He remembered what his dad had said that morning, that they were having family dinner. Had he meant a meeting? Or was this an impromptu gathering?
Either way, he needed to get Julian safely into his room before he could figure it out. At first, he thought Julian was just going to barge into the house, but he stopped at the door and waited for Yadriel to catch up.
Tentatively, he opened the door a crack and listened. No music, no voices. Everyone must’ve been at the church already. He waved Julian in and ushered him up the stairs. “I need to go to the church,” Yadriel told him as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to check his messages. “Lita is going to kill me if I…” He trailed off.
Julian hadn’t acknowledged him at all. He went right up the stairs.
“Hey,” Yadriel said, watching him from the foot of the steps.
Julian looked back over his shoulder.
Yadriel frowned at him. “Are you okay?”
Julian gave him a withering look.
It was a dumb question. He was dead—he’d been murdered—and he was worried about his friends; of course he wasn’t okay.
“Yadriel?” said a voice from the kitchen.
He froze. The floor creaked. His eyes widened in alarm, but he didn’t have to warn Julian. He disappeared up the stairs and around the corner before Catriz stepped into the living room.
“There you are,” Tío Catriz said with a sigh. “Your dad sent me looking for you.” He frowned and glanced around the empty room. “Who were you talking to?”
“Uh.” Yadriel held up his phone. “Just Maritza.”
Tío Catriz watched him for a moment, for three heartbeats longer than was comfortable, but then his mouth curled into a smile. “You two really are attached at the hip,” he said with a chuckle and a shake of his head.
Yadriel laughed along with him, maybe a little too loud.
“Come on,” he said, waving for Yadriel to follow him. “Your dad called a meeting with everyone. Even the outcasts,” Tío Catriz added with an amused grin.
“Yeah.” His attention was pulled back to Julian. “Let me just ditch my backpack real quick?” Yadriel asked, already inching toward the stairs.
Tío Catriz nodded. “The black sheep might as well show up fashionably late,” he said, smoothing down the front of his dark button-up shirt.
Yadriel hurried to his room.
Julian sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and hands fidgeting.
Yadriel tossed his backpack onto his desk. “Are you okay?” he asked again, a bit tersely.
“I’m fine,” Julian replied, not even bothering to look at him.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Yadriel considered him for a long moment. He was annoyed with Julian, but he also felt bad for him. The two emotions were at war with each other, making it difficult for Yadriel to sort through. He just wanted to help. Not only Miguel, but everyone, including Julian and his friends, but things were just getting more complicated and difficult. He wished Julian would cut him some slack.
Then again, he probably needed to cut Julian some slack, as well.
Yadriel tried putting himself in his shoes. How would he be handling this, if he was suddenly killed and woke up as a spirit? If he couldn’t speak to his friends and family? If he thought they were in danger?
Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t be handling it well. Probably about as well as Julian. Maybe worse.
Yadriel sighed. “I have to go to church. There’s some big meeting going on.”
When Julian didn’t respond, he headed for the door but then paused with his hand on the knob.
“One thing, though.”
Julian glanced up.
“If you ever throw a tantrum like that again, and I have any reason to think you’re going to hurt someone, especially Maritza…?” Yadriel pulled Julian’s necklace out from under his hoodie, letting the St. Jude medal dangle from his thumb. “I’ll throw this and you down the sewer. Got it?”
Julian’s ears burned bright red. He nodded, shoulders hunching.
“Great.” Yadriel left the room and closed the door with a snap.
TWELVE
All the brujx were gathered in the open-air courtyard behind the church. Receptions were held there, from weddings to birthdays. Archways were cut into the stone, painted the same color as the church. It was filled with long tables covered in serape runners and centerpieces made of tissue-paper carnations in clay vases. Dozens of colorful papel picado were strung up overhead along with paper lanterns.
Tables laden with food were set on the outer edges between the pillars. There was pan de muerto, rice, beans, and large aluminum platters filled with ropa vieja. The shredded beef cooked in spices and red peppers was one of Lita’s specialties.
