FIVE

Yadriel crept up the steps, Maritza and Julian following close behind. Blue light flickered against the lace drapes of the front window.

At least Yadriel knew his dad was still out, which was a relief, and not just because Yadriel was about to sneak a spirit into the house right under his nose. After their blowup earlier, Yadriel still wasn’t ready to face him. His stomach twisted thinking about his dad’s inevitable attempt at an awkward apology.

Julian was actually a welcome distraction, and an excuse to avoid his family altogether.

Said dead boy was currently wandering the front porch and getting way too close to the windows, apparently without a care in the world. Julian reached for the wind chime hanging from the awning, his fingers going right through the pieces of polished glass.

“Hey! Get over here!” Yadriel hissed, waving him back.

On her tiptoes, Maritza was able to see through the small window cut into the top of the front door. “She’s sleeping,” she said with a smug look. “Told you.”

Slowly, Yadriel pushed the front door open, and it let out a low creak. He waited for a moment, but when he heard deep, rattling snores, he knew they were in the clear. Yadriel slid through the door, closely followed by Maritza, and Julian trailed behind.

Lita sat in her armchair in front of the TV, head leaned back and mouth wide open. Yadriel closed the door behind them as quietly as possible.

Meanwhile, Julian just strolled right inside. “Whoa, when’s the party?” he chuckled, looking around at all the stacks of decorations.

A sharp snore from Lita made Yadriel and Maritza jump. Yadriel froze, heart pounding in his chest, but she only stirred a little before falling back into the sawing rhythm. A telenovela played on the TV.

“Santa Muerte,” Maritza whispered, pressing her palm to her forehead.

“Julian, shut up!” Yadriel glared at him, cutting his hand through the air.

He ducked, holding his hands up in concession.

Yadriel led the way to the kitchen, motioning for the other two to follow.

The small kitchen was still warm with the smell of cinnamon, sweet bread, and pozole. A huge Crock-Pot simmered near the sink. Trays of pan de muerto and colorful concha took up all the counter space. A large clay pot sat on the stove from an earlier batch of café de olla.

Julian’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath, but before he could make another outburst, Yadriel shot him a glare, holding his finger up to his lips. Julian nodded, his eyes roving over all the treats.

“Seriously, what’s all of this for?” he asked in a whisper. Or in what was apparently a whisper by Julian standards, which wasn’t much of a whisper at all.

“Día de Muertos,” Yadriel said as he started to load up on food. “It’s kind of a big deal for us.”

“Oooh, right, right, right,” he nodded.

Maritza crept to the stove and peeked under the Crock-Pot lid. “Is any of this vegan-friendly?” she asked, giving the pozole a sniff.

“I think it’s all got chicken in it.”

Maritza wrinkled her nose. “I’ll keep a lookout,” she said, returning to the living room.

Julian hovered over the pan de muerto, practically drooling over the round sweet bread. Each bun was adorned with bone-shaped details. Some were covered in cinnamon sugar, while others were dusted with pink sprinkles. Yadriel figured it was the only food Julian could actually eat. He left the pozole alone. He doubted trying to feed a spirit soup would go well.

“Does your family celebrate?” Yadriel asked as he picked out some pan. They were still warm. His stomach growled.

“Nah, not really religious,” Julian said with a shrug, wandering over to some bound stalks of sugarcane in the corner.


Yadriel took a detour to the fridge and put some ice cubes in an empty glass. The cut on his tongue was puffy and starting to throb.

With an armful of food, he led the way back to the living room. He poked Maritza’s side to get her attention and nodded toward the stairs. He motioned for Julian to follow her. “That way,” Yadriel told him. “My room is the last door on the left—”

The creaking of Lita’s armchair made Yadriel stop short, but this time, she didn’t settle back into sleep. She let out a tired groan and sat up in her chair.

Maritza stared at him, wide-eyed, and Yadriel frantically shooed the two of them toward the stairs. In a panic, Yadriel moved to shove Julian, but his arm sunk right through the spirit’s back.

It was like being plunged into cold water, ripping a gasp from his lungs as one of the conchas fell to the floor.

“¿Quique?” Lita called, the nickname she used for Yadriel’s dad. Her voice was thick with sleep.

