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“Ha! You haven’t changed a bit, cousin,” Yuma-ci replied. “Do you really think anyone here will take your side, turn on their sisters, betray their mothers?”

That did it. The little patience Yara had snapped. She had had enough of that resentful whore, and now Yuma-ci would pay. She growled low and leaped at the bitch’s jugular. Rope or no rope, her claws met flesh, and warm blood trickled down her cousin’s stunned face. But before Yara could honor her promise and rip Yuma-ci throat out, she was shoved backwards by invisible hands and crashed against a thick wooden wall.

She shook her head, and glared at the only woman who was powerful enough to blow away a full grown witch as if she were a bunch of twigs. Her mother stared back at Yara. A hint of annoyance mixed with cold indifference marred her beautiful features.

“Enough,” Mother Nepú said calmly. “Bring her in.”

Chapter Thirteen

Yara was dragged into the chamber by Yuma-ci and Poti, then was forced to kneel down on the ground. They were deep inside an enormous tree. Large pieces of bark floated in the air, crowding the dark room. There were dozens of them, some long, others wide. Words in the ancient language of the gods flashed on them, as if the barks were some sort of magical screens with a broken remote control.
So that’s why Mother Nepú was so angry
for being interrupted
, Yara thought,
they had been consulting the Soarta Scrolls.
The
Soarta Scrolls were
the water witches’ gateway to the ancient wisdom. Hundreds of recipes, spells and prophecies were magically stored in pieces of wood taken from the sacred trees. One of the reasons the eldest sister was elected as a Mother was because they were taught how to unleash and control the flashing messages. Only they knew the magical words that would make any piece reveal its secret message.

A young witch jumped, startled at their loud entrance. Her round brown eyes landed on Yara, and her jaw dropped to the ground.

“Watch it, Naiah,” Mother Nepú yapped at the girl. “Don’t you let that piece of bark fall on the floor.”

The girl snapped her jaw shut and clutched the piece of bark she was holding against her chest, like a good schoolgirl.

The Mothers crossed the chamber and took their places of honor on three high chairs against the far wall. Nepú sat in the middle, of course, Mother Censa on her right, and Mother Isha on her left.

Yara’s eyes roamed around the circular room, glancing at the dozens of tree barks hanging in the air. There were so many. What had the Mothers been looking for when she arrived? Her eyes met Mother Nepú’s. Underneath the cold disdain, Yara saw a jaguar roar at her.
There
, there it was – the true face of her mother’s inmã. A roaring jaguar waiting to pounce and kill.

Her own panther roared back, deep within her core, as if it felt the need to protect its turf.

Mother Nepú narrowed her eyes at Yara, then flicked her hand in a short wave.

One by one, the sacred messages faded away and the pieces of bark travelled around the room like papers on a hanging line, then melted into the circular wall. Naiah got caught by surprise and almost fell face-first on the ground when the piece she was holding with such enthusiasm slipped out of her grasp and found its place on the far wall. In less than a minute, there were no more floating Soartas Scrolls, no hint of magic, just a hollow chamber inside a massive tree. 

Yuma-ci knelt down in front of the Mothers, a few feet away from Yara. Poti followed suit dutifully.

“What are you doing here, Yara? Who sent you?” Mother Nepú asked after no preambles. Her mother had always been a straight shooter.

“No one sent me,” Yara replied. “I never crossed the …”

“Spare me of your pitiful lies,” Nepú interrupted her regally. “After several decades, after you deceived us, you want me to believe that you just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

“It’s been a long time since I stopped caring about what you think or believe in, Mother,” Yara growled.

“You abandoned your clan, child, your family,” Mother Censa said in a softer tone, but a deep frown wrinkled her brow. “You were warned that if you ever fled, without completing your penitence, you would never be allowed back in.”

“I haven’t come here in search for forgiveness, Mother Censa. I have no intention of returning to this realm.”

“So why, by Apa Dobrý, were you in our lands, child?” Isha asked.

Yara swallowed a curse. A horrible sense of déjà vu engulfed her. There she was again, in chains, on her knees, trying to explain why she just couldn’t follow their stupid rules. “I was in neutral ground when Yuma-ci found me.”

“Liar!” the bitch in question shouted.

“Yuma-ci!” Poti chided her in a harsh whisper. Then the girl brushed Yuma-ci’s arm candidly, but her cousin just grunted in return.

“You can confirm that what I say is true,” Yara carried on. “There’s a body of a human man lying on the path at the very spot where they found us.”

All three Mothers gasped at Yara’s words.

“You killed a human?” Isha asked.

“Not I”, Yara replied. “Yuma-ci and her band of droolers.”

“Yuma-ci!” Censa gasped.

“And she left the remains there out in the open, for any human to find,” Yara added.

“Yuma-ci, is what she saying true? Did you kill a human outside our realm?” Mother Nepú asked between gritted teeth.

“I ... It was necessary,” Yuma-ci replied, then she looked at Poti for support.

Good old, Yuma-ci. Big mouth, no substance.

