Julian leaped from the bed. “I—I don’t know!” he stammered. He twisted left and right, patting himself down and inspecting his limbs.
“You were bleeding.” Panic tightened his voice, and Yadriel hated how frightened he sounded, how frightened he felt.
Julian pressed his hand to his chest and winced, like he could still feel it. “But why? What happened?” he demanded.
Yadriel racked his brain, trying to remember everything he knew about spirits, but it was hard to focus. He kept seeing Julian’s contorted face and bleeding chest flash in his mind over and over again.
“When—when spirits have been in the world of the living for too long, when they start going maligno, sometimes they’ll relive their death,” Yadriel said.
“Did someone stab me?” Julian asked, his ghostly face deathly pale. “Did I get shot?”
“But you only died yesterday,” Yadriel reasoned. He pushed his hands through his hair, trying to think. Some spirits turned maligno faster than others, but it had only been a day. “It shouldn’t be happening this quickly.”
Julian sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and winced. “Whatever it is, I don’t want it to ever happen again.”
“This isn’t good.”
Julian’s worried eyes met his. “What does it mean?”
“It means,” Yadriel said, “we’re running out of time.”
Sleep was impossible.
Yadriel lay perched on the edge of his bed, curled up on his side so he could see where Julian lay on the floor. Purrcaso curled up behind his knees. Julian’s back was to him, but there was no way he could be sleeping, either, was there? Every time Yadriel started to drift off, his body would jerk him back awake. He kept seeing Julian lying there, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, the blood seeping from the wound that must’ve killed him.
What the hell was he supposed to do? Yadriel had only heard about spirits reliving their deaths the closer they got to turning maligno; he’d never witnessed it himself. His parents had always shielded him from that. When spirits in their cemetery went maligno, skilled brujos were dispatched to deal with it as quickly and humanely as possible.
Yadriel had hundreds of questions, but no way of finding out. Brujx history relied on oral traditions, so it wasn’t like there was an encyclopedia where he could look up the answers. And he couldn’t ask someone why a spirit would turn so quickly without them getting suspicious.
No, there was no one who he could turn to. They’d just have to get through it.
The thought of forcibly releasing Julian to the other side, like he’d threatened that first night, was unthinkable now. Julian needed to hold on a little longer.
If they could find his body, hopefully they could find Miguel and the others who had gone missing. If Yadriel could prove himself to the brujx, then they would have to let him be part of the aquelarre. Their deadline of Día de Muertos was looming. Halloween was the day after tomorrow, and at midnight, the first day of Día de Muertos would begin.
* * *
When his alarm went off in the morning, Yadriel was already awake. He waited, watching as Julian sat up. “How’d you sleep?” he asked.
“I’m starting to think ghosts don’t sleep,” Julian replied with a wry smile. He looked tired, of course, but there was something more to it. A glazed look cast over his eyes. An intense vigilance. Julian eyed Yadriel as he crawled out of bed and dragged himself to the closet. “I guess brujos don’t, either.”
Yadriel grumbled unintelligibly. When he came back from taking a shower, he found Julian sitting at the foot of his bed. He wrung his hands together, digging his thumb into his palm. Worry caught in every line of his face.
“Am I going to have to talk you into letting me go to school with you again?” Julian asked with an anxious laugh.
“No,” Yadriel said, toying with the St. Jude pendant around his neck. “This time I want you to come.”
He was more worried about Julian disappearing and reliving his death again. By the look on his face, Yadriel was pretty certain Julian was worried about the same thing. If he couldn’t stop it from happening, then he would at least make sure Julian wasn’t alone when it did. Yadriel didn’t want to come home and find the Julian he knew had vanished, leaving nothing but a horrifying apparition in his place.
Julian’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
Yadriel nodded, then shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him. “You can take it or leave it,” he said as he combed pomade through his hair.
“Take!” Julian jumped to his feet. The worry was gone, and that electric grin was back. “Definitely take!”
Julian waited impatiently by the door as Yadriel grabbed his stuff. He opened his backpack to take out his portaje and stash it while they were at school, but as he grabbed hold of the hilt, he hesitated.