“It’s just me, Lita!” Yadriel called back, breathless as ice pulsed through his veins.

Lita yawned and pushed herself up out of her chair.

He flapped his hand frantically at Julian, who raced up the flight of stairs. Maritza took off after him.

Lita limped over to where Yadriel stood, conchas balanced in one arm. Maritza and Julian froze, trying not to draw her attention.

Lita frowned at Yadriel. “I was worried.”

He did his best not to look guilty, urging his heart to stop beating so fast. “Sorry.” He bent to scoop the fallen concha off the floor. “I just needed to…” He trailed off, waving the bread in the air, not knowing how to finish.

Lita nodded, bracing her hands on her hips. “I know, I know,” she told him.

He seriously doubted that.

Lita opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped short and shivered.

Yadriel’s heart leaped.

Brow furrowed, Lita rubbed at her arm.

Yadriel held his breath and forced himself to not look at Maritza and Julian on the stairs. If Lita saw Julian in the house, sneaking up the stairs with Maritza, he was screwed.

In a flash of movement, Julian raced up the final steps.

Yadriel sucked in a sharp breath.

Lita turned her head a split second after Julian ducked around the corner.

Leaving Maritza crouched awkwardly on the stairs.

“Maritza?” Lita asked, squinting up at her through the dark.

She jumped to her feet and smiled. “¡Hola, Lita!” she said with a cheerful wave.

Yadriel exhaled.

Lita gave Maritza a stern look. “Ah, ah! Es muy tarde,” Lita said, disapprovingly wagging her finger between her and Yadriel. “You have school in the morning. Time to go home!”

Maritza’s bottom lip jutted out, and she glanced up the stairs, but Yadriel shot her a pointed look. They’d nearly gotten caught already. He wasn’t about to push their luck.

“But—” she started to whine.

Lita cut her off. “Come,” she said, motioning for Maritza to come down. “We’ll call tu papá and have him pick you up.”

Maritza stomped back down the stairs.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Yadriel reassured her as she headed for the front door.

“You better text me,” Maritza threatened.

Yadriel wanted to tell her if she didn’t want to miss out so badly, she should’ve taken Julian home herself, but it was a bit late for that.

Lita looked at the contraband in his arm and smiled. “Ah! Finally eating!” She chuckled. “Bueno, bueno.” Lita arched her back in a stretch. “You eat and go right to bed. You need rest,” she told him.

Yadriel forced a small laugh. Being sleep-deprived at school tomorrow was the least of his worries. “Sí, Lita.”

“I need you to look in the rafters for la garra del jaguar mañana,” she went on with a huff.

“Yes, Lita.”

“Don’t know where they went—”

When Yadriel turned to go up the stairs, she called after him.

“Ah, ah!” Lita tapped her cheek. “Un besito, por favor.”

Yadriel bit back a groan and planted a quick kiss on her soft, warm cheek.

Maritza smirked from the front door, and he could’ve sworn he heard a muffled chuckle from upstairs.

“Buenas noches, mi amor.” Lita smiled. “¡Pa’ fuera!” she said to Maritza, ushering her out.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Yadriel tore up the stairs. At the top, he looked down the hall toward his room, but there was no sign of Julian. He frowned. “Julian?” he whispered, moving down the hall.

“What?”

Yadriel spun around.

Julian stood at the opposite end of the hallway. He pointed at a slatted door. “This is a closet,” he said, giving Yadriel a critical look.

“I said left, not right.” Yadriel jerked his head, and Julian followed him into his bedroom.

Once they were both inside, he closed the door, wishing it had a lock.

Julian stood in the middle of his room, looking around. It occurred to Yadriel how messy it was, with clothes tossed here and there, drawers half-closed, and the bed a tangled mass of blue sheets.

He felt embarrassed and awkward, not knowing what to do with himself or the spirit in his room.

Julian didn’t seem bothered, or even to notice. All of his attention was locked on the food Yadriel was holding. “Can I eat?” he asked, dark eyes glancing up.

“Uh, yeah.” Quickly, Yadriel pushed a heap of clean clothes off the old office chair. “Here.” He cleared a spot on the desk, moving textbooks, an incense burner, and his bus pass out of the way so he could set down the pan. “Have at it,” he said, dusting the bits of sugar off his sleeves before plucking an ice cube and popping it into his mouth. The cold provided instant relief as he pressed his tongue against it.

