power too?

“Since when can you conjure light?” Nova asks Rose.