Chapter Eight. Julian #5
Julian grabbed the wooden paddle hanging by the door—a garish, hand-painted monstrosity shaped like a fish and emblazoned with the words GONE FISHING in glittery letters. He barely noticed the snickers from a few classmates as he bolted out the door.
He told himself he just needed air, but the longer he sat in that classroom, the heavier the air had felt—like someone had turned the oxygen down just for him.
His brain kept replaying Angel’s warning about Marca Huecas and malignos, the weird figure he saw, and he couldn’t shake the thought that maybe it was in there with him, watching, waiting. Julian quickened his pace.
The hallway was empty, its fluorescent lights casting a sickly yellow glow that made the scuffed linoleum floors look waxy and unreal. Julian’s sneakers squeaked as he hurried past rows of lockers, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Once a safe distance from the classroom and other people, Julian leaned against the cold tile wall, his heart pounding.
He fumbled for his phone. The scuffed clear case still held a torn piece of the first note Yadriel had ever written him—a crooked heart and his name signed in careful letters.
Julian had never taken it out. He shot a quick text to Yadriel:
yads, come make out with me in the bathroom!
The reply came almost instantly:
Gross.
me or the bathroom?
The bathroom. Sometimes you.
Julian chuckled.
ok not the bathroom. janitor’s closet? pleeeeease?
He knew for a fact that the lock to the janitor’s closet in Hall C didn’t work because he used to hide out there freshman year when he wanted to ditch class but was too scared to sneak off campus.
A long pause.
Fine. Five minutes.
Julian exhaled, already feeling a bit steadier. If anyone could calm him, it was Yadriel.
He leaned against the wall near the janitor’s closet, his gaze darting down the empty hall. The buzz of the overhead lights was punctuated by the occasional echo of a door closing.
Then he felt it again—that prickling sensation, as if unseen eyes were boring into the back of his skull. Light flickered beneath the closet door, not the harsh white of fluorescents but a watery blue-green glow, like sunlight filtering through deep water.
His stomach clenched. The whispers returned, faint but insistent, threading through the air like the fizz of a shaken soda can just before it blows. Julian’s hand hovered over the doorknob. The metal felt icy beneath his fingertips. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open.
The air was too still. Thick. Like the room was holding its breath. His chest buzzed again—that low static he was starting to associate with the dark spot pulsing in his chest.
The closet was cramped and dim, its shelves lined with cleaning supplies, stacks of paper towels, and jugs of that powdery pink soap that smelled like marzipan.
In the center of the closet sat a yellow mop bucket.
The water inside glowed with an otherworldly light, ripples spreading across its surface as though something unseen had disturbed it.
Julian stepped closer, his breath hitching. The whispers grew louder, overlapping until they became a frantic cacophony. The water churned, frothing and splashing over the rim as if in a storm. Julian’s heart pounded, his instincts screaming at him to run, but his feet remained rooted to the spot.
A deep, guttural growl rumbled from the depths of the bucket, vibrating through Julian’s chest.
Golden eyes appeared in the reflection, glowing with an intensity that made his skin crawl.
“Julian…”
The whisper curled out of the shadows.
Soft. Crooked.
And familiar.
“Julian.”
A hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Julian yelped, spinning around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.
“Whoa! It’s me! It’s just me!” Yadriel’s wide eyes were a mix of shock and concern.
“Jesus, Yads!” Julian’s chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. He glanced back at the mop bucket, but the glow was gone. The water was still, murky, and unremarkable.
“What—what the hell was that?” Julian demanded, his voice shaky.
“What are you talking about?” Yadriel asked, looking between Julian and the bucket. “I just saw you standing here, staring at nothing.”
Julian’s hands fumbled for something to hold on to, finally gripping the doorframe as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.
“I saw—I don’t know—the water, it was glowing, and there were eyes, and—and—and—!
” His voice cut off, his mind struggling to piece together the fragmented images.
Yadriel placed a steadying hand on his arm. “You’re shaking,” he said softly.
Julian tried to nod but couldn’t stop the tremor in his limbs. “It’s—it’s gotta be the dark spot!” he muttered, pressing a hand to his chest where the faint throbbing ache had intensified. “It’s connected! I know it is!”
Yadriel’s brow furrowed with concern. “We’ll figure it out, Jules. I promise.”
Julian wanted to believe him, but the memory of those golden eyes burned in his mind. As Yadriel led him out of the closet and back into the fluorescent-lit hallway, Julian made a plan to find Angel. Whatever was happening, he needed answers, and quick.
He didn’t know how much time they had. But every whisper, every shadow said the same thing—not enough.