Labyrinth Lost Read Free Page A

something to be revered. All I can think of is the blood and rot and smoke and whispers of my dreams. All I can think about is the terrible thing I did. The secrets I keep from my family every day.
    Lula’s phone chimes three times. Maks must be outside.
    â€œTrust me on this,” Lula says. “And hurry up and get dressed. Maks is here.”
    I start to head back up the stairs when I hear Lula shout, “Rose! That’s an offering!”
    Rose is licking the excess ambrosia from the whisk, a guilty smile spreading to her round cheeks. “What? The ambrosia’s a metaphor for our divine offering. It’s not like the Deos are going to eat all of it.”
    Lula looks up at the ceiling and asks, “What did I do in my last life to deserve you two?”
    â€œYou were a pirate queen who stole a treasure from Cortés and then ended up deserting your crew to man-hungry sharks,” Rose tells her. “We’re your punishment for every lifetime to come.”
    Lula rolls her eyes. “Seems excessive.”
    I leave them and run upstairs to get dressed.
    I can’t believe I let Lula talk me into doing another canto. I still haven’t learned how to say no to her. I’d like to meet someone who can. I know if I’m not careful, I’m going to get caught. The cantos she picks are harmless really, unless you account for attracting ants because of the ambrosia. Maybe I can stay late after school and come home after sunset. She’ll be mad, but she’s always mad at me for something.
    I get a tight feeling in my chest and brace myself against the wall. Something feels different today. Even Rose felt it.
    I can hear Lula shout and Maks press down on his horn. A cold breeze blows through the window and knocks a photo off my altar. It’s a picture of Aunt Rosaria. In it, Aunt Ro is alive and smiling. Her dress is as blue as the summer sky and in her arms is a crying baby. It was a few days after I was born, and my parents chose her as the godmother for my Birth Rites. It’s how I want to think of her. Not dead. Not rotting. I put the picture back in place beside my turquoise prex—a bruja’s rosary—and a candle that’s been burned to a tiny stub and not replaced for months.
    Something inside of me aches. “I miss you. Mom’s getting crazier every day without you.”
    I put on jeans and a plain gray T-shirt and fasten my watch. I gather my hair in a long ponytail. I stare at myself in the mirror. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m going to wake up and my magic is going to show. It shows on Lula. It makes her radiant, breathtaking. She walks with her head tilted to the sky, and a knowing smirk on her face because she can feel heads turning.
    I’m not jealous or anything. Lula’s the beauty in the family, and I’m okay with that. Rose is the special one, and I’m okay with that too. I’m not sure what I am yet, but I’m certain I wasn’t born to be a bruja.
    I grab my backpack and double-check that everything I need is in there. Another breeze knocks Aunt Ro’s photo from my altar again, kicking up the dust. I’ll have to clean it when I get home. Rose’s altar has a picture of our father and a statue of La Estrella, Lady of Hope and All the World’s Brightness. Lula’s altar is the only clean part of her bedroom. It’s a shrine to La Ola, Lady of the Seas and Changing Tides. Lula’s got a prex made of every kind of stone, and she has all kinds of feathers and candles for all the moon cycles. She mostly chants her rezos for good grades and for Maks to stop a lot of goals.
    I don’t ask for anything. Not anymore.
    I place a candle on top of Aunt Ro’s photo, so it can’t be blown off again. Then I go to shut the window but find it isn’t open.
    A third breeze.
    I feel something inside of me stir, and I have to hold my breath to reel it back in. It’s my guilt. The thing