by Aiden Thomas
“I think Diego is going to release her spirit.” Yadriel felt a pang of envy. After a brujo turned fifteen, it usually took another few years of shadowing the older brujos and learning their ways before you were allowed to release your own spirit. This would be Diego’s first time.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Beatriz said with a warm chuckle. “I was so worried about leaving Sandra alone, but we talked it through.” She smiled at her daughter, who tried to smile back, but her chin wobbled. “I’ve felt the cold creeping in the past couple of days,” she said, gathering her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “We need to do this now, before it’s too late.”
“Too late?” Julian’s voice was small.
“Before she goes maligno,” Yadriel told him. He nodded to Beatriz. “See how faded she looks?”
Her colors were all washed out, as if she were just a black-and-white photograph. Seeing her was like looking through a fogged window. The details were blurred and undulating ever so slightly.
“Most of the time, when spirits begin to lose themselves, they start to fade like that before they go maligno. Others skip that stage and just turn without warning.” Yadriel had never actually seen that happen before, but he overheard the older brujos talking about it every now and again.
He stole a glance at Julian. His face paled, and Yadriel saw his throat dip as he swallowed.
“Time for us both to move on,” Beatriz said.
Enrique nodded.
Sandra and Beatriz exchanged quiet words, and Diego fidgeted with his portaje. Beatriz reached forward, her ghostly hand cupping her daughter’s cheek. “So silly! I’ll be back for Día de Muertos! Now, let’s go, my husband is waiting for me.”
Sandra walked up to Diego and handed him a red beaded rosary. It must’ve been Beatriz’s portaje, her tether to the land of the living.
Yadriel’s dad gave Diego’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze and said something into his ear. Diego stepped forward. In one hand, he held the rosary, and in the other, his long, curved blade. The gold calavera charm swung from the hilt, but his hand was steady.
“Muéstrame el enlace,” Diego said, his voice strong and firm. Yadriel remembered how shaky and unsure the words had been coming from his own mouth during his failed attempt to release Julian.
The golden thread sparked to life, running from the rosary to the center of Beatriz’s chest.
She smiled, several decades’ worth of dimples showing in her cheeks.
“¡Te libero a la otra vida!”
Diego cut his dagger through the air.
As it sliced through the thread, Beatriz closed her eyes. There was a flash of golden light. Beatriz disappeared in an explosion of glittering marigold petals.
“Whoa,” Julian breathed, dark eyes transfixed and lips parted as the glowing flowers cascaded to the ground.
The light faded until they were just orange petals dusting Beatriz’s grave.
Sandra sighed. Enrique smiled at Diego, and Diego beamed back.
“Well done, mijo,” Enrique said, tugging Diego into a tight embrace.
Yadriel’s throat closed up and his eyes stung. “Come on,” he said, standing up and turning toward the gate.
Julian gave him a confused look from where he remained crouched behind the sarcophagus.
“Let’s get out of here—”
“Yadriel?”
He jerked to a stop and spun around. His father stared at him, brow furrowed. Diego was handing Beatriz’s rosary back to Sandra, falling deep into conversation.
“Uh—” His eyes flickered to Julian, who ducked lower, trying to stay out of sight. “Dad. Hey.”
Enrique approached, and Yadriel panicked, not knowing what to do.
Julian mouthed something, and Yadriel didn’t need to read lips to recognize the curse. It was like he was arguing with himself. Julian’s face screwed up in disgust, and Yadriel had no idea what he was doing, until he rolled forward and disappeared right into the sarcophagus.
Yadriel sucked in a breath, staring at the spot where Julian had vanished.
His dad came to a stop next to the sarcophagus. “Are you leaving?” he asked, eyeing Yadriel’s backpack.
“Uh, yeah,” Yadriel tried to gather his thoughts and focus. “Me and Maritza are just going to hang out for a little while.”
The frown deepened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, it’s not safe—”
Yadriel tensed. “We’ll be fine. She’s bringing the boys. We have an assignment for school to work on,” he quickly added.
