Page 129 of Espíritu

From how close they still might be.

Steam billowed when the door opened. Luca stepped out in clean clothes, curls damp and clinging to his forehead. His skin looked sallow in the hallway light, his gaze sliding past Julian like it didn’t know where to land.

“Feelin’ better?” Julian asked.

Luca nodded once. “Yeah.” The word came out flat, like he’d practiced it.

When his eyes finally met Julian’s, something flickered there—quick and wrong—then went still again.

Julian forced a smile. “Cool. You should get some sleep. Take my bed tonight. I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

Another nod. No tease about stealing the “good” pillow. No “You snore.”

He moved down the hall with that same too-even pace, as if he were counting his steps.

Julian took a shower in an attempt to warm up, but it did nothing to ease the chill in his bones. By the time he was done, the others had drifted back to sleep. Rocky’s soft snore hummed under the low murmur of late-night TV. Omar had his hoodie pulled over his face. Flaca was still on edge, her eyes fluttering open every time the floor creaked.

Julian went into the bedroom. Rio was knocked out, and Luca was already in his bed, lying perfectly still under the quilt and staring up at the ceiling.

“Night, Luca,” he said softly.

“Night” came back, faint and empty.

Julian frowned but didn’t press.

His phone buzzed on his mattress, the screen lighting the dark with a message from Yads.

Home safe?

Yeah. Luca’s out. Everyone’s freaked but okay.

There was a pause, the little typing dots pulsing.

Good. Council’s meeting now. We’re reinforcing the wards tonight—cemetery and the shop first. I’ll let you know when it’s done.

Julian stared at the message, a mix of relief and dread twisting in his chest.

Be careful. Don’t do anything dumb without me.

Wouldn’t dream of it.

A tired huff of a laugh escaped him. The tightness in his shoulders loosened by a notch.

Sleep.

Trying.

The light dimmed as the phone went dark.

Julian grabbed an extra blanket and beat-up pillow and laid on the floor next to Luca, the threadbare carpet cold against his back. His eyes burned, his body ached, but sleep didn’t come easy. His thoughts spiraled—dark and anxious—until exhaustion finally dragged him under.

The dream didn’t creep in. It took Julian by the throat.

He was back. Under the old church. The cenote churned, black and thick as oil. Whispers curled through the dark—soft at first, then sharp, crowding his ears.

Ayúdanos … por favor …

Find us …