“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.
“Yadriel?” Lita’s voice came from the kitchen.
Julian raced up the stairs while Yadriel lingered in the living room. “Yes, Lita!”
Diego poked his head out of the kitchen, saw Yadriel, and frowned. “Jesus, what happened to you?”
Yadriel barely glanced down at himself. He was soaked to the bone and covered in mud, but he didn’t care.
He was going to be in the aquelarre this Día de Muertos. He was triumphant. He was powerful. He felt ready to take on the world.
He was a brujo.
“Is Tío here?” he asked.
“No,” Diego said, giving him a strange look.
Yadriel was disappointed, but only a little. There would be plenty of time to tell him what happened tomorrow.
“Are you okay?” Diego pressed, stepping farther into the living room.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Yadriel beamed at his older brother, which only seemed to confuse him more. “I’m amazing!” Without further explanation, he ran up the stairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
Yadriel’s smile was so big, it hurt. He didn’t have to release Julian to the afterlife. He could remain in the cemetery like the other spirits.
Julian could stay.
The thought made him so happy, Yadriel felt like his heart might burst in his chest.
But, when he turned, he found Julian sitting on the edge of his bed. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, his posture curved around his chest like he was in pain.
“Are you okay?” Yadriel asked, confused.
“Are you okay?” Julian countered, concern etched into his features.
“Yeah, I’m okay!” Yadriel laughed.
Julian didn’t respond.
Yadriel wanted to grab Julian and shake him. Didn’t he see how amazing this was? Why did he look so somber?
A lump under the comforter moved, and Purrcaso wiggled her way out. With a little chirrup, she hobbled over to Julian. She rubbed herself against his arm. When he scratched her chin, loud purrs vibrated through her tiny body.
Yadriel’s excitement began to quickly bleed out of him. Julian must’ve been rattled by seeing Tito going maligno. “That was terrifying, wasn’t it?” Yadriel asked, sitting next to him on the bed. Still, Julian said nothing, his attention focused on Purrcaso. He was too still, too quiet. It put Yadriel on edge.
“You saved my life,” Yadriel told him. “I mean…” He let out a little laugh. “It was completely stupid, and reckless, and if you try something like that again, I swear, I’ll—”
“Is that what I’ll become?” Julian finally looked up at him. His dark eyes were empty, distant. “Is that what happens to spirits?” he repeated.
“No, not all spirits,” Yadriel said quickly, wanting to say whatever he could to ease Julian’s mind. “Only the ones that turn maligno.” He couldn’t stand the look on Julian’s face.
“Día de Muertos is soon, you’ll see, Tito will be all better. Like my Lito? When he died, he was so weak and tired. It was like he was only a shell of who he had been. But when he came back that first Día de Muertos? It was like he was back to his old self again,” Yadriel told him. He felt like he was rambling, filling in Julian’s unnatural silence. “He wasn’t tired or in pain, he was downright spry.” The memory made him grin.
Still, Julian said nothing.
“My point is, you’ll still be you for a really long time,” Yadriel told him. “I mean, there’s no reason for me to release you right now! You can stay for as long as you like,” he said, shy and hopeful. He felt a blush bloom in his cheeks. “And then when eventually you do cross over, you’ll be able to come back every year and see me.” But that wouldn’t be for a very long time, Yadriel would make sure of it.