CHAPTER ONE: CARNAL

When Jael finally regained consciousness, the truck had stopped. He’d just barely cracked his eyes open and he immediately squeezed them shut again, the light overwhelming his senses.
It was a few minutes before Jael could open his eyes without being flashbanged by the dome lights of the truck. Jael only spent 5 minutes in the darkness, but it felt like hours as he stubbornly fought against his own body to remain awake. He laid there in the passenger seat of the truck, eyes shut so intensely that tears spilled out as he tried to remain in the moment, his awareness threatening to slip back into the gaping maw of unconsciousness.
Every bone in Jael’s body was exhausted. Every cell in his body was completely spent, tiredness seeping right into the iron of his blood. He was barely aware of his own breathing, which came out in deep, rapid gasps. It took a Herculean effort just to move his eyes and wearily inspect his surroundings.
Through the deep tint of the windshield, he could make out the blurry forms of two people leaning on the hood of the truck. He recognized them as Esmeralda and Yunuen. They looked like they were talking about something but he couldn’t hear them over the corrido blasting over the speakers. If this was an hour ago, Jael would’ve been screaming the lyrics along with the rest of the truck, probably passing around some chelas. But now, the noise was like static in his ears, adding to the incessant buzzing in his head. The guitar and the trumpets were nothing to him but extra overstimulation.
While he slowly came out of his daze, Jael finally noticed the warm and wet feeling seeping into his skin. He looked down to see his chest covered in vomit. He could barely make out the remains of chewed up Fandangos and the canned luck potion he’d shoplifted from Whole Foods all over his new hoodie.
Despite the fogginess of his thoughts, the realization made Jael’s mind fill with swears of every variety. Especially when he realized he’d have to actually move to take it off. If Jael wasn’t exhausted, he would’ve started screaming. FUCK.
With slow and careful movements, Jael began taking off the hoodie, all while internally cursing with both pain and frustration. Every single bend of his joints sent stabbing pains through his body like jolts of electricity. He half-wondered if he’d gotten hit by a hex or something. He eventually peeled the soiled hoodie off his body and half-heartedly threw it out the truck window, hissing out a wince as he forced his arm to bend.
"There goes half my paycheck." Jael thought to himself as he watched the crumpled streetwear hoodie hit the dirty parking lot asphalt. In his haze of half-consciousness, he’d completely forgotten about washing machines.
Jael wiped the vomit from his mouth and heaved as he tried to finally catch his breath. The truck seemed to still be spinning in an eternal drift. ‘FUCK.’ he cursed internally as he realized what was going on. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.’ He hated the aftereffects of using Ilusão. Sometimes he considered swapping to a new technique entirely, just because of the shitty side-effects. He internally tried to brace for impact as he prepared himself for the hallucinations.
And then, they all came in one fell swoop. Visions danced in front of his eyes. Macaws in every color of the rainbow soared in front of his vision, spears flew from one side of his line of sight to the other, and the sound of rushing water filled his ears. It was like a bad trip multiplied by 10. “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.” he repeated over and over like a mantra. He knew it wasn’t real, but he also knew that it wasn’t gonna be that easy to make this shit go away.
His father’s disembodied voice echoed in his ears, like he was 4 years old again, barely learning magic for the first time. “Deep breaths…” it said. “Remember to blink, they’ll go away faster if something interrupts them.”
He blinked quickly for what seemed like hours, until the visions slowly disappeared from view and eventually, the sensation of the whirling truck screeched to a halt along with them and his vision stopped spinning. All the while, repeating the same phrase like a broken record. ‘It isn’t real. It isn’t real.’ Exactly like his father had told him to. Jael knew saying the phrase out loud was more effective, but when he tried, all that came out was a barely audible wheeze.
He almost thought he’d throw up again. The bitter taste of blood and bile danced on his tongue. His ears were ringing.
