by Aiden Thomas
“I know that!” Lita huffed, coming to a stop next to the crates.
Yadriel scowled, not believing her for a moment.
“But you’re the best at decorating the calaveras!” she argued, snapping her skirt.
Yadriel looked down at the boxes of blank sugar skulls and the mess of neon icing tubes that littered the table. The older kids sat around, looking bored out of their minds, maybe five completed calaveras between them that were lackluster at best.
Meanwhile, Leo and Lena, the six-year-old twins, sat on the end, squeezing neon blue and green icing into each other’s mouths. They laughed uncontrollably, their eyes wild, completely jacked up on sugar.
Decorating the small skulls made of white sugar was Yadriel’s favorite part of Día de Muertos, but right now, he had more important things to worry about.
“Lita, do I have to?” he said, trying really hard not to sound like a whiny child.
“Only two days to Día de Muertos!” Lita lamented, sitting heavily in the chair at the head of the table. “Still so much to cook and bake!” she continued.
The teen brujx kept talking among themselves. Leo and Lena were now chasing each other around, smearing icing on their arms.
Yadriel wanted to get out of there and go back to the house, where he could talk to Julian. He was probably still pissed off, but Yadriel hoped he’d had enough time to cool off and listen to reason.
When no one responded, Lita scowled. “Ay, yi, yi, how my back aches!” she announced, louder this time and with a big sigh. She looked around expectantly.
Alejandro, a thirteen-year-old brujo with a big ego and even bigger attitude problem, rolled his eyes. “Aye, Lita,” he said dismissively, taking a large bite out of a sugar skull.
With surprising swiftness, Lita had her chancla in her hand. “¡Cállate!” she snapped, whacking Alejandro in the back of the head.
“Ow!”
The others laughed.
Yadriel inwardly sighed. He wasn’t going to get out of there until he satisfied Lita’s demands. So he sucked it up and gave her a smile. “We appreciate all your hard work, Lita,” he told her, doing his best to sound as sincere as possible without being sarcastic.
“The supplies for the ofrendas this year are even more beautiful than last. You work so hard,” he repeated, sitting down and bringing forward a box of sugar skulls.
Satisfied, Lita smiled and waved a hand through the air. “¡Oh, gracias, mi amor! But I would never complain, I am happy to do it.”
Alejandro snorted, but it quickly turned into a cough when Lita’s eyes narrowed on him.
Yadriel picked out an assortment of neon-colored icing in tiny piping bags and got to work. The sooner he got some calaveras done, the sooner he could sneak out of there. With painstaking precision, Yadriel traced yellow flowers, purple eyelashes, and green spiderwebs onto a sugar skull for his mom.
There was one for each ancestor they would be welcoming back on Día de Muertos, their names written across the forehead of their calavera.
“You still need to help me look in the rafters,” Lita said to Yadriel, drawing his attention. “Still can’t find la garra del jaguar.”
“The what?” asked Ximena, a short bruja whose quinces would be happening next summer.
“¡La garra del jaguar!”
The younger brujx exchanged confused looks.
Yadriel shook his head but continued to work. He always knew when a Lita lecture was coming. He piped swirls of yellow and light blue onto the calavera’s bony cheeks.
Lita huffed, fully offended now. “Four sacred blades! They are ancient artifacts, used to perform the forbidden sacrifices.”
Alejandro gaped. “The what?”
Lita preened under the sudden undivided attention.
Yadriel carefully wrote his mother’s name in loopy handwriting over the calavera’s forehead in red icing.
Camila.
Gently, Yadriel put it in the box with the other completed calaveras. He picked out his next sugar skull to decorate, cradling it in his lap as Lita dove into her story in Spanish, not having the patience to stumble through the nuances of English for such an important retelling.
Lita had been telling the legend of Bahlam, the jaguar god, ever since he was little. He knew the story practically by heart.