Again, the image of Julian convulsing and flickering haunted him. If it was a sign that Julian was slipping away, what if he lost his grip on himself while they were at school?
Yadriel looked at Julian, an uneasy feeling churning his stomach.
“Are you ready or what?” Julian huffed. He caught sight of the dagger in Yadriel’s hand and raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were worried about getting caught with that thing at school?”
If Julian went maligno, Yadriel would be forced to cut his tether and release his spirit before he hurt someone.
“Better safe than sorry, right?” Yadriel said.
Julian stared at him for a second, then shrugged. “Just don’t get caught, I don’t wanna spend the night with you in jail,” he told him.
Yadriel tucked his portaje and its sheath into the waist of his jeans and pulled on his backpack.
He listened carefully at the door and paused every couple of steps going down the stairs, but the house was silent and empty. That was odd, considering Lita was usually busy in the kitchen by now. He opened the front door, and Julian made a run for it.
“FREEDOM!” he whooped, bounding down the front steps.
Yadriel laughed and shook his head. Julian was in great spirits. Yadriel hesitated in the doorway and pulled his dagger out again. Did he really need it? Was it bad luck to assume the worst? Was he just welcoming something to go wrong by taking it to school? Maybe he should leave it—
Before he could make a decision, the door to the garage opened and Lita walked into the kitchen.
“I’ll make some food,” Lita said as she went to the stove.
Tío Catriz and his dad walked into view, each of them carrying a large box. Yadriel froze, panic cementing his feet to the floor. The voice in his head screamed at him to make a run for it, but it was like his body was short-circuiting, refusing to budge.
“Where should we put this?” his dad asked, his back to Yadriel.
Tío Catriz turned and immediately locked eyes with Yadriel over Enrique’s shoulder.
Tío Catriz’s face went from surprise to confusion. Before Yadriel could react, his gaze went to the portaje gripped in Yadriel’s hand.
Yadriel’s heart dropped to the floor.
Catriz had seen the dagger in his hand. He would recognize it as a portaje immediately.
For a split second, his tío’s expression went blank as he stared at the blade, but then—
Then he smiled.
“Put them in the living room,” Lita instructed, waving a hand as she put a pan on the stove.
Enrique started to turn toward the living room, where Yadriel remained rooted in the doorway, clutching his portaje.
Yadriel was doomed. His dad was going to see him with his portaje, caught red-handed.
A loud crash made everyone jump.
The box Tío Catriz was holding had toppled out of his arms, spilling prayer candles and copal incense all over the kitchen floor.
“Aye!” Lita gasped, clutching her chest.
“Careful of the glass!” Yadriel’s dad warned as broken shards crunched under their shoes.
“I’ll grab the broom!” Lita rushed to the garage.
“Ah, lo siento, hermano,” Tío Catriz said as he and Yadriel’s dad bent down to pick up the larger pieces.
“Don’t worry, we have plenty more,” Enrique reassured him.
Snapping out of it, Yadriel quickly slipped his portaje back into its sheath.
Tío Catriz caught his eye over his dad’s shoulder and gave him a small wink.
Relief and gratitude flooded Yadriel. His tío had just saved his ass, and he didn’t even seem mad that Yadriel had a portaje. He looked—well, he looked proud, which was a sentiment Yadriel hadn’t been gifted in a very long time.
He should’ve known that Tío Catriz would be on his side. He wanted to tell him everything, but right now wasn’t the time.
As they picked up the broken pieces, Yadriel slipped out the front door and ran to the gate, where Julian and Maritza waited.
“There you are,” Maritza sighed, pushing herself up from where she had been leaning against the gate. She wore a black puffy jacket and tight jeans, her hair pulled back in two short French braids.
“Jesus, how are you so slow?!” Julian demanded, throwing his hands up. “I thought you were— Hey, what’s with the smile?”
A huge grin plastered across Yadriel’s face, his head swimming. His heart felt ready to burst, and it hammered in his chest.