Jael took another deep breath. What the hell was he doing here? What the fuck was he even doing before? Why the fuck did everything hurt like that? Jael’s thoughts were sluggish. As his body slowly accustomed itself to the fact that it still existed in the world his mind filled itself with questions. They didn’t come at a million miles a minute like his usual thoughts, but slowly, like they were each in a neat single file line.
He strained his mind just to think back before the point where he fell unconscious and threw up all over himself. They’d been fighting the Immortals. Yeah, those fucks that wouldn’t stay out of their hood. That’s as much as Jael remembered. He’d been fighting with… what the hell was his name? Tianzi… or something? What the hell even happened?
A sharp pain flashed through his head like someone had stabbed an ice pick through his cranium. The memories flooded through his mind all at once.
The MilPol.
…
God, he was too tired for this shit. Another wave of pain cascaded through the inside of his head as another migraine made its return. Jael winced and rubbed his temples. Fuck.
Hallucinations still danced at the sides of his vision, but he was too tired to care. As long as they were easy to ignore, he could handle them. Groggily, Jael slowly turned around behind him to look at his friends in the backseat of the truck.
Yusnavi was lying on the floor of the truck. His black tee had ridden up exposing part of his tanned stomach. Sparkling powder, like the highlighter his mom wore, covered the tee. They were remnants of the fight with Jiejing, that asshole with the crystal transfiguration technique from the Immortals. With every small shift he made the crystal dust caught the light, making the young man glitter like stars in the night. Both of his arms were wrapped with gauze, crimson blood with touches of black seeping through the cloth. Despite that, he was typing endlessly on his phone, ignoring the wounds like they were mosquito bites. At the sound of Jael shifting in his seat, the clicking of the keyboard stopped and Yusnavi looked up and smiled at him.
Jael smiled back at Yusnavi, and then looked back at the rest of the backseat.
Jadier, his best friend since high school, was knocked out cold, just like he was up until a few minutes ago. Blood flowed from his nose in an unbroken stream. His typical bandana was gone and his curly coffee-colored hair was damp. Next to him was Leviatan, wrapping a white gauze of some kind around his waist. He chanted some kind of healer's chant that he read off of his phone as he tended to his wounds. Levi clearly wasn’t a healer by any means, but it was kinda sweet that he was still trying.
Leviatan looked the least messed up out of all of them. He didn’t look any more fucked up than he usually did, at least. Until Jael looked at him closely. The hairs on his arms and legs stood up on end, like a frightened cat. Static electricity filled the air around him, along with the distinctive smell of ozone. Jael smacked his lips. Just looking at him, a metallic taste filled his mouth.
Leviatan’s eyes met his. Jael could never get used to that initial look. That look with those strange slit-like pupils. Jael remembered how Miguel once asked which transfigurationist he’d gone to to get them. Leviatan went silent and mumbled that he’d never had his eyes altered.
This time though, Levi’s eyes were kind. He offered Jael a smile and a bottle from a cooler on the floor and Jael took it, muttering a “Gracias, compa,” as he uncapped it. The bottle was clearly an empty gatorade bottle with the label ripped off, but Jael had never seen a gatorade in this color. It looked like someone had mixed blue curacao with the ink inside a green highlighter.
“Oy, Culebra, y esto que es?” Jael asked, swishing the liquid around in the bottle curiously. The liquid almost seemed to hiss at him like a snake preparing to strike as it fizzed dangerously. ‘That’s probably not good.’ Jael thought to himself.
“Healing potion, Kobra.” Leviatan chirped back. Jael swished the liquid around again. Normally the ones he stole from Whole Foods were a pale yellow color, like watered down lemonade. This one was glittering slightly, kinda like Yusnavi’s shirt. He hesitated. “Tiene color raro no?” Jael asked.
“It’s homemade, cuate. Made it myself.” he said, still not looking up from the bandages.
Jael was suspicious, but still took a swig. He nearly gagged at the taste. He had no words for it. It was like eating a dozen whole lemons at once but worse somehow, like someone dumped citric acid directly down his throat.
"Caralho, no se que chingados le hice a Levi pero yo creo que me quiere envenenar." Jael thought to himself. Tears were welling in his eyes from the sour taste.
