Julian woke up with a violent jerk. He gulped down air, his heart hammering in his ribs.
What the fuck happened?!
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.
Miguel tore off up the stairs.
To the side, the two others—a girl and a boy, who both looked about his age, if not younger—stood back, looking at Julian like he was a wild animal.
Good. If they were scared, then they would stay away. All Julian cared about was Yadriel.
With clumsy fingers, he walked his fingers along the side of Yadriel’s neck where he had seen Miguel and Maritza feel for a pulse. At first, he couldn’t find it, and he thought Yadriel’s heart had stopped again. But then his middle finger pressed at just the right spot and he felt the beat. Julian cursed under his breath and held his hand as still as possible. He was afraid to let go and lose it again, but he also didn’t want to accidentally choke Yadriel.
Julian let out a shaky exhale and counted each and every beat of Yadriel’s heart. Focusing on that and only that.
He didn’t know how much time passed, but it seemed to stretch on forever. Panic wound its way through his rigid muscles. What was taking Miguel so long to get help? Why wasn’t he back yet? Anger roiled in his blood. His skin crawled. Julian couldn’t stand just sitting there, waiting. The only thing keeping him from running to get help himself was Yadriel.
Julian pressed his ear to Yadriel’s chest, trying to hear it beat, but it was drowned out by the sound of his own ragged breaths.
It felt like hours before he heard voices and footsteps running down the stairs and into the crypt. Julian looked up as a group of people flooded the cave. Hope tried to lift his chest, but fear dragged it back down.
He recognized Yadriel’s dad and abuelita. She gasped and stopped short when she saw the gory mess laid out. Yadriel’s dad stared, head twisting as he took everything in.
A girl a bit older than Julian rushed to Maritza, letting out an impressive string of curses in Spanish.
When Yadriel’s dad spotted his son, where he lay under Julian’s protective crouch, he rushed forward, Miguel quick on his heels.
Julian tensed. “Don’t!” he barked, so fiercely that Enrique tripped to a stop.
He looked between Julian and Yadriel, maybe weighing the pros and cons of getting his hand bitten off. He flicked Miguel a look. “Who—?”
“I don’t know,” Miguel said, watching Julian anxiously from over Enrique’s shoulder. To Julian, he asked, “Is Yadriel your friend?”
The word burned. “¡Mi querido!” he snapped viciously.
Enrique’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Julian blushed furiously under their stares.
Enrique knelt down and tried to move closer.
“Don’t touch him!” Julian all but snarled. He tried to push them away.
“It’s okay,” Enrique said gently. Julian saw his hands trembling when he held his palms up in submission. “We’re here to help, please.” His voice was tight when he said, “He’s my son.”
“I know that!” Julian said. In an attempt to calm himself, he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. He knew that. He knew they were there to help, that they were his family, but Julian was so scared and angry. Just because Yadriel had forgiven them didn’t mean he did.
They could help, but Julian couldn’t get his body to understand what his brain knew. Adrenaline coursed through him, rigid and ready to fight even though he knew he didn’t need to.
He refused to move away from Yadriel’s side, but he did shift back. As soon as he made room, Enrique and Lita leaned in.
Julian bit back the urge to knock their hands away as they touched Yadriel’s cheeks, his pulse, his forehead. He was unconscious and vulnerable. Julian had to keep him safe.
“Is he okay?” Enrique asked.
“Sí,” Lita said with a heavy sigh. “Just exhausted.”
Enrique looked over. “Paola?”
“She’ll be okay,” said the girl who looked way too much like Maritza not to be her sister. She looked pissed, holding a light green rosary to Maritza’s forehead. “So stupid,” she chided, even though Maritza clearly couldn’t hear her.
“Thank Santa Muerte,” Enrique said. “We need to get them out of here. The ambulances should be arriving soon.”
When he and Miguel moved to pick up Yadriel, panic cut through Julian. “Be careful!” he shouted.
Enrique tried to speak gently to him. “It’s okay—” But Julian wouldn’t hear it. Couldn’t hear it.
Miguel got down and jostled Yadriel as he got his arms under him. Yadriel’s head lolled to the side.
“YOU’LL HURT HIM!” Julian tried to rush forward, but a pair of sturdy hands held on to his shoulders. Everything in him screamed to fight. He tried to rein in his anger but fear tore through his veins. “You’ll hurt him!” His throat ached. The sound of his heartbeat pounded in his ears.
Miguel scooped Yadriel into his arms. His head fell back, lips parted and neck exposed.
Julian’s voice splintered. “Don’t hurt him!”
“He’s okay; he’ll be okay,” Enrique repeated, trying to calm Julian, but he was already turning to follow.
Miguel was across the cave and going up the stairs. There was more movement around him, and brujx went to help the others. Julian could only see Yadriel’s dangling legs. His swath of black hair.
Julian’s heart thrashed wildly in his chest, threatening to break his ribs. He didn’t want them to take Yadriel away from him. What if something happened and Julian never got to see him again?
He twisted out of the grip of whoever was holding him and rushed forward. “WAIT!”
Enrique turned with a jerk, posture tense as he gave Julian a startled look.
Julian took a step back. “I need to go with him!” he insisted, fingers knotting anxiously into the hem of his shirt. Miguel disappeared with Yadriel up the stairs. Something tugged urgently at his chest, demanding he follow.
Enrique looked him down, confused and apprehensive.
Julian was covered in blood, trembling as his chest heaved with ragged breaths. Tears streamed down his cheeks, blurring his vision.
With effort, he choked back his primal instinct to charge forward, to just push past Enrique and anyone else in his way until he got back to Yadriel. “Please let me go with him!” Julian begged, hating the desperation in his voice.
After a moment, Enrique’s expression softened. He gave a curt nod. “Okay—”
Julian tore off up the stairs after Yadriel.
They wouldn’t let him ride in the ambulance no matter how hard he argued. It was too small. Enrique was the one who accompanied his son. Julian was put in his own ambulance after a lot of negotiating. He only agreed when they said he would be going to the same ER as Yadriel.
The adrenaline started to wear off on the way to the hospital. Strapped to a gurney, his body felt heavy, every muscle sore. The paramedic cut open his shirt and dressed the stab wound on his chest first, with layers of gauze and tape. He snapped at her when she pressed too hard, sending a sharp ache cutting through him.
“How long were you down there?” she asked, face screwed up in confusion. “It looks partially healed.”
Julian ignored her. He wasn’t no snitch.
It took the paramedic three tries to get him hooked up to an IV because he kept pulling away. Julian was too distracted worrying about Yadriel to listen to her explanation, but the stuff in the IV was cold, and he could feel it race through his veins. The tube tickled his arm with every bump of the ambulance.
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.