Chapter Twenty-Two. Julian #2
“Sí,” Lita said firmly, standing to address them all. “His soul is wandering, lost. It’s the only way to bring his spirit back to his body,” she told them. “Si no actuamos pronto, puede irse demasiado lejos.”
Rocky crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s do it.”
“It needs anchors,” Lita continued. “People he loves.”
Julian’s chest squeezed. “His family,” he said quietly.
Yadriel looked at Julian, then back to Lita. “We’ll use his friends,” he said. “They’re the strongest tether he has.”
Lita nodded. “Yes.”
Julian glanced back at Flaca, Omar, and Rocky. They stood crowded by the couch, watching Luca’s limp form with fear in their eyes.
Julian turned to his friends. His voice shook, but he didn’t hide. “You guys in?”
“Obviously,” Flaca said immediately, stepping forward.
“Let’s just save him,” Omar added, glancing once more at Luca.
Rocky nodded curtly, her voice serious. “Yeah. I got him.”
Julian nodded. “Okay.”
He turned back just as Yadriel began placing the last of the supplies. He looked up and met Julian’s gaze. “I’ll guide them,” he offered. “You focus on Luca.”
Maritza set the censer. “Listen up. Anchors—” She pointed at Omar, Flaca, and Rocky. “Pick one memory that’s only his. Hold it and don’t let go. Breathe with me—in four, hold two, out six. When Lita cues, say his name. Do not follow any whispers. Keep your eyes on Luca.”
Lita handed out the ritual items as Yadriel called out placements. “Omar—al sur. South. Take the bowl of water.”
Omar took the bowl with both hands and knelt stiffly by Luca’s feet.
“Rocky, east. Candle.”
“Got it,” she said, flicking on the wick with a lighter she produced from her hoodie pocket.
“Flaca—west. Incense.”
The smoky copal curled from the small bowl in her hands as she knelt down, her brows furrowed in concentration.
Julian was already kneeling at the north point, holding a bowl of salt. He wanted to shake Luca awake. He held the salt instead. It was grounding. Solid. Real.
Lita took her place beside Luca again. Her voice dropped to a current. “Don’t call him with fear. Call him with love.”
Maritza paced the circle once, checking each anchor’s breath. “Good. Hold the picture of him in your head. We’re calling Luca home.”
Lita lifted a white egg and swept it in tight circles over Luca’s chest. Her chanting began low and steady, a current threading through the air.
The shadows around Luca writhed and bucked, visible to Julian like snakes recoiling from sunlight.
Julian bit the inside of his cheek. “Come on,” he whispered, gripping the salt tighter. “You can do this, Luca.”
Lita set down the egg. Its shell was spiderwebbed with cracks, leaking faint wisps of black that evaporated into the air.
She rose, voice strong again. “Now, call him back,” Lita told them, her face grim. “The darkness is strong, but it is not stronger than us. Invoke the elements to guide his spirit home.”
Julian looked at his friends, then back at Luca. He took a breath.
“Luca,” he said, voice raw. “We’re here. We’re with you.”
Then, together:
“Tierra, agua, lumbre, aire,” they chanted, voices soft but steady.
Julian closed his eyes, focusing on Luca, willing him to hear their call. “Luca, we’re here. Come back to us.”
Maritza’s voice threaded through, calm and practical. “Now, your memory. One line only. Share it.”
Flaca breathed, eyes on Luca. “You stole my bag back at the swap meet even though the guy was twice your size.”
“Your rhythm’s got two left feet,” Omar said, because teasing was easier than sincerity.
“You cried during Coco. I didn’t tell anyone.” Rocky paused. “Uh, until now.”
Julian needed to pick something that cut through the static. Something only Luca would know.
“When I panicked on the Ferris wheel,” he murmured, “you held my hand and told me not to look down.”
The air in the room shifted, charged with a subtle energy that raised the hairs on Julian’s arms. Rocky’s candle flame leaped higher, casting wild shadows on the walls.
The incense smoke in Flaca’s bowl swirled in deliberate patterns.
Omar’s bowl of water rippled, the surface shimmering with an eerie light.
“Luca.” Julian closed his eyes, willing the words into the dark. “Please. Come back.”
The tendrils seemed to fight against the light pouring into the room. But the circle held firm, their collective voices creating a tether strong enough to span the distance between worlds. The unity of their call filled the room, a chorus of love and desperation.
Finally, with a thunderous crack, the shadows shattered. Wisps of darkness dissipated into the air, leaving a warm, golden glow that spread across Luca’s chest. His body trembled, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm.
Luca’s eyes fluttered open, wide and glassy but unmistakably alive. “Julian?” he rasped, his voice barely audible.