While Jael forced himself to gulp down the “potion,” Jadier finally opened his eyes. His whole body was covered in deep purple bruises from when he’d gotten thrown around. An almost burnt smell permeated the air around him. The young man was still singed from when Fenghuang grazed him with a fireball. The white cloth Levi wrapped around his waist served as further proof of his brush with death. He stretched sleepily, his arms lazily drifting over his head and immediately his expression shifted from sleepiness to regret. He doubled over in his seat and winced. Jael almost winced with him.
Jadier got up and almost instantly started yelling. “Puta madre, that Fenghuang fucker wouldn’t let me breathe!” he growled. “My arms fucking hurt.” He rubbed his arms and pouted. He looked less like a gangster narrowly escaping death and more like a little kid who fell off his bike. Leviatan handed him another blue-green healing potion and Jadier threw it back, his face contorting into a sneer of disgust while he did. Yusnavi coughed. Blood and phlegm flew out of his mouth and onto his hands. Jael and Jadier grimaced in unison, but Navi just rolled his eyes at the sight. He turned around and casually wiped his hands with some discarded fast-food napkins before tossing them out the open window. Leviatan tried to hand him the last of the blue-green bottles, but he shook his head no as he refused it.
Jadier blinked as he looked around at the truck around him. “Looks like he’s also having a hell of a time coming back.” Jael thought. “At least I’m not the only one who got his shit rocked.” He looked up at the ceiling of the truck. Another macaw flew above him. ‘It’s not real.’ he repeated to himself once more.
Wiping the water and sweat off his forehead, Jadier locked eyes with Yusnavi on the floor. Yusnavi didn’t notice his gaze at first but he eventually stopped typing to look up at him.
“Y tu que, asere?” he asked, his brown eyes slightly widened with confusion. He tilted his head like a confused puppy.
Jadier’s face split into a grin as he tried to contain his laughter. “Ey, Muñe, you look like the sparkly vampire from that old movie!” he teased.
Yusnavi’s face shifted into a frown and he brought his attention back to his phone. “Callese la boca, yo no soy el que parece chicharrón quemado, Tiburón.” he retorted.
Leviatan burst into laughter at Yusnavi’s remark and Jael followed a few seconds later. Mostly against his better judgment as a sharp pain began stabbing into the side of his ribcage. It wasn’t even that funny. But Jael didn’t care. Tonight was a shit night. He needed some equally dumb shit to laugh at.
Jadier turned red. He furrowed his brows together and gingerly massaged the burn wound on his side before he also started giggling. “Fucking chicharron… you’re wrong for that, Muñe.” Jael wasn’t sure how long they were cracking up about it. All 4 of them were delirious from injuries and blood loss, so it was probably a while. Eventually though, everyone’s laughter slowly died down.
“Good thing we didn’t bring Merche.” Jadier muttered, leaning back in his seat. He absentmindedly fiddled with his jeans, trying to rub out the various stains off the fabric. “Baby cuz would never let me live this down. I got my shit handed to me by some toothpick looking guy.” Jadi clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Que desgracia.”
“Ey, anyone call Miguel and see if he and Angelito are okay?” asked a voice from behind them. Everyone turned to see Lupe speaking from the bed of the truck.
“Eh, todavia ‘tas viva, Lupe?” Jadier quipped, scrolling on his phone. Jael glanced at the screen and saw that he was scrolling through his contacts, looking for Miguel’s.
Guadalupe rolled her eyes. “No, fijase que estoy muerta.” she snapped back, sarcastically smiling at Jadier. “Of course I’m alive, pendejo. Those Military Police culeros couldn’t kill me even if I wanted them to. Let alone those dicks in The Immortals.”
“I don’t know about y’all, but I’ve been on Whatsapp with Leo this whole time.” Yusnavi shouted from the floor, holding up his phone.
