Chapter Two. Yadriel
TWO
YADRIEL
“?Ahí está el elegido!”
Yadriel flinched before he could stop himself. One of the tías glided past with a tray of pan dulce balanced like a miracle, eyes bright as candle flames. Two more aunties tittered near the nave, knotting satin ribbons around jars. The church was packed with brujx decorating for the holidays.
“Lady Death’s Chosen shouldn’t be stuck tying ribbons,” someone joked, and another muttered, “Even miracles can’t escape setup duty.”
Yadriel managed a smile because that was what you did when the elders teased you. It was friendly—reverent, even. Still, each comment thudded into his stomach like a small stone.
A few weeks ago, he’d stood in this very church with smoke and marigolds in his lungs and felt chosen.
The blessing had been a warmth that soaked into his bones, a certainty as bright as a lit wick.
He’d walked out dizzy with it—hands clasped with Julian’s, sure that the path ahead would open, sure that he’d be doing real work. Guiding. Releasing. Helping.
Now he was wrist-deep in satin, tying bows.
He tugged a loop too tight. The ribbon bit his skin.
It wasn’t that the work didn’t matter—it all mattered.
The Midnight Vigil, the Candle Dance of Eternal Light, the way the community remade the cemetery into a vision of hope.
But every time someone called him “el elegido,” they also handed him a broom, or a list, or a “maybe next time.” Excitement had curdled into impatience.
“Careful,” Maritza said, hip-checking him out of his spiral, her pink-and-purple hair styled into box braids. She tipped her chin at Yadriel’s mangled bow. “Saint Knot-Finger, patron of trying too hard.”
He huffed. “Funny.”
“True.” She scooped up Purrcaso from the floor where he was trying to eat a stray piece of ribbon and wiggled him at Yadriel until the crooked cat’s tiny chin presented for tribute. Yadriel obliged, scratching, and was rewarded with an undignified string of drool.
Across the aisle, Enrique and Lita directed a parade of candles, incense, and ladders. Yadriel’s father caught his eye and smiled, proud and patient. Everyone starts with the basics, his dad kept saying. You put in your time. You work your way up.
Time. Up. When?
“Wanna ditch? We could hide out at my place,” Maritza said under her breath, reading him like always. “I mean, it’s not like they’re letting us do anything important anyways—”
“This is important,” he said, sharper than he meant to. He forced his voice down, gentler. “All of it, including the bows. The whole community counts on us to do our part.”
Maritza fixed him with a look that said she was holding back a retort. She wasn’t wrong—he did agree with her that they were being benched more than they should be. But if he said that out loud, the impatience would leak into everything else. And there were jars to finish.
“Basics first,” he muttered, more to himself than her. He tied the ribbon again—clean loop, clean tail—and set the jar in the growing line of soft lights.
“Okay, Mr. Broody Brujo, enough sulking,” Maritza announced. She hooked her arm through his and tugged him toward the house. “Come on! Bedroom meeting! Emergency escape!”
Before he could argue, she was already hauling him outside. Purrcaso’s tiny paws padded after them.
The moment they reached his room, Maritza threw herself across the bed, arms flopping like she’d just run a marathon. Purrcaso trotted in after them, purring loudly.
“My arms are gonna fall off,” Maritza groaned into the comforter. She rolled onto her side, raising an unimpressed brow. “You’ve literally been blessed by Lady Death. You brought Julian back from the dead. And your dad still has us running candle duty?”
The words were meant to tease, but they stung anyway. Yadriel sank into the chair at his desk, jaw tightening. He had hoped that being blessed by Lady Death would finally prove he was ready—that his dad would see him as more than just his kid needing to be kept safe.
Instead, it felt like the opposite.
Maritza propped her chin on her hand, studying him. “I know your dad thinks he’s protecting you, but maybe it’s time he realized he can’t wrap us in Bubble Wrap forever. He’s gotta let you, like, be who Lady Death already said you are.”
Yadriel managed a crooked smile, though the heaviness didn’t lift. “Us?” he asked, raising a brow. “Last I checked, you were a vegan who didn’t practice brujería.”
“Uh, yeah, us,” Maritza said, punching him lightly in the arm.
“I was there for the whole bringing-your-boyfriend-back-to-life thing, remember? Doesn’t matter I don’t heal.
You do the magic, I contribute with my cleverness and beauty.
” She batted her eyelashes so dramatically he couldn’t help but snort.
“Is that it?” he teased. His chest was lighter already.
“Duh!” She knocked her knuckles on his head. “We’re a package deal! The duo! The dream team!” She paused, then added grudgingly, “Plus Julian. I guess.”
A surprised laugh slipped out of Yadriel before he could stop it. For a moment, he could almost believe everything would work out—that someday, his dad might finally trust him to do more than clean-up duty.
