by Aiden Thomas
Tito lunged for him, and Yadriel was barely able to throw himself behind a sarcophagus in time. The voice in his head screamed at him to get to the shears, to cut the tie.
An inhuman screech filled the air. Tito threw himself onto the sarcophagus, nails digging at the stone in a frenzy as he tried to reach Yadriel.
Yadriel ducked out of Tito’s reach, his feet slipping through slick mud as he tried to propel himself forward.
He dove for the shears, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Tito was on him in a blink, knocking him off his feet and onto his back once again.
As he pinned Yadriel down, Tito’s mouth opened wide. Black lips split open, revealing rotten teeth. A rattling growl flowed from the gaping hole. Something wriggled under his purple tongue.
Yadriel tried to get his dagger free, but Tito had his wrist in an iron grip. He shoved his hand against the side of Tito’s face, trying to push him away, but his dead skin was slippery and squished under his fingers.
Tito’s blackened teeth snapped.
Yadriel thrashed wildly, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
A strangled shout ripped from his throat.
“¡Muéstrame el enlace!” someone bellowed.
In his peripheral, there was a flash of light, but all Yadriel could see was Tito’s lumbering form on top of him. The golden thread ignited at the center of Tito’s chest, shooting off to the left.
Tito raised his meaty fist over his head, ready to slam it down onto Yadriel.
He threw his arms up to shield himself, but the blow never came.
“¡Te libero a la otra vida!”
Tito’s face went slack.
Yadriel could’ve sworn he heard a soft sigh, and, a moment later, Tito dissolved into thousands of glowing marigold petals. They fell in a gentle cascade over Yadriel, tickling his cheeks before they faded and disappeared into the mud.
Yadriel stared at the spot Tito had been, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs.
When he looked up, a man stood over him in a black rain jacket, a portaje glinting in his hand. When he pushed back his hood, it was his father’s stunned face staring back at him.
“Yadriel?” He pulled him up to his feet and gripped tightly onto Yadriel’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” His father’s panicked eyes searched his before looking him over.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” His voice quaked. Immediately, he looked for Julian, but he was nowhere in sight. “I—”
His dad pulled him to his chest and locked his arms around him tight, pressing his nose into Yadriel’s hair. “Thank the saints!”
Yadriel could feel his dad’s shuddering inhale. His own body trembled in his dad’s embrace. Enrique withdrew, still holding on tight to his shoulders. “What on earth happened?”
Nerves and adrenaline fried Yadriel’s brain as he tried to come up with something. “I—I—”
Finally, Enrique spotted the portaje clutched in Yadriel’s hand. His eyes bulged, watching as the glowing blade faded back to steel.
“Santa Muerte,” his dad breathed, bewildered, as he pushed his hand through his wet hair. “Where did you get that?”
Guilt and panic swarmed in Yadriel’s stomach. He wanted to tell a cover story, to make up some sort of excuse, but this wasn’t a situation he could just lie himself out of. “Maritza made me my own portaje…”
“Maritza?” Yadriel’s dad shook his head, but he didn’t sound surprised by that answer. “But … It was glowing. It glowed.” He kept shaking his head, as if that would rattle his brain into connecting the pieces. “How?”
It felt like there wasn’t enough room in Yadriel’s chest for him to take a deep breath. His legs felt wobbly under him. He was terrified.
“I went through my quinces ritual,” Yadriel told him, clutching his portaje to his chest, worried his dad would take it away. “On my own.”
“On your own?” Enrique repeated, staring at the blade. “And … And it worked?”
Yadriel nodded.
“You received Lady Death’s blessing?”
He nodded again, his face growing hot, shoulders creeping up to his ears. Would his dad ever forgive him for sneaking around behind his back? For lying? For breaking the sacred rules and traditions of the brujx?
“Yadriel…”
He heaved a large sigh, and Yadriel cringed, bracing for impact.
When his father spoke, his voice was small and defeated. “I am sorry.”
