Toil & Trouble: 15 Tales of Women & Witchcraft by Tess Sharpe & Jessica Spotswood

Author:Tess Sharpe & Jessica Spotswood [Sharpe, Tess]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-08-31T18:30:00+00:00

DIVINE ARE THE STARS

by Zoraida Córdova

MARIMAR MONTOYA KNEW they were almost at Rancho Divino when the air thickened with the rot of unturned earth and wilted wildflowers.

She’d returned to western Colorado twice in the last five years for funerals—days after her parents died and she went to live with Tía Parcha at thirteen, then two years later when Tía Parcha met an untimely fate, just like the rest. Five years and nothing had changed in these lands—not the unyielding sun, not the hungry earth, and not the tire-eating road that led all the way home.

“That’s as far as this piece of crap-o-la is getting,” Chuy said, putting the dusty red jeep in park behind a neat row of cars off the side of the road. Gaston’s Mustang was at a hasty angle, Enrique’s Lamborghini was covered up with a tarp (typical), and Tatinelly’s pink Beetle was sandwiched between two sedans.

“How the hell did Tati get that thing up here?” Marimar asked.

Chuy pulled out a pack of American Spirits and slapped them against the palm of his hand. His brown eyes rolled to the back of his head before turning to his cousin. “Maybe her magic isn’t completely gone after all.”

They sat in the car for a little while longer, the windows rolled down just enough that the wind whistled around them and dry leaves made their way between the cracks and onto Marimar’s lap. She’d been away from the city for sixteen hours and already green things—no matter how near death they were—found their way to her. As always, her power was stronger the closer she was to Rancho Divino and away from the smoke and iron of the city. She held the leaf to her nose and wished she had a book so she could press it.

“Do we have to go?” Chuy asked one last time. He turned the rearview mirror to make sure his thick, meticulously groomed dark hair was in place.

“You’ve asked that six times since we left New York and the answer is still yes,” Marimar answered, opening the door and taking the first of many steps toward Rancho Divino. She was barefoot, digging her toes into the dirt like worms.

Chuy side-eyed her, his full mouth smirking around a cigarette burning as quickly as his nerves. His eyes were drawn back to the mirror, back to the road where another car was jostling its way up the hill to fill the empty space behind their jeep.

“Ugh, Dirty Diego got an invite, too?” Marimar asked, slamming her door shut.

“The vultures descend even before the body is cold.” Chuy shook his head but marched on beside her, pulling out a white invitation bleeding black scrawl, his thumb tracing his grandmother’s shaky letters.

Come collect. Me muero. I’m dying.

* * *

When Marimar was little she used to run across the hills trying to wake the fairies that lived among the twisted gardens. Rosa Divina liked to tell stories of the winged creatures that protected the ranch with their otherworldly magics born right from the stars.

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