Chapter Fifteen. Yadriel #2
But he nodded anyway. “We need answers.”
Julian hesitated. “But I’m the only one who’s been able to see him—”
“If we summon him, if we do it properly,” Yadriel cut in, “then all three of us should be able to see him. Not just you.”
Julian blinked. “Wait. So before…?”
“Clearly he was using something else to push through,” Maritza said grimly. “Something that wasn’t brujx magic.”
They all looked at each other.
Whatever Catriz was doing, Julian was caught in the middle of it.
Yadriel’s stomach turned. His hands felt too cold. “We’ll need his tether. If we use it to anchor him to us, he can’t be yanked mid-sentence,” Yadriel said. “We need straight answers.”
Julian groaned. “Fuck, right. How do we even find that?”
Yadriel didn’t move for a moment. Then, reluctantly, he said, “I know where it is.”
Yadriel led the way, followed by Maritza and Julian. To avoid getting caught leaving the cemetery by Rio, Julian followed Maritza’s instructions and turned off the location services on his phone.
“Think Rio will buy that you’re just taking a nap on someone’s tombstone?” Maritza asked.
“I dunno,” Julian said. “But it beats explaining that we’re about to summon a dead guy who murdered me.”
Maritza snorted. “Fair enough.”
Catriz lived—or, had lived—only a few blocks from the cemetery, but every step made Yadriel’s chest tighter. The yellow one-story home hadn’t changed at all—chipped paint on the trim, wrought iron fence still sagging at the corner, front steps cluttered with windblown leaves.
The sight of it felt like opening a wound that never healed.
“This is the place,” Yadriel said quietly. He pushed open the front gate, the rusted hinge screaming in protest.
Julian eyed the jagged tips of the fence. “Looks like something out of a horror movie.”
“Feels like one, too,” Maritza muttered, clutching her rose quartz rosary.
“Let’s keep the ghost jokes to a minimum until we’re done,” Yadriel said quietly.
He led them up the steps and hesitated for just a second before turning the doorknob. The door groaned open, and the cool air inside the house wrapped around him like a damp cloth.
It still smelled faintly of incense. The same kind Catriz always burned—sweet and sharp, clinging to the walls like old smoke.
Yadriel swallowed hard and turned on his flashlight. “This way.”
Inside, the dimness was immediate. The electricity had long since been shut off, so shadows pooled thick and heavy in the corners. The beam of Yadriel’s light sliced through the gloom to reveal an unsettling level of tidiness.
“It’s like walking into a spooky Airbnb,” Julian said, peering around.
Yadriel’s light caught on talismans, old candles, and carefully placed relics. “He liked order,” Yadriel said quietly, his light pausing on a photo of his mom, his dad, and Catriz when they were teenagers. “Even if his life was kind of … messy.”
Julian let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”
“Do you know where his tether is?” Maritza asked, snapping Yadriel out of his thoughts.
“This way,” Yadriel muttered, guiding them to the back room. His pulse quickened as they moved deeper into the house, the air growing heavier with memories he didn’t want.
The back room was as meticulously arranged as the rest of the house, though more cluttered.
Part altar, part study, there were candles half-burned on the shelves, bundles of herbs drying by the windows, a bone-handled knife resting neatly on a cloth.
Yadriel’s flashlight settled on the gold necklace sitting in the center of it all—a jade jaguar charm catching the light like glowing eyes watching from the dark.
“There it is,” Yadriel said. His voice came out rough.
“Is that—a very angry bunny?” Julian asked, squinting at the necklace.
“Jaguar,” Yadriel corrected, mouth tight. The moment his fingers brushed over the cold jade, memories rose unbidden—Catriz ruffling his hair, teaching him knife grips, showing him how to cast a protection circle with a smirk and a joke. And then … blood. Betrayal. A scream in the dark.
Yadriel clenched his jaw, shutting it all out.
“He wore it every day,” Yadriel murmured, his thumb brushing over the carved glyph—tall ears, exaggerated teeth, fanged mouth. “Except when he put on the regalia…” He trailed off, the weight of what they were about to do pressing on his chest like a stone.
“Okay,” Maritza said, her voice low. “Let’s get this over with.”
Julian didn’t joke this time.
No one did.
Yadriel’s hands were already moving, clearing space on the desk and pulling ritual supplies from his backpack—candles, small bowls, salt, and chicken blood in his trusty Hydro Flask.
He arranged the candles in a precise pattern around the necklace, Maritza and Julian watching him in quiet anticipation.