“Oh.” That seemed to placate him, but only a little. Yadriel noted he was wearing the same clothes as the previous night. His checkered shirt was rumpled and half untucked. Had he gotten any sleep since Miguel died?
“I should probably get going…” Yadriel waited for his dad to turn around and leave already. He shifted, but his dad didn’t move.
“I wanted to check on you…” Enrique trailed off awkwardly, scratching at his mussed hair. “And apologize.” His eyelids drooped with exhaustion. “Anoche—”
“It’s fine,” Yadriel cut in. He didn’t want to talk about this right now. Especially with Julian in earshot.
Or, well, he wasn’t sure what the acoustical setup of being inside a stone coffin was like.
“I didn’t mean to say…” His father squinted, looking for the right words.
Yadriel swallowed hard. It didn’t seem fair for his dad to look so conflicted, and for Yadriel to feel bad about it. He wanted to hang on to his anger. He deserved to be angry, didn’t he? But that still didn’t keep him from feeling guilty. Even if his dad said and did stupid, hurtful things, he was still his dad, and there was something particularly unsettling about seeing him upset.
But right now, he just needed to rush through this conversation so his dad would leave. “Look, Dad, seriously, it’s fine—”
“I’m still learning.” He exhaled a short laugh. “Your mamá was better at this. And without her here—” He paused, his brow suddenly furrowing as he looked past Yadriel. “Without her…,” he tried again but trailed off, eyes wandering to the sarcophagus.
Yadriel tensed. “Dad,” he said, trying to regain his attention.
Enrique started, his gaze going back to Yadriel.
“Can we not do this right now?” Yadriel edged around the stone slab so he was standing between his dad and where Julian was hidden. “I’m in a hurry.”
His dad frowned, deep creases tugging down his mouth below his mustache. “But—”
“Maritza’s waiting for me—”
“No quise lastimarte, Yadriel.” Enrique’s voice was quiet when he spoke, giving Yadriel pause.
His fingers tightened into fists. A sour mix of guilt, anger, and embarrassment tumbled in his stomach. Red-hot shame burned in his cheeks as he stared down at his shoes.
Yadriel bit back his knee-jerk reaction to say “It’s okay,” because it wasn’t. It didn’t change what his dad had said. If it had been a mistake, his slip of the tongue was more telling than his apologies.
Why did Yadriel always have to absolve people of their guilt? He didn’t want to be understanding. He didn’t have it in him to be forgiving this time.
His dad’s words went unanswered as Diego’s and Sandra’s voices floated to them between the headstones.
Yadriel heard his dad exhale a sigh.
“We’re having dinner tonight,” he said. “Home before it gets dark, okay?”
“Okay.” There was a long moment before, finally, his dad forced a weak smile, turned, and went back to Diego and Sandra.
Yadriel waited, feeling his heart beat out the seconds in his chest, before the three finally headed back toward the house.
Quickly, Yadriel turned and knocked his knuckles against the lid of the sarcophagus. “Julian!” he said in a harsh whisper. “You can stop hiding—”
Julian fell through the stone, landing hard on his back. He scrambled away, letting out a strangled yelp as he batted at his arms and
legs. “Is it on me?” he demanded. He looked ridiculous, twisting his neck this way and that to check himself, for cobwebs or bone dust, Yadriel wasn’t sure what.
“There’s nothing on you,” Yadriel told him, trying not to laugh.
Julian’s chest heaved up and down, pulling against his white T-shirt. He had a horrified look on his face as he stared up at Yadriel, dark eyes wild. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “That was disgusting—”
“Get up, we gotta get out of here before someone sees us,” Yadriel told him, heading for the gate.
Julian rushed to his feet and chased after him, brushing off his arms as he ran. “It was dark and it smelled and I touched something slimy—” Julian broke off with a violent shudder. “Holy shit, I don’t know how long that body’s been in there, but clearly not long enough!” His face contorted in disgust. “Why couldn’t it have just been a skeleton?”
“It takes like eight to twelve years for that to happen,” Yadriel told him as they rounded a columbaria.
Julian shuddered again, letting out a shaky breath. When he caught up, Yadriel could feel him staring.
