Labyrinth Lost (22 page)

La Mama gave her heart to El Papa.

They lived in the Kingdom of Deos for all their days,

chasing each other across the skies.

—History of the Deos, Book of Cantos

Falling a second time isn't the same as the first.

This time, I wade through time and space. My magic is linked to everything—the infinity of time, the rapid snuff of death, the sprinkle of stardust, and the released sigh of freedom.

I don't remember landing in the backyard. Only blurry red and blue lights. Sirens replace the rush of the wind. Strong hands pick me up from the grass. A stranger's face belongs to someone who puts me in an ambulance that takes me away.

I sleep for days.

We all do.

There is no official story except that a family on our quiet Brooklyn street was attacked. The house robbed, even though I know nothing was taken. There is no explanation for the singed earth in the backyard or the tree cut down and burned to a stump. While I know it was the portal sealing itself for good, the police decide it was lightning. It felt like we were gone for weeks, but when we returned, only moments had passed.

For days, I dream of Los Lagos. I see Aunt Rosaria and Madra and Agosto burying the dead. I see Aunt Ro conjure rain to hydrate the parched earth of Bone Valle. It'll be a slow change, but they've got nothing but time. There's the start of new trees and fields of green and purple and gold. The Tree of Souls, now free, replenishes the land. It grows taller than before, and there's a white scar where my knife ripped into the bark. Leaves replace the cocoons of stolen energy. The Wastelands show signs of growth, new buds that bloom like starflowers. Tall creatures with long, silver hair plow the earth and breathe light into the forests.

Madra lets the avianas roam free. Their feathers grow full and silky and bright. Inside of the Caves of Night is a small nest and on the wall hangs a set of black wings. And at night, under the cloak of stars, they tell the fledglings stories of the Thief, the Magpie, and the Bruja that destroyed the Devourer.

• • •

When we all finally wake up, my mom takes us home.

There are no police follow-ups. No suspects, no leads. I think the police have had their fill of my family for long enough. They wash their hands of us, and I think they're relieved that we want to be left alone.

At home, my mom kisses my forehead as we watch the news. They stopped reporting on our freaky “attack” after we refused to comment. Still, we watch for signs of other strange things. Mom wants to make sure nothing else came through the portal with us.

There is no sign of Nova. He wasn't at the hospital, and I don't know what happened to him after we fell.

“Don't worry, nena,” my mom says. I look at her face. The smattering of gray hair that she's named after each of us, the crow's-feet at the corner of her eyes. Other brujas get glamours to hide them, but my mom never does. “These things work out on their own way.”

Rishi takes longer to recover, so my mom and I visit her in the 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.”

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.

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, 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?”

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 Día 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 González-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 Día de los Muertos. They're colorful and smiling and are sometimes meant as social commentary. In the early 1900s, an artist named José 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 [email protected].