Coughing, Yadriel rolled onto his side, trying to catch his breath, the taste of mud on his lips.
Julian was on his feet and fighting. Tito brought the shears down at him, but Julian used his arm to deflect the blow. He threw his fist into Tito’s nose. There was a loud crunch and a ghoulish wail, something entirely inhuman that put Yadriel’s teeth on edge. Julian sank his knee into Tito’s gut with a wet thud, slamming his elbow into the back of his head when he doubled over.
The shears clattered to the ground.
Yadriel arched his back and twisted, pulling his portaje out from its sheath. He needed to sever the tie between Tito and his shears.
Ripping open his bag, Yadriel plunged his hand inside, searching for his Hydro Flask filled with chicken blood.
Julian fought hard, but this wasn’t some scuffle in the school halls. It wasn’t a brawl in the street. His opponent wasn’t even human anymore. The horror that used to be Tito caught Julian around his throat, fingers catching under his jaw and pulling him off his feet.
“Julian!” Yadriel shouted, fear shredding his voice.
Julian thrashed, hands scrabbling at Tito’s arm, feet kicking wildly as he choked.
Yadriel yanked out the bottle and clumsily unscrewed the top. With shaky hands, he dumped the blood onto the blade.
“¡Muéstrame el enlace!” he said, and his dagger burst to life with glowing light.
The golden thread appeared, drawn between the garden shears on the ground and the center of Tito’s chest.
Tito’s head swung to Yadriel. He tossed Julian to the side with surprising strength. Julian careened through headstones and out of sight. Yadriel had no idea if a spirit could destroy another spirit, but he could hear Julian groan.
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.