Page 128 of Cemetery Boys

Julian grinned. His fingers slipped through Yadriel’s hair and traced his face, like he was trying to memorize every line, before he never saw them again. “Sí, lo está.”

He was completely losing his mind. “You’re dying, you idiot!” Yadriel yelled at him because he was angry and because he was terrified.

Julian’s chuckle was wet. “Valió … la pena.”

Yadriel let out a bitter laugh, gripping Julian’s hand that pressed against the side of his face.

With every rasping breath Julian took, the weaker the medal around his neck glowed until it was a barely pulsing golden light. “Todo bien, todo estará bien,” he repeated weakly.

Yadriel shook his shoulders roughly. “Stay awake!”

Julian reached out with his other hand and cupped Yadriel’s face. He swept his thumbs gently under Yadriel’s eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. “Todo bien, Yadriel.” Julian drew in a rattling breath.

“You have to stay here until we can get help,” Yadriel demanded. Hiccups bucked in his chest, breaking his words.

Julian nodded, but his expression was pained. His breath quickened as he tried in vain to keep his eyes open, to keep them locked onto Yadriel’s. A sob caught in Julian’s throat. His hands trembled. Tears spilled from the corners of his deep brown eyes.

“Stay!” Yadriel shouted at him, giving him another rough shake.

Julian tried to nod again, but his gaze unfocused, losing sight of Yadriel. His hands slid from Yadriel’s face. His eyes stared, unseeing.

The St. Jude medal around his neck gave one last flicker of light before dulling to tarnished silver.

One last breath sighed past Julian’s lips.

Everything that made Julian Julian—the mischievous light in his eyes, his dimpled smile—vanished.

Yadriel felt him leave, like his own heart had been torn from his chest.

A cry ripped through him, caving in his heart, his bones aching. Yadriel clutched Julian and openly sobbed into his neck. His body shook. His lungs burned. Every fiber of his being mourned.

He couldn’t hear the voice calling him at first, lost under his primal cries.

“Yadriel!” A warm hand pressed to his back.

Yadriel turned to look, his head tucked under Julian’s chin.

Maritza stood beside him, her eyes wide and frantic as they went between Julian’s body, Yadriel, the blood-covered floor. She held her rosary in her fist. “Yads—”

“Help!” Yadriel begged, balling Julian’s jacket into his fist. “Please! Save him!”

“Santa Muerte,” Maritza hissed, quickly searching for Julian’s pulse.

“Please, you have to save him, please,” Yadriel sobbed uncontrollably.

Maritza’s hand fell back to her side. “Yads,” she said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Yads—”

Yadriel shoved her away. “I know—I know it goes against your beliefs—”

“It’s not that, Yadriel—”

“But you have to save him! Please, Maritza!”

Maritza swallowed. “I can’t, Yadriel.” Her eyes welled. “I can’t bring him back. He’s gone.”

Yadriel’s tears trickled down Julian’s neck. “Please, please, please.” He repeated the word over and over. It echoed uselessly, hollow and empty.

Maritza squeezed Yadriel’s shoulder tight.