leaving his footprints on the snow. I run after him, but he’s quick

and vanishes around the corner.

“Wait!”

I realize there’s more than one set of prints in the snow.

There’s Nova’s and mine-and a third.

I whip around. Inhale so much cold air I think my insides are

frozen. On the porch is a face I thought I’d never see again. It’s

like looking through a foggy window.

From the house, my mom yells, “Shut that door! You’re letting out

the heat!”

But I can’t move. Every part of my body is locked. I think my

heart has stopped beating.

“Alex, what-?”

Lula and Rose run out to see what’s happened, but they scream too.

Lula rubs her eyes as they adjust to the dim porch light, and she

clamps her mouth shut in disbelief.

He looks older, that’s for sure. There’s recognition in his eyes

but also confusion. It’s like he’s trying so hard to remember our

faces, like he’s one of the lost souls in Campo de Almas.

I say the word carefully, like it’s made of glass. “Dad?”

Author’s Note

Alex’s story has been in my heart and mind for a long time.

Labyrinth Lost has taken different shapes and titles, and undergone

many revisions, but the one thing that hasn’t changed is the idea of

family as identity. Alex struggles with who she is, who she should be,

and who she wants to be. I think that everyone, no matter where they

come from, can relate to that. In order for me to create this

matriarchy of brujas, I took inspiration from some Latin American

religions and cultures.

BRUJAS

Bruja is the Spanish word for “witch.” In my Ecuadorian family, we

call each other brujas as a joke. When you wake up with your hair

messy, your aunt will say, “Oh, mira esa bruja!” The word itself has

both negative and empowering connotations. In Latin American

countries, like Ecuador, the neighborhood “bruja” might be someone to

be feared. One of my most vivid memories is watching a neighborhood

bruja rub an egg over a baby’s body to determine whether or not he had

the Evil Eye. Since all of these countries have a large Catholic

population, it’s easy to place a bruja, or witch, in a negative light.

In the last couple of years in the U.S., I’ve seen Latin women all

over the Internet take back the word “bruja” with pride, from the

Latina skate crew in the Bronx (The Brujas) to the contemporary young

women who practice nondenominational brujeria.

Brujeria is a faith for many, but it is not the faith in my book.

In Labyrinth Lost , I chose to call Alex and her family “brujas” and

“brujos” because their origins do not come from Europe or Salem.

Alex’s ancestors come from Ecuador, Spain, Africa, Mexico, and the

Caribbean. Her magic is like Latin America-a combination of the old

world and new.

DEATHDAY

The Deathday is a magical coming-of-age of my own creation. Like a

bat mitzvah or a sweet sixteen, but for brujas and brujos. It is a

time when a family gets together and wakes the dead spirits of their

ancestors. The ancestors then give their blessing to the bruja/o. With

the blessing, the magic can grow and reach its full potential. Without

the blessing, well, bad things can happen. Like many traditions, they

grow and become modernized. In Alex’s time, Brooklyn circa now,

Deathdays are lined up with birthdays for extra festivities. Even

though the Deathday ceremony was created for the world of Labyrinth

Lost , aspects of it are inspired by the Day of the Dead and Santeria.

El Dнa de los Muertos, or the Day of the Dead, is a Mexican

holiday that celebrates and honors deceased family members through

food and festivities. Altars are filled with photographs, flowers,

food, and candles. The celebrations are then taken to the cemeteries,

where people play games, sing, and even leave shots of mezcal for the

adult spirits. The unity of death and family is what drew me to it and

one of the things I wanted to include in Alex’s life. One of the best

books I’ve read on the subject was The Skeleton at the Feast: The Day

of the Dead in Mexico by Elizabeth Carmichael.

Santeria is an Afro-Caribbean religion that syncretizes Yoruba

beliefs and aspects of Catholicism. It developed when slaves from

Western Africa were taken to Cuba and other Caribbean Islands against

their will. Slaves were forced to convert but held on to their

religion in secret, and used Catholic saints as parallels to their

orishas. Those who don’t understand it often see Santeria as a

secretive and underground religion. Like some Santeros, the brujas of

Labyrinth Lost use animal sacrifice and possession, and connect

directly to their gods. The Santeria orishas, however, are not gods

but parts of the Supreme God. For further information, a popular

starting point is Santeria: The Religion: Faith, Rites, Magic by

Migene Gonzбlez-Wippler.

DEATH MASK

The matriarch of the family paints a death mask on the bruja

receiving her Deathday. The Deathday ceremony was originated by

Mexican brujas in Labyrinth Lost . The death mask is white clay that

covers the face. Then a black paint or charcoal powder is used for the

eyes, nose, and lips. Thousands of years ago, Alta Brujas realized

that the dead weren’t appearing at the Deathday ceremonies. They

decided they needed to dress up like the dead to make them feel at

home. Death became an intricate part of day to day bruja ceremonies

and festivities.

The death mask itself is, of course, influenced by the sugar

skulls of the Day of the Dead. In real life, sugar skulls are used to

represent the dead and decorate the wonderful feasts of Dнa de los

Muertos. They’re colorful and smiling and are sometimes meant as

social commentary. In the early 1900s, an artist named Josй Guadalupe

Posada created the Catrinas. They were skeletons dressed in

upper-class Spanish clothes and meant as satire of the Mexican

Indians, who were trying to copy the European aristocracy.

THE DEOS

The Deos in Labyrinth Lost are the pantheon of gods worshipped by

brujas and brujos. The Deos represent all aspects of nature, creation,

and everyday life, similar to the orishas of Santeria and the gods of

Greek mythology. When I was creating the Deos, I chose to name them

using the Spanish and Spanish-like words that corresponded to their

physical attributes and powers. El Fuego = fire. El Viento = wind. La

Ola = water. The highest of the Deos are La Mama, the mother of all

gods. Her sacred symbol is the sun. Her counterpart is El Papa, the

father of all gods. His symbol is the crescent moon. Brujas and brujos

often choose a Deo the way Catholics choose a patron saint to pray to.

Alex knows magic is real, but she has a hard time putting her faith

and belief in something that has caused her family so much pain. Even

though the Deos rarely present themselves to mortals, they make their

presence known. It is believed that the Deos act through the mortals

they created-the brujas and brujos.

For more information about the world of Labyrinth Lost , email me

at zoraidawrites@gmail. com.

Acknowledgments

This is a book I’ve always wanted to write. It wouldn’t be

possible without my agent, Adrienne Rosado, and my wonderful editors,

Aubrey Poole and Kate Prosswimmer. Thank you, ladies, for enduring

every draft and revision, and staying with Alex to the very end. To

the fantastic team at Sourcebooks Fire, including Alex Yeadon, Amelia

Narigon, Elizabeth Boyer, Nicole Komasinski, and my publisher,