Chapter Two. Yadriel #2
Maritza cleared her throat. “Can you put your areolas away now?”
“Maritza!” Yadriel shot her a scolding look, but Julian barely seemed to hear it. His focus was entirely on the mark that wasn’t there.
Julian let his shirt fall back down like he couldn’t stand to look anymore.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered, so quietly Yadriel had to strain to hear him.
Yadriel hated watching Julian unravel while he stood there empty-handed, with no spell, no ritual, nothing that could make it better.
Maritza shifted uneasily on the bed. “Have you ever heard about anything like this?” she asked Yadriel.
He shook his head, the motion sharp. “No. Nothing about chest marks on the living—and definitely not ones only one person can see.” The uncertainty settled in his stomach like a snake.
Maritza’s lips pursed. “So, Julian’s an outlier. Again.”
Julian groaned, dragging his hands down his face before letting out a bitter shout. “Great!”
Yadriel pressed his thumb against his bottom lip, thinking it over. “It’s gotta have something to do with brujería,” he reasoned aloud. “Weird stuff almost always does.” But the question lingered—why Julian?
Maritza tilted her head, skeptical. “If anyone knows, it’ll be Lita…” she ventured, though she sounded uncertain.
“Or my dad,” Yadriel added, though he hesitated.
He knew how skeptical his dad could be, how hesitant to embrace anything that didn’t fit neatly within the bounds of what he considered “normal,” even for brujería.
If his dad even listened. Lately, he had been so wrapped up in other work, it felt like he barely had time for Yadriel.
Julian scoffed. “And say what?” His voice rose with each word, frustration mounting. “That his son’s boyfriend has some creepy shadow glued to him that nobody else can see?!”
Yadriel frowned, reaching for calm. “We can’t just ignore this, Jules. What if it’s something serious?”
“I know it’s serious!” Julian barked through clenched teeth.
Yadriel flinched.
Julian’s shoulders sagged, the fire draining out of him as fast as it came.
“I know it’s serious,” Julian repeated, softer now, and Yadriel reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze.
“Magical or not, I don’t trust them to believe me.
” Julian jerked his head toward the door, where the noise of the household still drifted through.
“Especially if they can’t even see the damn thing.
What do you think they’ll say if we tell them I’ve got some creepy shadow on my chest?
They’ll just say I’m stressed or imagining it. ”
Maritza paced back and forth, her mouth tightening. “He’s not wrong. Adults panic before they listen. Especially our adults.”
Julian huffed out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Because if something’s weird with me, it must be my fault, right?
It must mean I’m dangerous.” His hands curled into fists.
“People at school say that shit about me all the time. One rumor and suddenly I’m the kid who fights for fun, the kid you avoid in the hall. Doesn’t matter what I actually do.”
Yadriel’s face fell, his chest tightening.
“Julian,” he said softly, stepping closer, “Lita and my dad wouldn’t think that.”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “Dude. Your dad won’t even let you walk with me to school without Maritza. You think he’s gonna hear this and be chill about it?”
Yadriel’s protest died on his tongue. The silence that followed was honest. Heavy.
Maritza crossed her arms. “Look, you know I love them, but Julian’s right—they don’t handle ‘different’ well. Not at first.”
Yadriel winced but nodded. “They … didn’t really know how to deal with me when I came out,” he admitted quietly. “They weren’t trying to hurt me, they just … reacted wrong. Out of fear. Out of not understanding.”
Julian’s expression softened—but only for a moment.
“Exactly,” Julian said. “I don’t want them looking at me like I’m some problem to fix. Or something to be scared of.”
Maritza moved over, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Which is why we’re not going to them yet. We need information first. Answers. Then we bring it to them when we actually know what we’re talking about.”
Yadriel nodded firmly. “We protect each other. We don’t throw you into the deep end without a life jacket.”
Julian let out a long breath, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Okay. So it’s just us for now.”
“Just us,” Maritza echoed. “The Brain Cell Coalition.”
Julian snorted. “We don’t have enough brain cells for a coalition.”
Maritza gasped. “Excuse you!”
Yadriel stepped in. “If anything, there’s a brain cell,” he said. “And it’s Maritza’s.”
