Summer of the Mariposas Read online

  “No, please,” the nagual begged, inching along the wall. He reluctantly made his way toward the cauldron. Suddenly, as if in slow motion, he turned sideways and made a dash for the mouth of the cave. In his great haste, he tripped on the hem of his robe and ran right into the cauldron he had been boiling for us. Unable to stop, a victim of his own momentum, he fell into the roiling mess. The liquid in the giant kettle gurgled and splattered as it ate away at his flesh, and he screamed in what must have been excruciating agony.

  Instinctively, I reached over to block Pita’s sight with my hands, but she pushed me away and stood staring at the gore before us without so much as a single tear in her eyes. “You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I’m not a baby. Besides, I’m glad he’s dead.”

  Within seconds, a foul stench thickened and permeated the cave. The rest of my sisters and I ran for the mouth of the nagual’s cavernous dwelling. The Great Mother had saved us, and we escaped without looking back. We ran like venadas, frightened deer, fleeing all the way down the hill toward the safety of foreign woods and eerie dirt paths. Juanita and I brought up the rear, making sure our hermanitas escaped ahead of us. I looked back, wondering if I should have thanked the goddess before we ran.

  “What do we do now?” Velia asked when we finally stopped at the base of the hill to catch our breath and slow our galloping heartbeats.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Do you have that flashlight, Juanita? I want to look at the map.”

  “Yeah,” Juanita said, pressing a hand to her side. “It’s in my bag.”

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Nothing. I just ran . . . too fast. I’ll be . . . all right . . . in a minute.” Juanita got the words out between labored breaths, and I knew what she was talking about. I too had a nasty stitch pinching at my side.

  I looked around for some kind of landmark. “The best thing to do is keep moving.” We’d been passed out so long in the cave that night had fallen, but the woods were thick and the full moon was somewhat obstructed. I could barely see my hand in front of my eyes.

  “I think I’m done with adventures. From now on, I’m staying as far away from Mexico as possible,” Delia declared.

  Mamá’s rain song came back into my head, and, without knowing why, I started to hum it as I pulled the map Teresita’s husband had given us from inside my pocket. “Vámonos,” I told the girls. “Let’s sing the song of the birds and the rain and stay away from the dark places on this map. With any luck, we’ll get to Abuelita’s house before dawn.”

  LAS JARAS: “Qué precisas plumas tienen

  que tener las jaras para poder volar.”

  THE ARROWS: “What precise feathers

  the arrows must have in order to fly.”

  To say that we found our way quickly would be to lie. It took us hours to get back on the right path, or at least, the path we hoped was the right one.

  “Who was that, do you think? Another witch? A sorceress?” Delia asked as we plodded along the moonlit path.

  “That was the Great Mother, Tonantzin,” I said. “I’ve been using her amulet, this ear pendant, to call on her for help along the way. La Llorona gave it to me. She was right when she said we’d need it.” I peered at the map in my hand by the flickering light of our waning flashlight. It was hard enough not being able to read the map without having to worry about missing the landmarks altogether, but with the moon hiding behind a cloudy sky, they were both impossible.

  “You mean she’s the one who gave you these earrings?” Velia asked, reaching up to touch the ear pendant hanging against my right cheek.

  “We have special protection,” Juanita said as she ran up to join our conversation. “Isn’t that cool?”

  “Yes it is. But there’s more. La Llorona said we have to remain noble and kind. If we do that, everything will be all right,” I said, relieved that she finally believed me. Then, remembering La Llorona and all that she had done for us so far, I began to wonder why she had not been the one to come to our aid. Had the nagual been too powerful for her? If that was so, had she asked the goddess to help us herself? Was La Llorona ultimately behind our salvation?

  “I wonder if Mamá knows what the song is really for,” Velia said. Mamá had sung that to us so many times I couldn’t count. Now that the fog of the nagual’s spell had lifted, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t made the connection sooner.