The door to Yadriel’s room slammed open, banging against the wall hard enough to rattle the frame.
Purrcaso yelped and darted under the bed.
Julian stumbled in, chest heaving, hair damp. His eyes were wild, darting too fast, like he couldn’t find where to land them. “GUYS—GUYS—GUYS! You have to see this!” The words tumbled out, sharp and breathless, almost tripping over one another.
“Dammit, Julian!” Maritza shrieked, clutching her chest.
“What—?” Yadriel started, but Julian bulldozed right over him, voice pitching higher.
“Some weird shit is going on!” He was frantic. “There’s this dark spot on my chest—I swear it wasn’t there before, and then I got out of the shower and it WAS, and I don’t know what it wants from me!”
Yadriel had seen Julian cocky, reckless, even furious. But this? The raw terror in his eyes—the absence of bravado—twisted something sharp in Yadriel’s chest. For a split second, Julian looked like he had the night he died.
Yadriel pushed that memory down, hard. “Dark spot?” he managed, already moving closer. His hands hovered, unsure what to do.
“YES. And it GROWLED!” Julian’s voice cracked on the last word.
Maritza opened her mouth, probably to make a joke, but Yadriel shot her a warning glance. This wasn’t the usual Julian theatrics. His boyfriend’s brave front had slipped, and underneath, Yadriel saw raw fear.
“Jules, slow down,” Yadriel said, forcing his own voice steady. “Breathe.”
Julian yanked up his shirt, baring his chest.
“Look!” he barked, as though if he shouted loud enough, they’d finally see what he did.
Maritza yelped, throwing up her hands. “Whoa, whoa! This is a no-nipples zone! Cover that up before you scar me for life, dude!”
Julian pointed at his chest again. His gaze flicked wildly between them, desperate, begging. “LOOK!” he repeated.
Yadriel leaned in, eyes scanning Julian’s sternum where he jabbed frantically. All he saw was skin—warm, flushed—rising and falling in jagged rhythm.
And the scar, still purple and puckered from where Catriz’s blade had pierced him weeks ago.
“Jules…” Yadriel reached out, just to touch him, just to make sure Julian was still solid and here. He laid his palm over the puckered scar but felt only Julian’s hot, sweaty skin and the thudding beat of his heart. “Nothing’s there. Just your scar.”
Julian’s expression crumpled, confusion curdling into frustration. “What? No! Not the scar!” He pressed Yadriel’s hand harder. “The spot! Right there! It’s huge! It’s moving!”
Yadriel didn’t know what to say. There was no dark spot, and there was certainly nothing moving.
“You really don’t see it?” Julian whispered, all the fight draining into something smaller, shakier.
Maritza’s eyes darted toward Yadriel, nervous. “I’m not seeing anything, either…”
Yadriel shook his head.
Julian raked a trembling hand over his buzzed scalp with a noise that was half growl, half plea.
“Something’s wrong with me.”
Maritza rolled her eyes too fast, like she was trying to chase the tension away. “You hit your head skateboarding again?”
“It’s like my brain is just buzzing nonstop,” Julian said, words tripping as he rushed to get them out. “Like there’s a bunch of tabs open in there and I can’t find the one playing an ad!”
“That’s because you have ADHD,” Maritza said.
He scowled. “How do you know that?”
“How do you not?”
Julian’s fists balled at his sides. “I’m not making this up! I can feel it. Like this—this emptiness, right over my heart.” He shuddered hard, clutching his biceps as if he needed to hold himself together.
The sight gutted Yadriel. Julian was always fire, always motion, never fragile like this. Yadriel loved him for that spark, and to see it flicker was freaking him out.
He was supposed to be the brujo now, someone who could protect people. But standing there watching Julian unravel, he didn’t feel powerful at all, just useless.
“Jules—” he started, but Julian cut him off.
“What if I’m turning maligno?”
The question flooded Yadriel’s mind with images of twisted, restless spirits—lost, dangerous, unrecognizable.
“No.” He gripped Julian’s shoulders, grounding himself in the heat of his boyfriend’s skin. “That’s not what’s happening, Jules. You’re not going to turn maligno.”
“Yeah, you’re not even dead anymore!” Maritza added, but her sarcasm landed too flat, too thin.
Yadriel slid his palms down the tense muscle of Julian’s arms, soothing him with touch. “Just breathe with me, okay? In. Out.” He forced his voice to steady. “You’re here. You’re safe.”
Julian shivered again, full-bodied, like a rabbit in a snare. His fingers spasmed and clutched tighter in Yadriel’s grasp.
“We believe you, Jules,” Yadriel murmured, warming Julian’s cold hands between his own. “If you say something’s there, then something’s there. Even if we can’t see it.”