I bring her a sprig of lavender. I look over my shoulder and pull the drapes. My mother decides to distract Rishi’s parents while I visit. I fish out a crystal from my pocket, break the spring of lavender, and place them on her chest.
I lean in closer to her, whispering the prayer of the Deos. I hold her hands and find the root of her malady. I press healing waves into her skin, let them travel through her system until my mother knocks on the door. I’m dizzy, but I don’t want to leave.
“You ready, honey?” my mom asks, standing with her hands on my shoulders. Ever since we got back, she’s had separation anxiety. Whether it’s dropping us off at school or even going to get groceries. I fear she’s a step away from regressing to baby leashes.
“Not really.”
“Do you love her?” my mom asks.
“I think so. I mean, I’ve never felt this way before, so I’m not sure what it’s supposed to feel like to begin with. Rishi was the one who always believed in me, even when I was powerless. I’m just afraid of what it means. Look at you and Dad.”
My mom holds my chin gently in her hand. “I’m going to tell you something, nena. Even after everything you told me, even if I knew one day I’d wake up and never see him again, I would still love that man.”
I look at Rishi. Her breath is steady and her machine lights up with all sorts of colors. Somehow she’s the brightest part of my day. My little magpie.
“Then, yeah,” I say. “I do. I love her.”
“You know,” Rishi says, sitting up to stretch. “If you’d have said you loved me like ten minutes ago, I would’ve probably woken up sooner.”
My mom bursts out laughing. I feel myself turning red, but still I go to her. I pull her into a hug and hold on tight.
“We’re back,” I say.
She brushes my hair. “I see that. Now there’s no getting rid of me. I know all your secrets.”
“Good,” my mother says, “because you’re invited to Alex’s Deathday.”
41
She is the light in the hopeless places.
She is the sky when the night blazes.
—Rezo de La Estrella, Lady of Hope and All the World’s Brightness
Not everyone gets second chances. I’m grateful for mine.
Rishi helps me find a dress. It’s a splash of different purples and makes a swish, swish sound when I spin in my room.
“You look like the Los Lagos sky,” Rishi tells me.
Lula rolls her eyes and scrapes the bobby pins too hard against my skull. “Will you guys stop with your Los Lagos bonding? You got to have all the adventure while were tortured by an evil old bruja.”
“You’re just jealous,” Rishi says.
“She is jealous,” Rose says, lighting a new candle on my altar beside Madra’s feather and Agosto’s throwing knife.
“Don’t tell me you’re on their side, Rosie,” Lula mutters.
“I don’t choose sides. I just know things.”
“So how come Alex has to do another party? Didn’t she accept the blessing when she freed you guys?” Rishi flips through The Creation of Witches. After everything that happened, Lady apprenticed me at her shop. I don’t mind the extra work.
“Sure, Alex got a blessing,” Lula says, pinning the rose on my head. “But we didn’t get a party. Plus, everyone is clamoring to meet the encantrix. We’re getting free stuff every day.”
“Not to mention all the people coming to our door searching for miracles,” Rose says.
“Wow,” Rishi says. “You’re like a celebrity.”
I wouldn’t call myself a celebrity. But all over town, brujas talk. They talk about the girl who destroyed the Devourer of the Los Lagos. They don’t mention that I was partly responsible for banishing my family there or that four hundred generations of both ghosts and the living helped right my wrong.
“We can’t turn anyone away,” I say. “Our spare room is like a magical infirmary. My mom had to quit her receptionist job to take care of our patients. We take care of people with demonic possessions, wounds that can’t be treated by a regular doctor, and irregular births.”
“We had our first vampire,” Lula says. “My heart nearly fell out of my chest when he came in with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He was so hot.”
“His shapeshifter friend was cuter,” Rose says quietly.
“Aw, Rosie has her first crush.”
And then we all fall into fits of laughter.
? ? ?
The second party is better than the first. Everyone sings and dances and drinks copious amounts of Lady’s rose punch because we’re alive and it’s a beautiful thing.
I shake the hands of friends, family, and strangers. It’s still overwhelming. Everyone seems to want a piece of me. They want to look at my hands, at the marks that refuse to heal. I’ve grown rather fond of them. A reminder in case I ever lose my way again.
An old bruja brings her child to me so I could bless her. I don’t think I’m quite there yet, but it seemed to make her happy. No matter what I say, people think I’m more than what I am. That’s the difference between Xara and me. I’m quite happy with my slice of power, doing what good I can.
Rishi quickly becomes everyone’s favorite, retelling our adventure with details I seem to leave out—the way the sun shone, the way the water tasted, the beings we met. Rishi even seems to make sense of Crazy Uncle Julio’s ramblings, and his prediction of a zombie invasion this summer.
“Let’s dance,” Rishi tells me, pulling me onto the dance floor. “Is it weird that I miss the Meadow del Sol? And that you could see so many stars. Sometimes I dream of it.”
“I’ll give you stars,” I tell her.
I conjure the Los Lagos night sky on the ceiling, and I thank the Deos for making me who I am. An encantrix, a bruja, a girl.
Epilogue
Grita al sol! Grita a la luna!
If the Deos hear, they’ll answer.
—The Creation of Witches, Antonietta Mortiz de la Paz There is a hard knock at the door. My mother is on the couch, resting her dancing feet. The house is in shambles after the party. It’s well after three in the morning. Lula fell asleep on the couch still wearing her dress, and Rose is reading an anatomy textbook. My senses are wide-awake.
Knock knock knock.
“I got it,” I say, drawing on my power in case it’s a threat.
“Hey,” he answers.
“Hey,” I say.
Nova stands in a blue hoodie and jeans. It doesn’t look very warm, but he doesn’t shiver. I instinctively look at his hands. His fingertips have started to turn black with marks again.
I go to close the door in his face, but he puts his hand on it.
“I know you’ll never forgive me,” he says.
“That’s right.” I don’t look at him. I can’t because I know that a sick, twisted part of me cares for him. I’ll just never be able to look at him the same way.
“But you have to know that I wasn’t lying about the way I felt for you. That was real. Every little bit.”
“I believe you,” I say.
I have so many questions, like: Where have you been? Where did you go while we were all in the hospital? If you love me so much, then why did you vanish? If you love me so much, then why did you still hurt me?
Not all loves are meant to last forever. Some burn like fire until there is nothing left but ash and black ink on skin. Others, like the love I feel for Rishi, stay close to the heart so I’ll never forget.