Cemetery Boys

by Aiden Thomas

  He glanced over at Maritza, and she nodded encouragingly.

  Yadriel had seen his father summon a spirit. He knew what to do and how to do it. He just needed to say the words.

  The flame inched toward Yadriel’s fingers. There was no time left to second-guess.

  He held out his arm, the medal hanging from the chain looped around his hand. It glinted in the dim light.

  “Te—” Yadriel cleared his throat, trying to breathe around the lump that had formed. “¡Te invoco, espíritu!”

  He dropped the match into the bowl. For a second, it sizzled in the blood and alcohol before there was an explosion of heat and golden light. Yadriel sprang back, choking on the smoke.

  The fire in the bowl burned calmly, casting orange light over a boy. He was doubled over on his hands and knees before the statue of Lady Death, clutching his chest.

  Yadriel could hardly believe his eyes. “It worked!”

  The spirit’s face was screwed up tight in a grimace, his fingers knotted into the material of his shirt. He wore a hooded black leather jacket over a white tee, faded jeans, and a pair of Converse.

  “That’s not Miguel,” Maritza tried to whisper, but she’d never had a very good inside voice.

  Yadriel groaned and dragged a hand over his face. On the bright side, he had actually summoned a real-life spirit.

  On the not-so-bright side, he had summoned the wrong one.

  “Obviously,” Yadriel hissed back, unable to look away from the boy as he gasped for breath, the muscles in his neck straining. He had that translucent quality around the edges, like all spirits. The boy’s eyes swung to them. He had a handsome but very angry face, his grimace now more of a sneer.

  “Well, at least it’s not a maligno spirit?” Maritza offered.

  The boy staggered to his feet, upright but unsteady. “Who the hell are you?” he snarled, dark eyes blazing, sharp as obsidian.

  “Uhhh” was Yadriel’s unhelpful reply, suddenly unable to form a coherent sentence.

  “Where am I?” the boy barked, head tilting back as he took in their surroundings. “Am I in a church?” His attention swung back to Yadriel and Maritza with an accusing glare. “Who let me in a church?”

  Familiarity prickled at the back of Yadriel’s mind, racing to place his strong features and booming voice.

  “Uh—well—you see,” Yadriel stammered, not really sure how to explain their situation, but he wasn’t given the chance to finish.

  The boy’s eyes snagged on the necklace still dangling from Yadriel’s hand. “Hey!”

  Yadriel saw the anger swell, hunching his shoulders and propelling him forward. The boy stomped up to him. “That’s mine—”

  He reached out to snatch the necklace, but his hand went right through it. He tried again, and when his hand slid through it a second time, he froze, blinked, and waved it back and forth.

  The boy’s eyes went wide, and he let out a strangled shout, stumbling back. “Wh-what—” he stammered, looking between his hand and Yadriel and Maritza, “the hell is this?”

  “Wow, this is really awkward,” Yadriel said, scratching at the back of his neck.

  Maritza seemed less worried. “Well, there’s no denying you’re a brujo now,” she said, circling the boy with keen interest.

  He scowled at her. “Who are you, and what are you doing with my necklace?” he demanded, looking to Yadriel for answers.

  “Well, uh, I used it to summon you,” Yadriel tried.

  The boy arched a thick eyebrow. “Summon me?”

  “Yeah, we thought it belonged to Miguel.” What was the gentlest way to tell someone they were dead?

  “Our cousin,” Maritza specified.

  The boy didn’t seem at all interested in who Miguel was. “It’s mine,” he insisted with a growl. “It’s got my name on it, see?” he said, fingers curling in demand.

  Yadriel turned the medal over to find that a name had indeed been engraved on the back. He blinked. “Oh.” The delicate cursive letters read JULIAN DIAZ. Yadriel’s eyes went wide, snapping back to the boy’s face. “Oh.”

