waiting realm for spirits between lifetimes.”

He smirks knowingly. “Not all dead are created equal. Honestly, I

find your disbelief a little unnerving.”

“Do people actually believe in heaven? Olympus? There’s belief and

then there’s wishful thinking. I’m allowed to be skeptical of things I

haven’t seen for myself.”

“So young,” he says. “So jaded.”

I brush him off with a roll of my eyes. “Where will my family be

in all this land?”

“The Tree of Souls,” he continues, tapping the map the Book of

Cantos is open to. “It collects power throughout the month. Then on

the eclipse, well, that’s when it gets ugly. Everything it’s consumed

gets turned into raw energy. The tree used to feed the land, but then

the Devourer took over. She feeds off the tree now. The creature you

described matches the Book of Cantos’s description. I think it’s safe

to say your family is at the Tree of Souls.”

“Why would the Deos create something like this?”

“Why do gods do anything?” Nova asks. “You can have your

existential crisis when we return.”

“Get to the tree,” I say. I grab the Book of Cantos and rip the

map out of it. “Simple enough.”

“You wish. Everything in Los Lagos is designed to keep us from

getting to the tree. Hope you’re ready to use your bruja boxing

gloves.”

I feel for the whispering pulse of my magic. I’ll make myself

ready even if I don’t feel so just yet. “I am. Are you?”

“Listen, Ladybird. If I can survive these mean streets, I can

survive just about anywhere. I’ll keep my promise. I’ll get you to the

tree.”

“And you get your payment when we return safely.”

He shoulders the backpack and picks up my dagger from the table.

It still has blood caked on the blade. He wipes it off on his jeans,

then bends down. With one hand, he takes hold of my ankle, and with

the other, he slides the dagger into the loop of the outside of my

boot.

“Just in case,” he says.

When he stands, he’s barely two inches from me. Every time I look

at him, I find new scars. There’s another one close to his upper lip.

I fold the map and slide it into my back pocket. I go to the

storage closet and tuck the Book of Cantos under a loose floorboard. I

take one last look at my home. My legs feel weak. I start to picture

Lula and Rose and my mother.

“I’ll get you back. I promise,” I whisper.

“Come. We have to make the portal.” Nova places a hand over the

shoe box. The rat squeaks and scratches, like it knows this is his

end.

“What are you going to do with your money?” I don’t know why I’m

asking.

He starts to speak, but something makes him stop. He runs out the

door, where the sound of sirens fills the streets. He curses. We’ve

thought about the supernatural threat but not the human one. Lights

start flicking on in the neighborhood. I can still make out the

impatient blare of traffic and the urgent whirl of emergency sirens.

One of my neighbors must’ve called the cops after all the noise we

made. Right now, I don’t care about exposing our secret. I care about

getting to Los Lagos.

“Come on!” Nova shouts.

I look back at my home. A metallic glint catches my eye. The

pantry door is open, and my father’s old mace lies on the ground. I

run back in and grab it.

I follow Nova through the cemetery of old plastic toys and rusted

bicycles that is my backyard. The wind is a cold slap against my face.

It strips the scarlet and orange leaves from the tree and carries them

through the rain.

“All right, Ladybird. Let’s do this thing! Place your hands on the

tree.”

I do as he says. The bark ripples. It’s warm and soft, like flesh.

I can hear it whisper, like it’s trying to tell me the secrets of the

universe, its energy calling to my power.

Nova takes the squirming rat from the box, then pulls out a

switchblade from his back pocket. It unfolds with a metallic snap. The

end is curved upward. The sharp edges look like it’s meant to rip

though flesh. In a swift movement, Nova slits the rat’s throat. He

bleeds it all around the tree while chanting words I can’t understand,

and I realize Nova speaks the Old Tongue. He presses a thumb to his

forehead. Then turns to me to do the same.

My first instinct is STOP DO NOT TOUCH ME RAT BLOOD STOP. But I

realize I’ve set myself on a path I can’t come back from. I’m

surprised by the softness of his touch. I let Nova drag his bloody

thumb on my cheek.

“Why is it always blood?”

“Blood is life, Alex.”

For beings that don’t bleed, the gods sure ask for a lot of it , I

think.

He seems to find the terrified look on my face amusing.

“We’ll be fine,” he says.

“Nova…” The blue and red lights of police cars are nearer.

“Repeat after me,” he says.

The bark bends, changes at our touch. There’s the slip and screech

of tires and sirens on the street in front of my house. I start to

turn, to look back, but Nova stops me. He takes the dagger sheathed in

my boot and slices my palm open. The sting makes me cry out. I squeeze

it into a fist. Nova holds my bleeding hand to the tree’s bark.

“By the Deos of eternity. By the blood of my blood. By the light

of La Mama and the shadow of El Papa, I offer the blood of the

wretched. Open a door to Los Lagos.”

There’s the slam of car doors. The rattle of our chain-link fence.

Nova shoves the dagger in my hand. “Stab the tree!”

I see my mother’s face when I close my eyes. I bring the dagger

over my head. This is for every time I wasn’t strong enough to

believe. Now belief is all I have left.

My blade slices into the bark. A brilliant light splits the tree

open. I can feel its center connecting to me. My body isn’t my own,

like something greater is wrapping its arms around me and pulling me

into the black hole.

I grab on to the sides. He expects me to jump into that ?

Nova doesn’t give me a chance. His hands press on my shoulders. He

shoves me into the portal.

I scream into the void, down, down, down, into a pitch-black sky.

I scream even as I feel Nova’s hands holding mine. Can I still call it

the sky if we’re falling down? Whatever it may be-sky, space, a black

hole-the wind is warm, and after a few moments, I relax into the fall.

We’re a tangle of limbs flailing in the wind. It’s a relief to hear

him screaming too. I catch glimpses of Nova as we pass by what can

only be stars. He’s staring right at me, smiling triumphantly. We’ve

done it. We’ve created a portal and thrown ourselves blindly into it.

The sense of calm goes away when a light erupts below us.

His hands start to let go.

“Don’t!” I shout, but the wind carries my words away.

We spin and turn over until I can’t tell which direction we came

from or if we’re ever going to stop. All I know is our black hole

seems to shrink, the walls closing in until we’re in a tunnel made of

space and starlight.

“Let go!” Nova says.

I hold on by the tips of my fingers. “Are you crazy?”

“Trust me!”

How can I trust him when he pulls his hands from mine and lets me

go?

Part II

The Fall

13

La Mama and El Papa shaped Los Lagos to their liking.

A place for all souls and a home for the banished.

- On Los Lagos, Book of Cantos

Falling was the easy part.

Trying to open my eyes is not. Like there’s a weight on top of

them. When I try to sit, my body sends pinpricks of pain through my

sides. My magic pulses weakly. I can hear it whisper to the