Maritza nodded while Julian spluttered indignantly. “Thank you, Yads.”
Yadriel smiled faintly, though unease still prickled at his skin.
If Julian’s mark was tied to brujería, sooner or later the adults would have to find out.
Knowing his dad, he would forbid Yadriel to spend time with Julian—not until his dad and the other brujos were able to clear the dark magic, if that’s even what it was.
He definitely would not let Yadriel help. It’s too dangerous, mi hijo, he’d say.
A soft knock rapped at the door, and Enrique leaned in. He looked the same as always—neat plaid button-down, steady posture—but there was something off.
“Oh,” he said, glancing between them. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Everything okay?” Yadriel asked, trying to read him. Maybe his dad already knew about Julian’s invisible mark.
“Of course,” Enrique replied a little too quickly. “Just a lot to prepare. The holidays always bring extra work. And there are spirits who need tending to.”
That tracked, but something about his dad’s tone made it feel like only half the truth.
“Let us help,” Yadriel offered instantly, taking a step forward. “With the spirits, I mean. We can handle it!” He needed this. To learn from his dad and make him proud.
Enrique’s mustache twitched. A telltale sign of hesitation. Yadriel could feel the no coming.
For once, Maritza and Julian remained silent.
Yadriel steadied his gaze on his father. “You said it yourself, Papí—it’s time to embrace change. Right?”
It was a cheap shot, directly throwing Enrique’s words back in his face from Día de Muertos, but it seemed to get through.
Enrique rubbed his jaw.
“Okay,” Enrique said with reluctance but also a hint of acceptance.
Yadriel’s heart leaped in his chest.
“There is one spirit,” Enrique said carefully. “Nothing dangerous. He’s been around for years, quiet, peaceful. Bartolomé, a guitarist who drifts through Belvedere Park.”
Julian’s head snapped up, eyes widening with excitement. “Wait, the ghost guitarist?! That’s real? Everyone at school says if you skate the park at sunset you can hear him playing across the lake!”
Enrique laughed. “That would be him. He’s never caused trouble.
He’s just lingered too long. Lita has been holding on to his tether, waiting until he’s ready.
” Enrique paused as though weighing his decision once more.
“If you want to help—if you’re serious—this would be a safe place to start.
Offer Bartolomé some solace in his final moments. ”
“We’ll do it,” Yadriel said, his voice steady. This was what he’d wanted, a chance to do real brujo work, to prove himself.
“Hell yeah!” Julian agreed, grinning ear to ear. His mind seemed to already be racing with curiosity about the mysterious ghostly musician.
Enrique straightened, standing inches above Yadriel. “But listen to me. You go, you release him, you come straight back. No detours. Spirits can surprise you, even the gentle ones.”
There it was. The edge of caution. It wasn’t a test run Enrique was giving them—it was training wheels.
Julian, of course, didn’t hear any of that. His grin split wide. “LET’S GO!” he cheered. “We finally get to do some real brujería. A ghost guitarist? That’s sick!” He shook Yadriel’s shoulders, bouncing with excitement.
“Let’s make some brujería happen,” Maritza said, her voice filled with a gleeful determination as she grabbed her bag.
Yadriel swallowed down his frustration and forced a smile. His dad’s trust was right there, dangling just out of reach. Close enough to taste, but not enough to believe in fully.
He’d just have to show his dad they could handle it.
“Be careful,” Enrique said. “Take care of each other. And bring the tether back when you’re done.”
“We will, Papí,” Yadriel promised.
Enrique nodded. As he left the room, Maritza clapped her hands together with mock ceremony.
“All right, Dream Team,” she said. “We’ve got a ghost to release and zero snacks packed. Tragic oversight.”
Julian grinned, slinging an arm around Yadriel’s shoulders. “I’ll serenade Bartolomé into the afterlife myself!”
Yadriel groaned, but he couldn’t help but smile. “Please don’t,” he said. “The dead deserve peace, not punishment.”
Julian laughed, loud and bright. The knot in Yadriel’s chest loosened. With Julian’s warmth at his side and Maritza’s fire at his back, it all felt easier to bear.