  Julian Diaz. He knew Julian Diaz, or rather knew of him. They went to high school together. It was a large school, with more than twenty-five hundred students, but Julian had a bit of a reputation. He ditched a lot, but when he was roaming the halls it was hard to not notice him. He had the sort of presence that demanded everyone’s attention without needing to ask. Julian was loud, rarely took things seriously, and was known for getting into trouble. He was hard to miss, attractive in a severe sort of way with that diamond-shaped face. He had a narrow, stubborn chin and a sharp voice that always seemed to cut through every other one in the quad.

  “What do you mean by ‘summon’?” Julian asked again. He was staring at his transparent palms, turning them over as if trying to solve a puzzle.

  “Do you happen to know how you got here?” Yadriel tried in an attempt at being tactful.

  Julian glared. “No!” he snapped. “All I remember was walking down the street with my friends…” He looked around, as if trying to find them in the cold church. “Then something—someone—” He frowned. “Happened? I dunno, I just remember getting knocked over, maybe I got jumped or something.” Julian rubbed absently at the same point on his chest. “Then the next thing I knew, I was in this church with you two.”

  Three beats passed before Julian’s eyes suddenly went wide. “I died, didn’t I?” The fierceness was gone, leaving his voice small and weak. “Am I dead?”

  Yadriel winced and gave a small nod. “Yeah…”

  Julian stumbled back a step, his body wavering in and out of existence for a moment, like a camera trying to focus. “Oh, Jesus.” He pressed both hands against his face. “My brother is gonna kill me,” he groaned against his palms.

  “Looks like someone already beat him to it,” Maritza said, reaching out to poke her finger right through Julian’s elbow.

  “Quit it!” he snapped, wrenching his arm away. Julian turned his scowl to Yadriel again. “So, what, I’m a ghost now?”

  Yadriel didn’t know what to make of him. Julian didn’t sound angry or dismayed. If anything, he was annoyed, as if this were just an inconvenience.

  “Spirit,” Yadriel corrected.

  “What’s the difference?” Julian asked, flapping his hand at Maritza as she hovered like a fly.

  “Well, I don’t know if there’s a difference,” Yadriel ventured, fidgeting with the necklace in his hands. “I think maybe ‘ghost’ is sort of … derogatory?”

  Julian stared at him, his mouth in a hard line, an eyebrow raised.

  “We use the word ‘spirit,’” Yadriel supplied.

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Oh, right. That’s Maritza—” he said, pointing at her.

  Maritza wiggled her fingers in a wave.

  Julian took another step away from her.

  “And I’m Yadriel. And, uh…” Yadriel dug around in his brain for the right words. He’d never had to explain who brujx were and what they did, on account of it being a huge, sacred secret they devoted their lives to keeping.

  Whoops.

  “We’re brujx—brujos can see spirits, and uh, help them cross over to the afterlife,” Yadriel explained.

  “And brujas can heal people,” Maritza added.

  “So, you’re witches,” Julian said with a dubious look.

  Yadriel shook his head. “No.”

  “’Cause you’re dressed like a witch.”

  Maritza snorted.

  Yadriel looked down at himself. He was wearing black jeans, his favorite combat boots, and an oversize black hoodie. The burning bowl of fire in front of him and discs in his ears probably weren’t helping. His cheeks burned red.

  “We’re brujx,” he corrected.

  Julian frowned. “That literally means witch—”

  “No, ‘witch’ is—”

  “Derogatory?” Julian guessed, an amused smirk tugging the corner of his mouth.
<
br />   Now it was Yadriel’s turn to scowl.

  Julian looked over at Maritza. “So, you can heal people?”

  “Oh, no, I don’t heal,” she replied casually. “You gotta use animal blood, and I’m vegan.”

  “Right.” He turned back to Yadriel. “And you can apparently summon ghosts and send them to the afterlife, whatever that means.”

  “Yes—Well, no—” Yadriel fumbled, trying to explain himself. “I haven’t done the releasing part yet—”

  “Wooow,” Julian crooned, head bobbing in a nod as he looked between the two of them. “You guys are really shitty witches.”

  Annoyance flared in Yadriel. “Look, this is my first time, okay?”

  Julian blinked slowly at him, unimpressed.

  “Spirits, like you, sometimes get stuck between the land of the living and the land of the dead,” he tried to explain.