“What?” he snapped between clenched teeth, feeling raw, his nerves exposed.
“That was awkward,” Julian stated plainly.
A surprised laugh bucked in Yadriel’s chest at Julian’s complete lack of filter. His unabashed honesty was blunt, but it was also refreshing to not deal with pretense.
“Yeah, it was,” Yadriel agreed. The towering gate groaned as he opened it and slipped through.
Julian opened his mouth, and Yadriel fully expected a slew of questions to come pouring out, but Maritza saved the day.
“The hell took so long?” She stood by the stone wall, a hand on her hip and scowling. The boys flanked her.
Julian backpedaled several steps, his palms held up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!”
The “boys” were two seventy-five-pound pit bulls. They sat on either side of Maritza, their large, square heads coming up to the middle of her thighs. With cropped ears and silvery-blue coats, they sat still, looking more like stone gargoyles than dogs. They wore wide leather collars around their necks and harnesses that attached to a belt around Maritza’s waist.
“We got hung up,” Yadriel answered before addressing Julian. “What, are you afraid of dogs?”
“Those are not dogs!” Julian declared, pointing.
Yadriel rolled his eyes and turned. “Donatello, Michelangelo!” he called. Immediately, their jowls dropped, tongues happily lolling.
“Like the Ninja Turtles?” Julian asked, still hovering at a safe distance.
“No,” Maritza snapped, shooting him a glare. “Like the Italian Renaissance artists, pendejo.” She stumbled as they both surged for Yadriel.
Julian held up his palms. “Yikes, my bad.”
“Like I’d name my beautiful dogs after some dumb cartoon turtles,” Maritza groused.
Donatello and Michelangelo jostled Yadriel, getting globs of drool on his jeans as they clamored for scratches. When he and Maritza wanted to go hang out around the city after school, Maritza’s parents usually made them take the boys. Even if they were gentle giants, they were terrifying to look at. People gave them a wide berth, always opting to cross the street than pass them on the sidewalk.
“You’re nothing but big softies, aren’t you?” Yadriel cooed. “Julian’s just a big baby, isn’t he?” He shot Julian a pointed look.
Julian scowled in response but still didn’t budge.
Maritza snickered.
“It’s not like they can bite you,” Yadriel pointed out. “Anyways, they can’t even see you.” He straightened before they could knock him over in their excitement.
“They can’t?” Cautiously, Julian moved closer. As if to check, he waved his hand in front of Donatello’s face. For a moment, the large dog sniffed at the air, but he went back to licking Yadriel’s knee. “How come your cat can, but they can’t?” he asked.
Yadriel looked down at them.
Michelangelo’s whole body wiggled when he was excited, so much so that his own tail kept smacking him in the face. Donatello, the bigger of the two, sat back on his haunches, eyes half-lidded, panting and drooling happily up at Yadriel.
“That’s why.” Yadriel grinned.
Julian laughed, his shoulders relaxing back into his usual air of careless ease.
“I resent your implication.” Maritza sniffed indignantly, bumping Michelangelo out of the way with her hip. “My dad rescued them from some sketchy guy outside of a grocery store trying to sell them out of a cardboard box. See their ears?” She rubbed her thumb against the short nub of what was left of Donatello’s right ear. “That’s called a battle crop. People do that when they’re breeding pit bulls for dog fighting,” she explained. “So there’s nothing for their opponent to rip off in a fight.”
“Same reason I keep my hair short,” Julian said casually as he ran his palm over his dark, buzzed hair.
Yadriel stared at him. Was he being serious? He eyed that curved scar behind his ear again.
“They were supposed to be trained as search dogs, the kind we use to track down tethers,” Yadriel told him. “But they didn’t pass the test.”
“That doesn’t mean I love them any less,” Maritza cooed, planting a kiss on top of their large, square heads.
“We’re just one redhead in go-go boots short of our own Scooby gang,” Julian said, looking pleased with himself.
“Are you implying I’m a Velma?” Maritza demanded. “I’m a Fred!”
