Page 13 of Espíritu

Julian blinked at him. Dude. At least it seemed to satisfy Lita.

“¡Ay, Julian!” she said, exasperated but friendly. She pressed a thick white candle into his hands. “These are not just candles! They’re prayers. At the vigil, on the night of the twenty-third, we bless them and pass the flame from person to person until the whole room glows. Unity. Lady Death’s light.”

She swayed her hands like she was holding an invisible candle. “The next night, Nochebuena, comes the Candle Dance of Eternal Light. Everyone carries their candles into the courtyard, dancing and weaving patterns of light. At the end, the candles are left burning so any spirit still wandering can find their way home.”

Julian stared at the candle in his hand, imagining a glow spreading through a dark room, through headstones, through the night sky. It pulled at something inside him—something steadier than the unease still creeping under his skin.

“That,” Yadriel said with pride, “is what it means to honor Lady Death. Community and connection. To the spirits, to each other. To who we are.”

Julian swallowed hard. For a second, it felt like the candle really could chase off every shadow. Even the one over his heart.

“Cool, cool, cool. You’re gonna walk me through it again later, right?” Julian asked Yadriel. “I don’t want to embarrass myself and do the wrong things at the wrong time. I can’t remember that much off the top of my hand.”

“Head,” Maritza said. “Top of your head.”

“Same diff!”

Yadriel chuckled and shook his head affectionately. “I’ll make sure you don’t mess up,” he promised, pressing into Julian’s side.

The way Yadriel smiled up at him put a big, goofy grin on Julian’s face and set his stomach on fire.

Lita’s gaze drifted past them, unfocused. “The spirits feel different this winter,” she murmured. “So I think we could all use some of Lady Death’s light. Actually—” She frowned. “I should check the far rows again. A few of our regulars haven’t been showing up.”

“Ghost truancy?” Julian asked, distracted, as he laced his fingers with Yadriel’s.

That earned him a laugh, but Lita still shook her head. “It’s probably nothing. I just don’t like when things go quiet.”

Then she clapped her hands briskly, her smile snapping back into place. “But that is not your worry tonight!”

Yadriel stood straighter. “Lita, Dad told us—me—” he corrected, “to go to Belvedere Park and release Bartolomé.”

Lita crowed enthusiastically. “Aye, your first release?” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “This is so exciting! Wait here, wait here!”

Technically, it wasn’t his first, Julian thought. Yadriel had saved him when he was a ghost. But maybe that didn’t count.

Lita disappeared into the hallway and returned, holding a bundle in a dark, worn cloth. She gently unwrapped it, revealing a guitar.

Not just any guitar, though. It was very old, the kind that looked like it had seen things. Its mahogany body bore the wear from countless hours spent strumming, and etched into it were swirling patterns of lighter wood, like cream in coffee.

A trill of excitement ran up Julian’s spine. “Whoa,” he breathed, leaning forward to pluck one of the strings.

Lita handed it to Yadriel, her expression turning serious. “This belonged to Bartolomé. It’s his tether—the thing tying him here. Let him play for you, let him hear the music one last time.” She smiled sadly. “Help him find the peace he’s been waiting for.”

Yadriel cradled the guitar reverently. Julian could tell this was a big deal, and he was stoked for his boyfriend.

“Take this, too,” she added, handing Julian a crumpled paper bag.

He peeked inside and gave Lita a dubious look. “Stale bread?”

Lita smiled fondly. “He likes to feed the ducks.

“One more thing, mijo.” She caught Julian with a stern look that pinned him to the spot. “Our ways are for us alone. Outsiders wouldn’t understand, and it could put them in danger. So no talking about brujería outside the círculo. Not to your friends, not to anyone.”

Julian’s mouth went dry. He hated secrets. Not only was he a shit liar, but secrets were also wedges driven between him and the people he loved most.

Lita’s voice softened a fraction, as if she could read his mind. “This isn’t about secrets. It’s about safety.”

But the way Lita said it, steady and absolute, made it feel less like a rule and more like a lifeline. If he broke it, if he dragged Omar or Rocky or Flaca or Luca into this, they’d be the ones paying for it.