Free Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Cordova Page A

hopeless.”
    She leaves me for her Circle, and I stand alone against the wall. Old Samuel starts off with a song that has everyone dancing. The only good thing about this party is that I can hear my mother laughing. That alone is worth it.
    I send Rishi a text.
    Me: Change of plans. Family thing is ending early. Meet you at ten? Can I still be your date?
    Rishi: Maybe.
    Me: Rishi…I’m sorry.
    Rishi: Just kidding. I can’t stay mad at you for long. See you.
    I find myself smiling for the first time today. Something like hope fills my chest.
    When I turn around to find the bathroom, Nova’s standing there holding two cups of fizzy, red punch.
    â€œYou’re here.” Dear Alex, please stop being so awkward.
    â€œBrooklyn’s best delivery boy, at your service.” He smirks. His skin is so smooth. I wonder how often he moisturizes.
    I take the drink he offers and smell it. Lady’s special blend of fizzy sangria. Her secret is rose petals. She says nothing coats the senses quite like roses do. I should have worn roses in my hair.
    Over in the living room, the girls from Lula’s circle are dancing to the drums and Spanish guitar of Old Samuel and his band. Their hands twist in the air, like they’re calling a forth a spirit. But this is only dancing. Except for Mayi, the show-off.
    She spins in place, her skirt swishing around her dainty feet. Soft candlelight adds a glow to her brown skin. I want to hate it, but instead, I love the way it flows, the way her glamour magic makes us see things that aren’t there, like the rain of flower petals that fall to the floor. My guests ooh and aah at her. They reach for the petals and their hands go through them. Just a trick of the light.
    â€œYou know, an encantrix has the ability to channel any kind of power,” Nova says so close to my ear that it tickles. He smells like rain hugging the new green of spring. “You can do that too.”
    â€œI can’t.” Despite the roses in the drink, something inside of me is restless. The raven feather wedged in my bra pokes me. I remember the hideous face of the maloscuro. I shut my eyes, pushing down the surge of magic that burns the palms of my hands.
    I run to the kitchen and close the door behind me. There’s a draft coming from the boarded-up windows. I pace around the kitchen table. My dress feels too tight. The skin over my rib cage itches. When the door opens and Nova walks in, I jump. A spark of magic slips from my hold and the light bulb above us pops.
    â€œAre you still planning on doing the thing we talked about?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.
    â€œAre you going to talk me out of it?” While my eyes adjust to the dark, I fumble toward the cabinets for a spare light bulb.
    â€œThat’s not my place. I already told you that you might not like the recoil.”
    â€œThen why are you here?”
    I walk past him, trying to ignore the way my senses flare when I’m around him. I stand on the chair under the broken light. I try to unscrew the glass cover, but the knob is too tight.
    â€œFree food, good music, cute girls. Gatherings are few and far between nowadays. Everyone acts like Deathdays are only big parties. But they’re more than that. They’re about getting the blessing and connecting with the Old Ones.”
    â€œYou’re wrong. Deathdays are about sacrifice and blood and binding yourself to a power that destroys.”
    He reaches for my hand. I pull away. “It’s supposed to get better.”
    â€œHow old are you?” I ask. The blown-out light bulb is stuck in there.
    â€œSeventeen. Why?”
    â€œBecause I don’t need someone my own age telling me that life gets better.”
    He’s quiet for a little while. Out in the living room, the music gets louder, all drums and horns and wailing voices.
    â€œI think I’ve lived enough for about two lifetimes.” He sounds so worn when he says