Page 2 of Espíritu

Felipe launched into a tragically off-key rendition of “Te Boté,” his voice echoing through the headstones. Some ghosts made the world feel more alive than the living did.

Julian scanned the cemetery. Someone was missing. “Hey—where’s Claribel? Thought she’d be yelling at you by now.”

Felipe’s grin faltered. “Dunno. Haven’t seen her all week. Probably still mad at me.” His strumming turned softer. Something pinched behind Julian’s ribs.

A cool breeze brushed his shoulder. He spotted a faint shimmer near a row of graves. A jump of excitement shot through him. “HEY, MARISOL!” he shouted, waving enthusiastically.

The teenage ghost startled, her golden form flickering. She gave a hesitant wave back.

Julian jogged over and crouched at her side. “Wanna play lotería?” He jerked his head toward the spirits playing cards. “I’ll even help you cheat.”

Almost a smile. A shake of her head. She drifted farther among the stones.

Felipe appeared at Julian’s shoulder, watching her go. “She doesn’t talk much.”

“Yeah, but she’s cooler than half my living friends,” Julian said. “Sometimes being quiet just means you’re carrying heavy stuff. Doesn’t make you any less badass.”

He returned to Yadriel and grabbed the brush as if he’d never put it down. “See? I’m totally focused.”

“Uh-huh,” Yadriel said, but his mouth twitched.

Enrique squeezed Julian’s shoulder. “At least our brujo here is learning fast.”

Brujo.

The word still left Julian a little dazed. It felt like someone had handed him a name tag he wasn’t sure he deserved—heavy in one hand, proud in the other. He’d woken up after dying to a world filled with spirits, and somehow the brujx had made room for him in it.

There were rules, though. Keep the brujx secret. Keep a low profile when you could see ghosts lingering between the aisles at Walmart. Don’t screw it up.

Julian covered the warmth in his chest with a smirk. “Guess I’ll add it to my résumé—‘professional wax scraper, amateur brujo.’”

“You’re not even good at the scraping part,” Yadriel said, deadpan.

“Wow, rude! Show some respect to the little people.”

“You’re not little.”

Julian flashed him a smug grin. “Exactly.”

Yadriel’s ears went pink and he tried to look annoyed, but Julian wasn’t falling for it.

Lita clapped her hands, startling a few gossiping spirits into silence. “All right, enough lounging! Enrique, get the rest of these decorations down from the rafters before tonight!”

Enrique sighed good-naturedly and headed toward the church.

Lita hooked her arm through Julian’s. “Come, mijo. I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Finally, someone who respects my union breaks!” Julian said.

“You don’t even know what a union is,” Yadriel muttered, bumping his shoulder as they headed for the gate.

“Sure I do. It’s when I do the jokes and you do the chores. Perfect balance of labor!”

Yadriel groaned, but he was smiling as Lita ushered them toward her rust-patched beater at the curb.

Julian reached for the car door, half ducking inside—then stopped. On impulse, he pivoted back, caught Yadriel gently by the front of his hoodie, and stole a quick kiss. Soft, warm, gone in a heartbeat.

Yadriel made a startled sound, blinking fast as color rushed up his cheeks.