Chapter Three. Julian
THREE
JULIAN
Julian didn’t make it two steps into the living room before Lita’s voice cracked through the air like a whip.
“Yadriel? Maritza? Where are you two? There are still boxes waiting!”
He flinched on instinct, even though she wasn’t yelling at him. Lita just had that tone, the kind that made someone want to stand up straight and volunteer to mop the floors just to stay on her good side.
But when Lita looked at Julian, her whole face brightened.
“?Ay, Dios mío! Julian, I didn’t know you were here!”
“Uh, hey, Lita,” he said, trying to sound casual and like he totally wasn’t keeping a secret.
Lita didn’t buy it.
She immediately took a step closer and eyed him carefully.
Julian gulped. Could she see the mark?
“Mijo, are you okay?” Lita was good at seeing through his bullshit, which, unfortunately, made her the scariest adult in this house.
“Yeah, I’m fine, Lita!” Julian blurted like a kid caught sneaking out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Just—you know, hanging out.”
Behind him, Maritza mumbled, “Smooth.”
Julian gritted his teeth. Not helping.
Thankfully, his boyfriend was there to save him, as usual.
“Lita, Julian doesn’t know much about the brujx holidays,” Yadriel said, nudging Julian as if it were all a joke. “He thought the Midnight Vigil was just Christmas.”
Julian blinked at him. Dude. At least it seemed to satisfy Lita.
“?Ay, Julian!” she said, exasperated but friendly.
She pressed a thick white candle into his hands.
“These are not just candles! They’re prayers.
At the vigil, on the night of the twenty-third, we bless them and pass the flame from person to person until the whole room glows. Unity. Lady Death’s light.”
She swayed her hands like she was holding an invisible candle.
“The next night, Nochebuena, comes the Candle Dance of Eternal Light. Everyone carries their candles into the courtyard, dancing and weaving patterns of light. At the end, the candles are left burning so any spirit still wandering can find their way home.”
Julian stared at the candle in his hand, imagining a glow spreading through a dark room, through headstones, through the night sky. It pulled at something inside him—something steadier than the unease still creeping under his skin.
“That,” Yadriel said with pride, “is what it means to honor Lady Death. Community and connection. To the spirits, to each other. To who we are.”
Julian swallowed hard. For a second, it felt like the candle really could chase off every shadow. Even the one over his heart.
“Cool, cool, cool. You’re gonna walk me through it again later, right?” Julian asked Yadriel. “I don’t want to embarrass myself and do the wrong things at the wrong time. I can’t remember that much off the top of my hand.”
“Head,” Maritza said. “Top of your head.”
“Same diff!”
Yadriel chuckled and shook his head affectionately. “I’ll make sure you don’t mess up,” he promised, pressing into Julian’s side.
The way Yadriel smiled up at him put a big, goofy grin on Julian’s face and set his stomach on fire.
Lita’s gaze drifted past them, unfocused. “The spirits feel different this winter,” she murmured. “So I think we could all use some of Lady Death’s light. Actually—” She frowned. “I should check the far rows again. A few of our regulars haven’t been showing up.”
“Ghost truancy?” Julian asked, distracted, as he laced his fingers with Yadriel’s.
That earned him a laugh, but Lita still shook her head. “It’s probably nothing. I just don’t like when things go quiet.”
Then she clapped her hands briskly, her smile snapping back into place. “But that is not your worry tonight!”
Yadriel stood straighter. “Lita, Dad told us—me—” he corrected, “to go to Belvedere Park and release Bartolomé.”
Lita crowed enthusiastically. “Aye, your first release?” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “This is so exciting! Wait here, wait here!”
Technically, it wasn’t his first, Julian thought. Yadriel had saved him when he was a ghost. But maybe that didn’t count.
Lita disappeared into the hallway and returned, holding a bundle in a dark, worn cloth. She gently unwrapped it, revealing a guitar.
Not just any guitar, though. It was very old, the kind that looked like it had seen things. Its mahogany body bore the wear from countless hours spent strumming, and etched into it were swirling patterns of lighter wood, like cream in coffee.
A trill of excitement ran up Julian’s spine. “Whoa,” he breathed, leaning forward to pluck one of the strings.
Lita handed it to Yadriel, her expression turning serious. “This belonged to Bartolomé. It’s his tether—the thing tying him here. Let him play for you, let him hear the music one last time.” She smiled sadly. “Help him find the peace he’s been waiting for.”
Yadriel cradled the guitar reverently. Julian could tell this was a big deal, and he was stoked for his boyfriend.
“Take this, too,” she added, handing Julian a crumpled paper bag.
He peeked inside and gave Lita a dubious look. “Stale bread?”
Lita smiled fondly. “He likes to feed the ducks.