Julian didn’t need to be told twice. He threw himself into the chair and rubbed his palms together, a smile lighting up his face. But his hands hovered over the buns. “Wait, how am I supposed to eat this if I can’t touch stuff?”

“It’s pan de muerto,” Yadriel told him around the ice cube, but all Julian replied with was a frown. “It means—”

“I know what it means,” Julian interrupted with a roll of his eyes. “I can speak Spanish; I just choose not to.”

That was a weird thing to say.

Yadriel wanted to ask what he meant by that, but the irritable look Julian shot him said not to. “We make this food for spirits,” Yadriel explained, biting back his curiosity. “I mean, we can eat it, too, obviously, but we use it for ofrendas to welcome spirits back for Día de Muertos.” He shrugged. “It’s spirit food.”

Julian didn’t need to be told twice.

He snatched up a bun and took a huge bite. Yadriel found himself grinning as Julian threw his head back, letting out a triumphant laugh.

“Oh, man.” Julian hummed appreciatively, shoving two more bites into his mouth. His knees bounced under the desk, and he swallowed with effort before stuffing more into his mouth. “So good,” Julian mumbled, eyes rolling in ecstasy. In a matter of moments, he had chomped down three pieces of pan.

Yadriel’s mom always used to say Lita’s pan de muerto was so good it’d wake a dead man just so he could get a taste. Apparently she was right. Maybe he should’ve grabbed more.

Cold water slid down Yadriel’s throat as the ice cube he sucked on melted. He did his best to appear aloof, but that turned into him rocking on the balls of his feet and watching Julian. Yadriel shook his head at himself. Staring at Julian while he ate was weird. He couldn’t remember how to act normal.

Sitting down seemed like a nonchalant thing to do, so Yadriel plopped himself onto the edge of his bed.

A chirruped mewl made him jump, his heart lurching into his throat. Julian spun in the chair. The mass of blankets rustled, and Purrcaso crawled out, shaking herself off.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me,” Yadriel said, gingerly picking up the small cat and placing her in his lap. He teased his fingers down her pointy spine and she purred in appreciation, her forgiveness immediate. Her tiny presence let the tension in his shoulders ebb.

“Holy shit,” Julian laughed, the deep kind that came from his belly. “That’s one messed-up looking cat!”

“Shut up!” Yadriel snapped, pulling Purrcaso close. “Don’t make fun of her.” Her enthused purrs reverberated against his chest.

Julian held up his palms in defense. “Hey, hey, hey, didn’t mean any disrespect! But, c’mon—” The chuckles started again, and he did a very bad job of holding them back. “She is pretty funny looking.”

Yadriel glared, but Purrcaso was unfazed. She wiggled out of Yadriel’s grasp and clumsily leaped to the floor. With a trilling meow, she hobbled over to Julian.

He sucked the sugar off his fingers. “What’s up, little one?” he asked before looking up at Yadriel. “She can see me?”

“Cats are like little spirit guardians,” he said with a shrug. “They hang out in the cemetery all the time. My mom said they were good luck. Cats can see spirits and sense them nearby, just like us.”

Julian reached down, and when his fingers brushed against her fur, a wide smile split his face. “I can pet her!” He scratched her behind the ears, and Purrcaso’s eyes slid shut, leaning into the touch.

Yadriel was surprised at how quickly she took to him. Usually, Purrcaso was uninterested in anyone other than him and his mom, but here she was, drool gathering at the corner of her mouth as Julian scratched her furry chin.

“Never had any pets growing up, but I always liked cats,” Julian told him.

A thought occurred to Yadriel. “What about your family?”

Julian’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t look up. “What about ’em?”

“Don’t you want me to talk to them, too?” Yadriel asked. As uncomfortable as that sounded, it was weird that Julian was so worried about his friends but hadn’t mentioned his family at all. “You’re not worried about your parents?”

“Don’t got parents,” Julian said, his words curt. Gruff. Purrcaso batted at the unraveled end of Julian’s shoelace.

