He tried to focus and remember, pushing through the sludge in his head.
Someone was yelling, and Julian cringed as their voice rang in his ears. He wanted to tell them to shut the hell up, but all he managed was an annoyed grunt.
When he tried to sit up, his head swam. If there had been anything in his stomach, he definitely would’ve barfed it into his lap. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to make himself stop being dizzy through sheer force of will.
He was lying on something hard and cold. His whole body ached, like he’d eaten shit on his skateboard. There was a dull, throbbing ache in his chest. But—
Holy shit.
Julian touched his arms, his face, his chest.
He was alive?
He was alive!
Julian turned his heavy head, forcing his eyes open to seek out Yadriel.
He needed to tell him, he needed to show him, he needed to grab him and—
“Some goddess you are!” a familiar voice all but screamed.
Julian squinted into the dark room. “Maritza?”
Slowly, things came into focus.
He was sitting on what looked like a stone table.
It was covered in blood.
He was covered in blood.
Everything came rushing back to him. The church. The crypt. The dagger.
Julian’s hand flew to where he had been stabbed. His shirt was torn open and there was a cut. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it still hurt like a son of a—
“You’re nothing but a coward!”
Maritza sat on the floor, shouting up at the ceiling.
Who the hell was she yelling at?
Julian pushed himself to the edge of the stone table and placed his unsteady feet on the ground. He dug his fists into his bleary eyes and looked down. Then he sucked in a gasp, recoiling.
The floor was covered in blood. Maritza knelt in it, her white dress smeared crimson. She was leaning over something, muttering to herself, her movements erratic.
“Maritza?”
She jerked her head to look at him over her shoulder. “Look” was the wrong word. It was a vicious glare. Her painted lips were peeled back, showing her teeth. Her hair was a frazzled mess. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She seemed ready to claw his face off.
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.