“Y los otros…?” Jael spoke up, motioning to the bed of the truck. He knew the whole Los Santos gang wasn’t with them but even though he still was half in Ilusao-Side-Effect Land, he clearly remembered Rafael and Aurelio coming with them.
Lupe moved away from the window and gestured dramatically behind her, where Rafael and Aurelio were passed out on the bed of the truck behind her. "Valiendo madre, did everyone get their ass whooped tonight?" Jael thought as he stared at his 2 friends piled on top of each other. They looked like the fat bags of rice they had at the supermarket, neatly stacked on top of each other. He half-wondered if they ended up like that naturally or if Lupe had taken the time to do it. At least they didn’t look as fucked up as the other did, even though they were the most exposed to the MilPol as they got away. ‘Well, Esme was in the back of the truck with them,’ said the voice in the back of his head.
He imagined what Esmeralda would’ve done if the MilPol got to Rafa or Aurelio and he almost shuddered. Even in his imagination, that woman was terrifying.
Another macaw flew in the background behind Lupe. He tried to ignore it.
“Ey. Ey. Ey! Me oyen o que, pendejos?!” came a dampened voice next to Jael.
He turned and there was Miguel, on the cracked screen of Jadier’s phone. He looked fucked up with a busted lip and a smattering of bruises and cuts, but hey, at least he was alive and fully conscious.
Yusnavi jolted up from the floor and snatched the phone from Jadier’s hand. “Oy Miguel, you good? Is Angelito okay?” he yelled, ignoring Jadier’s curses.
“Yeah, I’m good.” Miguel smiled nervously and rubbed the back of his head. The camera was shaking like an earthquake was passing by. Clearly, he wasn’t good. “I got hit with a Curse of Disorientation but I’m fine I think, I’m only a little wobbly…”
“Curse of Disorientation?!” Lupe reached past Jael and snatched the phone through the back window the moment the words left Miguel’s mouth. “And you didn’t crash the bike?! Miguel, we need to get you to a healer or something! Curses don’t fuck off until you cleanse them.” Lupe started reaching her hand into the back of the truck to grab her purse. “I think maybe I can get the apothecary guys to try and make you something tomorrow-” she said, her voice quick and panicky as she rummaged through the pockets for her phone.
Miguel cut Lupe off mid-sentence. “Coño, forget about me, Lupita. Angel’s way more fucked up! He got hit by some MilPol’s curse, and it’s way worse than disorientation. He’s fucking haemorrhaging.” His voice was shaking and as he zoomed out, Jael’s stomach dropped. ‘Caralho, that’s a lot of blood.’ he thought, his eyes going up and down his friend’s sticky bloodstained shirt.
Everyone crowded around the phone as best as they could, shouting a thousand questions at once. Miguel was shouting back, screaming a thousand half-baked, confused answers. Jael finally grabbed the phone and yelled, “Shit, what the fuck happened to him?!”
“I don’t know?! I think it was some kind of variant on Curse of Bleeding?!” Miguel’s response came as another panicked, forced shout. His eyes were wide with fear. The screen of the phone shook with his fidgety hands.
But finally, Miguel took a breath. He looked away from the screen, avoiding everyone’s gaze. “I brought him to Doña Concha,” he muttered. “I know she doesn’t like to be bothered by people like us but when she saw me on her doorstep with Angelico like that…”
A silence filled the truck. You could practically hear everyone’s hearts simultaneously skip a beat. Even Yunuen and Esmeralda stopped talking outside, as if they were straining their ears to hear Miguel’s response.
Miguel sighed. “...I’m just glad she agreed to heal him up. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that was the end for Angelito.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “It would’ve all been my fault.”
There was a moment, a single moment where everyone in the truck sighed in relief. Everyone was okay. They’d survived another fight. Everyone was alive tonight. Los Santos de San Caetano would live to see another day.
Miguel’s voice started crackling over the speakers of Jadier’s phone again, still hushed. “Ey, banda, todavía creen que vamos a ir de fiesta con esa morra del 23?”
A resounding “NO.” echoed throughout the truck and across the parking lot.