Bahlam, the jaguar god, was the ruler of Xibalba. When you died, you had to travel through Xibalba to reach the peaceful world of the afterlife, where Lady Death ruled. Some people were granted safe and direct passage to the afterlife by Lady Death—like those who died in battle, at a young age, or during childbirth—but most had to endure the challenges of Xibalba.
In order to make it through Xibalba, you had to be clever and brave. Also known as the Place of Fright, Xibalba was filled with monsters and death gods you had to outsmart and defeat.
Bahlam ruled over Xibalba. He ate the spirits of all those who failed in their journey. Part man, part beast, he was fearsome and cruel and insatiable. Unsatisfied with the spirits of those he caught in Xibalba, Bahlam tricked humans into helping him cross to the realm of the living so he could feed.
He used fear and manipulation to bend humans to his will. Bahlam told them that, in order to escape his wrath, they must bring him human sacrifices. Without human sacrifices to satiate his hunger, he threatened to unmake the land of the living. To bring death and destruction to the human race and ensure none of their loved ones made it to the afterlife.
To appeal to more selfish people, Bahlam also offered immense power in exchange for human sacrifices.
Under the threat of death and the promise of power, Bahlam’s following grew. He gave his worshippers la garra del jaguar. The four blades had to be pierced into the hearts of four human sacrifices while the worshipper wore a jaguar head amulet around their neck. The rituals were performed at a cenote. The sinkholes and underground pools were the gateway between the land of the living and Xibalba. The blood of the human sacrifices would flow into the cenote, and once the last drop fell into the pool, Bahlam would be summoned.
He would emerge from the cenote in his monstrous jaguar form and drag the human sacrifices down to Xibalba. There, he would feast on their spirits. In exchange for their sacrifices, Bahlam gifted them powers channeled through the amulet. The wearer would become powerful enough to snuff out life with the snap of their fingers and bring people back from the dead with a wave of their hand. But power obtained with human life corrupted the mind and poisoned the body.
The followers of Bahlam killed ruthlessly. Wars broke out across the realm, led by the corrupt worshippers.
The balance between life and death was thrown off by so many spirits being trapped in Xibalba instead of passing to the land of the dead, where Lady Death ruled. Seeing the pain and torture caused to appease the jaguar god, Lady Death left her throne to confront Bahlam.
Lady Death fought Bahlam in a war that lasted three days and three nights. Bahlam was strong, but Lady Death was clever. She trapped Bahlam in Xibalba and destroyed all of la garra del jaguar so no one could summon him again.
“Except for one,” Lita said, holding up a finger with a knowing look. “This last set Lady Death bequeathed to the very first family of brujos and brujas. These humans wanted to help Lady Death bring balance back to the world of the living and the dead. She blessed us with the ability to heal the injured living, and safely shepherd the spirits of the dead to the afterlife so no one would have to suffer the trials of Xibalba again.
“She trusted us with the last la garra del jaguar as a reminder of what greed and corruption were capable of. Our bloodline carries on this tradition, serving Lady Death. In exchange for our help, Lady Death gifted us with Día de Muertos, the one time a year our people can return to the land of the living. For two days, we get to see our loved ones who’ve passed.”
Lita paused, probably waiting for oohs and aahs, or at least some applause.
But …
Yadriel looked around. Leo and Lena looked on
the verge of tears. Even Alejandro appeared deeply upset.
“Do you think that’s what happened to Miguel?” Ximena asked, eyes wide and chin wobbling. “Bahlam got him?”
Oh no. Yadriel sat up, giving Lita a worried look. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to tell the story of Bahlam.
“No, no, no, of course not!” Lita said, trying to laugh it off. “Aye, nena.”
She went to Ximena and wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Bahlam has been locked up in Xibalba. He can’t escape; Lady Death made sure of that,” she said. “We make sure of that.”
Yadriel took the opportunity to sneak away. He tucked the calavera he’d just completed into the pocket of his hoodie so he could hide it in his room for later.
While Lita was distracted, he backed away and followed the outer wall, slinking through the shadows to make an escape. He stopped short, however, when he came upon familiar voices.
