Julian leaned away from her. “Jesus, what—?”
“Oh, so you’ll let him live?” Maritza shouted, looking wildly around the cave again. There wasn’t time for Julian to be offended because she added, “But you’ll leave Yadriel here to die?”
The words punched him in the ribs.
Finally, he saw what—who—she was kneeling in front of.
Yadriel lay on his back, limp and unmoving.
Terror ripped through him. “YADS!” Julian scrambled forward and threw himself to the ground next to him. He balled up the front of Yadriel’s green shirt in his fists and shook him roughly. “WAKE UP!” he shouted.
Yadriel’s head only lolled to the side. There was no warmth left in his graying skin. His lips were parted, his eyes open but only into thin slits. Julian couldn’t even see the warm amber of his eyes.
Panic seized Julian by the throat. “What happened?!” he demanded. His pulse raced and his lungs burned with raspy breaths. “What did he do?!”
“He saved your dumb lives!” Maritza spat as she fumbled with a rosary.
Julian shook his head. No, no, no. He was the one who was supposed to die, not Yadriel! Yadriel was supposed to be safe.
“And she left him here to DIE!” She screamed the last word furiously into the cavernous crypt.
“He’s dying?” Julian’s hands tugged desperately at Yadriel’s shirt, trying to get him to wake up. He didn’t know how to do CPR; he didn’t even know how to check for a pulse. When he spoke, his voice cracked. “Is he dead?!”
“Not on my watch!” Maritza shoved her hands into the puddle of blood. She grabbed her pink rosary with dripping fingers. “¡USA MIS MANOS!” she bellowed.
The rosary burst into a brilliant, blinding light. Julian flinched.
Maritza pushed Julian’s hands out of the way and pressed the rosary to Yadriel’s chest. “¡YO CURARE TU CUERPO!”
There was a flash like golden lightning. Julian squeezed his eyes shut, but it burned through his eyelids.
When it cleared, Maritza sat back heavily. Her smile looked drunk and delirious. “HAH!” she expelled through heavy breaths.
Julian reached for Yadriel. “Yads?” He cupped Yadriel’s cheeks, searching his face. His color was returning. Red began to bloom in his cheeks. When Julian pressed his palms to Yadriel’s chest, he felt it rise and fall in a steady rhythm.
Julian let out an incoherent cry of relief. Not dead. Yadriel was alive. He was going to be okay, he just needed to wake him up. Julian gave him another shake, trying his best to be more gentle this time, but his hands were trembling. “Wake up now, Yads!” he demanded, as if he could yell him into consciousness.
“What do you think of that?” Maritza asked, eyes unfocused as she stared overhead. A weak laugh bubbled past her lips. “And I did it without animal blood, bitch.” With that, she slumped back into a heap.
“Maritza!” Julian yelled, anger flaring. He couldn’t take care of two unconscious people; he could barely handle one! What the hell was he supposed to do now? What if they got trapped down there, alone? What if—
“Santa Muerte.”
Julian looked up to find a man with wavy brown hair standing over him, eyes wide as he looked between Yadriel and Maritza.
The man went to Maritza and pressed two fingers to her neck.
“She’s okay,” he said, relief sighing through his words.
When he turned to Yadriel, Julian instinctively threw himself across him, hands braced against the bloody floor. “Don’t touch him!” Julian snarled, baring his teeth as fear flooded through him. He didn’t know who this guy was. He wouldn’t let him get near Yadriel. For all he knew, he was another deranged brujo out to summon a goddamn jaguar demon to come eat people, and there was no way in hell he’d let that happen.
The man lurched back and held his hands up in submission. “It’s okay,” he said. “I just want to help.” His eyes shifted back to Yadriel, but he didn’t try moving in again.
To his left, there was movement on the stone slabs. Julian only spared them a quick glance, long enough to see two people waking up. The others who had been sacrificed. Had Yadriel saved them all? Where was the fourth?
His eyes shot back to the man.
“It’s okay,” the man repeated. “He’s my cousin.”
Julian’s lips twitched. “Cousin?” he repeated. “Miguel?”
The man blinked. “Yes,” Miguel said, giving him a confused look. “How do you—?”