  Julian rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

  “Spirits get attached to a tether”—Yadriel held up the necklace—“which anchors them to the land of the living, so, to help you cross over to the other side, I just need to destroy the—”

  “No, no way!” Julian shook his head and waved his arms. “My pops gave me that necklace!” He tried to snatch it from Yadriel, but, again, he was left with a fistful of empty air.

  Maritza chuckled.

  “No—just listen.” Yadriel brought out his portaje.

  Julian scoffed, which was not how Yadriel thought any sane person should react to getting a knife pulled on them.

  “What are you going to do, stab me?” Julian’s laugh was sharp as he tapped a finger to his temple. “Already dead, remember?”

  “No, I’m not gonna stab you!” Though, to be honest, it was more tempting by the minute. “I use it to destroy the tie keeping you here—”

  Julian opened his mouth to argue, but Yadriel pressed on.

  “I’m not going to destroy the necklace! It’ll sever the tie anchoring you to the necklace, and you can go to the afterlife and be at peace, okay?” he snapped.

  “Yeah, nah.” Julian squared his shoulders. “I’m not cool with that.”

  Yadriel groaned. Of course the first spirit he summoned wouldn’t just be released willingly. No, he had to get stuck with one who had an attitude problem.

  “Ghosts need to take care of unfinished business before they cross over, right? Well, I’ve got unfinished business,” Julian said, brow furrowed. “I wanna check on my friends. They were with me when I died. I wanna make sure they’re okay.”

  His face twisted between annoyance and something that could’ve been worry. “And maybe they know who got me,” he added as an afterthought.

  “I really need to do this, and, like, now,” Yadriel said. He didn’t feel good about it, but he didn’t have much of a choice, either. “We still need to find Miguel, and, besides, if you stay here like this for too long, you’ll turn all dark and violent and start hurting people.”

  He thought that was a perfectly reasonable explanation, but Julian crossed his arms over his chest. “Nope.”

  Yadriel looked to Maritza for help, but she just shrugged her shoulders.

  “Look, I didn’t want it to come to this,” Yadriel told Julian. Drawing himself up, he gripped his dagger in his hand. “We don’t like releasing spirits by force—”

  A thick eyebrow quirked. “I thought you said you’ve never done this before?”

  “But you’re leaving me no choice.” Yadriel held the necklace higher in the air.

  Julian remained where he stood, defiant and unmoving, but his wide eyes cut back and forth between his necklace and Yadriel’s face.

  “¡Muéstrame el enlace!” Yadriel called out. His portaje glowed bright, filling the church with a warm blaze that made all three of them squint. A golden thread sparked to life in the air, starting from the pendant of St. Jude and ending at the center of Julian’s chest. He tried to sidestep it, but the line followed.

  Yadriel inhaled a deep breath, ready to say the sacred words. “¡Te libero a la otra vida!”

  Julian squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact.

  Yadriel sliced his portaje through the air, aiming directly for the golden thread. But, instead of severing it, the edge of his blade caught on the line. The dagger vibrated in his hand, and small sparks flew from where they met. The thread didn’t even so much as bend.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Yadriel saw Julian’s posture relax. He could sense the obnoxious smirk on his face.

  But he wasn’t giving up. Yadriel raised his arm and tried slicing through it again. The force of its sudden stop jolted up his arm, into his shoulder. He tried sawing at it, but all it did was send more sparks flying.

  The light of his portaje dimmed until it was back to gray steel. Disappointment dropped heavily into Yadriel’s stomach. “Shit.”

  “Man, you really suck at this,” Julian said, looking entirely pleased with himself.

  Yadriel turned to Maritza. His heart hammered in his ears, and his throat felt like it was closing up on him.

  The sudden aching in his chest threatened to swallow him whole.

  “¡Mira!” Maritza was immediately at his side, her voice calm and soothing as she gripped his arms. “Don’t worry about it, this isn’t your fault!” She jerked her head in Julian’s direction. “He’s probably too bull-headed to force to cross over—”

  “Hey!”

  Maritza ignored Julian. “Just like Tito, remember?”

