As soon as they got to the hospital, Julian demanded to see Yadriel, but they wheeled him into his own room to be examined. People stood around him, poking and prodding, speaking to one another but not giving him a straight answer when he asked where Yadriel was.
“Don’t worry about your friend,” a nurse said with a smile. Julian growled at him. The smile quickly vanished.
One of the machines he was hooked up started to beep wildly as Julian made to stand up. If they weren’t going to tell him, then he’d figure it out himself. Another icy sensation tingled through his arm and suddenly he was sunk into the bed again, conscious but impossibly groggy.
“Tranquilo,” another nurse said gently, softly brushing gloved fingers over his sweaty forehead. “You assholes,” he slurred. All he could do was lie there as they went to work.
* * *
Too much time had passed. He’d been lying in bed, staring blankly at the TV on the wall as it showed an onslaught of infomercials. He was ready to lose it. He couldn’t stand being cooped up in this room, trapped in bed with nothing to do but obsess over whether Yadriel was all right. His body felt stiff and heavy. His stomach twisted with worry. The wait was killing him.
The only thing keeping him from storming down the hallway and demanding answers was whatever sedative they’d given him. There was a thick fog in his head, dulling his senses. Familiar voices came from the hallway and he turned to the door, chasing the sound.
A second later, the door swung open.
“Jules?”
Rio. Relief crashed through Julian. His pulse thudded in his temples as he tried to sit up.
“Christ, Jules,” said an irritated voice. A strong hand pushed his shoulder, holding him down. Julian tried to fight it, but he was far too weak.
“Stop,” the voice ordered, giving Julian a small shake that sent his head spinning.
Rio’s tense face swam into focus above him. His jaw was clenched, worry sparking in his sharp eyes.
“Rio?” he croaked groggily, latching on to his brother’s arm with feeble hands.
“You’re hooked up to a bunch of shit. If you keep fighting, you’re going to pop your stitches,” Rio told him sternly. “So quit it.”
Julian’s head rolled to the side and he blinked hard, trying to focus.
His friends stood huddled by his bed. Omar’s eyes were bloodshot and he looked pissed. Rocky was pale, and there were tears freely running from Flaca’s puffy eyes. Luca openly gaped like he was staring at a ghost.
“Are you guys okay?” Julian asked the first question that popped into his head.
“We’re supposed to ask you that, dumbass,” Omar growled.
“The cops said you got kidnapped by a cult,” Luca piped in.
“It wasn’t a cult,” Rocky corrected, looking annoyed. “It was just one guy.”
“They found you and three other people in a murder dungeon,” Luca continued, like he hadn’t heard her.
“He was about to kill all four of you,” Flaca said through tears, her fingers pressed to her lips.
“But Maritza and Yadriel found you,” Luca added.
Julian sucked in a breath. “Yadriel?” When he tried to sit up, he was hit was a violent ache in his chest, eliciting a groan.
“Julian,” Rio warned.
“Is Yadriel okay?” he demanded, trying to push his brother’s arm away.
“He’s okay,” Luca told him. “I asked one of his relatives. There’s a whole bunch of them in the waiting room.”
“Where is he?” Julian wasn’t going to take anyone’s word for it. The only way he’d believe Yadriel was okay was if he saw him with his own eyes. He wasn’t safe until Julian could speak to him and touch him, until he knew for certain. “I gotta see him—” Julian tried to get up again, even though every muscle in his body screamed at him to stop.
Rio pushed him back down with ease.
Julian glowered.
“You got stabbed, Jules,” Rio said.
“Yadriel’s okay,” Flaca tried to reassure him. “He’s still recovering.”
It did little to make him feel better, especially when Rio added stubbornly, “You’re not going anywhere.”
“The hell I’m not!” Julian growled, trying to get up yet again.
Luca threw himself across Julian’s lap, and a scuffle ensued, if you could really call it that. It was mostly Julian cussing out Rio and his friends to let him go and them not letting him up.
TWENTY-FIVE
When Yadriel started to wake up, he tried to force his eyes open, but they slid right back shut. The strange scent of antiseptic mixed with flowers filled his nose.
“Yadriel?”
He tried again. Everything was blurry and way too bright.
“I’ll get a doctor,” Diego’s voice said. There was squeaking of shoes on linoleum. The opening and closing of a door.
“Yadriel? Are you awake?”
With effort, Yadriel turned and saw his dad. He was a haggard mess, but he let out a heavy sigh of relief.
“Ay, Dios mío!” Lita practically wailed at his side. Yadriel flinched as she babbled incoherently, thanking every god and saint she could think of, her hand pressed to her breast.
“Jesus Christ.”
Yadriel’s eyes swung to his left, where Maritza hovered over him.
He tried to sit up.
“Here, let me help,” Maritza scolded him, carefully pulling him into a seated position.
A wave of nausea crashed over him. Yadriel groaned as bile rose in his throat. Someone pressed a cool, damp cloth to the back of his neck. “This will help,” his dad told him, gently rubbing his back in circles. His bare back. Someone had taken off his binder.
“Where am I?” he asked, dragging the blanket up over his chest.
“The hospital, pendejo,” Maritza snapped, huffing as she crossed her arms. She was very angry.
Yadriel rubbed his throbbing temples. “How long have I been here?”
“About seven hours,” his dad said. “It’s almost ten a.m.”
Yadriel looked around. They all were staring at him, wide-eyed and … frightened?
He remembered the old church. Tío Catriz. The jaguar. “Tío,” Yadriel blurted out. “He was trying to summon Bahlam— He was going to—” His thoughts crashed painfully in his head. He grimaced, trying to string them together into something that made sense.
“It’s okay. Maritza told us everything,” Enrique said, smoothing his large hand up and down Yadriel’s arm, speaking softly.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry.” The apologies spilled from his lips.
Enrique blinked at him, surprised. He gave a slight shake of his head. “No, Yadriel—”
“If I had just told you everything to begin with, then—”
Yadriel’s dad pulled him tight against his chest. “Yadriel,” Enrique sighed into his hair. “My brave, brave son.”
Yadriel wept into his dad’s shoulder, hard and uncontrollable.
“That was not your fault,” his dad told him, his voice soft but firm.
Yadriel’s chest felt like it had split wide open. “All I did was ruin everything. Tío is gone—”