El Diablo is in the details in this Latinx pirate fantasy starring a transmasculine nonbinary teen with a mission of revenge, redemption, and revolution.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Wicked Bargain, which is out now!
On Mar León-de la Rosa’s 16th birthday, el Diablo comes calling. Mar is a transmasculine nonbinary teen pirate hiding a magical ability to manipulate fire and ice. But their magic isn’t enough to reverse a wicked bargain made by their father and now el Diablo has come to collect his payment: the soul of Mar’s father and the entire crew of their ship.
When Mar is miraculously rescued by the sole remaining pirate crew in the Caribbean, el Diablo returns to give them a choice: give up your soul to save your father by the Harvest Moon or never see him again. The task is impossible–Mar refuses to make a bargain and there’s no way their magic is any match for el Diablo. Then, Mar finds the most unlikely allies: Bas, an infuriatingly arrogant and handsome pirate — and the captain’s son; and Dami, a genderfluid demonio whose motives are never quite clear. For the first time in their life, Mar may have the courage to use their magic. It could be their only redemption — or it could mean certain death.
Mar doubles over, gagging on fire.
Not fire. Salt. It’s salt water, pouring out of them as they heave, then gasp desperately for air. They are lying on slats of wood. A deck. A ship?
“Told you he wasn’t done for.”
He. Mar could cry with relief; the flattening cloth wrapped tightly around their chest must have held together.
They blink blearily into too-bright light gleaming through the darkness. A boy is standing over them, holding a lantern. A tall boy, with brown skin a little lighter than Mar’s, a scar on the right side of his pink top lip, and deep brown hair the same tint as La Catalina’s wood. He wears a white linen shirt and brown trousers, like most nonnavy sailors do. Like most of La Catalina’s crew does.
La Catalina—oh, Dios. It all crashes back into them: el Diablo, Papá, the fire and the ship and the crew. All now at the bottom of the ocean somewhere.
Mar’s stomach churns and eyes sting as they wipe their mouth with the back of their hand. Just about everything from the waist up hurts, inside and out. They suppose getting thrown around a ship before drowning would do that to someone. Mostly they’re just glad their chest still looks flat; they can’t imagine a fate any worse than waking on a ship full of men who mistake them for a girl.
Being seen as a boy, conversely, feels like the ocean breeze filling Mar’s lungs, even if it doesn’t always fit perfectly. But that’s all right. Mostly right feels good too.
The boy with the scar turns to his peers; Mar quickly counts twelve who’ve circled around them, in addition to the boy and the majority of the crew still continuing their work on the ship. Something about the bustle of a full ship, so familiar that part of them wants to believe they never left La Catalina, hurts worse than throwing up ocean water did.
The boy grins far too brightly at a man with curly black hair and a mustache, who is absolutely drenched. So drenched, the black tattoos on his golden-brown skin are clearly visible beneath his soaked linen shirt. “Certainly worth the quick dip in the ocean, wouldn’t you say, Tito?”
The man, who Mar supposes is Tito, spits on the deck.
“Perfecto. I knew you’d see things my way.” The boy flings his arm over Tito’s shoulder and beams. “You listened to me, and I saved his life! And you got to be a part of it! How exciting, how very exciting. I knew today was going to be a good day, didn’t I? I said so this morning, and you all ignored me!”
“That storm nearly sank us,” a man with long dreadlocks, rich umber skin, and shoulders wide as a doorframe answers with a bored expression, cleaning his nails with a knife. “And you almost fell overboard.”
The boy tsk-tsks. “Yes, well, it didn’t sink us and I didn’t fall overboard, now did I?”
“And what’s this about you saving him?” Tito asks. “I’m the one who jumped in to fish him out.”
The boy sighs heavily. “After I spotted him. You wouldn’t have jumped in if I hadn’t pointed him out to you.”
“I wouldn’t have jumped in if you’d gone and actually saved him yourself,” Tito answers stiffly.
“Ah, but why would I do that when you are clearly the superior swimmer? I was just looking out for his best interests.”
Mar stares at the two, hardly believing they’re bickering like children about who saved them when Mar is just . . . there. Back from near death (did they actually die?). Sailing away from the ruins of La Catalina, from Mar’s home, and familia and—
Mar closes their eyes and inhales deeply through their nose, resisting the urge to cough anew. It hurts too much to think about earlier, and they can’t break apart in front of these men. Mar doesn’t even know what the crew will do to them now that they have, evidently, survived what was supposed to be unsurvivable.
“Did—” Mar chokes on their own croaky voice, coughing after all.
“Oh!” The boy laughs. “Where are our manners? We forgot all about our guest.” He grabs Mar’s hand and yanks them up—only Mar’s coughs conceal their yelp as pain streaks up their arm and down their side. The boy then slaps Mar’s back firmly, which, oddly enough, actually shocks them out of their coughing fit.
Mar glances at the strange boy warily and rubs their shoulder.
“My name’s Sebastián, but call me Bas.” The boy—rather inexplicably—winks at Mar. “This is Tito and Joaquín, our quartermaster and boatswain.”
“Um. Thanks.” Mar’s voice appears to have recovered somewhat, so they clear their throat and try again. “Did you pull anyone else from the ocean?”
“Hmm, afraid not,” Bas says. “What was left of the ship was still burning when we arrived, but it seems you’re the only surviving member of your crew. Lo siento.”
Mar swallows hard, fighting the pain creeping up their throat. They don’t trust their voice not to betray the storm brewing inside them, so they focus on even breaths instead.
Bas tilts his head to the side as he gives Mar an appraising look. “What’s your name, my sad new friend?”
Sad new friend. Bas speaks to them so simply, breezing right past the death and destruction they’ve just endured. Not that Mar really expects compassion from a stranger, but his ease is just so . . . cold. “I’m Mar.”
Bas’s entire face blooms into a full-bodied grin, which feels somewhat inappropriate, given the circumstances. “What a perfect name for a pirate! Did you choose it yourself?”
Mar just shakes their head.
“Well, your parents have excellent taste, though I imagine it’s probably for the best if we don’t speak of them at the moment, ¿verdad?” Bas doesn’t give Mar a chance to answer before plowing forward, which is probably also for the best, because Mar has nothing kind to say to a boy who speaks so lightly of their parents’ deaths. “Not a problem. I imagine el Capitán will want to meet you in any case. No sense in wasting time becoming friends before I know whether or not we’ll be throwing you back into the ocean.” Bas pats Mar on the back and laughs, like the thought of throwing Mar overboard after saving them from drowning is genuinely funny.
No, they have nothing kind to say to him at all.
Mar’s distaste is irrelevant, because at the first pressure of Bas’s hand on their back, Mar is moving forward with the crowd of a dozen other men, which seems like a bit of overkill in terms of a protective entourage. It’s not like they know Mar’s magia could send this ship to the bottom of the ocean as fast as La Catalina.
Though, truth be told, Mar isn’t sure how much magia they have left to spend.
