Page 104 of Espíritu

The sun hung low in the afternoon sky as Julian, Maritza, and Yadriel picked their way between the crumbling gravestones of the sprawling cemetery. No one spoke. Julian kept glancing at Yadriel, whose shoulders were hunched up to his ears, eyes locked on the path ahead.

He hadn’t said much since the summoning. And Julian didn’t blame him.

Julian scanned the paths out of habit, searching for the usual glows. “Where’s Marisol?” he wondered out loud. “She’s always around by this time of day.” He wanted to make sure she was okay.

Yadriel’s jaw worked. “Felipe was asking the same thing this morning,” he said softly. “He hasn’t seen her since last night.”

The words dove straight under Julian’s ribs. “So she’s missing, too.”

“I was going to tell you after we figured out the Angel stuff,” Yadriel added. “I didn’t want to make you worry.”

“Too late,” Julian said, but there wasn’t any bite in it—only a hard, rising heat.

“I’m still tripping over what Catriz said,” Maritza said, incredulous.

“Kinda feels like making a deal with the devil, huh?” Julian tried to joke, but the words tasted like ash. He caught Maritza’s glare and winced apologetically.

The distant look on his boyfriend’s face made Julian’s chest ache. “You good, Yads?” he prodded gently.

Yadriel nodded but didn’t look up. His hands fidgeted with the frayed strings of his hoodie. “Just … confused,” he admitted, voice barely above a murmur.

“Me too,” Julian agreed. He tried for a reassuring smile, but it felt brittle. “Kinda nice that he’s helping us out, though. I mean, for a guy who tried to kill me, he’s not so bad now.”

Yadriel’s lips twitched faintly, but he didn’t reply.

They rounded a bend, and Julian froze, one hand shooting out to stop the others.

“Hold up—”

Under the gnarled limbs of a mesquite tree stood a familiar figure. A black leather jacket. Twin bubble braids.

Angel.

“What the hell is Angel doing here?” Maritza hissed.

Julian leaned forward for a better look. Angel wasn’t alone. A ghostly shimmer floated beside them—faint, golden, warm.

“It’s Felipe,” he said.

Angel stood close to the spirit, speaking in low, urgent tones. Their body language was agitated, their gestures sharp.

“Something’s wrong,” Julian said.

“We need to stop them,” Yadriel said, voice tight.

“No—wait,” Julian said, crouching behind a nearby headstone. His pulse thundered in his ears. “Just watch.”

Angel reached out. Their hand hovered above Felipe’s chest.

“Guys,” Julian whispered urgently. “Look at his chest. That’s a Marca Hueca.”

“Where?!” Maritza asked, trying to get a better look.

“On Felipe!” Julian whispered harshly.

Maritza’s breath hitched. “Shit.”

Felipe and his on-again, off-again mortal girlfriend, Claribel, were in another fight. This one seemed to be dragging on longer than usual. Maybe that was why he had a dark spot.