Yadriel blinked. “Oh…” Growing up in a multigenerational household and being part of a huge Latinx community, the concept of not having any family was both foreign and distressing. “But you mentioned your brother. Isn’t he going to be worried?”

Julian let out a sharp, bark-like laugh. “Trust me, me being dead is a good thing for him. Probably a weight off his shoulders. Best thing that could’ve happened.” He spat the words out like they were bitter.

Yadriel frowned. That sounded … awful. His own family was far from perfect, but would he be better off without them? Or vice versa?

“When can I start moving stuff?” Julian asked, finally looking up. The discussion about family was clearly over.

Purrcaso limped over to one of Yadriel’s hoodies on the floor and curled up, settling in for another nap.

“Moving stuff?”

“Yeah, you know—” Julian stood and paced the room. He couldn’t sit still, and he couldn’t stop himself from trying to touch things. He thumbed a stack of books on the desk and rapped his fingers against the closet door. “Like slamming doors, stacking chairs, stuff like that,” he explained, coming to a stop before the altar on Yadriel’s dresser.

The altar was three steps tall, covered in an orange, magenta, and royal-blue shawl that had once been his mother’s. It was adorned with half-burned candles of different colors and sizes. The bottom step had black-and-white photos of his relatives—his maternal grandparents standing outside their yellow-painted home back in Mexico, his paternal grandfather squinting through his glasses at the new cell phone they had gotten him for his birthday.

Julian bent down to sniff the unlit incense.

Yadriel snorted. “You’re really taking this ‘ghost’ stuff literally.”

Julian tilted his chin and grinned in a way he could only describe as preening. “I’m very committed to my new lifestyle.”

A surprised laugh bucked in Yadriel’s chest.

Who was this guy?

“Practice,” Yadriel answered with a shrug. He thought of the large metal shears Tito used to tend to his precious marigolds. “You’ve got to concentrate and focus.”

“Mm,” Julian hummed, pressing his lips together. “Not exactly my strong suits.”

“I’ve gathered.”

Julian looked up. “What?”

Yadriel cleared his throat. “Lucky for you, the closer it gets to Día de Muertos, the more powerful the dead become,” Yadriel said. “It’s only a couple days away, so you’ll be moving stuff around in no time. Don’t touch that,” he added when Julian reached for his statue of Lady Death.

Julian snatched his hand back. “I know her,” he said, pointing. “Santa Muerte, right?” he asked, turning to Yadriel.

Yadriel blinked, surprised. “Uh, yeah.” He stood and came to a stop next to Julian.

On the top step stood a small painted statue of Lady Death he’d gotten during a trip to Tepito, Mexico. She was made out of white clay and wore a white huipil with rainbow-colored flowers along the neck. Her skirts were layers of red and white. A gold sash was tied around her waist, her oily-black hair braided over one shoulder and accented with tiny painted marigolds.

“We call her Lady Death; she’s our patron,” Yadriel explained, affectionately straightening the skeleton dressed in her huipil and skirts. “She’s the one who gave us our powers. She looks after us, and we help her maintain the balance of life and death.”

“So, she’s your patron and your patrón.” Julian grinned, quite pleased with his own cleverness and ignoring Yadriel’s groan entirely. “She’s one of our saints, too,” he told Yadriel, head bobbing in a nod. “Bunch of folks have little altars for her. Someone’s always pouring out mezcal for her at parties. One of my friends got a big tattoo of her across his chest. My brother’s got one on his arm.” He tapped at his own bicep. “I’ve always been more partial to St. Jude, myself…” Julian’s eyes slid to Yadriel’s neck, his brow puckering.

St. Jude. Yadriel had nearly forgotten. He pressed his fingers to the medal at his throat—Julian’s medal. Yadriel remembered how possessive he’d been of it back in the church. It clearly meant a lot to him.

“Who’s that?” Julian suddenly asked, pointing to the picture of Yadriel’s mom. It had been taken the Christmas before she died. She was mid-laugh, wearing a red dress with the Christmas tree lights behind her. Delicate earrings made of multicolored hummingbird feathers dangled from her ears. She had a heart-shaped face and brown hair that she’d always worn down in natural waves.

Yadriel took a large step back. “My mom.” The words were clipped, making it, hopefully, clear that it wasn’t a topic for Julian to play another round of twenty questions.

