Page 137 of Espíritu

Lita lifted a white egg and swept it in tight circles over Luca’s chest. Her chanting began low and steady, a current threading through the air.

The shadows around Luca writhed and bucked, visible to Julian like snakes recoiling from sunlight.

Julian bit the inside of his cheek. “Come on,” he whispered, gripping the salt tighter. “You can do this, Luca.”

Lita set down the egg. Its shell was spiderwebbed with cracks, leaking faint wisps of black that evaporated into the air.

She rose, voice strong again. “Now, call him back,” Lita told them, her face grim. “The darkness is strong, but it is not stronger than us. Invoke the elements to guide his spirit home.”

Julian looked at his friends, then back at Luca. He took a breath.

“Luca,” he said, voice raw. “We’re here. We’re with you.”

Then, together:

“Tierra, agua, lumbre, aire,” they chanted, voices soft but steady.

Julian closed his eyes, focusing on Luca, willing him to hear their call. “Luca, we’re here. Come back to us.”

Maritza’s voice threaded through, calm and practical. “Now, your memory. One line only. Share it.”

Flaca breathed, eyes on Luca. “You stole my bag back at the swap meet even though the guy was twice your size.”

“Your rhythm’s got two left feet,” Omar said, because teasing was easier than sincerity.

“You cried during Coco. I didn’t tell anyone.” Rocky paused. “Uh, until now.”

Julian needed to pick something that cut through the static. Something only Luca would know.

“When I panicked on the Ferris wheel,” he murmured, “you held my hand and told me not to look down.”

The air in the room shifted, charged with a subtle energy that raised the hairs on Julian’s arms. Rocky’s candle flame leaped higher, casting wild shadows on the walls. The incense smoke in Flaca’s bowl swirled in deliberate patterns. Omar’s bowl of water rippled, the surface shimmering with an eerie light.

“Luca.” Julian closed his eyes, willing the words into the dark. “Please. Come back.”

The tendrils seemed to fight against the light pouring into the room. But the circle held firm, their collective voices creating a tether strong enough to span the distance between worlds. The unity of their call filled the room, a chorus of love and desperation.

Finally, with a thunderous crack, the shadows shattered. Wisps of darkness dissipated into the air, leaving a warm, golden glow that spread across Luca’s chest. His body trembled, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm.

Luca’s eyes fluttered open, wide and glassy but unmistakably alive. “Julian?” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

“Luca!” Julian lunged forward, pulling him into a fierce hug. Omar, Rocky, and Flaca crowded around, their relief spilling over in nervous laughter and scolding.

“I could kick your ass right now!” Rocky huffed, her concern always translating to anger, especially when she was scared.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” Flaca snapped, angrily wiping away tears.

“What did I do?” Luca asked, confused and disoriented as he looked around the room. He blinked at Lita and Enrique. “Where am I?”

Julian laughed, relief crashing over him like a wave. “Here,” he said, reaching out a hand, helping Luca to sit up, their friends still crowding around in a protective circle.

“I feel … weird. Am I okay?” Luca’s question was tentative, his gaze searching Julian’s for an answer.

Julian nodded, unable to contain the grin that spread across his face. “Yeah, Luca. You’re going to be okay.”

Lita checked his pulse, then lifted an eyelid to watch his pupils. She grinned, satisfied. “Bien. Está aquí.”

Luca looked down at his own chest, running a hand over the place where the Marca Hueca had once been, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and gratitude. Tears welled in his eyes, but they were tears of relief, of a burden lifted.