Page 29 of Espíritu

Julian continued to stare at his hand, mouth open in shock. “How’d you do that?!”

Angel only smiled, a calm, self-assured energy radiating from them.

Yadriel couldn’t stop staring at the rosary still in Angel’s hand. A rosary. For healing. But they’d also had a dagger—Yadriel had seen it during the attack. One portaje for healing, and another for release.

“You’re from the East LA círculo, right?” Angel asked.

Yadriel gave a cautious nod. “Yeah…” he said slowly.

Angel’s gaze swept the three of them. “Name’s Angel, like I said—she/they pronouns. I’m from a small Texas círculo—off the radar but legit.”

Yadriel tried to mask his surprise. He knew there were other círculos, of course, but the idea that someone like Angel—someone like him—had grown up in one where they could be open, could do magic like this, was staggering.

Julian tilted his head, catching up and connecting the dots. “Wait, you healed me. But that’s—I thought only girls—” He grimaced. “I’m saying this wrong.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Maritza agreed.

Angel chuckled, unbothered. “I get that a lot.” Their fingers adjusted the rosary on their wrist. “I’m nonbinary, so Lady Death gave me both gifts—healing and release.”

Yadriel’s mind reeled. Impossible. It wasn’t supposed to work that way. Yet here Angel stood, effortless and real, living proof of a version of brujería Yadriel had never been allowed to imagine. He had spent so long fighting just to be seen as one thing—as a brujo—and Angel had both. Both powers. Both gifts. Like Lady Death hadn’t asked them to choose.

And the wildest part? They didn’t look conflicted. They looked whole.

Maritza, seeming a bit flustered, crossed her arms. “For real?” she asked, more curious than hostile.

Angel raised an eyebrow. “Our traditions have changed. Evolved. Lady Death’s magic is gender-affirming, and so are we. I’m not the only trans bruje in our círculo, either.”

“I KNEW IT!” Julian shouted.

Yadriel’s heart clenched in his chest. He couldn’t believe it.

Yadriel swallowed hard. “So … your círculo just … accepted that?”

“Of course,” Angel said, as if it were obvious. “Lady Death sees me as I am. They just followed her lead.” Angel chuckled. “It’s been that way for longer than I’ve been alive. Kids, people my age, even elders,” she listed off. “We all have our roles, but there’s room for growth, for adaptation.”

Their gaze flicked to Yadriel, and their lips twitched into the faintest smile. “Tradition is important, but so is change.”

Yadriel’s heart felt like it might burst. This—this was everything he wanted for his community.

Angel paused when they caught the look on Yadriel’s face—a flicker of confusion, maybe even longing. Their grin dimmed. “Wait … your círculo doesn’t?”

Yadriel hesitated, then shook his head.

Angel’s brow furrowed with quiet disbelief. “Damn,” they murmured. Not judgmental, just disappointed. “You’d think Lady Death made that clear enough.”

Yadriel didn’t realize how tightly he was gripping the hilt of his dagger until Julian bumped him with a shoulder.

“See?” Julian grinned, always looking on the bright side. “Told you there had to be more trans brujx out there.”

Yadriel managed a small smile, but his mind was spinning. Julian looked so happy—practically glowing with excitement at having been proven right, that other trans brujx like Yadriel were out there. And part of Yadriel wanted to be swept up in that joy, to lean in to the hope that this meant things could be different.

But beneath that flicker of hope churned something deeper, heavier. Seeing Angel—confident, accepted, powerful—made him feel more than just awe. It made Yadriel ache. Ache for something he was still missing, just like when he first met Flaca.

Angel hadn’t had to fight for their place the way he had. And if they had … they didn’t wear it like armor the way Yadriel did.

He wasn’t jealous, not exactly. But the reminder of everything he’d had to prove just to be seen as a brujo, let alone one with power, made it hard to breathe.

“What are you doing here?” Maritza asked, still measuring.