Julian quickly withdrew his hand and stuffed them both into his pockets. “Oh.”

Yadriel steered the conversation back to Julian’s original question. “Well, you won’t have long to try it out—going all Paranormal Activity, I mean. Hopefully we’ll get everything sorted out—make sure you’re friends are okay, figure out what happened—soon.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. “Like, before Friday.”

“Halloween?” Julian smirked and nodded his approval. “Awesome. Very on theme.”

“Día de Muertos kicks off at midnight, the night of October thirty-first,” Yadriel explained. “We clean up the graves in the cemetery to prepare for the spirits to arrive, like cleaning up the house before family comes to visit. Everyone takes special care of their portajes—”

Julian nodded along as if he understood perfectly. “Right, right, right.”

“We set up ofrendas for the spirits of the returning brujx. We put out pictures of them, their favorite foods or toys, little mementos, stuff like that. They lead the spirits back to the world of the living, that’s why we use candles and bright colors, like the marigolds. And the smell of the food, of course.”

Julian rubbed his stomach, as if remembering the taste of the pan de muerto.

“Then at midnight, the bell tolls, officially starting the celebration and signaling the arrival of the spirits. They get to stay until it ends at sunset on November second. It’s like a two-day-long party and you get to see everybody.”

“Like your mom?” Julian asked, his gaze shifting back over to the picture.

Yadriel’s stomach twisted. “Yeah.” He was both excited and anxious to see his mom again in just a matter of days. There was a lot he needed to accomplish before then.

Julian studied the altar with an intense expression. “Is it like … for anybody?” He didn’t look at Yadriel when he spoke.

“How do you mean?” Yadriel asked, not understanding the question. It was hard to keep up with Julian’s constantly shifting train of thought.

Julian’s hand went to his neck, his fingers searching at the dip of his throat. “Like do normal people come back, too?” A frown pressed deep lines into his forehead. “Non-brujx?”

“Oh—no.” Yadriel shifted uneasily. “It’s just brujx.” Was there someone he wanted to see?

Julian nodded. “When you raised me from the dead—”

“Summoned your spirit, you’re not a zombie—”

Julian rolled his eyes. “Right, that. You thought I was someone else. Miguel?”

Yadriel’s heart clenched. “Yeah, my cousin,” he said.

“How’d he die?” Julian asked.

“We don’t know,” Yadriel confessed, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.

“Wait,” Julian shook his head. “Then how do you know he’s even dead?”

“It’s a brujx thing. If one of us dies, we can all feel it.”

Julian still looked confused. “But you don’t know what happened?”

Yadriel shook his head. “Only that it was … bad.” He remembered the sharp pain he’d felt. How it’d ripped through his chest. Goose bumps skittered down his arms at the thought. Yadriel frowned at himself. He felt helpless and frustrated. He was supposed to be helping the brujx find Miguel. “Hopefully they find him. We need to find him,” he corrected himself. “He could be anywhere, for all we know. If we’re wrong and his spirit didn’t get tethered, and he managed to cross over to the afterlife, at least his spirit will return during Día de Muertos, so he’ll be able to just tell us himself,” Yadriel said. “But still, the sooner we find him, the better. It’s not good for a spirit to be wandering around alone.”

Julian sat up straighter. “Why not?”

“Spirits can go maligno—turn dark and evil—if they stay in the land of the living for too long.” The thought of that happening to Miguel made him feel queasy all over again.

“How long?” Julian asked with an edge to his voice.

“It varies,” he said, knowing it wasn’t very helpful. He’d never seen it happen up close. The brujos kept on top of it, and it wasn’t like Yadriel was allowed to perform the releasing ritual, anyway. “Sometimes it happens quick—the spirit loses themselves and they turn violent,” he said with a shrug.

Julian had a strange look on his face, and, at first, Yadriel couldn’t place it. His jaw was flexed and his body rigid; his mouth in a hard line, nostrils flared as he stared at Yadriel.

Then it hit him—Julian was scared.

“But that won’t happen to you!” he said quickly, trying to backpedal. “I mean, sometimes it takes years and years for that to happen!”

Julian didn’t look reassured.

