Page 124 of Espíritu

Yadriel paced the length of the room, water dripping from his sleeves and pooling on the tile floor. Maritza stood nearby, arms crossed tightly over her chest, jaw clenched.

Lita moved to grab a towel from a cabinet, but Yadriel stopped her with a shake of his head. “No, it’s fine. We don’t have time.”

“What happened?” Enrique asked again, his voice calm, but his eyes were scanning every inch of them, clearly rattled.

“It’s Angel,” Yadriel said. “They’re nonbinary—a bruje from a círculo in Texas,” Yadriel added, his breath still ragged.

“A what?” Enrique blinked, overwhelmed.

“Bruje,” Yadriel said quickly. “Same work we do. They were Julian’s friend—Lita met them once. We don’t have time to unpack it right now.”

“They’ve been working with Bahlam,” Maritza cut in. “Or, maybe, being used by him. We don’t know.”

“They tried to sacrifice Julian’s friend—Luca,” Yadriel added.

Lita gasped.

Enrique’s face darkened. “What?”

“At the old church,” Yadriel went on. “We pulled him out of the cenote. We almost didn’t make it in time.”

Lita’s eyes widened. “No—no, that’s impossible,” she said, shaking her head. “I put up wards after Día de Muertos. Strong ones, mijo. No one should’ve been able to get through.”

Yadriel turned to her, jaw tight. “It didn’t matter. Someone knew how to destroy them. Angel, or maybe Bahlam himself. The wards were shattered when we got there. Completely broken.”

Lita looked stunned. Her mouth parted, but no words came out. She sank slowly into the nearest chair, her expression haunted.

“They’ve been using a cursed portaje,” Maritza said. “A dagger. One Bahlam gave them.”

Yadriel nodded.

Lita’s hand flew to her mouth.

“He’s feeding on them,” Yadriel said, voice shaking. “It’s a cursed portaje—when Angel stabs a spirit, especially one with a Marca Hueca, the dagger corrupts it and the cenote drags it straight to Bahlam. We watched Angel do it to Felipe.”

Enrique’s breath caught. “Felipe?” He looked around, confused. “Are you sure that’s what you saw?”

“He’s a brujo,” Maritza cut in, sharp but controlled.

She didn’t look at Yadriel. She looked at his dad. “He knows what he’s talking about.”

Yadriel blushed, warmth flooding the pit in his stomach.

“It’s all related,” Yadriel said bitterly. “The missing spirits. Angel showing up—”

Enrique frowned. “Wait. You knew about all of this?”

Yadriel stared at him. “We put the pieces together.”

Enrique opened his mouth, but Yadriel cut him off.

“But you knew something was wrong,” he said, not bothering to keep the accusation out of his tone. “Both you and Lita. You knew spirits were going missing. You felt something was wrong in the cemetery. And you didn’t tell us.”

Enrique’s shoulders tensed defensively. “We didn’t know what was causing—”

“But you still didn’t say anything,” Yadriel said, voice rising.

“If we’d known earlier, we could’ve figured this out sooner,” Maritza said. “But you didn’t trust us.”