“His name was Quickfeet,” Yara took the opportunity to gain more ground with the council. “He was my guide, from the village near the east branch of the Amazon River. Yuma-ci’s poison arrows are still impaled in his poor body.”

“You shut your mouth!” Yuma-ci bellowed. Her brown face had turned completely red, her eyes burned with rage.

Poti quickly held her friend in place. “Mothers, I’m afraid the Opelia speaks the truth,” she said.

“Poti!” Yuma-ci cried. Disbelief and hurt soaked her voice.

“But,” Poti interrupted her cousin’s protest emphatically, “we only attacked because we heard the Opelia negotiating with the guide to take her to our sacred crops. She even offered to pay him a good sum of money if he helped her smuggle our herbs out of here.”

Yara’s jaw dropped to the ground. So, what do you know, Yuma-ci has found herself a new Yara after all.
Damn it.

“Is that true, Yara?” Mother Isha asked.

Yara lifted her chin up. She could not show them any sign of reticence. If she did, they’d devour her on the spot. “Yes, Mother, that part is true, but the crop to which Quickfeet was taking me was not your sacred plantation. It was the smaller one we set up for the humans.”

“There are no crops for humans anymore,” Yuma-ci growled. “We destroyed that blasphemy straight after you abandoned us.”

“Blasphemy?” Yara snorted. “
You
helped me plant it!”

“I was
tricked
into helping you. I was the first victim of your lies.”

Yara could not believe her ears. By Apa Dobrý, what had turned Yuma-ci into that sour bitch? She used to be jovial, full of life, often coming up with wicked plans and ideas that always got them into trouble. They used to be thick as thieves, Yuma-ci and Yara. Now, they were just two strangers separated by a wall of hatred.  

“Since when have you ever been a
victim
, Yuma-ci?” Yara growled.

“Ever since I met you,” her cousin replied.

Ai, Apa Dobrý, that bitter whore needed a good slapping.

“There will be no blood drawn in this sacred chamber,” Nepu ordered. “Yuma-ci, take Yara to the cell, and go clean up your mess before the humans decide to organize another one of their little protests against us.”

Oh, Fuck.

Chapter Fourteen

Yara struggled against Yuma-ci and Poti, but with her hands tied up the battle wasn’t very fair to start with, and when other water witches joined the party, Yara saw her odds slip away. Working as a team, they immobilized Yara, then bound her wrists and feet up, hog-on-a-spit style, and carried her out of the chambers, then down the four levels, across the main square and along the muddy path. Yara couldn’t care less about being paraded around like a hunting trophy, but she couldn’t allow them to throw her down into the cell. Z needed her back in New York City, with the herbs. Without her potions, Z wouldn’t make it through the pregnancy. So, Yara had to get away. Pronto. Her little family gathering had delayed her a minute too long. The problem was that the
cell
was actually a well, built centuries ago on the outskirts of their village with the sole purpose to isolate those with
unwelcome
behavior. Meaning, it was their very own solitary prison – one which Yara had become well acquainted with during her teenage years. The massive pit was 30 feet deep and almost six wide. There was no escaping out of the cell. If Yuma-ci and her female thugs managed to throw Yara in there, she’d never be able to escape.

Yara ignored the ice that settled in the pit of her stomach and weighed out her options. From her calculations, it would take them seven minutes before reaching the cell. It was three against one. Poti was holding one end of the spit which Yara was tied up to; a young sister Yara hadn’t met before was holding the other end; and Yuma-ci was leading the party like a slumdog queen, a few feet ahead.  They were all armed with blades and magical weapons. It wouldn’t be easy, but Yara had her panther to her advantage. She could use its strength together with the energy she gained from the lake to rip off the tight ropes and run. First, however, she needed a diversion.

The late afternoon sun hit her eyes, blinding her for a moment. When she opened them again, a stone formation over a low hill came into view. The water well. Crap.

“This is so typical of you Yuma-ci. You haven’t changed a bit,” Yara said, feigning an indifference she didn’t feel. “You’ve always had your buddies doing your homework for you.”

“Shut your mouth,” her cousin snarled from up ahead.

“I must say, I’m impressed,” Yara carried on, eyes locked on her cousin’s reactions. “I never thought you’d convince the Mothers to let you off the hook so easily.”

Yuma-ci ground her jaw and caressed her blade nestled on her hip. “The Mothers trust me, Yara. Something they never did with you.”

Nice try, cousin, but you’ll have to do better than that.

“Oh, don’t be so naive, cousin. They will only trust you while you still serve them. The minute you start thinking on your own, you’re done. But wait, what am I saying? You’ll never think on your feet, so you’re safe, cousin, don’t fret.”

“Shut your mouth, Yara, no one wants to hear your lies,” Poti said regally.

“No one? Are you sure, Poti?”

Poti exhaled a sharp breath but didn’t reply. Her eyes were kept focused on the path ahead.

“Did you know, Poti love, that our cousin here can’t stand the sight of snakes?”

Yuma-ci turned around sharply.

