He used fear and manipulation to bend humans to his will. Bahlam told them that, in order to escape his wrath, they must bring him human sacrifices. Without human sacrifices to satiate his hunger, he threatened to unmake the land of the living. To bring death and destruction to the human race and ensure none of their loved ones made it to the afterlife.
To appeal to more selfish people, Bahlam also offered immense power in exchange for human sacrifices.
Under the threat of death and the promise of power, Bahlam’s following grew. He gave his worshippers la garra del jaguar. The four blades had to be pierced into the hearts of four human sacrifices while the worshipper wore a jaguar head amulet around their neck. The rituals were performed at a cenote. The sinkholes and underground pools were the gateway between the land of the living and Xibalba. The blood of the human sacrifices would flow into the cenote, and once the last drop fell into the pool, Bahlam would be summoned.
He would emerge from the cenote in his monstrous jaguar form and drag the human sacrifices down to Xibalba. There, he would feast on their spirits. In exchange for their sacrifices, Bahlam gifted them powers channeled through the amulet. The wearer would become powerful enough to snuff out life with the snap of their fingers and bring people back from the dead with a wave of their hand. But power obtained with human life corrupted the mind and poisoned the body.
The followers of Bahlam killed ruthlessly. Wars broke out across the realm, led by the corrupt worshippers.
The balance between life and death was thrown off by so many spirits being trapped in Xibalba instead of passing to the land of the dead, where Lady Death ruled. Seeing the pain and torture caused to appease the jaguar god, Lady Death left her throne to confront Bahlam.
Lady Death fought Bahlam in a war that lasted three days and three nights. Bahlam was strong, but Lady Death was clever. She trapped Bahlam in Xibalba and destroyed all of la garra del jaguar so no one could summon him again.
“Except for one,” Lita said, holding up a finger with a knowing look. “This last set Lady Death bequeathed to the very first family of brujos and brujas. These humans wanted to help Lady Death bring balance back to the world of the living and the dead. She blessed us with the ability to heal the injured living, and safely shepherd the spirits of the dead to the afterlife so no one would have to suffer the trials of Xibalba again.
“She trusted us with the last la garra del jaguar as a reminder of what greed and corruption were capable of. Our bloodline carries on this tradition, serving Lady Death. In exchange for our help, Lady Death gifted us with Día de Muertos, the one time a year our people can return to the land of the living. For two days, we get to see our loved ones who’ve passed.”
Lita paused, probably waiting for oohs and aahs, or at least some applause.
But …
Yadriel looked around. Leo and Lena looked on the verge of tears. Even Alejandro appeared deeply upset.
“Do you think that’s what happened to Miguel?” Ximena asked, eyes wide and chin wobbling. “Bahlam got him?”
Oh no. Yadriel sat up, giving Lita a worried look. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to tell the story of Bahlam.
“No, no, no, of course not!” Lita said, trying to laugh it off. “Aye, nena.”
She went to Ximena and wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Bahlam has been locked up in Xibalba. He can’t escape; Lady Death made sure of that,” she said. “We make sure of that.”
Yadriel took the opportunity to sneak away. He tucked the calavera he’d just completed into the pocket of his hoodie so he could hide it in his room for later.
While Lita was distracted, he backed away and followed the outer wall, slinking through the shadows to make an escape. He stopped short, however, when he came upon familiar voices.
His dad and his tío stood next to one of the archways. Tío Catriz stood facing his younger brother, his expression calm save for a small crease in his heavy brow. His father’s back was to him, but Yadriel could see the tense set of his shoulders.
Yadriel crept closer, stopping behind a pillar so he could hear what they were saying.
“Times are changing, hermano,” his tío said, earnest and almost pleading. “We need to make changes in order to survive. Our lineage is faced with ever weakening magic.”
Yadriel strained his ears. What were they talking about? He shifted a bit closer, and the movement caught Catriz’s attention. His dark eyes flicked to Yadriel. He moved to shrink back, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping, but something in Tío Catriz’s expression shifted.
He focused back on his brother. “We should be embracing differences, even if it scares us,” Catriz implored. “Not rejecting them and pushing them aside.”
Pride and gratitude swelled in Yadriel’s chest. Was Cartiz talking about him? The concept of having a transgender brujx in their community was still baffling to most, and his dad clearly didn’t know what to do with him.
Yadriel smiled. Finally, someone was fighting for him. Of course, of all people, his uncle would stick up for him. Catriz knew what it was like to be cast aside because you didn’t fit into the traditional expectations of the brujx.
Anticipation and excitement thrummed in his veins. He rounded the pillar and took an uneasy step closer. Should he just tell them? Was now the right moment? With his tío on his side, would his dad listen? He could tell them how he and Maritza had performed his own quinces. How Lady Death had accepted him as a brujo and blessed him and bound him to his portaje.
Determination propelled him forward another step, and he reached for his dagger.
“Catriz.”
Yadriel stopped, fingers pressed to the hilt.
His father’s tone was firm, verging on angry. Enrique said his brother’s name like a warning, his expression stony. “I don’t want to hear it anymore.”
Yadriel’s stomach plummeted to his feet.
Catriz pressed his palms together. “I implore you to be more open-minded, hermano,” he continued. “If we close ourselves off to the possibilities that lie outside of what tradition has dictated—”
“Catriz—”
“We are destined for extinction.”
The words hung in the air for a moment. Catriz’s and Enrique’s eyes remained locked.
When his father spoke, he didn’t raise his voice, but his words were unyielding. “I already told you my decision. I will not change my mind.”
As Tío Catriz’s expression fell to one of defeat, Yadriel’s hope fell with it.
Catriz held his hands up in submission, conceding with a slight bow of his head.
Shame simmered under Yadriel’s skin and pricked his eyes.
His tío looked at him, an apology in his eyes.
When Enrique turned to follow his gaze, Yadriel didn’t stick around to see his reaction. He did his best to hold his head up high and walk confidently away, even though he could feel his heart breaking. He braced himself, expecting to hear his father call for him to stop, for him to offer some sort of excuse or another forced apology.
But no one called after him. Not when he wove through the sea of brujx. Not when he left the church. Only the dead watched as he ran through the tombstones and back to the house, and they stayed silent as well.
THIRTEEN