  “Maybe,” Yadriel mumbled, shame hot on his cheeks. Maybe that was the explanation, but what if it wasn’t?

  “Look,” Julian called, taking a step forward. “I’m willing to look past this and cut you a deal.”

  Yadriel and Maritza turned to him.

  He looked much more relaxed now, his attention glued to the golden thread attached to his chest. “If you help me find my friends and make sure they’re okay, I will willingly let you do your witchy thing and send me on my way to the afterlife or whatever.” He plucked curiously at the thread. It was already fading away.

  Julian glanced up at Yadriel and splayed his palms out at his sides. “Deal?”

  Yadriel looked at Maritza. He was already in way over his head, and something told him this wasn’t going to be as easy as Julian made it sound.

  “I don’t think we’ve got much of a choice,” Maritza told him.

  It was either help Julian and do this on his own, or go to his dad and tell him what happened. Yadriel would get into a boatload of trouble for sneaking around, defying the ways of the brujx, and disrespecting their ancient ways.

  And, worse, there was no way they’d agree to let Yadriel be part of the aquelarre.

  “Fine,” Yadriel agreed begrudgingly.

  A satisfied grin pressed dimples into Julian’s cheeks.

  “But you have to do what I say,” Yadriel said, shaking his portaje at Julian before stuffing it into his backpack.

  “You got it, patrón.”

  “I’ll come back for you in the morning—” Yadriel started, moving to place the medal on the altar with Lady Death.

  “Wait, what?” Julian’s eyes went wide. “You can’t just ditch me here!”

  “I can’t take you home, someone will see you!” Yadriel told him.

  “I’m not letting you abandon me in a haunted church—”

  “It’s not haunted!”

  “If I’m in here, and I’m a ghost, then it’s haunted!” Julian shot back.

  Yadriel growled. “That’s not—”

  “And it’s creepy!” Julian thrust his hands toward Lady Death.

  “She’s not creepy!” Yadriel argued, feeling defensive. “Maritza, help me out here—”

  He turned to her, but Maritza stood off to the side, an amused look on her face. “He’s got a point. You did raise him from the dead, so he’s kinda your responsibility now.”

  When Yadriel spluttered indignantly, she continued. “I mean, it’s probably safer if you can keep an eye on him, don’
t you think?” she suggested in a tone that was supposed to be nonchalant. But Yadriel knew better.

  Yadriel glared at her, his cheeks burning. He squeezed the necklace in his hand, trying to come up with a better reason to leave Julian in the old church than not wanting to hide a hot boy in his room.

  A hot dead boy.

  Yadriel groaned. He couldn’t believe he was going to agree to this. “You have to hide from my family, okay?”

  Julian’s face lit with triumph.

  Yadriel fastened the necklace around his neck. In order to take Julian with him, he needed to take his tether along, too. “They can’t know I’m sneaking around helping out a spirit.” It would be tricky, but as long as he didn’t linger around the other brujx long enough for them to sense Julian, they could maybe get away with it. And he didn’t much feel like spending quality time with his family anyway.

  “Got it.” Julian sounded sure enough, but his eyes snagged on his St. Jude medal around Yadriel’s neck, a deep crease between his brows. “Wait—” He gave a small shake of his head. “How do I hide from them if they can see ghosts?”

  Yadriel blinked. “Uh…” He looked to Maritza for an answer.

  She threw her arms up in the air. “Don’t look at me! I’m just a shitty witch who can’t heal nobody, remember?” Maritza turned down the aisle and waltzed toward the door.

  Yadriel pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. Typical.

  A cold chill suddenly ran up Yadriel’s right side, making him shiver. He opened his eyes to find Julian right next to him. If the spirit were alive, their shoulders would’ve been touching. Julian was taller than him, enough to have to angle his chin down when they were standing so close. He had a very serious look on his face.

  Yadriel took a step back, pushing down the fluttering in his stomach. “What?”

  “Can ghosts eat?” Julian pressed his hand to his stomach. “’Cause I’m, like, staaarving, man.”

  “Oh my God.” Yadriel slung his backpack over his shoulder and stomped after Maritza.