His dad and his tío stood next to one of the archways. Tío Catriz stood facing his younger brother, his expression calm save for a small crease in his heavy brow. His father’s back was to him, but Yadriel could see the tense set of his shoulders.
Yadriel crept closer, stopping behind a pillar so he could hear what they were saying.
“Times are changing, hermano,” his tío said, earnest and almost pleading. “We need to make changes in order to survive. Our lineage is faced with ever weakening magic.”
Yadriel strained his ears. What were they talking about? He shifted a bit closer, and the movement caught Catriz’s attention. His dark eyes flicked to Yadriel. He moved to shrink back, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping, but something in Tío Catriz’s expression shifted.
He focused back on his brother. “We should be embracing differences, even if it scares us,” Catriz implored. “Not rejecting them and pushing them aside.”
Pride and gratitude swelled in Yadriel’s chest. Was Cartiz talking about him? The concept of having a transgender brujx in their community was still baffling to most, and his dad clearly didn’t know what to do with him.
Yadriel smiled. Finally, someone was fighting for him. Of course, of all people, his uncle would stick up for him. Catriz knew what it was like to be cast aside because you didn’t fit into the traditional expectations of the brujx.
Anticipation and excitement thrummed in his veins. He rounded the pillar and took an uneasy step closer. Should he just tell them? Was now the right moment? With his tío on his side, would his dad listen? He could tell them how he and Maritza had performed his own quinces. How Lady Death had accepted him as a brujo and blessed him and bound him to his portaje.
Determination propelled him forward another step, and he reached for his dagger.
“Catriz.”
Yadriel stopped, fingers pressed to the hilt.
His father’s tone was firm, verging on angry. Enrique said his brother’s name like a warning, his expression stony. “I don’t want to hear it anymore.”
Yadriel’s stomach plummeted to his feet.
Catriz pressed his palms together. “I implore you to be more open-minded, hermano,” he continued. “If we close ourselves off to the possibilities that lie outside of what tradition has dictated—”
“Catriz—”
“We are destined for extinction.”
The words hung in the air for a moment. Catriz’s and Enrique’s eyes remained locked.
When his father spoke, he didn’t raise his voice, but his words were unyielding. “I already told you my decision. I will not change my mind.”
As Tío Catriz’s expression fell to one of defeat, Yadriel’s hope fell with it.
Catriz held his hands up in submission, conceding with a slight bow of his head.
Shame simmered under Yadriel’s skin and pricked his eyes.
His tío looked at him, an apology in his eyes.
When Enrique turned to follow his gaze, Yadriel didn’t stick around to see his reaction. He did his best to hold his head up high and walk confidently away, even though he could feel his heart breaking. He braced himself, expecting to hear his father call for him to stop, for him to offer some sort of excuse or another forced apology.
But no one called after him. Not when he wove through the sea of brujx. Not when he left the church. Only the dead watched as he ran through the tombstones and back to the house, and they stayed silent as well.
THIRTEEN
When Yadriel slipped back into his room, he found Julian lying on his bed. He was stretched out lazily like a jungle cat, one hand tucked behind his head. Purrcaso was curled up on the windowsill, her tail slowly swaying like the pendulum of a clock. Julian stared out the glass. Lights blinked from the hills in the distance, beyond the cemetery walls. They were the closest thing they had to stars in the city. The garden of tombstones and mausoleums stretched out into the dark. Yadriel’s old iPhone lay on the pillow next to Julian, the earbud right next to his ear. He tossed a balled-up piece of paper into the air and caught it over and over.
When the door closed behind Yadriel with a click, Julian turned.
His skin was bathed in a silvery glow. Yadriel wasn’t sure if it was the moon sharing some of her light, or the effects of being a spirit. Julian watched him with silent regard, the ball of paper held in his hand.
For the first time, Yadriel couldn’t immediately tell what he was thinking by the look on his usually expressive face.
“Listening to my shitty music?” Yadriel asked as he tugged off his hoodie and tossed it into the closet.
“Mmm,” Julian hummed in reply.