“That’s why we’ve got to find your friends tomorrow,” Yadriel rushed. “The sooner we do, the sooner I can release your spirit before anything goes sideways.”

Julian’s expression was doubtful. “Yeah, well, you be sure to use that knife of yours on me before I go full Exorcist,” he said gruffly, cocking an eyebrow. “Deal?”

Yadriel exhaled a laugh, but he agreed. “Deal.”

Julian’s shoulders relaxed a little. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything and Yadriel felt like a real asshole for being so insensitive.

Yadriel cleared his throat. “Nothing more we can do tonight, though. Everyone else is out looking for Miguel.” Hell, maybe they’ve even already found him and by morning the mystery would be all cleared up. “I’ll get you something to sleep on.” Yadriel went to his closet and dug around for his old sleeping bag.

“Why aren’t you out looking with them? With the other brujos?” Julian asked. He was back in the chair, knees bouncing.

“Well, they won’t let me,” Yadriel said, pushing a box of old clothes out of his way.

Julian spun himself in a circle. “Why?”

“Because they don’t think I’m a real brujo.”

He spun himself faster. “Why?”

Yadriel was glad Julian couldn’t see his face. His cheeks burned hot.

“Because I’m trans.”

Julian planted his feet and came to an abrupt stop, swaying slightly in the chair. “Oh.” He paused. Blinked. “Ohhh.”

Yadriel’s hand finally closed around the slick material of his sleeping bag and he yanked it out. He hugged it to his chest and faced Julian, waiting for some kind of judgment. Maybe laughter.

Instead, Julian frowned at Yadriel, his lip curled in an annoyed sort of way. “That sucks, dude.”

The words were matter-of-fact. Straight to the point. Holding no pretense.

Yadriel hadn’t expected it. He exhaled, shoulders slumping. “It does,” he agreed. “It sucks a lot.” He spent so much time holding his tongue and only having Maritza to vent to, it felt nice to just say it out loud to someone else. “Since they don’t think I’m a real boy, they wouldn’t give me my own portaje or let me have the brujo’s quinces—”

Julian scowled. “The fuck?”

“Right?” Yadriel huffed. “They’re so stuck in their ways and traditions, they wouldn’t even let me try.” He undid the sleeping bag and shook it out with a snap. “So, Maritza made me a portaje and I did the binding ceremony myself.”

Julian grinned approvingly. “Badass.”

Yadriel found himself smiling back. He hadn’t really had the time to process everything that had happened, what with Miguel dying as soon as he’d completed the ritual. It was badass, even if he was going against his dad and the other brujx.

“So I’m gonna help you find your friends,” Yadriel went on, laying the sleeping bag out on the floor. “And you’re gonna help me by letting me release you to the afterlife, then they’ll have to accept that I’m a brujo.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned his elbows on his knees. “On the second night of Día de Muertos, we have an aquelarre where the brujx who had their quinces that year are presented. This year, they’re going to have to let me be part of it,” Yadriel said with fierce determination.

Julian’s expression was suddenly pinched. “Back up a sec—are you trying to prove to them that you’re a brujo, or that you’re a boy?”

The bluntness of the question caught Yadriel off guard. It took some of the wind out of his self-satisfied sails. “It’s the same thing,” he said, prickling with annoyance.

“’Cause, if it’s to prove you’re a brujo, didn’t summoning me already do that?” Julian asked.

Yadriel huffed a laugh. “You just don’t get how it works,” he said, crossing his arms. “That’s not enough.”

“Not enough for who, though?” Julian questioned. He wasn’t being pushy about it, not on purpose, anyway. He just seemed curious, which only irritated Yadriel further. “Not enough for them, or not enough for you?”

Yadriel froze. The question stuck in his chest. “It’s the same thing,” he repeated, but was it? Yadriel shook his head. He was tired, and Julian’s incessant questions were just confusing him.

“You just don’t get it because you’re not one of us,” he insisted. “Here.” He tossed Julian a pillow from his bed.

Julian easily caught it out of the air. “Hey!” He flashed his teeth in a triumphant smile, giving the pillow a shake. “I caught it!”

Yadriel threw himself onto his bed. “Good job. Now go to sleep. I have to get up for school in”—he checked his phone and groaned—“three hours.”