Chapter Five. Yadriel #2
And yet here was Angel, with both gifts, both portajes, welcomed by their circle without question. It wasn’t fair—and Yadriel could feel the injustice of it buzzing under Maritza’s words like a frayed wire.
He looked over at her and quietly said, “You should have been allowed to have a dagger.”
Maritza gave a soft hum, her lips pressing into a tight-lipped smile that lacked any joy. Neither agreement nor denial.
They walked in silence as the graveyard gate came into view, its iron letters catching the last light of day.
Julian broke the quiet again. “You think Lita’s gonna lose her mind?”
Yadriel felt a flicker of excitement. He had so many questions for Angel—about their círculo, their life, what it was like being a nonbinary bruje where they came from.
He’d never met anyone like them before—someone who understood what it was like to stand at the intersection of two worlds and belong fully to neither but also to both.
His father’s words from Día de Muertos echoed in his mind—about the importance of embracing change, of helping the brujx community grow. This was it. Angel was that change. They represented something more, something that Yadriel longed for not only for himself but also for his entire community.
Yadriel exhaled through his nose, a nervous smile playing at his lips. “Honestly? Yeah. But first … I think she needs to meet them.”
The savory aroma of spices and roasted meat wafted through the cozy kitchen, enveloping Yadriel as he carefully diced tomatoes, his hands moving with precise care to help Lita cook.
The rhythmic chopping was soothing, grounding him in the present despite the restless excitement simmering just beneath his skin.
He hadn’t told Lita that Angel was coming. He figured it was easier to spring it on her than risk a premature veto. He kept compulsively glancing at the front door, waiting for Angel’s arrival.
The warm, vibrant space of the kitchen offered its own form of protection, one that Yadriel hadn’t fully appreciated until now.
Every corner was adorned with Lita’s wards—protective black obsidian stones lined the windowsills, fresh aloe vera plants flourished on every available surface, and red thread twisted like garlands across thresholds.
Poinsettias brought bursts of color and the faint scent of flowers.
There were more wards than usual—subtle but unmistakable. A second layer of thread, a fresh rattlesnake skin still drying—Yadriel chalked it up to Lita’s penchant for going all out during the holidays.
It made him feel safer, more grounded, as if the house itself were watching over them.
Julian watched him from a stool across the counter, his lanky frame folded into the small space like an oversize cat. His smirk was teasing, but there was an ease in his posture that wasn’t always there, and Yadriel felt a quiet pride at the sight.
Julian thrived here. The wards, the warmth, Lita’s watchful affection—all of it worked to settle the restless energy that usually vibrated through him.
Maritza, meanwhile, stirred the vegan frijoles with practiced skill, her curls bouncing in rhythm with the Selena song playing from Lita’s ancient boombox.
“Julian, pass the tortillas! And don’t even think about eating them!” Lita called from the stove, her eyes full of mock sternness.
Julian grinned, slipping a tortilla onto his lap before handing the stack over. “Who, me? I would never!”
Maritza bumped him with her hip. “You’re a walking liability.”
Yadriel chuckled softly. The warmth of their banter, the smell of home-cooked food, and the safety of Lita’s wards wrapped around him like a comforting blanket.
“Yadriel, mi amor, grab the box of tissue paper for later! We need more poinsettia decorations for the church,” Lita called, flipping another tortilla barehanded on the comal.
“Got it, Lita.” He moved to the pantry, retrieving the familiar cardboard box. The edges were beat up from years of use, and his fingers brushed over it reverently as he carried it to the kitchen table.
Maritza slid a finished poinsettia across the table. “You guys better appreciate the art happening over here! I’ve got glitter in places glitter should not go.”
“What about me?” Julian piped up, swinging his legs. He always needed something to do, always wanted to be at the center of the action.
“You, Julian, will help me with the papel picado!” Lita instructed, her tone light but firm. “Show me those hands of yours are good for something gentle,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Julian stood, saluting with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Challenge accepted!”
As the room transformed into a flurry of activity, laughter and warmth filled the room. The scissors snipped, the masa was kneaded, and the smells of roasted chilies and cinnamon hung thick in the air.
“Where’s Dad?” Yadriel asked, checking the clock on his phone. It was getting late, and he always showed up for dinner, or at least sent Yadriel a text if he wasn’t going to.
“He’s got many things to do tonight, so he will be home late,” Lita told him, not looking up from the stove.