Yadriel removed his portaje and tucked the dagger into his backpack before sitting down on the edge of the bed. Looking down at Julian, he raised an eyebrow. “How is it?”
“Still shitty,” Julian said, but a small grin tugged the corner of his lips, teasing a dimple.
Yadriel exhaled a short laugh. When Julian shifted closer to the window, he lay down and tucked the other earbud into his own ear. A breathy voice sang softly through dreamy chords. Julian went back to tossing the paper ball in the air.
Goose bumps trailed up Yadriel’s arm where it rested closest to Julian. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting the music wind through his mind and ease the stress knotted in his body. The gentle sound of Julian catching the ball out of the air fell into time with the steady beat.
“It’s sad,” Julian said.
“It’s not sad,” Yadriel murmured. “Just … quiet.” Though, he supposed that was why Julian didn’t like it. It didn’t appeal to his nature.
The tossing stopped and, for a long moment, they lay there listening. Yadriel’s body felt heavy, like he was sinking into the bed as exhaustion coaxed him toward sleep. The blanket was soft under his fingers. Yadriel floated somewhere between the real world and a dream when Julian’s voice called him back.
“I’m sorry.”
“Hm?”
“Earlier. For being an asshole.”
Yadriel opened his eyes with effort and turned his head.
Julian stared up at the ceiling, his brow furrowed as he turned the ball of paper over in his hands. “I could lie and say it’s because I’m a ghost, but I was never any good at controlling my temper when I was alive, either,” he admitted, not looking at Yadriel when he spoke. Julian shifted awkwardly, waiting for his reply.
“Wow,” Yadriel said. “You don’t do this often, do you?”
Julian finally turned to him with a frown. “Do what?”
Yadriel grinned. “Apologize.”
“Tch,” he hissed between his teeth. “Man, screw you!” He threw the ball of paper at Yadriel, and it bounced off his forehead and landed on the bed between them.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Yadriel insisted, laughter shaking his words. Julian huffed, and Yadriel forced himself to swallow down the chuckles.
A quiet moment stretched out, accompanied by the gentle flow of music.
“Why do you have to prove that you’re a brujo—a guy—to t
hem?” Julian suddenly asked, scowling up at the ceiling.
The question took Yadriel by surprise. Julian was probably still thinking about what he’d heard during the sarcophagus incident.
“Why do you have to prove anything to anyone?”
Yadriel shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just how it is, how it’s always been. In order for them to let me be a brujo—”
“You don’t need anyone’s permission to be you, Yads,” he cut in, frustration starting to edge his voice again.
And Yadriel was getting irritated himself. “Because—”
“I mean, you summoned me, so you have the brujo powers, right?” he went on. He picked up the balled-up paper again and fiddled with it absentmindedly. “Like, is this Lady deciding who counts as a man and who counts as a woman? What about nonbinary people? Or intersex? Or agender?”
Yadriel was surprised Julian even knew what those words meant. “I’m the first trans brujx—” he tried to explain, but Julian interrupted him with a sarcastic laugh.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am!”
Julian shook his head and rolled onto his side so he could properly look at Yadriel. “Nah, there’s no way.”
When Yadriel tried to argue, Julian cut him off.
“There’s no way y’all have been around for thousands of years without there being one person not fitting into the ‘men are this, women are that’ bullshit.” Julian sounded so convinced, so sure. His obsidian eyes locked onto Yadriel’s. “Maybe they hid it, or ran away, or I dunno, something else, but there’s no way you’re the first, Yads.”
All Yadriel could do was stare at him.
He didn’t know what to say. He spent so much time feeling isolated—convinced that he was a one-off, an outlier no one knew what to do with—he’d never considered that, somewhere along the line, there had been other brujx like him.
When he didn’t respond, Julian flopped onto his back, pressing the paper ball between his palms. “Seems like the magic knows, right?” Julian thought out loud. “Or Lady Death does—whatever makes those decisions. You did the ceremony, and you were able to summon me, right?”
