I thought I was ready, but I’m not. My family channels their power through me all at once. I can see our lifelines twisting like sinew, like DNA, like roots in the earth. When I can breathe again, I direct the flow of magic. It floods in prisms of color that can only exist in between the realms. It is pure, undiluted power, and I fire it at the Devourer.
She lashes out with everything she’s got. It feels like she’s throwing stones while I wear Kevlar. Together, our magic fills the skies with blinding lightning. I hold it in my hands and throw. It cuts through the Devourer until there is nothing left but the ghost of her scream and a shower of ashes.
39
’Round the twisting paths of eternity, o’er the bridge of forgetting.
There, you’ll find the Kingdom of Deos.
—Book of Deos
The gash on the tree spreads, sucking up anything and everything around it. Creating a portal through the tree was the only way to free it from the Devourer.
“We have to go!” I shout.
One by one, the spirits of my deceased family members disappear into the ether, back to rest until the next time they’re called upon. The ones that are still alive wait for me. Then there are the others, strangers, who were trapped against their will. Their souls fly around me, they touch me, thank me, and then they vanish.
“Alex!” My mom’s voice cuts through the howling wind. I run into her open arms and hold on tight. “We have to go. The portal is going to seal itself.”
“Wait!” I pull out of her embrace. I run to where Agosto and Madra are weary from the battle. Black clouds circle and twist, ready to form a tornado at the center of the labyrinth.
“You must go, encantrix,” Agosto says.
“I’m making sure everyone gets back.”
There’s so much to say. It’s too much to convey with a simple embrace. Madra gives me one of her feathers; Agosto, one of the throwing knives from his belt.
Aunt Ro pulls me back to the tree. “Go, Alejandra.”
She’s different too. The symbols of the sun and crescent moon are marked on her forehead. She glows with a light that comes from deep within.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
“The Deos have a plan. They always have a plan!”
When my mom sees my aunt, she nearly faints. “Rosaria?”
Aunt Ro’s dark skin glows with a different kind of blessing. A balance. The Devourer is gone and someone needs to take her place. This is why the Deos gave her a second chance. The sisters embrace. My mother shudders in her little sister’s arms. Aunt Ro kisses my mother’s wet cheeks, then forces herself to let go.
“Okay, head count,” Lula says.
One by one, they jump in—Lady, Rose, my mom, and so on.
I watch the labyrinth crumble as the fire dies and leaves the skeleton of branches. Funnels of clouds swirl across the hills and carry the ashes away. The Meadowkin and the avianas wave from a distance. Rishi takes my hand and squeezes.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Don’t stand me up again.” She kisses me and jumps into the portal.
Then there’s Nova, standing alone.
“I’m staying,” he shouts.
My heart, the treacherous, bloody mess, betrays me. It squeezes with unexpected hurt.
“If you stay,” Madra says, cold as ice, “I’ll make sure you pay for your betrayal. The Devourer may be gone, but this still isn’t paradise.”
Nova nods an understanding.
I look at Madra and Agosto once more. I commit them to memory. I never want to forget this moment.
The force of the gateway pulls at me, but so does a part of me I didn’t know was there. A part that wants to stay. How easy would it be to stay? What version of myself is going to come out of the other side of that portal?
Aunt Ro takes my hand. She kisses the inside of my palm where my cut stings. “Don’t shut me out again, nena. I’ll be watching over you always.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
The first time we went through a portal, Nova pushed me. I see the hesitation in his eyes and the fear of not belonging. Before I can change my mind, I wrap my arms around him and pull us into the portal.
40
La Mama gave her heart to El Papa.
They lived in the Kingdom of Deos for all their days,
chasing each other across the skies.
—History of the Deos, Book of Cantos
Falling a second time isn’t the same as the first.
This time, I wade through time and space. My magic is linked to everything—the infinity of time, the rapid snuff of death, the sprinkle of stardust, and the released sigh of freedom.
I don’t remember landing in the backyard. Only blurry red and blue lights. Sirens replace the rush of the wind. Strong hands pick me up from the grass. A stranger’s face belongs to someone who puts me in an ambulance that takes me away.
I sleep for days.
We all do.
There is no official story except that a family on our quiet Brooklyn street was attacked. The house robbed, even though I know nothing was taken. There is no explanation for the singed earth in the backyard or the tree cut down and burned to a stump. While I know it was the portal sealing itself for good, the police decide it was lightning. It felt like we were gone for weeks, but when we returned, only moments had passed.
For days, I dream of Los Lagos. I see Aunt Rosaria and Madra and Agosto burying the dead. I see Aunt Ro conjure rain to hydrate the parched earth of Bone Valle. It’ll be a slow change, but they’ve got nothing but time. There’s the start of new trees and fields of green and purple and gold. The Tree of Souls, now free, replenishes the land. It grows taller than before, and there’s a white scar where my knife ripped into the bark. Leaves replace the cocoons of stolen energy. The Wastelands show signs of growth, new buds that bloom like starflowers. Tall creatures with long, silver hair plow the earth and breathe light into the forests.
Madra lets the avianas roam free. Their feathers grow full and silky and bright. Inside of the Caves of Night is a small nest and on the wall hangs a set of black wings. And at night, under the cloak of stars, they tell the fledglings stories of the Thief, the Magpie, and the Bruja that destroyed the Devourer.
? ? ?
When we all finally wake up, my mom takes us home.
There are no police follow-ups. No suspects, no leads. I think the police have had their fill of my family for long enough. They wash their hands of us, and I think they’re relieved that we want to be left alone.
At home, my mom kisses my forehead as we watch the news. They stopped reporting on our freaky “attack” after we refused to comment. Still, we watch for signs of other strange things. Mom wants to make sure nothing else came through the portal with us.
There is no sign of Nova. He wasn’t at the hospital, and I don’t know what happened to him after we fell.
“Don’t worry, nena,” my mom says. I look at her face. The smattering of gray hair that she’s named after each of us, the crow’s-feet at the corner of her eyes. Other brujas get glamours to hide them, but my mom never does. “These things work out on their own way.”
Rishi takes longer to recover, so my mom and I visit her in the hospital.