hospital.

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.

“What are you doing here, Nova?”

He looks to the side, like he’s being watched. “There is nothing I

can do to make you forgive me. But this is a start.”

He turns and runs down the front steps and back onto the street,