Yadriel blinked. He was … sorry? Yadriel stole a look up at his dad, convinced he’d heard him wrong.
“I did not think it was possible,” his dad confessed, still looking quite shocked. “I thought—” He shook his head at himself. “Whatever I thought, I was wrong.”
It was Yadriel’s turn to be shocked. “You were?”
He must’ve had a strange look on his face, because his dad exhaled a small laugh. “We have a lot to talk about,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “We need to speak about this as a family, with your mother.”
“With Mom?” Yadriel repeated, his heart aching.
His dad nodded. His expression was filled with remorse. “You were denied your quinces for too long, and I won’t let another aquelarre pass without you in it.”
“Really?” Yadriel felt ready to pass out. Hope, relief, shock—the swirl of emotions was dizzying. He didn’t even feel the cold or the rain anymore. “But what if the others don’t agree?”
His dad gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. “Lady Death would not bind you to a dagger—your dagger,” he emphasized, “if you weren’t a brujo, Yadriel.”
Excitement leaped in his chest, spilling words from his mouth. “Does this mean I can be part of the brujos?” he asked. “Can I help you look for Miguel? I—”
“¡Tranquilo, Yadriel!” his dad said, holding up his palms. “There will be plenty of time for learning the way of the brujos.”
Yadriel wanted to jump in, to tell his dad how they’d been trying to find Miguel. To tell him about the other missing people, and about—
Yadriel held himself back. Julian. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell his dad about Julian. As if feeling his eyes on him, Yadriel glanced to the side and saw him there, standing in the shadow of a columbaria and trying to stay out of sight. He looked unharmed—as much as a spirit could be, anyway—but his expression was unreadable, hidden in the shadows.
No, he wasn’t ready to tell anyone else about Julian yet. That was a secret he wanted to keep. A part of him still didn’t quite trust that his dad would even follow through. But still.
Warmth burned through Yadriel and he found himself smiling. If they were going to let him be a brujo, then he wouldn’t have to release Julian at all.
“Hopefully, Miguel will return to us tomorrow night with answers,” his dad continued, regaining Yadriel’s attention. “For now, I need to get back to work.” He straightened and pulled his hood up back over his head. “And I need you to go home and rest. Tomorrow will be a big day for all of us. When your mother returns, we will tell her—and Diego and Lita—what’s happened. And then we will tell everyone else.” He gave Yadriel a small smile. “Okay?”
Yadriel bobbed his head in a vigorous nod, grinning ear to ear. “Okay.”
As soon as his dad was out of sight, Yadriel punched a hand into the air. “Jules, come on!” he said, waving for Julian to follow him. They ran to the house, and Yadriel threw open the door without thinking.
“Yadriel?” Lita’s voice came from the kitchen.
Julian raced up the stairs while Yadriel lingered in the living room. “Yes, Lita!”
Diego poked his head out of the kitchen, saw Yadriel, and frowned. “Jesus, what happened to you?”
Yadriel barely glanced down at himself. He was soaked to the bone and covered in mud, but he didn’t care.
He was going to be in the aquelarre this Día de Muertos. He was triumphant. He was powerful. He felt ready to take on the world.
He was a brujo.
/> “Is Tío here?” he asked.
“No,” Diego said, giving him a strange look.
Yadriel was disappointed, but only a little. There would be plenty of time to tell him what happened tomorrow.
“Are you okay?” Diego pressed, stepping farther into the living room.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Yadriel beamed at his older brother, which only seemed to confuse him more. “I’m amazing!” Without further explanation, he ran up the stairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
Yadriel’s smile was so big, it hurt. He didn’t have to release Julian to the afterlife. He could remain in the cemetery like the other spirits.
Julian could stay.
The thought made him so happy, Yadriel felt like his heart might burst in his chest.
But, when he turned, he found Julian sitting on the edge of his bed. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, his posture curved around his chest like he was in pain.
