Page 77 of Espíritu

There was a pause, then Rio’s voice came through—low, scratchy, and tired. “What’s going on, Jules?”

Julian’s throat tightened. “Nothing. I just … needed to get out of the apartment.”

Rio’s tone sharpened. “Why? What happened?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Julian said. He hated how wobbly his voice sounded. “I just needed some air, okay?”

Another pause.

“You can’t keep running off like this,” Rio said.

Julian bristled. “I’m not running off. I’m at Yadriel’s.”

“I trust him,” Rio said. “But I don’t gamble when it comes to you.”

Julian didn’t know what to say, but the floor felt a little steadier under his feet.

The line went quiet again, and for a second Julian thought the call had dropped.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning,” Rio added finally. “Take you to school.”

Julian clenched his jaw but managed a begrudging “Fine.”

The line went dead, and Julian handed the phone back to Yadriel without a word. He slumped back against the couch, exhaustion weighing him down.

“Well,” Yadriel said softly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. “That went … okay?”

Julian didn’t reply. He simply stared at the ceiling, his thoughts churning. The relief of staying the night was overshadowed by the lingering tension increasingly building between him and his brother. The morning would eventually come, bringing all his problems back with it, but for now, he let himself be comforted by the warmth of Yadriel’s presence.

Yadriel gave Julian’s hand a gentle tug, pulling him up from the couch. “Come on,” he said softly. “Help me with something.”

Julian followed, still feeling hollowed out from the call with Rio. But when they reached the dining table, he paused. It was piled with supplies—carving knives, colorful markers, small pots of paint, and sheets of vibrant foil. In the center sat a box of plain white pillar candles.

“What’s all this?” Julian asked, brow furrowed.

“For the Midnight Vigil,” Yadriel said, picking up a blank candle and turning it in his hands. “You want to make one?”

Julian blinked. “Wait—I’m invited?”

Yadriel let out a soft laugh, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Of course you are, Jules. You’re part of the East LA brujx now. Obviously, you’ve gotta experience your first vigil.”

The knot in Julian’s chest loosened just a little. He tried to play it cool. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

Yadriel slid a candle across the table toward him, then offered a handful of sequins, some paint pots, and a carving knife. “You decorate it with things that matter to you—or to whoever you’re dedicating it to. It’s meant to help guide their spirit and honor their memory.”

Julian turned the candle over in his hand thoughtfully. “What are you gonna put on yours?”

Yadriel’s smile softened. “Mine’s for my mom. I’m going to decorate it with a lot of red, draw marigolds, maybe add some gold foil. She loved marigolds.”

Julian hesitated, fingers brushing over the smooth wax. “Who … who should mine be for?” he asked, heart fluttering in his chest.

Yadriel glanced at him, gentle and knowing. “Maybe your dad?”

The mention of his dad hit Julian like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, memories of laughter, soccer games, and long drives on the PCH flooding his mind. “I don’t know,” he said softly, his voice cracking just a little. “I miss him so much…”

Yadriel reached out, resting a hand on Julian’s arm. “This is a way to remember him, Jules. To honor everything he meant to you.”

Julian nodded, blinking hard. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.”