Page 56 of Espíritu

Lita nodded slowly. “Susto is a terrible sickness,” she said. “Not just grief. It’s when the soul dislodges—sometimes from shock, sometimes from pain. Suffering. The stronger the emotions, the harder it is for your soul to stay tethered to your body.”

Maritza tapped her fingers against her ponche mug. “What happens when someone has it? What does it look like?”

Lita tilted her head at the question, as if it puzzled her. Yadriel exchanged a look with Maritza—that seemed to confirm Lita didn’t know about the dark spots, either.

“It varies,” Lita said. “Some people become restless. Others feel disconnected—like they’re watching themselves live from the outside. You’ll see fatigue, emotional numbness. A deep … absence.”

She turned to Yadriel. “You remember, mijo,” she said gently.

“I do,” he said quietly. “But with Julian, it’s different.” His voice dropped. “Lita … do you think he has it?”

Lita’s face fell. She folded her hands in her lap and let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, mijo. I do.”

Yadriel’s stomach dropped. “Can you see it?”

Lita frowned. “See it?” she repeated.

Yadriel quickly course corrected. “How long have you known?”

Lita hesitated, but then she sighed deep, sinking farther into her seat. “Since the first time I met him,” she said even more gently. “The fear, the pain—it was all there, etched into him. He’d been through something terrible. I could see it in his aura.”

“You knew?” Yadriel’s voice rose before he could stop it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lita flinched. “Because healing from susto isn’t something you can force. It’s delicate work. Julian needed time. He still needs time.”

Yadriel clenched his fists in his lap, guilt biting at him. How had he missed it? He was Julian’s boyfriend, he should’ve been the first to notice.

“Sometimes people cling to their pain because it’s all they’ve known,” Lita continued sadly. “Or because they’re afraid of what comes next, if they let it go. In very bad cases, the soul doesn’t just leave—it fractures. Pieces scatter. That’s when you need a recuperación del alma.”

“A soul retrieval?” Yadriel echoed.

Lita nodded. “The healer has to call those scattered pieces back, gently, like coaxing doves home. It’s careful work. You can’t force a soul to return if it’s not ready.”

Yadriel frowned. “But I didn’t do that when I brought Julian back.”

“No,” Lita said softly. “You called him back whole. But if he was already fractured before he died … those missing pieces might have stayed behind.”

Her words hit like a cold wind. Yadriel thought about Julian’s brightness, his constant need to prove he was okay, how hard he smiled when he didn’t want to talk about himself. The cracks were there—they always had been.

Yadriel’s heart thudded. “Would there be a … sign? Like something left behind where a piece of his soul used to be?”

Lita paused, as if weighing something, then nodded slowly. “Sometimes, yes. Not something most people could see, though. More like a scar on the spirit. An emptiness.”

Yadriel’s mind was already racing—the Marca Hueca. The hollow dark spot on Julian’s chest. Angel’s ability to see them. Luca’s mark. All the dots were connecting now, like a constellation only he and Julian could trace.

“They’re called Marca Huecas,” he murmured, more to himself than to Lita. “Hollow marks. Soul scars.”

Lita’s brows drew together. “You’ve seen them?”

“I haven’t,” he admitted. “But Julian can. And so can someone else. Someone who’s been helping him.”

Lita didn’t press, but the wrinkle between her brows deepened. “If that’s true … then Julian may not just be carrying susto. He may be carrying the space where part of his soul should be.”

Maritza sat forward. “So what do we do?”

Yadriel’s voice came out hoarse. “Tell me how to help him.”

Lita’s eyes softened. “You already are. By loving him. That’s where it begins.” She set a steaming mug of alcohol-free ponche on the table and nudged it toward him. “But since you’re asking for the rest—drink.”