Page 28 of Espíritu

“¡Te libero a la otra vida!” he cried, and brought his glowing dagger down through the golden thread.

The maligno exploded into radiant light, marigold petals spiraling upward in a silent burst before drifting gently to the pavement.

For a heartbeat, everything was still.

Julian lay on the concrete, heart still hammering. He pushed himself up on an elbow, eyes locking on their rescuer.

The stranger stood tall, two long bubble braids pulled back from their sharp, angular face. Golden brown eyes caught the faint glow of the neon signs, flashing like embers. They crouched, lifting the broken locket in one hand, turning it over with a quiet sigh.

“Too late,” the stranger murmured. “Already crossed over.”

Julian got himself up and Yadriel raced to his side.

“Are you okay?!” he asked, running his hands down Julian’s arms, his chest, making sure he was in one piece.

Julian nodded, bewildered. “I think so,” he said, but his attention was locked onto the stranger.

“What the hell was that?!” Maritza whispered sharply, retreating back to Julian and Yadriel to put distance between her and the stranger.

Yadriel shook his head, eyes wide. “I have no idea.”

Julian stepped forward cautiously, wiping blood from his palm. “Hey—uh, thanks. That was…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say.

The stranger stood up and gave a sly grin. “Fast?”

A surprised laugh jumped in Julian’s chest. “Yeah. Fast.” He blinked. “Who—?”

“I’m Angel,” they said lightly. “And I’m a bruje.”

FIVEYADRIEL

Yadriel stared at the stranger in the alley. His brain stumbled through what had just happened—the fight, the maligno, the stranger with a portaje—and then stalled on the word they’d used, still ringing like a bell.

“Bruje.”

Not “brujo.” Not “bruja.” Not “brujx,” either.

The syllables turned over in his mind like a stone being smoothed by water.

Angel was tall, with dark bubble braids falling over one shoulder and eyes that glinted like molten gold.

“Easy,” they said, hands up and steady. “Maligno’s gone. You’re okay.”

Julian cradled his hand, which had been bloodied by the maligno’s strike. “I’m fine—still attached—just…” He winced. “Ow.”

“Can I take care of that for you?” Angel asked, glancing to Julian first, then to Yadriel and Maritza, as if asking for permission.

Before Yadriel could say anything, Julian shrugged.

Angel stepped forward. They gently took his wrist and unwound a burgundy rosary from their own knuckles. They pressed its beads to Julian’s palm.

Yadriel’s breath caught. Warm light kindled between their hands—soft, golden, familiar—until the torn skin knit closed.

Julian flexed his fingers, eyes huge. “No freaking way.”

Angel let out a small, amused laugh. “Way.”

“What the shit?” Maritza whispered, her voice tight.