Cemetery Boys(95)

Yadriel stood and wiped his sweaty palms off on his thighs.

Julian leaned down, his fingers brushing over the calavera, rustling the golden marigold petals. “My own ofrenda?” he asked, looking up at Yadriel.

“Didn’t seem right for you to not have one, especially on Día de Muertos.” He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s not much, I just thought—I don’t know—”

Julian stood up. “It’s perfect,” he said earnestly.

Yadriel stared up at him, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. He clutched at Julian’s necklace around his neck and bit down on his bottom lip. He felt sick to his stomach. His own skin felt suffocating. That strange rushing sensation was under his feet again, throwing him off balance.

He wanted to say something important, something meaningful. He needed to, but he couldn’t find the words, and his throat was dangerously tight.

Julian’s smile fell from his lips. His pressed his palm against his chest like it ached. “You should get it over with,” he said. “It’s almost midnight, you don’t want to be late to see your mom.”

Yadriel just nodded numbly, because he didn’t know what else to do. Fumbling, he pulled out his portaje and the insulated bottle he’d filled with pig blood that morning. Gripping the hilt in one hand, Yadriel dipped his finger into the cool blood before swiping it across the length of the blade.

Julian watched as Yadriel unclasped the necklace and held the chain in his fist. The St. Jude medal quivered in his shaky hand. The silver glinted in the firelight and Julian’s obsidian eyes.

For a moment, Yadriel stood there, the necklace in one trembling hand, his portaje in the other.

Yadriel knew keeping Julian meant he’d be trapped between the worlds of the living and the dead, until he became a violent husk of his former self, just like Tito.

But he wanted to keep him. Selfishly, dangerously, against all reason.

“Are you ready?” Julian asked, searching Yadriel’s eyes.

“No,” Yadriel told him, because he wasn’t.

Julian exhaled a quiet, surprised laugh that seemed to ease some of the tension from his shoulders.

The back of Yadriel’s throat ached, and his eyes stung.

How could he possibly recover from falling for Julian Diaz?

A smile conjured up those perfect dimples. He stepped closer and cupped the side of Yadriel’s face. His cold thumb swept across Yadriel’s wet cheek. The firelight danced in Julian’s glassy, dark eyes. “Do it anyways.”

Yadriel drew a shaky breath. “Muéstrame el enlace,” he said, his voice cracking.

The candles flared, their flames tall and erratic. The blade of Yadriel’s portaje glowed bright, and the golden thread appeared, connecting the medal in Yadriel’s hand to the center of Julian’s chest.

Julian’s eyes went to the side and his hand twitched, as if resisting the urge to reach up and touch it.

Energy charged through Yadriel’s veins and danced across his skin.

Julian drew in a shuddering breath and exhaled it through pursed lips. He looked at Yadriel and gave him a small nod.

Grasping his portaje, Yadriel drew his arm back.

Everything in Yadriel screamed at him not to do it. He tightened his grip, but his hand still shook. His chin wobbled. His teeth clicked against each other and his vision blurred.

“It’s okay,” Julian murmured, but he was lying. He kept his eyes on Yadriel’s. He didn’t blink. He didn’t flinch.

When Yadriel spoke, his voice broke and the ache in his chest fractured and split into a thousand sharp pieces. “Te libero a la otra vida.”

He sliced his dagger through the air, bringing the blade down on the golden thread.

His arm jolted, violently jamming into the socket as golden light exploded. Yadriel squinted. The edge of the blade trembled on the line, sending off sparks where they met.

Yadriel sucked in a breath. Panic charged through him. It hadn’t worked. His portaje hadn’t cut the tether. Why hadn’t it worked?

Yadriel’s eyes shot to Julian. He looked just as surprised, his mouth open and his expression tight with confusion. Julian quickly shook his head. “It’s not me, I’m—”

In the distance, the church bells began to toll, ringing in midnight and welcoming the returning spirits.

As the first chime rang, Julian’s voice died in his throat and his eyes rolled back into his skull.





TWENTY-TWO


“Julian!” Yadriel pushed his portaje back into its sheath and scrambled to reach him.

Flat on his back, Julian’s entire body convulsed. He flickered in and out of existence, one moment there and the next nothing more than a blurry outline. Yadriel could only see the whites of his eyes.

Julian’s back arched off the stone, his face contorted in pain. The muscles in his neck bulged and strained. His fingers scrabbled against the stone floor. Terrible groans gurgled in his throat as the bells continued to chime.

“JULES!” Yadriel shouted.

Crimson bloomed on Julian’s white tee, blood seeping from his chest.

He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what was happening. Frantically, he tried to press his palms to Julian’s chest, to stop the flow of blood, but his hands sank right through him. Yadriel called Julian’s name over and over, tried to get him to look at him, to bring him back, but nothing worked.