“Are you okay?” Yadriel asked, confused.
“Are you okay?” Julian countered, concern etched into his features.
“Yeah, I’m okay!” Yadriel laughed.
Julian didn’t respond.
Yadriel wanted to grab Julian and shake him. Didn’t he see how amazing this was? Why did he look so somber?
A lump under the comforter moved, and Purrcaso wiggled her way out. With a little chirrup, she hobbled over to Julian. She rubbed herself against his arm. When he scratched her chin, loud purrs vibrated through her tiny body.
Yadriel’s excitement began to quickly bleed out of him. Julian must’ve been rattled by seeing Tito going maligno. “That was terrifying, wasn’t it?” Yadriel asked, sitting next to him on the bed. Still, Julian said nothing, his attention focused on Purrcaso. He was too still, too quiet. It put Yadriel on edge.
“You saved my life,” Yadriel told him. “I mean…” He let out a little laugh. “It was completely stupid, and reckless, and if you try something like that again, I swear, I’ll—”
“Is that what I’ll become?” Julian finally looked up at him. His dark eyes were empty, distant. “Is that what happens to spirits?” he repeated.
“No, not all spirits,” Yadriel said quickly, wanting to say whatever he could to ease Julian’s mind. “Only the ones that turn maligno.” He couldn’t stand the look on Julian’s face.
“Día de Muertos is soon, you’ll see, Tito will be all better. Like my Lito? When he died, he was so weak and tired. It was like he was only a shell of who he had been. But when he came back that first Día de Muertos? It was like he was back to his old self again,” Yadriel told him. He felt like he was rambling, filling in Julian’s unnatural silence. “He wasn’t tired or in pain, he was downright spry.” The memory made him grin.
Still, Julian said nothing.
“My point is, you’ll still be you for a really long time,” Yadriel told him. “I mean, there’s no reason for me to release you right now! You can stay for as long as you like,” he said, shy and hopeful. He felt a blush bloom in his cheeks. “And then when eventually you do cross over, you’ll be able to come back every year and see me.” But that wouldn’t be for a very long time, Yadriel would make sure of it.
“You’re forgetting something, Yads,” Julian said, finally looking up at him.
“What?” Yadriel asked. Something about the look on Julian’s face sent his pulse fluttering anxiously.
Julian’s lips quirked into a sad smile. “I’m not a brujo.”
Yadriel’s heart sank. His shoulders fell. No. Julian wasn’t a brujo. He didn’t get to come back.
Yadriel let himself stare at Julian. He was so … visceral. He was so real. Even with his blurry edges and chilling touch, he was a force of nature. He was loud, he was stubborn, he was determined, and he was reckless. But, still, he would fade.
Yadriel remembered the other night. The thrashing and the pain on Julian’s face. The blood seeping through his shirt. His gasps for breath.
If he stayed here, he’d fade until he wasn’t Julian anymore, just like Tito.
And if Yadriel released him, he’d be gone forever.
“You’re making me nervous,” Julian said, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze unwavering.
Yadriel tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “I’m just thinking…”
“Thinking what?”
“Something selfish.”
For a moment, they sat there in silence. Yadriel couldn’t look away, even though his heart thudded in the pulse at his neck.
Julian watched him curiously. His gaze slid down to Yadriel’s mouth, his eyes half lidded.
Yadriel held his breath.
“Yads?” His name was so soft and sweet coming from Julian’s lips.
“Yeah?”
But there was something about the look on Julian’s face. A strange stillness as he sat there quietly, a watery reflection of the boy he’d once been.
Something Yadriel’s body recognized before his head could catch up. Every muscle in his body tightened, bracing for impact.
Julian’s voice was too gentle, his words too soft. “I want you to release me.”
EIGHTEEN
“What?”
“You need to release me,” Julian repeated calmly.
Yadriel hated it.
He forced out a laugh. “You don’t mean right now?” There was no way he was serious.