  “She probably doesn’t. I mean who would have thought that some supernatural being was going to show up and save us because we sang her a song?” Delia asked, stating the obvious.

  “I always thought Mamá’s lullabies were magical,” Pita whispered. “When we were young and Mamá used to sing to us I felt special inside.”

  “I know what you mean,” Juanita said, wrapping her arms around Pita. “Her voice was so sweet, so loving, I always felt like we were more than her children. I felt like we were her life. It’s almost as if she knew someday her lullabies would keep us safe from harm, so she made sure she sang to us every night. It’s a wonder we forgot that song.”

  “Oh boy, it’s getting deep out here!” Velia said. “What makes you think Mamá knows anything about Tonantzin coming to save us? Because, I’ll be honest, I didn’t know what the heck was going on when the goddess showed up.”

  “Whatever,” Juanita retorted, letting Velia’s negative comments slide right off her back like cold butter off a warm tortilla. “All I’m saying is Mamá knows the song for a reason. Someone taught it to her. It’s a lullaby, right? So it’s been passed down from generation to generation. Mothers must have been singing it to their children since the time when Mamá’s ancestors, the Aztecas, were overpowered by the Spaniards.”

  I folded the map and shoved it back in my backpack. “Well, the bottom line is La Llorona gave me the earrings to invoke her, and Teresita kind of let us know Tonantzin would come to our rescue, and she did. But now it’s time we moved on.” I pulled my backpack over my shoulders and started hiking through the thick brush of the overgrown path.

  “That’s not true,” Velia complained as she began to follow me and Juanita through the woods. “Teresita never said anyone would help us. She just said we had to sing the song of the birds. I know. I was listening, and I have a photogenic memory.”

  “Photographic, genius,” Juanita spit out angrily at Velia, who had caught up and was now walking between us. “It’s called a photographic memory, and anyway, I don’t see how that would help you remember what was being said since photographic memory deals with sight — not hearing!”

  “Okay, stop it! Both of you. I don’t want to have to separate you again,” I yelled, moving between them as we made our way through the shrubbery and into a clearing.

  “Well, Teresita didn’t tell us we were in danger of being boiled alive in a cauldron. So forgive me if I don’t put too much stock into what that old bag of bones had to say,” Velia complained, hiking her backpack higher up over her shoulders before she stalked ahead of us.

  “I have a feeling there’s a lot Teresita didn’t tell us,” Delia said, stopping to take a swig of water from a gourd.

  “She did warn us about the nagual. She just wasn’t very specific,” Juanita said, turning back to face the road ahead.

  “Yes, but there was more,” I said. They knew what I was talking about.

  “You mean the coven of lechuzas,” Juanita whispered, looking at me sideways.

  “We’ve got to find a place to hide for the night, before they find us,” Velia said, looking to either side of the dirt path.

  “Well, what do you know. Ask and you shall receive.” Delia punched my arm and pointed to the right of the path. I peered into the darkness, but all I could see was the faint outline of far away mountains against the dusky horizon.

  “What is it?” I asked, giving up on my poor eyesigh
t.

  “A barn!” Pita screamed. She ran up in front of us and jumped up and down in place with excitement.

  “Now hold on,” I said, putting my hand on Pita’s shoulder. “Settle down. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “What?” Velia wanted to know as she joined our united circle. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing’s wrong. We just need to make sure it’s okay to go in there. We need to be cautious, that’s all.”

  “Teresita’s husband said we could rest here. Why do we have to be so careful?” Delia asked, joining us as we faced the barn.

  “We just have to, that’s all. Well? Who’s coming with me?” I asked, looking around for volunteers. Not surprisingly, nobody said anything. “You guys are like gallinas cluecas, puro guato, a bunch of clucking chickens, all talk and no action.”

  I started across the grass, heading for the barn on my own. Although I was scared, I wasn’t going to show it. I was the eldest. It was my job to bring them to safety. Of course, leaving them alone on the side of a dirt road in rural Mexico wasn’t my idea of protecting them, but I didn’t have much choice either.

