Page 17 of Espíritu

Then music drifted from the lake, pulling them onward. It wasn’t hard to see why Bartolomé haunted this place—Julian would, too. Laughter carried on the air, ducks skimmed the water, and the scent of fresh grass mingled with warm earth. He imagined the spirit sitting on one of the benches, strumming chords while life buzzed harmoniously around him.

An amphitheater sat at the lake’s edge, facing a large stage built on a concrete island in the water. Folklórico dancers spun, their colorful skirts painting the air with every twirl. Beside the stage, mariachis serenaded the crowd, their voices rising above the strings and brass as if calling to the heavens.

“Let’s find somewhere quiet. We don’t need an audience for this,” Yadriel suggested as they dodged one family picnic and then another.

“Over there, it’s more secluded.” Maritza led them to a bench under a huddle of trees.

Something moved in the shadows of the branches.

“Wait—what was that?” Julian asked quietly, searching for—well, he didn’t know what, but he had a feeling it wasn’t a guitar-playing ghost.

“Look at you, tapping into your sixth sense,” Maritza teased, but the way she was grinning let Julian know she was impressed.

“Let’s hope it’s Bartolomé and not someone else.” Yadriel’s big brown eyes focused on the lake, his lips pressed between his teeth. He held his Hydro Flask and the guitar in front of him, his knuckles white.

“What’s up?” Maritza asked, coming up on his other side.

“A little freaked,” Yadriel admitted. “It’s my first official release—I don’t want to mess it up.”

Julian barked a laugh, earning him a glare from Maritza.

“But you’re you!” Julian said.

When Yadriel gave him a confused look, Julian continued. “You’re, like, the most powerful witch—”

“Brujo,” Yadriel corrected patiently.

“The most powerful brujo ever! You literally brought me back from the dead!” Julian reminded him.

“I guess,” Yadriel said, but he still sounded miserable. “But it feels like if I slip up, it proves I don’t deserve this.”

Julian’s chest filled with warmth. It was wild to him that Yadriel couldn’t see how cool, badass, and sometimes scary-in-a-good-way he was, but Julian was happy to remind him.

He grabbed Yadriel by the front of his hoodie and dragged him in close. “Listen, you already did the impossible—this is just ducks and a guitar!” he said, grinning ear to ear.

That coaxed the smallest smile out of Yadriel before he leaned in and buried his face in Julian’s chest. “I guess,” Yadriel muttered into Julian’s shirt.

Julian happily squeezed his arms around Yadriel in a reassuring hug.

“He’s right, Yads,” Maritza added, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Go show ’em how it’s done!”

Sandwiched between them, Yadriel finally smiled. “Thanks, you guys.”

He stepped forward, and Julian gave his butt a pinch.

Yadriel jumped, swatting his hand away.

Maritza groaned and rolled her eyes. “Can you control yourself?” she asked, pushing Julian out of the way to follow Yadriel.

“You know I can’t!” Julian shot back, chasing after her.

The lake shimmered with the fading daylight as Yadriel set the guitar down at his feet. “Here goes nothing,” Yadriel said, his gaze locked on the still surface of the lake.

Julian couldn’t help but shuffle impatiently beside Maritza, who gave him a shove.

“Chill,” she whispered, though her own hands kept toying with the pink quartz rosary around her neck.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Julian mumbled, locking his dark eyes on the calm waters, trying to anchor himself in the moment. It was like trying to hold on to a breeze—elusive and gently mocking his attempts at stillness.