Chapter Nine. Yadriel #3
He looked to Miguel, whose expression was tight, nearly a wince. Yadriel had known his cousin his whole life, and he knew exactly what that face meant—
Guilt.
“What is it?” Yadriel asked, not bothering to deal with preamble.
Miguel rubbed his jaw, eyes flicking toward the closed office door. “Spirits have been vanishing.”
“Vanishing?” Maritza echoed.
“They stop showing up where they always do,” Miguel said. “Vigils look … disturbed. Candles knocked over, wax gouged like something dragged through it. Offerings gone.” He exhaled. “And in two places, the portajes were missing from private altars. Not broken, removed.”
Maritza’s mouth tightened. “So it’s not just messy altars. Someone’s taking things.”
“We don’t know who yet, or why,” Miguel said. “But the older brujos are on edge. We’re checking sites quietly, always in pairs.”
Yadriel’s jaw worked. The shape he and Lita had been circling finally had edges.
Heat rose in Yadriel’s chest. “Okay,” he said, not shocked so much as grim. “So what’s the plan, and how do we help? Why didn’t anyone tell us?”
Miguel met his eyes, steady. “Because your dad and Lita are trying to protect you,” he said. “You’re young. They wanted you safe.” His tone softened. “But I also know what you two can handle.”
He glanced between them. “Here’s what you do. If you see a stripped altar, toppled candles, gouged wax or ash lines, or hear a spirit stopped showing up—tell your dad or me immediately. No solo trips. Don’t touch any portaje you didn’t bring.”
Yadriel clenched his jaw, anger and worry warring in his ribs. “You all should have looped us in sooner,” Yadriel added, quieter now. “If we knew what to watch for, we could’ve caught it faster. We’re not kids.”
“I know,” Miguel said. “That’s why I’m telling you.”
Maritza hit her limit. “He brought people back from THE DEAD!” she shouted. “Something no other brujo has done in, like, THOUSANDS of years! WITHOUT your so-called protection!”
“So why are they keeping secrets from us?” Yadriel asked, exasperated and desperate. “What more do I have to do?”
Miguel held up a hand, his tone calm but unyielding. “It’s not about keeping secrets. It’s about keeping you safe.”
“Safe?” Yadriel repeated, his voice rising. “How safe is Julian right now? He’s seeing things no one else can, and none of us know how to help him. How does hiding the truth protect anyone?”
Maritza crossed her arms, anger radiating off her in waves. “It’s CLEARLY not working!” She threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “Now we’ve got Julian out here with PTSD and seeing glowing mop buckets! Great job, guys!”
Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Maritza—”
“No, I’m serious!” she continued, gesturing wildly. “You’re trying to protect us, but instead, Julian’s got one foot in the spirit world and the other in full-on therapy territory!”
“We don’t need them to shield us,” Yadriel said, trying to calm himself down. “We need them to TRUST us,” he insisted.
“Hey, I’m on your side!” Miguel interjected. “I know full well how capable you are—you both are,” he said, looking between Yadriel and Maritza. He let out a weak laugh and shook his head. “I’m alive because of you two.”
Miguel’s sincerity popped Yadriel’s anger like a bubble. Miguel wasn’t who he was mad at. This wasn’t his fault. But that didn’t change the fact that they needed to figure out how to help Julian before it was too late.
The sense of helplessness Yadriel felt in his chest was suffocating. How could he protect Julian when he didn’t even know what he was up against?
“So, what do we do?” Yadriel asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper now.
Miguel studied him for a long moment, his gaze steady and reassuring. “If Julian’s connected to this, you need to figure out how. And you need to keep an eye on him. Don’t let him face this alone.”
Yadriel nodded, determination hardening his resolve. He couldn’t afford to let his own insecurities cloud his judgment—Julian needed him. “We need more answers. More information.”
He turned to Maritza. “We try what Lita told us—care plan, notes, no heavy places.”
Maritza scowled. “Finally, a plan.”
“And we keep her looped in as much as we can,” Yadriel added. “We follow the care plan and figure out why spirits are going missing.”
Miguel smiled faintly. “Good luck. And if you need me, I’m here,” he added, leaning forward to place a reassuring hand on Yadriel’s shoulder. The warmth of his touch grounded Yadriel, a lifeline amid the swirling chaos of his thoughts.
“Also…” He glanced away, a little sheepish. “Don’t tell Lita I told you guys about the disappearances, okay? Or I’ll be in deep-shit trouble,” he said with a nervous laugh.
“Or we’ll all be in deep-shit trouble,” Maritza corrected him.
“We won’t,” Yadriel promised. “Thanks, Miguel,” he said. “For everything.”
Maritza stood abruptly, brushing off her jeans with a decisive slap. “Enough moping. Let’s go. We’ve got tea to brew and a log to set up.”
Yadriel cracked a smile at her bravado, but the new pieces gnawed at him. Vanishing spirits, cut tethers, missing portajes. The answers felt close enough to touch.
Now they just had to keep Julian steady long enough to reach them.