“Obviously, I’m Fred,” Julian went on, as if he hadn’t heard her.
Maritza scoffed, and they dove headfirst into bickering about who was more of a Fred.
Yadriel shook his head. “Hey!” He had to snap his fingers before they’d shut up long enough to look at him. “So where are we going? Where do your friends hang out?”
“Bunch of places.” Julian thought for a moment. “But if they’re trying to lay low…” He trailed off, as if he didn’t like the answer. He gave his head a small shake. “There’s an underpass by the train tracks we hang out at; let’s try that first.”
“Is it walkable?” Yadriel asked. “We can’t exactly get on the bus with these two.”
“Yeah, we don’t have fancy bus passes.”
“Fancy” was the last word Yadriel would use to describe the flimsy card his parents purchased with his student discount.
“We walk everywhere, or ride.” As if remembering, Julian added, “Man, I hope they found my skateboard.”
Maritza shot Yadriel a criticizing look. He only shrugged in response.
“Hey, is your birthday next month?” she asked Julian.
He blinked. “Yeah, the thirteenth—Wait, how did you—?”
Maritza’s face was a picture of smugness. “See?” she said to Yadriel. “Told you.” With that, she turned and began walking in the direction of the train tracks. Donatello and Michelangelo led the way as her barrel-chested bodyguards.
“But how did you—?” He turned to Yadriel. “How did she know that?”
“Call it witchy intuition!” Maritza said over her shoulder.
Yadriel couldn’t keep himself from laughing as he jogged to catch up. Julian chased after them, demanding answers.
TEN
The farther they got from home, the more unsure Yadriel was about this plan. Afternoon LA traffic kept the streets packed, and the air filled with the sounds of honking, sirens, and bumping subwoofers battling for dominance. But as they followed the train tracks, the main roads started to clear until the sounds of traffic were just a droning in the distance. Empty tracks stretched out before them.
The path was littered with broken brown bottles, fast-food wrappers, and cigarette butts. Donatello and Michelangelo enjoyed snuffling through the debris as Maritza tried, in vain, to stop them.
A man in a large black jacket with his hands stuffed deep into the pockets walked toward them. When he spotted Donatello and Michelangelo, he cr
ossed to the other side of the street, staring intensely as they passed.
“If we get mugged or kidnapped, I’m going to be pissed,” Maritza told Yadriel.
He laughed, but it did little to ease the tension knotting his shoulders. “Noted.”
The warm afternoon seemed to pass right through Julian. The burning gold light that streaked across the sky and splashed against the walls of buildings didn’t touch him. Instead, he was washed in dull blue, the color of dusk.
Julian’s pace quickened until Maritza and Yadriel had to half jog to keep up with him. Donatello and Michelangelo trotted along, their massive paws shuffling over the pavement.
“Are we close?” Yadriel asked.
“It’s right up ahead!”
Yadriel tucked Julian’s necklace under his shirt. He didn’t want to have to come up with an explanation if Julian’s friends noticed it.
“Here, here, here!” Julian waved at them frantically as he raced toward a set of stairs that led down from the train tracks.
“Wait!” Yadriel called after him, panic finally getting the better of him as he chased after Julian.
Luckily, he stopped at the top of the stairs, but was poised to take off, one hand already on the railing. “What?” he demanded.
“What’s the plan here?” Yadriel asked, fidgeting with his hands.
“The plan?” Julian repeated, his face screwed up in confusion.
“Yeah, like, what are we going to say to them?”
Julian waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing, I just need to make sure they’re okay!”
“Uh.” Maritza came up to Yadriel’s side. “We can’t just walk into your friends’ hideout, be like, ‘Hey, just checking in,’ and then be on our merry way,” she told him.
Yadriel nodded enthusiastically in agreement. He was very glad to have another voice of reason.
Julian let out a groan, like coming up with a game plan was a very large inconvenience. “I’ll just tell you what to say in the moment!”
“What, like Cyrano de Bergerac?” Yadriel asked with a sarcastic laugh.
Julian blinked. “Uh … yeah.”
“Do you even know who that is?” Maritza said.