The room felt even smaller now, like the walls were pressing in. Yadriel’s heart thudded painfully as he lit the candles one by one. The small flames danced, casting jagged shadows across the walls.
“Okay,” Yadriel murmured. He set a small bowl of alcohol in the center and lit it, the blue flames flickering to life. The ritual words sat heavy in his mouth. He forced them out, his voice rising and falling with the familiar cadence.
The air rippled. Yadriel felt it—the sharp pull of something breaking through, as if the room itself inhaled. Then, with a snap like a rubber band, it released.
A plume of smoke hissed out of nowhere, acrid and stinging, and Yadriel coughed as it burned his throat. He stared at the jade jaguar charm as the smoke thinned, his breath caught behind his ribs.
Then, he saw him.
Tío Catriz.
Fully visible. Not warped or shadowed. Solid. Just … there.
His uncle’s spirit stood beside the desk, arms crossed over his chest, his expression just as impatient as it had always been in life. The years hadn’t softened him. Neither had death.
Yadriel’s heart lurched.
Even though his uncle looked much clearer now, there was still something off. He didn’t have the golden glow of most spirits. He was cloaked by shadows swirling around his form, a watery blue light illuminating him from below.
It was surreal to see Catriz again—so unmistakably himself, yet achingly unreachable.
Grief surged, tangled with betrayal. His pulse hammered in his ears, drowning out rational thought.
He wanted to demand answers, to shout accusations, to ask why—why he’d let Bahlam twist his mind, why he’d turned on them.
But beneath the fury simmered something softer.
Sorrow. This was still his uncle. And despite everything, Yadriel still mourned the loss of him.
“Holy shit,” Maritza murmured. “That’s definitely him.”
“You can see him?” Julian asked, as if he hadn’t believed they would.
“Yeah,” Yadriel said faintly. He couldn’t look away.
Catriz looked older than Yadriel remembered—more worn, more haunted—but undeniably him. Still the man who’d once stood by him when no one else would. And the man who’d betrayed him so completely, it shattered something fundamental in Yadriel’s chest.
The last time he’d seen Catriz, he was raising a blade to Julian’s heart.
And now … here he was.
“Why could only Julian see you before?” Maritza asked.
Catriz rolled his eyes in a grand gesture that rivaled even hers. “Bahlam’s mark,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Julian sees and hears what you can’t.” He tipped his chin at the candles and the jade. “But this? Yadriel dragged me through the right way. Now you all can.”
Yadriel’s stomach twisted. His mouth was suddenly too dry to speak.
But Julian was good to go.
“All right, Tío Espooky, spill it,” he said, arms folded tight over his chest like a shield. His attitude was stormy, but Yadriel could tell by the set of his jaw that his boyfriend was freaked out.
Yadriel’s throat tightened painfully. It was like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room—the weight of everything Catriz was, and everything he’d done, pressing down on him.
How could one person be so many things at once?
Catriz stared at Yadriel for a long moment, the weight of countless unspoken words lingering between them.
“It’s been a while, sobrino,” he finally said, voice carefully neutral, but his eyes betrayed a depth of quiet remorse.
Yadriel’s voice cracked, bitterness and pain warring inside him. “Why’ve you been haunting Julian?”
Catriz shrugged elegantly. “He was the only one who could hear me, even if he did his damnedest to ignore it.” He shot Julian a pointed look.
“Hey, ghost whispering wasn’t exactly on my bucket list,” Julian retorted defensively. “Next time, pick a more willing medium.”
Catriz’s lips twitched faintly, his casual demeanor strained by urgency.
“Bahlam has marked you,” he began, shadows undulating at his feet.
“You’ve been touched by two death gods, cabrón.
You got your sight from Lady Death, and from Bahlam …
Well, let’s just say you can spot the darkness in people’s souls.
The ‘dark spots,’ as you keep calling them. ”
“Wait—” Julian gave a rough shake of his head. “Have you been spying on me?!”
Catriz paused, visibly gathering himself, his spirit form flickering with effort. “I tried warning you earlier, but Bahlam’s hold made it difficult. He’s stronger now, and growing stronger still.”
“So it’s related?” Julian asked, his voice trembling faintly. He glanced at Yadriel.
Of course it was related. Everything had been pointing to something bigger, darker. And if Julian was connected to it, then so was Yadriel. He tried to force himself to stay calm, to think clearly, because panicking wouldn’t help them stop whatever was coming.