  “Wait!” Juanita ran after me. “Do you really think it’s safe in the barn? I mean, what if the lechuzas are in there?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “Lechuzas don’t hide in barns at night. Owls are nocturnal predators. You should know that. You’ve seen every animal documentary on the Nature Channel.”

  “Oh yeah, ever heard of a barn owl?” Juanita taunted. “What do you think a lechuza is? It’s an owl, genius. Try keeping up.”

  “Whatever, Ms. Gifted-in-Everything. I’m going to check it out. Are you coming with, or are you going back to cower with the rest of the broody hens?”

  “I guess I’m coming with — ” Juanita said, but she didn’t sound too sure of it.

  “Good,” I said, starting off again. “Let’s get on with it. I’m tired, and judging from this humidity, it’s going to rain soon.”

  Side by side, we hiked through the overgrown meadow off the beaten path. We had to be very careful because the field was full of burrs and sting weeds. So we traveled slowly, stomping the tall grass down as we went.

  When we finally got to the barn, we found an old oil lamp hanging just inside the door. I jiggled the compartment in the underside of the tin relic and found two long thin matches. While Juanita held a flashlight over me, I lifted the filthy cobwebbed glass and lit a match. To my surprise, the wick lit right up and, after shaking it a bit, I could hear that there was enough kerosene in it to keep it going for a while, maybe even all night. That would help keep Pita from getting scared.

  “We should conserve what’s left of the battery.” I turned off the flashlight and stuffed it back in Juanita’s backpack.

  Looking around the barn, we saw that it was most definitely abandoned. There were some old rusted tools lying about and some desiccated straw lined the far left corner, but half the roof was either missing or about to fall off. Nevertheless, we decided it was in good enough shape to offer us some semblance of security for the night, however pitiful it might be.

  The girls were delighted to hear the news. Once inside, Pita walked around the poorly lit barn for a while, playing with an old rusty rake and a pitchfork she’d found in a stall. The rest of us emptied the contents of the backpacks and lay on several rumpled layers of clothing. Unlike Pita, who was still playing with the rake, Juanita, the twins, and I had no desire to expend any more energy than we already had. It had been a hot, tiring two days of walking since we’d left El Sacrificio, and our journey was far from over. If Teresita’s husband’s hand-drawn map was even sort of accurate, we hadn’t covered half the ground we’d intended to today. We were just content to rest our feet and curl up in a semicozy place.

  I got Pita to finally settle down beside me. But even after everyone else fell asleep, I lay wide awake, looking up at the stars through the wide hole in the ceiling. We had traveled so long and so far from that first night, when I had seen that series of stars fall from the sky like a meteor shower, that I wondered if we’d ever get back to that life again — back to those long, playful days without danger or witches or warlocks. At the thought of Mamá crying every day, fearing for our lives, tears started to prick at my eyes and I wiped them away. It was then that I saw several tiny figures flying in and out of my field of vision over the barn.

  “Bats?” I asked myself quietly, sitting up to get a better look.

  “No,” Juanita whispered as she too sat up. “They look too big to be bats.”

  “I know,” I said. Keeping my eyes on the creatures above, I shook the other girls awake.

  “What?” Velia mumbled, half asleep. “Leave me alone.”

  “They’re here,” I whispered, because by then I had figured it out.

  Velia sat up so fast she stirred Delia beside her. “Who?”

  “Mamá?” Delia sprang up into a sitting position beside her twin, and her eyes went to the doors on the other side of the barn.

  “No,” I whispered, pointing at the creatures. They had stopped flying and were now perched side by side around the hole on the ceiling, peering down at us from the darkened heavens.

  “¿Lechuzas?” Velia asked, searching the sky above.

  “There’s six of them,” I said, nodding. “I counted them twice.”