“She’s scared shitless of them. Big or small, no matter the size,” Yara carried on, “You see, that’s quite normal for a human, but for a water witch? It’s pretty embarrassing, really.”

“Shut up, Yara!” Yuma-ci bellowed.

“Let her rant, Yuma-ci,” Poti replied. “She means nothing to us.”

“Wow, Poti, you even bark
like a guard dog. I would applaud your loyalty if I weren’t tied up,” Yara exclaimed, poking the viper by going after her siblings.

It worked.

Yuma-ci advanced at Yara, making the entourage stop. Before her cousin’s fist connected to Yara’s stomach, Poti dropped her post at the end of the spit and held her down. Yara’s back hit the ground hard but she ignored the pain. She swung her feet and whacked the other witch on the head with the end of the spit she was meant to be carrying. The pole broke in half, freeing Yara to straighten herself up on her feet. But before she had the time to untie herself, a closed fist connected with her jaw, making her plummet back down again.

From up above, Yuma-ci glared at Yara.

“And here’s the Yuma-ci I knew – striking a bound prisoner.”

“I have always been stronger than you, Yara!”

“That’s an easy claim when I can’t fight back, isn’t it?” Yara drawled.

Her cousin’s eyes blazed with pure fury. She had turned bright red – exactly how Yara needed her to be – senseless and beyond reason. Yara glared at Yuma-ci and delivered her last card. “If it weren’t for these ropes, I would have ripped your heart out a long time ago, Yuma-ci. You know it, I know it, even Poti here knows it. ”

Three. Two. One.

Yuma-ci let out a guttural war cry and drew her blade out. Yara lifted her bounded wrists pretending to defend herself. The knife connected with the rope, hacking Yara’s hands to freedom. Without missing a beat, Yara rolled sideways and pushed off the ground, before Yuma-ci struck again. Her bound feet put her at a great disadvantage, but she had no choice. “Let’s do this, Yuma-ci, just the two of us.”

“You’re on, bitch,” Yuma-ci replied through gritted teeth, falling into Yara’s trap like a cow in the mud. “I’ll shut your lying mouth once and for all.”

“Ha! Says the woman with five weapons against the one with none,” Yara snorted.

Yuma-ci stripped off one of her blades and tossed it in the air to Yara. “After today, you’ll have no lies left.”

Bingo. The opening Yara had been waiting for. She locked her gaze on the weapon spinning mid air while she calculated her escape. She would use it to strike Poti first. Yuma-ci would be temporarily incapacitated by the urge to help her close friend, which would give Yara enough time to shift and attack the other witch behind her.

But the blade never reached Yara’s hands.

“Yuma-ci!” Poti cried out, holding the Yara’s escape in her hands. “That’s exactly what she wants! Don’t you see?” Poti stepped closer and pointed at the torn ropes on the floor. With a flick of her fingers, they came alive and attacked Yara, knocking her down, and snaking around her wrists and torso. She was a young witch, probably just a century old, but Yara could feel her power exuding around her. Bitch.

“Tie her back up to the pole,” Poti ordered the other witch who promptly complied.

Poti strode over to her cousin and slid the blade back on Yuma-ci’s sheath. “She wants you to feel the need to prove yourself, to show me how strong you are, but you don’t have to,
meu amor,
not to me, never to me.” She then closed the gap between them and sealed Yuma-ci’s lips with a tender kiss.

Yuma-ci pulled away from the kiss and glared at Yara, as if
that
had been the ultimate proof that she had won their quarrel.

Was it?
Yara rolled her eyes and looked away.

“Throw this disgraceful Opelia down the cell,” Yuma-ci barked, as if she were a Mother herself.

Yara felt the tingling of invisible hands lift her off the ground and carry her up the small hill.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
She had to stop them, she had to do something. If she were thrown down that well, she’d stay there until the Mothers decided to get her out, and who knew how long that would take. The potions Yara made for Zoricah would last only a couple of days. The Mothers would happily keep Yara for years before they were bored and let her go again. Zoricah’s well-being couldn’t wait, and Yara was ready to sacrifice anything to save her leader’s life, even her own.

Not giving a shit about what happened next, Yara closed her eyes and called her panther forth, full throttle. Killing her own kind was the last thing she’d wanted, it was against everything she believed in, but they had left her no other choice. Her skin tingled, the heat of the curse stirred in her gut. Strings of thick black fur poked out of her skin pores while nails grew into claws, just as the pole was lifted above the well’s mouth.

“She’s shifting!” she heard Poti yell.

“Hurry!” Yuma-ci cried out.

Yara tore the bound at her front paws and slashed at her closest enemy. Red blood poured down the young witch’s shoulder, making her lose her grip on the spell. Yara jumped up and attacked Yuma-ci, tearing a strip off the bitch’s cheek, but before she could strike a fatal blow, she was paralyzed by a bodiless force which lifted her in the air and threw her down the well. Yara clawed at the slimy rocks but couldn’t get a firm grip. Her hopes for any escape plummeted just like her feral body plunged down the long, inescapable pit.