Bruja Born (Brooklyn Brujas #2)(64)

“Can we commune with these Deos?” Frederik asks. “If you spoke to Lady de la Muerte, surely we can seek help from the others.”

I shake my head, but my body sighs with a new realization. “Lady de la Muerte has a function in this world. She collects souls. The other Deos don’t exist in this realm, but they are where they’ve always been—”

“They exist in our power,” Alex says, the corners of her eyes crinkling with a smile.

The past months, I wondered where the Deos went, why they abandoned me. But they didn’t. I’ve always had my power, and in my power I finally have some hope.

“The Deos act through us,” Rose says, quoting one of my favorite lines from our Book of Cantos.

McKay raises his hand. “So, we’re going with the spear isn’t inside you.”

The ember in my heart grows brighter. “No, but think about it. From their limits, Lady de la Muerte was born. She was created from the dregs of their powers! She is the end of everything! If we combine the same powers that were used to make her, perhaps we can use that to find the spear.”

“Can you do that?” McKay asks. “I mean, flame, water, wind, earth—those are the Deos mentioned in the poem, right?”

“It’s not a poem!” Nova shouts. “Do we even know brujas strong enough to conjure elements? I mean, other than Alex?”

I turn to my sisters and propose the one thing I’ve been avoiding. “We need Mom and Dad. I’ll petition the High Circle again. They can’t turn me away this time. Not when the whole city is in danger.”

I look at the screens projecting holograms of the city. I can’t tell if I’m simply exhausted or if the red dots are increasing at a faster rate. Alex stands closer to me as my body sways with exhaustion. I lean on her.

“They’re going to be so mad,” I say, hands trembling.

Alex tries to smile. “It’s still not as bad as what I did.”

“Actually, yours had a lower mortality rate,” Nova says.

Alex punches him in the shoulder, and in this moment, I wonder what it would’ve been like if we’d had a brother.

“It’s nearly sunrise and you look like you’re going to fall over,” Frederik says.

“Yeah, you can’t release a goddess and save the city on zero sleep,” McKay adds. “I’ll take you to our guest rooms.”

Then Frederik is gone in a black blur and McKay is leading us through the winding hallways of THA headquarters.

After we say our good nights, my sisters and I climb into a four-poster bed that’d be too big to fit into any room in our house. Alex and Rose manage to fall asleep instantly. Lying between them, I feel a comfort I haven’t had in a long time.

And yet, the tug at my heart is ever present, keeping me all too aware that I am untethered to this earth but bound to the undead hordes I raised. I trace the scar on my belly, thick and jagged. It aches more than ever, but at least it isn’t splitting open like before, and I send a silent thanks to Angela Santiago.

As exhausted as I am, I know I need to take care of one last thing. I resign myself to another sleepless night, because I have to see Maks. All of this started with us, and it has to finish with us. During every step I take, I play out scenes in my mind where he comes back to life for real. Where his life isn’t linked to mine, a parasite draining me down to the marrow. Where Maks is the boy I fell so in love with I couldn’t let him go. The boy I wanted for keeps.

When we release Lady de la Muerte, I’ll have to end this. Destroy the heart, she said. I owe him the same comfort my sisters gave me. I owe him the truth.

I find my way to the holding cells in the dark.

“Maks.” I hate that my voice sounds so small. I press my hand on the glass.

Maks paces around the room but stops when he sees me. Presses his hands against the glass. The blood on his hands and mouth is brown in the UV light. The heart on the tray gone.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I had to see you,” I say.

“I don’t want to be like those things in the alley. I don’t want to be like the others. But I was so hungry.” His eyes are lighter now, the pupils like pinpricks against the bright sky blue of his irises. He’s there, holding on.

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t.”

“You won’t hurt me.” I push the lever to unlock the door.

He reaches for me, and I can feel how tired he is too. He threads his fingers with mine, and I let a pulse of my magic flood through him. It isn’t the same magic I use to heal cuts or bruises. It’s more like a feeling, a part of me I’ve pulled back because I was afraid. Knowing what has to come next, I can’t imagine being afraid of anything before this. For a moment, his skin is warm again. He gasps as the magic traces his skin. I can even hear the hushed beat of his heart murmuring against my own.

No, not his heart. I shut my eyes and tears spill at the corners. It’s my heart. My heartbeat. It’s been my heart the entire time because Maks is dead and I couldn’t bring him back.

“I’m scared, Lula,” he says.

I rest my head on his shoulder. But the magic leaves quickly, and the cold returns to his hands.

For a long time, we stay like this. I drift in the terrifying place between sleep and consciousness. I remember the Knights of Lavant dressed in shimmering black, the point of a sword coming inches from my face as the hunter cut Kassandra in half.