“Luca!” Julian lunged forward, pulling him into a fierce hug. Omar, Rocky, and Flaca crowded around, their relief spilling over in nervous laughter and scolding.
“I could kick your ass right now!” Rocky huffed, her concern always translating to anger, especially when she was scared.
“Don’t you ever do that again!” Flaca snapped, angrily wiping away tears.
“What did I do?” Luca asked, confused and disoriented as he looked around the room. He blinked at Lita and Enrique. “Where am I?”
Julian laughed, relief crashing over him like a wave. “Here,” he said, reaching out a hand, helping Luca to sit up, their friends still crowding around in a protective circle.
“I feel … weird. Am I okay?” Luca’s question was tentative, his gaze searching Julian’s for an answer.
Julian nodded, unable to contain the grin that spread across his face. “Yeah, Luca. You’re going to be okay.”
Lita checked his pulse, then lifted an eyelid to watch his pupils. She grinned, satisfied. “Bien. Está aquí.”
Luca looked down at his own chest, running a hand over the place where the Marca Hueca had once been, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and gratitude. Tears welled in his eyes, but they were tears of relief, of a burden lifted.
“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice catching. “I dunno what happened, but thanks.”
“Family sticks together, right?” Julian said, his voice thick with emotion. Around him, his friends nodded, a silent vow reaffirmed.
As they helped Luca sit up, Lita stepped forward, her wise eyes soft with approval. “You did well,” she said. “You brought him back.”
Julian looked around at his friends, his family, and felt a surge of gratitude. They had faced the darkness and won. For now, they were whole.
As the tension in the room began to ebb, replaced by relief and exhaustion, Omar broke the silence, his voice gruff but tinged with the raw confusion of someone who had seen far too much in one night.
“Okay,” he said, holding up a hand like he was stopping traffic. “I’ve been rolling with all this because of Luca, but someone needs to explain what the hell just happened. Like, what exactly are we dealing with here?”
“Yeah,” Rocky muttered. “Because that was not normal.”
Flaca gestured around the room. “What was all that?!”
Rio, still holding on to Luca, looked up. His expression was guarded but expectant, too. Even he wanted answers.
Julian’s stomach twisted.
He glanced at Yadriel, unsure who should speak.
But then he straightened his spine. It was his lie. His friends. His turn.
He turned to them, heart pounding. “I should’ve told you all sooner. I wanted to. I just … didn’t know how.”
Omar’s frown deepened, but he didn’t interrupt.
Julian swallowed. “Big thing first: I died. Día de Muertos.”
He looked at Yadriel.
Yadriel nodded once and stepped up. “We’re brujx. We have magic—my family, Lita, Maritza. We heal the living and help spirits cross over.”
Julian found his voice again. “They brought me back. Now I can see spirits, which, usually—pretty sweet—except I’ve got a Marca Hueca. A dark spot in my soul that messes with me. Luca had one, too.”
There was a long silence.
Then Rocky said, “What, like … for real? Like, actually dead?”
Julian gave a crooked smile. “Yeah. For real. Dead-dead.”
Omar’s eyes were wide. “And … you just didn’t tell us?”
Julian’s face fell. “I didn’t want to lie. But the brujx—they have rules. Strict ones. And I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone.”
He braced himself for anger. For betrayal. But it didn’t come.
Flaca was the first to speak. “You should’ve told us. But … you’re telling us now.”
Julian nodded. “I didn’t want you to think I was losing it. I didn’t want to scare you. And I didn’t want to put you in danger.”
Rocky snorted. “A little late for that.”
That drew a weak laugh from everyone.
Lita waved a hand dramatically. “Finally. Secrets give me indigestion.”
That pulled a startled laugh from Flaca.
Rocky narrowed her eyes, glancing from Julian to Yadriel. “So, wait … you’re, like, full-on magical boy?”
Yadriel shrugged. “Kind of.”
“Excuse me,” Maritza added, eyebrow up, “Yads happens to be Lady Death’s Chosen. It’s a whole thing.”
Yadriel groaned. “Please don’t.”
The corner of Julian’s mouth twitched.
“It’s a long story,” Yadriel said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well,” Flaca said, sitting back on her heels, “then you better start from the beginning.”
Rocky added, “And there better be snacks.”
Lita’s eyes gleamed. “Snacks I can do.”
The tension in the room finally cracked. Flaca smiled through her tears. Omar let out a deep breath. Rocky looked as if she were already halfway through mentally writing the screenplay.
Julian looked around at his friends—all of them. Rio, Yadriel, Maritza, Luca, the whole chaotic mess of them—and let himself breathe. The air felt steadier.
Joy made space in his chest.