Cemetery Boys(61)

Goose bumps trailed up Yadriel’s arm where it rested closest to Julian. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting the music wind through his mind and ease the stress knotted in his body. The gentle sound of Julian catching the ball out of the air fell into time with the steady beat.

“It’s sad,” Julian said.

“It’s not sad,” Yadriel murmured. “Just … quiet.” Though, he supposed that was why Julian didn’t like it. It didn’t appeal to his nature.

The tossing stopped and, for a long moment, they lay there listening. Yadriel’s body felt heavy, like he was sinking into the bed as exhaustion coaxed him toward sleep. The blanket was soft under his fingers. Yadriel floated somewhere between the real world and a dream when Julian’s voice called him back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hm?”

“Earlier. For being an asshole.”

Yadriel opened his eyes with effort and turned his head.

Julian stared up at the ceiling, his brow furrowed as he turned the ball of paper over in his hands. “I could lie and say it’s because I’m a ghost, but I was never any good at controlling my temper when I was alive, either,” he admitted, not looking at Yadriel when he spoke. Julian shifted awkwardly, waiting for his reply.

“Wow,” Yadriel said. “You don’t do this often, do you?”

Julian finally turned to him with a frown. “Do what?”

Yadriel grinned. “Apologize.”

“Tch,” he hissed between his teeth. “Man, screw you!” He threw the ball of paper at Yadriel, and it bounced off his forehead and landed on the bed between them.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Yadriel insisted, laughter shaking his words. Julian huffed, and Yadriel forced himself to swallow down the chuckles.

A quiet moment stretched out, accompanied by the gentle flow of music.

“Why do you have to prove that you’re a brujo—a guy—to them?” Julian suddenly asked, scowling up at the ceiling.

The question took Yadriel by surprise. Julian was probably still thinking about what he’d heard during the sarcophagus incident.

“Why do you have to prove anything to anyone?”

Yadriel shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just how it is, how it’s always been. In order for them to let me be a brujo—”

“You don’t need anyone’s permission to be you, Yads,” he cut in, frustration starting to edge his voice again.

And Yadriel was getting irritated himself. “Because—”

“I mean, you summoned me, so you have the brujo powers, right?” he went on. He picked up the balled-up paper again and fiddled with it absentmindedly. “Like, is this Lady deciding who counts as a man and who counts as a woman? What about nonbinary people? Or intersex? Or agender?”

Yadriel was surprised Julian even knew what those words meant. “I’m the first trans brujx—” he tried to explain, but Julian interrupted him with a sarcastic laugh.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am!”

Julian shook his head and rolled onto his side so he could properly look at Yadriel. “Nah, there’s no way.”

When Yadriel tried to argue, Julian cut him off.

“There’s no way y’all have been around for thousands of years without there being one person not fitting into the ‘men are this, women are that’ bullshit.” Julian sounded so convinced, so sure. His obsidian eyes locked onto Yadriel’s. “Maybe they hid it, or ran away, or I dunno, something else, but there’s no way you’re the first, Yads.”

All Yadriel could do was stare at him.

He didn’t know what to say. He spent so much time feeling isolated—convinced that he was a one-off, an outlier no one knew what to do with—he’d never considered that, somewhere along the line, there had been other brujx like him.

When he didn’t respond, Julian flopped onto his back, pressing the paper ball between his palms. “Seems like the magic knows, right?” Julian thought out loud. “Or Lady Death does—whatever makes those decisions. You did the ceremony, and you were able to summon me, right?”

“Yeah,” Yadriel said, still hung up on the previous revelation.

Julian nodded. “So, she gets it.” The corner of his lips pulled into a grin. “That’s pretty cool.”

Yadriel looked across at his statue of Lady Death on his altar. Of course she knew—she saw who Yadriel really was. She’d made that clear when she blessed him with his portaje. But he hadn’t considered that there was an entirely lost history of brujx like him. Julian was right; it seemed obvious now. There was no way he was the first, and he wouldn’t be the last.

“So,” Julian prompted again. “Why isn’t that enough?”

“It won’t be enough for the rest of the brujx,” Yadriel pushed back. “They’ll need more proof.”

“Not good enough for them, or not good enough for you?” Julian asked, finally looking over at him.

The question struck him in the chest. “It’s complicated—”

“Because—and I’m not trying to back out of our deal, here—but if this is just to prove yourself to them—”

“They’re my family—”