Lita had ushered all the young brujx to a designated table and put them to work. Eight brujx from ages six to fourteen worked on crafts for Día de Muertos. Molded sugar skulls were waiting to be decorated. Crates full of freshly picked marigolds, chrysanthemums, and deep purple magenta were stacked neatly to the side, making the air smell like sweet apples.
Yadriel followed his tío and grabbed a plate of food before moving toward the crowd surrounding his dad. Everyone’s expressions were tense, their voices lowered as they spoke. He saw Tío Isaac, but he was easy to spot. Tall and broad, he stood at least a head higher than everyone else. But there was no sign of Tía Sofia or Paola.
Balancing his plate with one hand, Yadriel pulled out his phone with the other and thumbed out a message to Maritza.
Everybody’s at the church. Where are you?
Maritza’s response was almost immediate.
Being held hostage. They’re making me try on dresses. Send help.
Yadriel snorted.
Sending thoughts and prayers.
Yadriel’s dad stood in the center, mustache ruffled and head swinging back and forth as he was bombarded with questions.
“Enrique,” Tío Catriz called. He pointed down at Yadriel, and his father had to get on his toes to see him.
Yadriel shrank as everyone turned to look at him.
His dad let out a relieved sigh, and Yadriel gave him a guilty smile. He squeezed through the sea of brujx to get closer.
“Where have you two been?” his dad asked, voice edged with frustration, though he mostly just sounded tired.
Yadriel felt another pang of guilt. His dad looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot and ringed with dark circles. How many hours of sleep had his dad gotten over the last twenty-four hours? It couldn’t have been much.
“Sorry, Dad,” Yadriel said, because he was. He hadn’t meant to worry his dad. He had enough on his plate without Yadriel causing him more stress.
“You keep running off and coming home late,” Enrique said, like it was a question.
Yadriel tried to think of an excuse. What would Maritza say? “I just—”
“He was with me, hermano,” Tío Catriz said, his smile apologetic as he placed a hand on Yadriel’s shoulder. “We were having a heart-to-heart, lost track of time. We didn’t mean to worry you,” he explained with gentle sincerity.
Yadriel stared up at him, surprised.
Enrique frowned, deep creases wrinkling his brow. There was something churning behind his eyes, but Yadriel couldn’t quite place it. He got the feeling his dad didn’t like that answer, but then he gave a short nod.
Luckily, Yadriel wasn’t going to get lectured, at least not at the moment. His dad had bigger matters to tend to.
“How could there be no sign of Miguel?” a younger bruja asked, and the group devolved into more arguing and questions. They converged around his dad again, pushing Yadriel and his tío to the outskirts.
“Thanks for that,” Yadriel said to Tío Catriz. “You really didn’t have to cover for me.” The last thing he wanted to do was drag anyone else into this mess he’d gotten himself into, especially his tío.
Catriz chuckled. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” he said with a wink.
Yadriel smiled back. He wished the brujx treated his tío better. He was a good man and always looked out for Yadriel. Even if it sucked to be a brujx reject, at least he had his tío Catriz to go through it with. Yadriel wondered if things would change once they saw he was a brujo. Would it put a wall between them? Would Tío Catriz be upset? He didn’t think he would be.
At least, he hoped not.
“Eat, sobrino,” Tío Catriz told him, nudging Yadriel with his shoulder. “And try to stay out of trouble.”
Yadriel didn’t need to be told twice. He was starving and immediately began shoveling food into his mouth. He slowly wandered around the group of brujx deep in conversation, trying to listen in and gather any information that might be useful.
“Did Claudia and Benny go to the police?” Tío Isaac asked, his deep voice easily cutting through the chatter. “Has Miguel been reported as missing?”
Yadriel’s dad nodded, raking his fingers through his mustache. “They did this morning, but it didn’t go well.” The corners of his lips tugged down.
“How do you mean?” Diego asked. He and Andrés had squirmed their way into the middle of the group, as if they were very important and needed to be at the center of the discussion.