“One more thing, mijo.” She caught Julian with a stern look that pinned him to the spot. “Our ways are for us alone. Outsiders wouldn’t understand, and it could put them in danger. So no talking about brujería outside the círculo. Not to your friends, not to anyone.”
Julian’s mouth went dry. He hated secrets. Not only was he a shit liar, but secrets were also wedges driven between him and the people he loved most.
Lita’s voice softened a fraction, as if she could read his mind. “This isn’t about secrets. It’s about safety.”
But the way Lita said it, steady and absolute, made it feel less like a rule and more like a lifeline. If he broke it, if he dragged Omar or Rocky or Flaca or Luca into this, they’d be the ones paying for it.
He wanted to argue, to crack a joke, to say My people can handle anything. But the words stuck in his throat. He swallowed instead, forcing himself to nod. “Yeah. Got it.”
The promise sat heavy in his chest, so he did what he always did when things got too serious—he reached for a joke.
“Guess we better not mess this up,” Julian said, giving Yadriel a lopsided grin. “No pressure or anything, right?”
Yadriel smiled back, his eyes flickering with a mix of nerves and determination. “No pressure,” he agreed.
Maritza snorted. “Great pep talk, you two. Now come on, let’s get this show on the road! We’ve got a spirit to help and ducks to feed.”
Lita waved them off as the trio set out through the cemetery.
“We need to ask Rio if it’s okay for you to come with us,” Yadriel said, tossing Julian a look.
Julian groaned. “He’s just gonna give us the whole Be careful speech and probably tack on homework or something.”
“Then call him now and get it over with,” Maritza said.
Julian scoffed. “What if he says no and makes me go home?! I can’t miss this!”
Maritza ignored him. “On speaker.”
Julian rolled his eyes but took out his phone and did as he was told. It rang once. Twice.
“What?” came Rio’s voice, gruff and already annoyed.
Power tools buzzed and reggaeton bumped in the background.
Julian winced but powered through. “Hey, uh, can I go with Yads and Maritza for a bit?”
“Where?”
“Skate park,” Maritza mouthed.
Julian repeated it louder. “Skate park!”
There was a pause.
Julian’s knee bounced. He knew Rio didn’t really trust him yet—not after everything. But still, it grated every time he had to ask like this, like a kid asking permission to play outside.
Finally, Rio answered. “Keep your phone on you.”
“I’m literally talking to you on it right now!” Julian said loudly, almost fumbling his phone. “It’s cracked but alive!”
“Back before six. Do your homework. You’re still failing.”
Julian’s cheeks burned hot. “I KNOW!” he barked, too defensive and too fast. He hated how easy it was for Rio to get under his skin—like his brother had a master key to Julian’s short temper that he tried to keep locked up.
Yadriel leaned in. “We’ll have him back before six,” he said, always the diplomat. “And we’ll make sure he gets his homework done.”
Another long pause. Then: “Fine.”
Julian killed the call and shoved his phone into his pocket as they began to walk. “He’s the worst.”
“He’s worried,” Yadriel offered.
“Worst.”
Maritza fell into step beside Julian and Yadriel, making a face at the way they walked so close, arms brushing, exchanging sidelong smiles.
“I swear, I am the third wheel on a clown car with you two,” she complained.
Julian scoffed. “We’re barely even doing anything.”
Yadriel added, “Yeah, you’re the one being dramatic.”
Julian pointed. “Exactly! We’re innocent.”
Yadriel nodded. “So innocent.”
Maritza jabbed a finger at both of them. “See?! Clown. CAR.”
They walked along the familiar path through graves, headstones, and colorful nichos until they reached a fork in the path.
Without saying a word, all three instinctively veered to the left, deliberately avoiding the old church that loomed to the right. A shiver whistled across Julian’s scar, but the moment they left the dark silhouette of the church behind them, it was gone.
His fingers drifted to the chain around his neck, closing over his St. Jude medal. The silver was warm from his skin. He rubbed his thumb over it, grounding himself.
Yadriel had worked his butt off for his first big brujo responsibility, and Julian wanted everything to go well, and he especially didn’t want to do anything to fuck it up for him.
But he also didn’t know how to fit into Yadriel and Maritza’s duo, now that he wasn’t a kind-of-ghost anymore. Yadriel had his dagger. Maritza had her brain. Julian had … charm? Depending on who you asked.
The December sky was already racing toward sunset as they trudged up the worn path leading to Belvedere Park.
“So, this dark spot—” Maritza began.
“More like a freaky black wormhole to hell, but yeah, go on,” Julian grumbled.
“You can’t see it unless you really focus?” she asked.
“Seems like it.” Julian yanked up his white tee to check again, ignoring Maritza’s dramatic gag.