“And we’re putting vivaporú on you when you get back!” her voice followed as Yadriel ran outside and down the steps.
Julian waited for him by a seafoam-green mausoleum. “All good?” he asked, falling into step alongside him.
“Yeah, though I think I just doomed myself to getting slathered in Vaporub tonight,” Yadriel said.
“Ah.” Julian smirked. “The Latinx cure-all.”
“Seriously,” he agreed with a laugh. Voices caught Yadriel’s attention, and he craned his head to the right. Immediately, he recognized the back of his dad’s head.
“My dad used to—”
“Stop!” Yadriel hissed.
Julian’s head whipped side to side, looking around. “What?”
“Duck!” Yadriel dropped down behind a stone sarcophagus.
For once, Julian obeyed. “What?” he asked again in a whisper. “What is it?”
Carefully, Yadriel peeked over the large slab of stone for a better look. “It’s my dad and my brother,” he murmured.
Julian scooted closer, pressing cold against Yadriel’s side, and stole a look, too.
Up ahead, Yadriel’s dad and Diego stood next to each other. Enrique had his arm on Diego’s shoulder, and they stood facing two women. Yadriel recognized the older woman as Beatriz Cisneros. She had short white hair, wore a heavy shawl, and was clearly a spirit. At her side stood Sandra Cisneros, her daughter.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” asked Yadriel’s dad.
“What are they doing?” Julian asked, his voice soft in Yadriel’s ear.
“I think Diego is going to release her spirit.” Yadriel felt a pang of envy. After a brujo turned fifteen, it usually took another few years of shadowing the older brujos and learning their ways before you were allowed to release your own spirit. This would be Diego’s first time.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Beatriz said with a warm chuckle. “I was so worried about leaving Sandra alone, but we talked it through.” She smiled at her daughter, who tried to smile back, but her chin wobbled. “I’ve felt the cold creeping in the past couple of days,” she said, gathering her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “We need to do this now, before it’s too late.”
“Too late?” Julian’s voice was small.
“Before she goes maligno,” Yadriel told him. He nodded to Beatriz. “See how faded she looks?”
Her colors were all washed out, as if she were just a black-and-white photograph. Seeing her was like looking through a fogged window. The details were blurred and undulating ever so slightly.
“Most of the time, when spirits begin to lose themselves, they start to fade like that before they go maligno. Others skip that stage and just turn without warning.” Yadriel had never actually seen that happen before, but he overheard the older brujos talking about it every now and again.
He stole a glance at Julian. His face paled, and Yadriel saw his throat dip as he swallowed.
“Time for us both to move on,” Beatriz said.
Enrique nodded.
Sandra and Beatriz exchanged quiet words, and Diego fidgeted with his portaje. Beatriz reached forward, her ghostly hand cupping her daughter’s cheek. “So silly! I’ll be back for Día de Muertos! Now, let’s go, my husband is waiting for me.”
Sandra walked up to Diego and handed him a red beaded rosary. It must’ve been Beatriz’s portaje, her tether to the land of the living.
Yadriel’s dad gave Diego’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze and said something into his ear. Diego stepped forward. In one hand, he held the rosary, and in the other, his long, curved blade. The gold calavera charm swung from the hilt, but his hand was steady.
“Muéstrame el enlace,” Diego said, his voice strong and firm. Yadriel remembered how shaky and unsure the words had been coming from his own mouth during his failed attempt to release Julian.
The golden thread sparked to life, running from the rosary to the center of Beatriz’s chest.
She smiled, several decades’ worth of dimples showing in her cheeks.
“¡Te libero a la otra vida!”
Diego cut his dagger through the air.
As it sliced through the thread, Beatriz closed her eyes. There was a flash of golden light. Beatriz disappeared in an explosion of glittering marigold petals.
“Whoa,” Julian breathed, dark eyes transfixed and lips parted as the glowing flowers cascaded to the ground.
The light faded until they were just orange petals dusting Beatriz’s grave.
Sandra sighed. Enrique smiled at Diego, and Diego beamed back.
“Well done, mijo,” Enrique said, tugging Diego into a tight embrace.
Yadriel’s throat closed up and his eyes stung. “Come on,” he said, standing up and turning toward the gate.
Julian gave him a confused look from where he remained crouched behind the sarcophagus.
“Let’s get out of here—”
“Yadriel?”
He jerked to a stop and spun around. His father stared at him, brow furrowed. Diego was handing Beatriz’s rosary back to Sandra, falling deep into conversation.
“Uh—” His eyes flickered to Julian, who ducked lower, trying to stay out of sight. “Dad. Hey.”
Enrique approached, and Yadriel panicked, not knowing what to do.
Julian mouthed something, and Yadriel didn’t need to read lips to recognize the curse. It was like he was arguing with himself. Julian’s face screwed up in disgust, and Yadriel had no idea what he was doing, until he rolled forward and disappeared right into the sarcophagus.
Yadriel sucked in a breath, staring at the spot where Julian had vanished.
His dad came to a stop next to the sarcophagus. “Are you leaving?” he asked, eyeing Yadriel’s backpack.
“Uh, yeah,” Yadriel tried to gather his thoughts and focus. “Me and Maritza are just going to hang out for a little while.”
The frown deepened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, it’s not safe—”
Yadriel tensed. “We’ll be fine. She’s bringing the boys. We have an assignment for school to work on,” he quickly added.
“Oh.” That seemed to placate him, but only a little. Yadriel noted he was wearing the same clothes as the previous night. His checkered shirt was rumpled and half untucked. Had he gotten any sleep since Miguel died?
“I should probably get going…” Yadriel waited for his dad to turn around and leave already. He shifted, but his dad didn’t move.
“I wanted to check on you…” Enrique trailed off awkwardly, scratching at his mussed hair. “And apologize.” His eyelids drooped with exhaustion. “Anoche—”
“It’s fine,” Yadriel cut in. He didn’t want to talk about this right now. Especially with Julian in earshot.
Or, well, he wasn’t sure what the acoustical setup of being inside a stone coffin was like.
“I didn’t mean to say…” His father squinted, looking for the right words.
Yadriel swallowed hard. It didn’t seem fair for his dad to look so conflicted, and for Yadriel to feel bad about it. He wanted to hang on to his anger. He deserved to be angry, didn’t he? But that still didn’t keep him from feeling guilty. Even if his dad said and did stupid, hurtful things, he was still his dad, and there was something particularly unsettling about seeing him upset.