Bruja Born (Brooklyn Brujas #2)(78)

“On your signal!” I shout.

Alex takes the lightning from Dad, and he makes a terrifying cry as he lets go. Alex shudders as she holds the bolt in both hands, weaves it like a webbed dome around us.

The force of the elements pushes and pulls on our bodies, threatening to carry us away. I grab hold of Rose and Alex. They grab hold of Dad and Adrian, who close the Circle, each one of their arms a lifeline to mine.

My face is wet with sea spray and cold from the wind. The ground vibrates faster and harder beneath our feet, and then, when I think the earth will split open and swallow us whole, Alex smashes her fists into the ground.

The blast rebounds, and together, the elements break through the waves, carving a path through the sea.

“I don’t know how long we can hold this,” Alex shouts. “Go now!”

As the ocean parts, split by wind and a ripple along the sand, a narrow rock formation appears in the distance as tall as the waves. Electricity winds itself around the spear, which is wedged into the very top, shimmering like a beacon of light.

I race along the path. Pinpricks of pain stab at my heart and my lungs burn as I put them to the test. I want to extend seconds with my bare bands to give myself more time. There’s never enough time. The lightning lets me see the way ahead, framed by the debris and stones encased inside the parted sea. There’s a ripple on either wall of water and I pump my legs harder and faster than I ever thought I could go.

My heart soars with hope when the boulders get bigger the closer I get. When I stop, I grab hold of the base. I was wrong. It isn’t one large rock, but lots of boulders wedged together, a stairway to the skies. There’s only one way up.

The parted sea is taller than the tower. Wind whistles like sirens singing, but I keep going up. Cramps dig at my sides and my legs tremble. My foot hits a loose stone wedged between two boulders, and I start to slip and fall.

I grab at the slick, wet stones and hold on for dear life. The wall of water is inching closer around me, the power of the Circle weakening.

I shake and I scream and I curse at the sky and sea and wind that pushes against me like the weight of the heavens is slamming me down. But I think of my family waiting for me, the whole city waiting for me to right my wrongs, and I can’t let them down. Inch by inch, I pull myself along the boulder. My frigid skin finds comfort in the warmth of the blood trickling down my legs.

When I reach the top, a gale almost knocks me back. I hurl my weight forward, my nails scrabbling against the rock as I claw my way to safety. I only take a moment to stare at it—the Spear of Death wedged cleanly into the stone. I touch it, but sparks burn against my skin.

“What am I missing?” I whisper.

I think back to the time I saw Lady de la Muerte wield it. But she’s a goddess and I’m just mortal. We cast cantos and sing rezos. Why do we pray? Because we ask something of the gods, and in return, they ask for sacrifice. I did it when I tried to heal and tether Maks to me. We do it when we ask for blessings on our Deathdays. Then it hits me.

Blood. It’s always blood because blood is life. The Deos ask for it.

I rub at the open gash on my thigh and smear blood across my palms. Then I grab the center of the spear, expecting electric shocks. I let out a victorious scream as my hands close around the shaft, and I’m able to pull upward. I raise it up to the sky, a lick of lightning sending a jolt down to my arms.

Somehow, the wind carries the screams of the Circle to me.

I hold the Spear of Death in my hands, and the power is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

But when I look up, I no longer see sky, just the ocean closing over me.





33


She never asked for this, but she bore the weight

of the world in silence, her strength reaching all

those souls who didn’t know where to find her.

—Rezo of La Fuerza, Lady Who Carried the Earth on Her Shoulders, Book of Cantos




The waves spin me around and around until I can’t tell which way is up or down. My chest is tight from holding my breath, and my eyes burn against the sting of salt. But I hold on to the spear and nothing, not even the sea itself, will rip it from my hands.

I try to kick, but my muscles ache from running and seize up in the frigid water. Bubbles leave my nose and mouth too quickly as every impulse in my body is begging to open up and breathe.

Something hits my side, and I scream as a hand colder than the sea itself grabs me around my waist, dragging me down to what I’m sure is the bottom of the sea.

Instead, I break the surface and gasp for air. I breathe it in hungrily, choking on salt water that splashes its way into my mouth.

“You really shouldn’t drink the water anywhere around here,” Mayi yells.

I cough and laugh and cry as she hooks her arms under my armpits and pulls me back to the shore. The entire time I keep a solid grip on the spear. I have the spear.

A wave pushes us closer to the shore. When we hit land, I could bend down and kiss the sand. But my sister runs over and pulls me into an hug first.

“Lula!” Alex shouts in my ear. “Thank the Deos.”

She helps me stand and climb over the metal railings of the boardwalk. Dad wraps an arm around my shoulders. He hunches over, the recoil taking hold of his body. With one arm, I keep the spear upright. It even helps to lean against it.

“You did it,” Adrian tells me, mouth open as he turns to stare at the calming waters.