“Oh,” Yadriel said, his shoulders slumping. He’d wanted his dad to meet Angel, to see another brujx who was like him.
“Your father is very busy, Yadriel,” Lita said sternly. “He has many responsibilities.”
“I know,” Yadriel replied, doing his best not to sound petulant.
The chime of the doorbell rang through the house, breaking the spell. Yadriel’s pulse quickened, a thrill shooting up his spine. He exchanged a look with Julian, who raised an eyebrow in amusement.
Lita paused, her hands stilling above the comal. Her brow furrowed as she looked toward the front door. “The doorbell?” she muttered to herself. “No one rings the doorbell—they just come in whether you want them or not.”
“I’ll get it,” Yadriel said quickly, setting down his knife. He wiped his hands on his jeans and hurried toward the door, his heart beating a little faster with each step.
When he opened it, Angel stood there, framed by the doorway. Their golden eyes swept the room behind Yadriel with feline curiosity. They were draped in layers of dark fabric, their stance guarded but calm.
“Hey!” Yadriel greeted them. A huge smile cracked his face. “Come on in!”
Angel hesitated as if they were double-checking the rules of someone else’s house.
Julian chuckled and crossed his arms. “What’re you, a vampire?”
“No.” Angel stepped over the threshold. “They’re not in this part of North America.”
Julian’s arms fell to his sides. “Wait—what?”
Lita appeared behind Yadriel, her expression warm but surprised. “Ah, a guest! I wasn’t expecting anyone, Yadriel!” she said, looking Angel over with open curiosity.
Yadriel smiled nervously. “Lita, this is Angel. They’re a bruje from Texas. We, uh, ran into them earlier while dealing with a maligno.” He left out the part where Angel had saved his life. He figured Lita didn’t need all the details. Not yet, anyway.
Lita froze, her eyes widening as she turned to Yadriel. “A maligno? Where?”
“It was behind that haunted Jack in the Box, Lita!” Julian said. “The one I told you about!”
“With the raccoon?” Lita confirmed—it was one of his favorite stories after all. A shadow passed briefly over her face before she schooled her features. “You didn’t mention anything about a maligno, Yadriel.”
Yadriel’s shoulders shot up to his ears at her stern tone.
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier, mijo?” she asked, turning to Julian and Maritza with concern, checking them for injuries. “You three got into a fight with it?”
Yadriel winced, realizing how nonchalant he’d sounded. “It—it’s okay, Lita. We handled it,” he said quickly, trying to reassure her.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” Julian interjected, flashing a grin as he sauntered into the room. “Yads took care of it like a total badass.” He gave Yadriel a playful nudge, the pride in his voice clear.
Lita’s eyes narrowed, darting between them. “Still, malignos are nothing to brush off. Thank you for helping them,” she said, turning to Angel. “You’re welcome here, mija. Any friend of my family is family, too.”
Angel’s guarded expression softened. “Thanks. Your home is really nice.” They gestured to Lita’s aloe vera plants and rattlesnake skins. “Feels safe.”
Maritza peeked out from behind the curtain of paper she was slicing. “Damn, you’re polite. Most guests just insult Julian and steal a tamal.”
Lita’s eyes crinkled with a gentle warmth. “It’s our duty to protect our home and those we care about. I’m glad you feel that way, mija.” She beckoned Angel toward the kitchen. “Come, you must be hungry! Join us!”
“That’s okay, really—” Angel tried to say.
Lita waved them off. “Donde come uno, comen dos!”
While Maritza and Julian argued over the best shapes to cut out for paper poinsettias, Yadriel assisted Lita with the rest of dinner. Angel took a seat at the counter.
“Tell me, querida, how did you end up here?” she asked, handing Angel a cup of steaming atole.
Angel traced the rim of the cup with their finger. “I’ve been traveling, trying to make it to Mexico for La Vigilia de Medianoche—the Midnight Vigil—to be with my family.” They paused, glancing around at the cozy kitchen.
“It’s a hard time of year to be away from family,” Lita said with a knowing nod.
Angel shrugged, their expression unreadable. “It is what it is. I’ll make it there in time.”
Yadriel’s heart ached a little at the thought of Angel traveling alone, trying to make it home for something so important. He couldn’t imagine missing the Midnight Vigil, being away from his family during such a sacred event. He wanted to say something comforting, but he wasn’t sure what.
“But being here is nice,” Angel continued. “Like maybe I was supposed to find you all. I haven’t had a homemade meal in a long time,” she admitted with a breathy laugh.