Nova steps in front of me, to block me from the creature’s golden
gaze. Nova’s posture changes. He digs one hand in his pocket and
relaxes his shoulders like he’s not afraid. He tilts his chin up.
“You the ferryman?”
The creature tilts his head from side to side, amused. He moves
like molasses and speaks just as slowly. “I am Oros, the duende of the
River Luxaria. I provide crossing to the other shore.”
“Shut up.” Nova’s sudden enthusiasm makes me panic. Where did my
street-savvy brujo just go? Instead, he looks like he’s about to jump
on the creature’s lap and list everything he wants for Christmas. “My
grandma told me you guys were all extinct.”
The duende makes a sour face. He keeps that long, craggy finger
pointed in my direction.
“Most of my kind was sent here by El Terroz, Lord of the Earth and
its Treasures. He is our father and protector. I am charged with
passage across the Luxaria, or as common witches call it-Lover’s
Lament.”
“Lover’s Lament?” I look at the hole in my shoe. “Why do they call
it that?”
Oros hobbles to my side. I follow his gaze to the silver water.
“Watch.”
“For what?” Nova says, impatient.
I nudge him in the ribs.
“Impatience will get you killed almost as quickly as fear, boy.”
I wrap my hand around Nova’s wrist. His fingers ball into a fist.
His magic pushes against mine. It’s a weird feeling to recognize it.
“Girl,” the duende says to me. “You saw it before.”
I step onto the pier. I get on one knee to look closer. Nova says
my name in warning, but I’m not in any danger. Not from this distance
at least. I was right. I did see a face in the water before. When I
inhale the salty breeze, I’m overcome with a wave of yearning. I have
the overwhelming sensation that I might break down and cry, so I take
several steps back and blink against the sting in my eyes. I realize
the salt in the air isn’t sea spray. They’re tears.
“It’s a river of souls,” I say.
“Takes some travelers ages to figure that out,” the duende says.
“Your heart must be calling out for long-lost ones. These souls take
the shape of water, tangled forever as one. With each splash and wave,
they try to break free.”
One soul leaps from the mass, and a silver hand slaps the pier
right at my feet. She pulls herself up with one arm. Her beautiful and
ghastly face is covered by a wet tangle of matted hair. She tilts an
open mouth to the sky and howls. She breaks a hand off of the
undulating mass of souls around her. Her elbows are sharp like spikes,
and she digs them into the pier to pull herself farther up, long, pale
fingers reaching for me.
I kick, and the rubber of my sole melts when it touches her head.
My power is on alert, sensing my despair. It swells in my chest, but
something stops the magic from coming forward.
Not yet, a voice whispers.
Oros’s heavy feet run up behind me. With a swing of his golden
staff, he knocks the soul back into the mass making its way
downstream.
“Why are they like this?” I ask. “I thought souls pass on
eventually.”
“You’d think that, girl,” Oros says. He pulls on a golden rope to
bring the vessel closer to the pier. “These end up here because
they’re unable to let go of their human lives. When they try to harm
the living, Lady de la Muerte herself sends them here.”
“Are you trying to tell me that this entire giant river is made up
of souls that can’t let go of their…loves?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?” The duende puts a foot on the
boat to keep it steady. “You’re seeing it with your own eyes.”
“She’s a hard one to impress,” Nova says.
Oros’s smirk is a terrible, dark thing that makes me want to turn
back and jump into the infinite portal that leads to nothing. “What
brings you young travelers to the Selva of Ashes?”
Nova and I exchange looks. My whole mouth feels dry. Lie faster ,
I tell myself.
“We’re hunting for supplies in the Poison Garden,” he says with a
smirk.
“All this way? I do hope your dealer is making it worth your
while.”
“Listen, old man,” Nova says, “as long as those things don’t touch
us and we can get across, I’m good.”
Oros ponders, tapping a black nail on his chin. “Used to be people
paid me to cross the Luxaria with a promise of their firstborn or the
tears of their first love. Even a little taste of magic. My services
are costly, after all.”
Taste of magic?
“Well, we don’t have firstborn children,” Nova says irritably, “or
the tears of our first loves.”
“Not yet you don’t,” Oros says, like a warning.
A silver wave rises high into the air. Arms and faces try to pull
away from the imprisoned mass, but an invisible force pulls them back
down.
“Isn’t it obvious?” the duende says. He smiles, and the gold in
his teeth is blinding. When his cloak parts, I get a good look at the
reason for his limp. He’s got a gold foot that stops at the middle of
his calf.
His eyes fall to the pendant around my neck, the tiny gold
crescent moon necklace I’ve worn my whole life. I grab it
protectively.
“What’s wrong, girl?” Oros snaps. His patience is running short.
“The man who gave you that wasn’t worthy of your love-what’s left of
it, at least.”
My father gave this to me when I was five. I was obsessed with the
night sky. I’d take my mother’s silver eyeliner and draw stars on my
cheeks and a crescent moon on my forehead. Then, on my birthday, my
father gave me a tiny box. He told me that I could wear the moon
forever.
My father left. I know the truth. I’m not like Lula or Rose or my
mother. I don’t believe that he’ll return. And this duende knows, like
I do, that every day, some of that love slips away a little at a time.
Suddenly, he’s right in my face. His dark-gold eyes are expectant.
“Hold up, hold up,” Nova says, pulling at his earlobe. El duende
turns an irritated glare toward Nova. “My moms gave them to me for my
thirteenth birthday.”
He looks back and forth between us, weighing the diamonds on his
palm. The duende smiles when they twinkle.
“It is nearly satisfactory,” he says finally. “But she wears a
truly remarkable piece, and it’s been so long since I’ve had the
opportunity to help lost travelers.” Oros’s eyes fall on my necklace
again. He licks his lips with his dark tongue. I wonder what will
happen when the rest of him turns to gold and how that happens in the
first place.
“Plus,” Nova says, taking off his prex, “my family’s not powerful
like hers, but you can feel how long our lineage is.”
“Nova!”
“Stop,” he whispers. “I got this.”
Something about this pleases the creature. Because he’s not a
man-he’s a hideous, greedy creature that belongs in this ashen, cold
land. It’s a hateful thing, and this is a hateful place.
“We have a deal.” He snatches the prex from Nova’s hand. “Now get
onboard.”
Nova helps me get on, straddling the pier and the edge of our
boat. It moves under my weight and then again when Nova sits in front
of me.
Then, Oros unhooks us from the pier and gives us a push with his
staff.
“What are you doing?” I shout.
“I do not cross, girl.” He shakes his head. “I cannot cross.”
“You little sh-”
“You said you’d take us!”
He shakes his head in that slow way. The oars start slipping from