Romina Garber - Cazadora

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For all the separated families that will never be whole again.

Y para Pap, mi inspiracin, gracias por ensearme a soar.

Tus ojos abiertos son la nica luz que conozco de las constelaciones extintas.

PABLO NERUDA

Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.

PABLO NERUDA, TRANSLATED BY STEPHEN TAPSCOTT

I inhale hints of Buenos Aires.

We must be by the border. My heart catapults into my throat.

The air has grown so dark that I cant make out the portals rocky walls. I have no idea what happens when I reach the checkpoint and come face-to-face with a border agent.

All I know is that Tiago, Saysa, and Cata walk beside me. After everything weve been through, the one thing Im sure of is, Ive found where I belong. With my friends.

Theyre my manada. My pack.

Tiagos fingers squeeze mine, like he can read my thoughts. The surrounding blackness has become so opaque that it obscures even the glow of our eyes.

Countless Septimus march with us, our collective footfalls whispering across this passage that bridges two realms of reality. Were returning to Earth from Lunaris, a land of magic and mist and monsters thats the source of our power.

By lawand bio-magical imperativebrujas and lobizones sojourn in that realm every full moon.

Were here, I think as I breathe in notes of coffee, leather, and paper. But when Im hit with Mas almond scent, I know Im not actually smelling my homeland. Im inhaling Mas memory of it.

Thats how she described Buenos Aires to me a month ago. A lifetime ago.

The last day we ever shared together.

I used to think I grew up in hiding in Miami because Ma and I were undocumented and on the run from my fathers crime family, whod killed him for attempting to abscond with her. But the true story isnt even in the same genre.

Turns out, Im not entirely human. Im also part Septimusa cursed species of Argentine witches and werewolves.

And my father is very much alive.

All these years, hes been a teacher at a magical school just a couple of hours away.

Mas almond scent has been teasing me since we left Lunaris, like she might be around every dark corner. Tiago warned me the portal crossing would jostle my senses, and the most powerful memories from the past moon could break through the surface.

But I know Ma isnt really here.

Shes in a detention center in Miami, awaiting deportation.

Thats why Im traveling to Kerana, the Argentine city where most Septimus live. In such a populous place, my friends and I will have a better chance of avoiding discovery by the Cazadores. Law enforcement. And once Im in Argentina, Ill find a way to reunite with Ma.

Light floods the tunnel, and the walls wilt into a massive underground station. I blink as Septimus swarm around us, rushing toward the checkpoints ahead, probably eager to get home and sleep.

But my own legs grow leaden as I see the border agents in the distance, flipping through HuellasSeptimus documentation. And the old mantra runs through my mind: Dont come here, dont come here, dont come here.

In the human realm, discovery meant deportation.

Here, a hybrid like me is subject to execution.

Tiagos hand squeezes mine, and I realize Ive stopped walking.

You all right, Manu?

His voice is a song.

I look up, and Im enfolded in a blaze of sapphire. Tiago caresses my cheek with his thumb, and I hear the shakiness of my exhale.

We have to keep moving, says Cata, her face wan. Beside her, Saysas blank expression is inscrutable, her presence unusually muted.

I reach into my dress pocket and touch my forged Huella. Saysas friend Zaybet made the passport-like booklet for me in Lunaris. This will be its first test.

Even though its a fake, just holding this paperwork makes me feel like less of a forgery myself. Growing up, there were no photographs of Ma and me around the apartment, no documents of any kind proving I exist. And while the details in this Huella may be falsified, at least its my face inside.

Evidence Im real.

I exist.

We keep wending through the throng, and it strikes me that no Septimus travels alone. They move around in clusters, and when I glimpse a pack of guys doing a double take of our group, I know I havent been imagining the looks were getting.

It must be my eyes.

My sun-like irises stand out in all my worlds. Even Septimus dont have yellow eyes.

I keep my gaze low, and I feel Tiagos tension from the way he picks up his pace, pulling Cata and Saysa forward. Then he gives my shoulder a quick squeeze before walking away from us.

I stare after him in speechless shock, until it registers that all the wolves are splitting off in the same direction. There are separate checkpoints for brujas and lobizones.

I feel the urge to follow Tiago, but Im back to pretending Im a bruja. A lobizona would draw too much attention. And, as Ma likes to say: Attention breeds scrutiny.

So Im a secret again.

Come on, says Saysa, leading me away from Cata.

There are distinct zones for each of the four elements. The breezy area were cutting through is where the Invocadoras arewind witchesand I watch Cata join their queue. The temperature drops a few degrees as we pass the Congeladoraswater witchesthen Saysa and I line up in the toastier section designated for Jardineras. Earth witches.

The heat isnt coming from us. To our other side, and at the far end of the space, are the Encendedoras. I dont need to look at the fire witches to feel their presence.

Im afraid if I turn my head, Ill meet Yamilas bloodred eyes.

Ever since the ambitious Cazadora discovered my existence, shes been intent on hunting me down. My arrest would be career-making. My friends and I just barely got away from her in Lunaris, right before entering the portal. Its only thanks to Saysa we made it out.

But some magic comes at a higher cost.

I clutch the forged Huella in my pocket. I wish Saysa would say something reassuring, but shes haunted by what she did. Her already tiny figure seems even smaller, and her deep brown skin has lost its warmth, shadows encroaching on her face.

As our line moves forward, I begin to feel a familiar alarm. And I flash back to crawling under Perlas bed, while ICE agents pounded on our neighbors door.

Perla is my ninety-year-old surrogate grandmother. She took Ma and me in years ago, homeschooling me and letting us live rent-free in exchange for looking after her.

Memories of El Retiro accelerate my panic, and I lock my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. I cant stray too close to thoughts of everything Ive lost, or Ill lose all my resolve.

I have to think more encouraging things.

Like discovering El Laberinto, an ancient city of crumbling stone structures that looks like it was swallowed by the Everglades. Thats where I made my first friends. They saw the real me and accepted me. It was also there that, after trying on and discarding too many identities, I found the right one.