Julian averted his gaze and toyed with Purrcaso’s tail. “There’s no point in waiting around.”
Yadriel openly gaped at him. “You mean right now,” he echoed in disbelief.
“My friends will be fine without me,” Julian pointed out with a lift of his shoulders. “Rio’s accepted that I ditched him and that I’m not going back.”
“But you—you—” Yadriel stammered.
Julian swallowed and wet his lips. “I can feel it happening,” he said, his voice low, defeated. “Like I’m losing my grip on myself.” He stared down at his hands as he flexed them into fists, then loosened them again. “I don’t know, maybe there’s always been something in me, rotting away, and now it’s finally catching up to me—”
“That’s not true,” Yadriel said sharply. He hated how tight his voice was, how strangled it sounded.
“I don’t want to turn into a monster—”
“You won’t! I wouldn’t let that happen!” Yadriel insisted, even though it was wishful thinking at best. He had no control over when Julian might turn maligno.
Julian shook his head. “All I do is cause people trouble, including you—”
“No, you don’t!” Yadriel flinched as soon as the words shot angrily from his mouth. He cut a nervous glance to the door. If he kept yelling, someone would hear him from downstairs, but he had to get Julian to change his mind. “You heard what my dad said, don’t you want to stay for my aquelarre?”
Julian exhaled. “You need to release me.”
Yadriel couldn’t stand how calm and level-headed Julian was being. He wanted Julian to fight. He wanted him to argue, for him to get mad or something. This Julian was too sure, too quiet.
Julian’s smile was sad and reserved. “I want to go before something bad happens, before I do something to someone I care about,” he told Yadriel. He bit his bottom lip, like he was holding something back, but then he shook his head. “It’s better this way. Everyone will be better off—”
“God, I am so sick of hearing you say that!” Yadriel snapped, taking a step forward. Julian looked up, surprised. “And if you think for one second that anyone in your life is better off without you, then you’re dumber than you look, Julian Diaz.”
Julian scowled, nostrils flaring, but Yadriel didn’t care. At least it got that terrible, defeated look off his face.
“You would do anything for your friends, right? And they’d do anything for you, too. You take people in and you protect them, that’s who you are! And your brother, too! You’re both fiercely protective, which is probably why you guys fight all the time—”<
br />
“Yadriel—”
“Just a pair of idiots who don’t know how to talk about your feelings so you argue instead!” he growled, throwing his hands up.
“Clean break,” Julian said. “You promised—”
“I didn’t promise a damn thing!” Yadriel snapped, feeling petulant.
Julian sighed and scrubbed his hand over his shaved head. “You wanted to get rid of me on day one, remember?”
Yadriel crossed his arms and glared at him. Yes, he remembered, but that didn’t count anymore.
“The whole deal was you’d help make sure my friends were okay,” Julian listed off on his fingers, “and I’d let you release my spirit so you could show everyone you’re a brujo, right?” His hands fell to his lap. “I’m doing what you want, I will willingly let you release me, Yadriel. I won’t put up a fight.”
But Yadriel wanted him to put up a fight. Couldn’t he see that?
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Julian nudged.
“Yeah,” he said reluctantly. His pulse throbbed in his veins.
Irritation finally started to edge Julian’s voice. “So what’s different now?”
“Everything!”
A long, drawn-out silence stretched between them.
Julian stared at Yadriel, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, like Yadriel was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
He must’ve really rubbed off on Yadriel, because all he wanted to do was fight back and yell until Julian realized he was being stupid.
The problem was that he wasn’t being stupid. He’d made his point of view clear. His argument was even, dare Yadriel think it, logical. Warring emotions swelled in Yadriel, demanding to be felt, blinding him from any rational thought.
It was too fast. Yadriel wasn’t ready. He needed more time. Desperation clawed through him as he tried to come up with another option.
But the truth was, there wasn’t one.
Yadriel’s throat was tight. His palms were slick with sweat. “One more day,” he said, voice wavering.
