The Eighth Road by Joss Walker

Author:Joss Walker [Walker, Joss]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-29T15:39:11+00:00

Chapter Seven

Miami

Calle Ocho

Sofia stared at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand, then glanced up at the apartment number on the door. This was it. A tendril of unease snaked through her stomach, making her question whether she was doing the right thing.

When she’d found the first reference to Xiomara in her father’s journal, it meant nothing to her. Henry’s journal was full of maddeningly strange notes, usually impossible to interpret. But when she’d seen the word Xiomara again, she sensed it was important. The second mention was no clearer, but more detailed. Xiomara de la Vega, monitors the 8th pocket. Trustworthy. Clean magic. She started researching and found her. A witch. A very important witch.

Sofia had no idea what her father meant by pocket or clean magic, or even if this Xiomara de la Vega still lived, but if her father had trusted this woman, then she could, too.

She hoped.

She inhaled deeply before rapping loudly on the door. A prickle of magic swept over her, and she suppressed a shiver. Behind the door, slow and heavy footsteps drew nearer until the door slid open. A pair of dark eyes in withered skin appraised Sofia from the crack in the door.

“¿Quién es usted?” the woman asked, her voice surprisingly deep.

Sofia cleared her throat, trying to quell her jittery nerves. “Are you Xiomara?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed as they roved over Sofia, taking in her grubby sneakers, worn tank top, and messy fishtail braid. A faint gasp poured from her lips, and she staggered back a step. “Ruth?”

Sofia blinked, her heart jolting painfully in her chest. “No, no,” she said quickly, raising her hands. “I’m her daughter. My name is Sofia Thorne.”

Xiomara remained wary, but she slid the door open farther, revealing a petite woman with a hunched back. Her long white hair was pulled into a thin braid, much neater than Sofia’s, that rested on her shoulder. The frailness of her hair and skin contrasted starkly with her now glittering black eyes, which burned with a strength Sofia envied.

“You are not Ruth’s daughter,” Xiomara said, her voice heavily accented. “You are Henry’s. You have his spirit.” She lifted her hand, aiming her palm toward Sofia’s chest as if she could sense her soul.

Sofia resisted the urge to recoil.

“Yes. Ruth may have given birth to you, but you are Henry’s daughter,” Xiomara repeated.

Sofia frowned, wondering what Xiomara meant. They were both her parents. It implied that being Henry’s daughter meant something different than being Ruth’s daughter. The thought made Sofia’s insides quiver with trepidation.

“I was hoping you could help me,” Sofia said in a low voice.

To her surprise, Xiomara nodded. “For Henry’s daughter, yes,” and stepped back for Sofia to enter. With shaky breaths, Sofia crossed the threshold and felt a wall of powerful magic slam into her, freezing her in place. She’d never felt anything so intense, even when Ruth was using all of her power to guide Sofia’s own energies. As quickly as it slammed into her, it was gone.

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