their metal rings. I grab on to them before they fall into the silver
river.
“I said I provide crossing. And I have.” He waddles farther up the
pier and waves. “Give the boat a push back if you get to the other
side.”
15
Where is my love?
Swimming in the River Luxaria.
Has he forgotten me so?
- Folk song, Book of Cantos
“I’ve never liked duendes.” I curse and grab the oars. “Trickster,
lying-”
“Forget him,” Nova says.
“I’d like to tear that old beast to bits.” Empty threats are
comforting when you’re sailing across a river of vengeful souls.
The closest to rowing I’ve ever gotten was the rowboats in Central
Park. Here, the current is quick, trying to drag us downstream and
away from our destination. It takes a few tries, but we sync up our
rowing.
“You don’t think this is romantic?” he asks dryly.
I make a face at the back of his head. Our blanket of gray sky
turns dark. Out here, the cool wind provides a reprieve from the dense
heat created by the Selva.
A crooked, white hand reaches for the side of the boat and
threatens to capsize us.
“Ignore it!” Nova tells me. “Row faster!”
How do you ignore fear that makes every muscle in your body
freeze? It’s so much easier to give in to fear. I’ve done it. After
Aunt Rosaria, I refused to leave the house. After Miluna, after my
father, I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I didn’t have anyone
depending on me then. I force myself to push through the burning in my
arms. And soon enough, we’re too fast for the ghoulish hand to hold on
to, and in a swift push of our oars, it lets go.
“Do you work out?” Nova looks over his shoulder at me.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
He chuckles. His eyes are so bright, like tiny stars gracing his
brown skin. It’s hard not to notice how pretty they are. But Nova said
it himself. I can’t just go running for something because I think it’s
pretty. After seeing my mom hurt so much, I told myself I’d never get
fooled. My dad had pretty eyes too. The same stark gray as Lula’s. Me,
I got plain brown eyes to match the plain girl I’ve always wanted to
be.
Nova turns back around and faces our destination. “Relax, I’m not
hitting on you. I’m just impressed that you aren’t tired yet.”
I am tired, but I won’t slow us down.
“If you must know, during the fall semester, I do indoor track,
volleyball, and weight lifting.”
“Weight lifting?”
“Don’t seem so surprised. It’s an easy class. The teacher is this
old meathead. He looks like a fifty-year-old Ken doll.”
“Gross, you think he’s hot.”
“I do not .” I can feel myself slowing down. Nova’s breath is
ragged. I know he’s trying to distract me, to make me laugh so we keep
going, and I appreciate that.
“It’s not like I bench two hundred pounds or anything. But I like
keeping my legs strong for when I run.”
“What about in the spring?” He looks over his shoulder at me
again. A crooked smile appears. “Outdoor track?”
“Yes. And pole-vaulting.”
“Damn, girl. I never would’ve guessed.”
“You can guess all day long. You don’t know a thing about me.”
He sucks his teeth. “I’m just saying. You’re kind of uptight. I
shouldn’t be surprised that you like sports where you don’t have any
teammates. I would’ve thought you’d spend all your time in the
library. But then I saw you in that dress.”
“Don’t try to flatter me, princess .” My voice is hard, but I
think my cheeks might be melting off, and I’m glad he isn’t facing me.
“And it just so happens,” he says, “I’m adding another five hundo
to our deal.”
“What?” I miss three rowing beats and now we’re scrambling to get
back in sync. My voice goes up an octave. “Why?”
“That’s how much my earrings and prex cost.”
“You know,” I say, “I did you a favor. You dress like you’re in an
R&B music video.”
“The ladies happen to love it.”
During my party, Mayi and Emma, even Lula, were drooling over him.
“How about,” I suggest, with a smile, “the next beast we come
across, I let it eat you?”
He shrugs, sweat dripping between his shoulder blades. That’s when
I notice the marks on his back. I’ve been so busy cursing Oros and the
skies and staring at the shore we’re rowing toward that I didn’t see
what’s right in front of me. Long, violent scars crisscross from his
neck to his lower back. I wonder when this happened. I wonder if he
would even tell me the truth.
“You could go back to Oros and give him your little moon,” he
tells me. “But you wouldn’t, would you? I’m going to let you in on a
little secret, Ladybird. If you can’t learn to sacrifice the small
things, you’ll never get the thing you’re after.”
I focus on the silver waves that undulate beneath us, the dark
shore that starts to take the shape of caves. One step closer to
getting to the labyrinth.
As we keep going, every face that I see in the wave fills my heart
with more hurt. I regret the choices I made that brought us here. I
regret putting my family in danger. I breathe the sorrow in the wind,
and its breaks my concentration.
“Alejandra-” the souls call to me, cut off by the wind.
“Alex,” Nova says. “What are you doing?”
I realize I’ve started to lean toward the water. The oar starts to
slide through the ring holding it in place. I lunge for it, but filmy,
silver hands reach up and grab it. I manage to grip the top of the
handle, but they’re so strong.
“Nova, I can’t hold it.”
“Let it go!”
The souls pull the oar out of my grasp. On the other side of the
vessel, the souls yank the other oar from my grip. The momentum makes
me fall backward. My head hits the ledge so hard I’m afraid to open my
eyes out of fear of seeing stars. What was it Oros said? If you make
it to the other side.
“Take my oars,” Nova tells me.
I step around him to swap seats and start to row. He unzips the
backpack and grabs the mace club by the handle. He swings upward and
smashes the first hand that tries to climb over the side.
“To your left!” I shout as another soul pushes itself over the
side. The spiked head of the club slams into its face, and it flies
back into the river.
“Thanks.” He turns to me with a flashing smile that doesn’t last.
His eyes widen when he sees something behind me. He jumps over my
seat, rocking us precariously. I try not to look back, to focus on
rowing, but his screams are distracting.
“It’s like Whac-A-Mole for the dead,” he says, panting more and
more with every swing.
There’s no way he can handle every one of them on both ends of the
boat.
“Keep them away with your light!”
He looks at his palm. The worry crease on his forehead is deeper
than ever. He shakes his head.
“My powers don’t work like that,” he says. “I can’t hold it for
long.”
“You have to!”
He stands, holding his inked palms up to the sky. He conjures a
light that halos his entire body. It pulses with energy, spreading all
around us.
For a while, it works. The light kisses my skin and warms the cold
breath coming from the silver river. Then he starts to weaken. He
grinds his teeth, like he’s holding on to a great weight. He falters.
And so do I.
My head throbs where I hit it. My thoughts are a messy stream of
faces. My family. Oros. The dead of the river. I can’t tell if the