“HELP HIM!” Julian shouted.
Miguel jumped but leaned forward. Julian shifted back just far enough so Miguel could feel the side of Yadriel’s neck. “He’s breathing, he’s going to be okay,” he said.
Julian let out a heavy breath, so relieved he felt like he might pass out. Thank God, thank God, thank God.
“I’ll go get help,” Miguel said, getting to his feet. “Can you look after them?”
As if there were any force on earth that could tear Julian from Yadriel’s side. “HURRY!” he snapped.
Miguel tore off up the stairs.
To the side, the two others—a girl and a boy, who both looked about his age, if not younger—stood back, looking at Julian like he was a wild animal.
Good. If they were scared, then they would stay away. All Julian cared about was Yadriel.
With clumsy fingers, he walked his fingers along the side of Yadriel’s neck where he had seen Miguel and Maritza feel for a pulse. At first, he couldn’t find it, and he thought Yadriel’s heart had stopped again. But then his middle finger pressed at just the right spot and he felt the beat. Julian cursed under his breath and held his hand as still as possible. He was afraid to let go and lose it again, but he also didn’t want to accidentally choke Yadriel.
Julian let out a shaky exhale and counted each and every beat of Yadriel’s heart. Focusing on that and only that.
He didn’t know how much time passed, but it seemed to stretch on forever. Panic wound its way through his rigid muscles. What was taking Miguel so long to get help? Why wasn’t he back yet? Anger roiled in his blood. His skin crawled. Julian couldn’t stand just sitting there, waiting. The only thing keeping him from running to get help himself was Yadriel.
Julian pressed his ear to Yadriel’s chest, trying to hear it beat, but it was drowned out by the sound of his own ragged breaths.
It felt like hours before he heard voices and footsteps running down the stairs and into the crypt. Julian looked up as a group of people flooded the cave. Hope tried to lift his chest, but fear dragged it back down.
He recognized Yadriel’s dad and abuelita. She gasped and stopped short when she saw the gory mess laid out. Yadriel’s dad stared, head twisting as he took everything in.
A girl a bit older than Julian rushed to Maritza, letting out an impressive string of curses in Spanish.
When Yadriel’s dad spotted his son, where he lay under Julian’s protective crouch, he rushed forward, Miguel quick on his heels.
Julian tensed. “Don’t!” he barked, so fiercely that Enrique tripped to a stop.
He looked between Julian and Yadriel, maybe weighing the pros and cons of getting his hand bitten off. He flicked Miguel a look. “Who—?”
“I don’t know,” Miguel said, watching Julian anxiously from over Enrique’s shoulder. To Julian, he asked, “Is Yadriel your friend?”
The word burned. “¡Mi querido!” he snapped viciously.
Enrique’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Julian blushed furiously under their stares.
Enrique knelt down and tried to move closer.
“Don’t touch him!” Julian all but snarled. He tried to push them away.
“It’s okay,” Enrique said gently. Julian saw his hands trembling when he held his palms up in submission. “We’re here to help, please.” His voice was tight when he said, “He’s my son.”
“I know that!” Julian said. In an attempt to calm himself, he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. He knew that. He knew they were there to help, that they were his family, but Julian was so scared and angry. Just because Yadriel had forgiven them didn’t mean he did.
They could help, but Julian couldn’t get his body to understand what his brain knew. Adrenaline coursed through him, rigid and ready to fight even though he knew he didn’t need to.
He refused to move away from Yadriel’s side, but he did shift back. As soon as he made room, Enrique and Lita leaned in.
Julian bit back the urge to knock their hands away as they touched Yadriel’s cheeks, his pulse, his forehead. He was unconscious and vulnerable. Julian had to keep him safe.
“Is he okay?” Enrique asked.
“Sí,” Lita said with a heavy sigh. “Just exhausted.”
Enrique looked over. “Paola?”
“She’ll be okay,” said the girl who looked way too much like Maritza not to be her sister. She looked pissed, holding a light green rosary to Maritza’s forehead. “So stupid,” she chided, even though Maritza clearly couldn’t hear her.
“Thank Santa Muerte,” Enrique said. “We need to get them out of here. The ambulances should be arriving soon.”