“Isn’t it obvious?” the duende says. He smiles, and the gold in his teeth is blinding. When his cloak parts, I get a good look at the reason for his limp. He’s got a gold foot that stops at the middle of his calf.
His eyes fall to the pendant around my neck, the tiny gold crescent moon necklace I’ve worn my whole life. I grab it protectively.
“What’s wrong, girl?” Oros snaps. His patience is running short. “The man who gave you that wasn’t worthy of your love—what’s left of it, at least.”
My father gave this to me when I was five. I was obsessed with the night sky. I’d take my mother’s silver eyeliner and draw stars on my cheeks and a crescent moon on my forehead. Then, on my birthday, my father gave me a tiny box. He told me that I could wear the moon forever.
My father left. I know the truth. I’m not like Lula or Rose or my mother. I don’t believe that he’ll return. And this duende knows, like I do, that every day, some of that love slips away a little at a time.
Suddenly, he’s right in my face. His dark-gold eyes are expectant.
“Hold up, hold up,” Nova says, pulling at his earlobe. El duende turns an irritated glare toward Nova. “My moms gave them to me for my thirteenth birthday.”
He looks back and forth between us, weighing the diamonds on his palm. The duende smiles when they twinkle.
“It is nearly satisfactory,” he says finally. “But she wears a truly remarkable piece, and it’s been so long since I’ve had the opportunity to help lost travelers.” Oros’s eyes fall on my necklace again. He licks his lips with his dark tongue. I wonder what will happen when the rest of him turns to gold and how that happens in the first place.
“Plus,” Nova says, taking off his prex, “my family’s not powerful like hers, but you can feel how long our lineage is.”
“Nova!”
“Stop,” he whispers. “I got this.”
Something about this pleases the creature. Because he’s not a man—he’s a hideous, greedy creature that belongs in this ashen, cold land. It’s a hateful thing, and this is a hateful place.
“We have a deal.” He snatches the prex from Nova’s hand. “Now get onboard.”
Nova helps me get on, straddling the pier and the edge of our boat. It moves under my weight and then again when Nova sits in front of me.
Then, Oros unhooks us from the pier and gives us a push with his staff.
“What are you doing?” I shout.
“I do not cross, girl.” He shakes his head. “I cannot cross.”
“You little sh—”
“You said you’d take us!”
He shakes his head in that slow way. The oars start slipping from their metal rings. I grab on to them before they fall into the silver river.
“I said I provide crossing. And I have.” He waddles farther up the pier and waves. “Give the boat a push back if you get to the other side.”
15
Where is my love?
Swimming in the River Luxaria.
Has he forgotten me so?
—Folk song, Book of Cantos
“I’ve never liked duendes.” I curse and grab the oars. “Trickster, lying—”
“Forget him,” Nova says.
“I’d like to tear that old beast to bits.” Empty threats are comforting when you’re sailing across a river of vengeful souls.
The closest to rowing I’ve ever gotten was the rowboats in Central Park. Here, the current is quick, trying to drag us downstream and away from our destination. It takes a few tries, but we sync up our rowing.
“You don’t think this is romantic?” he asks dryly.
I make a face at the back of his head. Our blanket of gray sky turns dark. Out here, the cool wind provides a reprieve from the dense heat created by the Selva.
A crooked, white hand reaches for the side of the boat and threatens to capsize us.
“Ignore it!” Nova tells me. “Row faster!”
How do you ignore fear that makes every muscle in your body freeze? It’s so much easier to give in to fear. I’ve done it. After Aunt Rosaria, I refused to leave the house. After Miluna, after my father, I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I didn’t have anyone depending on me then. I force myself to push through the burning in my arms. And soon enough, we’re too fast for the ghoulish hand to hold on to, and in a swift push of our oars, it lets go.
“Do you work out?” Nova looks over his shoulder at me.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
He chuckles. His eyes are so bright, like tiny stars gracing his brown skin. It’s hard not to notice how pretty they are. But Nova said it himself. I can’t just go running for something because I think it’s pretty. After seeing my mom hurt so much, I told myself I’d never get fooled. My dad had pretty eyes too. The same stark gray as Lula’s. Me, I got plain brown eyes to match the plain girl I’ve always wanted to be.
Nova turns back around and faces our destination. “Relax, I’m not hitting on you. I’m just impressed that you aren’t tired yet.”
I am tired, but I won’t slow us down.
“If you must know, during the fall semester, I do indoor track, volleyball, and weight lifting.”
“Weight lifting?”
“Don’t seem so surprised. It’s an easy class. The teacher is this old meathead. He looks like a fifty-year-old Ken doll.”
“Gross, you think he’s hot.”
“I do not.” I can feel myself slowing down. Nova’s breath is ragged. I know he’s trying to distract me, to make me laugh so we keep going, and I appreciate that.
“It’s not like I bench two hundred pounds or anything. But I like keeping my legs strong for when I run.”
“What about in the spring?” He looks over his shoulder at me again. A crooked smile appears. “Outdoor track?”
“Yes. And pole-vaulting.”
“Damn, girl. I never would’ve guessed.”
“You can guess all day long. You don’t know a thing about me.”
He sucks his teeth. “I’m just saying. You’re kind of uptight. I shouldn’t be surprised that you like sports where you don’t have any teammates. I would’ve thought you’d spend all your time in the library. But then I saw you in that dress.”
“Don’t try to flatter me, princess.” My voice is hard, but I think my cheeks might be melting off, and I’m glad he isn’t facing me.
“And it just so happens,” he says, “I’m adding another five hundo to our deal.”
“What?” I miss three rowing beats and now we’re scrambling to get back in sync. My voice goes up an octave. “Why?”
“That’s how much my earrings and prex cost.”
“You know,” I say, “I did you a favor. You dress like you’re in an R&B music video.”
“The ladies happen to love it.”
During my party, Mayi and Emma, even Lula, were drooling over him.
“How about,” I suggest, with a smile, “the next beast we come across, I let it eat you?”
He shrugs, sweat dripping between his shoulder blades. That’s when I notice the marks on his back. I’ve been so busy cursing Oros and the skies and staring at the shore we’re rowing toward that I didn’t see what’s right in front of me. Long, violent scars crisscross from his neck to his lower back. I wonder when this happened. I wonder if he would even tell me the truth.