  “Then it’s not them,” Juanita said, putting a hand to her chest, still scared but sounding pretty relieved. “You need thirteen to make it a true coven. They must be regular owls if there’s fewer than that.”

  “Maybe the other seven are dead,” Velia whispered.

  “Or maybe,” Delia interjected. “They split up and the others are on their way.”

  I remained frozen, unsure of whether a reaction would startle the lechuzas into an attack. “Regular owls aren’t that big, and they don’t travel in broods,” I said. “No. It’s them.” I reached for my backpack slowly, trying not to show fear.

  “Parliament,” Juanita whispered from beside me on the nest of clothes.

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “A group of owls is a parliament, not a brood,” she explained. “That’s chickens — hens, actually — ”

  “Oh, like that matters right now.” I started to move my hand slowly, toward the tiny front pocket of my shorts, pulling the piece of silk string out of it without drawing too much attention to myself.

  “Sorry,” Juanita said. “Do you have the string?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I put it in a safe place as soon as Teresita handed it to me, but I need you to wake Pita up without scaring her. Once everyone’s awake, you’ll have to form a protective circle around me, so they can’t get to me while I tie the knots.”

  “Okay,” Delia and Velia whispered in unison.

  I could hear the lechuzas whispering menacingly above me, up on the roof, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I unzipped the tiny front pocket of my shorts as slowly as possible, trying not to draw attention to myself. But the minute I pulled out the piece of marked silk thread, the lechuzas launched themselves off the roof and flew into the barn, wailing and screeching.

  Startled awake by the lechuzas’ bloodcurdling screams, Pita sat up and screamed almost as loudly as the winged witches. From that moment on, everything happened very fast. The lechuzas descended upon us with all their fury. As they came at us, I saw that they were as big as vultures, and their wingspan was twice their length. Their long, scraggly hair streamed behind them like raggedy, moth-eaten capes as they flew at us. But the most horrific parts of them were their faces. They looked like dried up pieces of fruit, desiccated human faces — witches with metallic beaks for lips.

  The coven of lechuzas squawked and screeched as they flew in and grabbed at us with steel talons, pulling out chunks of o
ur hair, shredding our clothes, and scratching our arms, hands, and faces as they flew by. One at a time, they soared up into the rafters and swooped down to do it all over again. If they had been less aggressive, less calculating, we might have been able to defend ourselves. But they were so fierce and erratic in their attacks, we never stood a chance.

  “¡Niñas malas!” said one in Mamá’s voice.

  “¡Malcriadas!” said another in La Llorona’s voice.

  “¡Egoístas!” said the one with Cecilia’s voice.

  “¡Arrepiéntanse!” said another in Teresita’s voice. According to them, we were evil children, spoiled rotten and selfish. We should repent.

  They kept chanting over and over again as they scratched at us with their sharpened talons. “Repent! Repent! Repent!”

  “Stop!” Juanita screamed as she swatted them away with her hands.

  “Stop! Stop!” we cried as we whacked at them. But no matter what we did or how much we begged, they wouldn’t stop. If anything, their viciousness grew even more intense. As they started to abuse us, the rain we had been expecting started to pour down on us through the holes in the roof. There was no escape from the feathers and the rain. The wind picked up and I could hear thunder in the distance.

  I remembered the piece of silk thread and realized I was still clutching it. But no sooner had I looked at it than one of the lechuzas clawed it out of my hand. I tried to hold on to it, but the evil bird was too strong. She flapped her wings in my face, slapping my head with her sharp, bristly feathers. I was tugging against her, holding on to the string for dear life, when one of her feathers pricked me right in the eye. An intense pain shot through my eye like a bullet, and I let go of the string.

  Taking the string with her, the lechuza flew out of the barn through the hole in the roof, into the darkness and rain. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, Velia and Delia rolled away from the rest of us. Screaming, they made a mad dash for the door at the other side of the barn. With two lechuzas at their backs, they busted out of the barn as if their heels were on fire, never once looking back. Had they abandoned their hermanitas?