For a moment, his image ripples like a reflection on the surface of water, then it regains its form. His mouth moves to utter a silent prayer in a voice I will never hear again. My heart breaks a second time when I accept that Father Ramon is dead.
I stumble backward and to the ground. My body is drained, and I wilt to the hard stone floor. The tears return. My hands are no longer glowing, but my skin still reddens from the pain of being in the church. I don’t care. I sit there, waiting for the pain I deserve.
I watch as Father Ramon’s ghost continues to pray. Then he stops, confused. Nothing is happening to Elizabeth. He looks at me, lost. His mouth asks a silent question. Name?
He needs the spirit’s true name. That’s the only way to exorcise the entity. Santa Muerte is not her true name—it’s just the title she’s been given.
But I know her true name. I’ve heard it before. I remember it. I speak each syllable slowly, just like he taught me. “Meek-tay-kah-see-wah-tl.”
Mictecacihuatl. Lady of Death. Ruler of the Underworld.
Silently, Father Ramon speaks the name and finishes his prayer. A wisp of light rises from Elizabeth’s body. It forms into the image of Santa Muerte and hovers. The light transforms, and the robes fall from her body to reveal a seminude woman. Her skin is covered in black and white paint, and she wears only a feathery skirt and a gold-plated bib necklace that covers her breasts. On her head is an enormous crown of feathers.
Mictecacihuatl stares back at me through dead black eyes. Her lips curl into a snarl, and she lunges. Father Ramon inaudibly cries out, and before Mictecacihuatl reaches me, her body vaporizes and disappears into a wisp of smoke.
Father Ramon smiles at me. Then, slowly, he fades away into nothing. I try to yell for him, but I make no sound. My voice is hoarse, unable to even moan.
I vomit what’s left in my stomach, choking on my own bile. The pain is inside me now. The church has regained its dominion over me and is rejecting me like a bad organ. The warm glow from my arteries diminishes. My joints contract, popping back into their sockets. Blisters form on my skin.
Paige’s voice cries above me, “We need to get you out of here!”
Elizabeth coughs. Her body convulses on the altar as she rolls to her side. Her eyes meet mine.
Paige hoists up my dead weight. “Help me!”
Another set of hands grabs me—David’s. He lifts my limp body into his arms. I look up at him.
The fear and revulsion he had before are gone. Now he’s concerned and confused, probably wondering what happened to me and why I can’t stay in here.
“Hurry!” Paige pushes him down the corridor as my head dangles past his arms. She lifts the weakened Elizabeth off the table then follows us as David leads the way out.
Chapter 38
____◊____
A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINES in one eye then the other. Once the light is extinguished, I’m blinded until my pupils readjust to the night.
“I think you’re going to live,” Dr. Savell says.
Once again, I find myself sitting on the hood of David’s blue Charger. It’s still parked across the street from the Cathedral, where a small army of LAPD, city officials, paramedics, and clergymen are cleaning up the mess. I’m wrapped in several space blankets, including one draped over my head like a hood. Paige sits behind me, cradling me in her arms so I can rest against her body. She’s my human recliner.
Dr. Savell puts the penlight back into his case, which sits next to me. “Thanks, Doc,” I say. “And thanks for coming.”
As soon as we made it out of the Cathedral, Dr. Savell was Paige’s first call. She knew the paramedics wouldn’t be able to do anything for me, and she did her best to keep them at bay while he rushed to be here. Luckily, David backed her up.
Once he arrived, Dr. Savell took responsibility for me and did what he could. Four injections later, I’m feeling better, but I’m still in bad condition. My arms and legs are wrapped in gauze, which covers the puncture wounds of the tiny feathers thrown by Carmen and the blisters from my overextended visit to hallowed ground. A gaping wound from Santa Muerte’s claw scars my chest between my breasts—also covered by gauze. Every breath is a struggle from the internal damage.
But I can feel myself healing, albeit slowly. I’m no longer bleeding, and all the wounds have closed. What once looked like third-degree burns on my face now seem like second-degree burns. I stay under my tinfoil covers, trying to remain inconspicuous while Dr. Savell ensures me that I am indeed going to live.
Paige and I watch as a commotion forms at ground zero around the cathedral. The organized chaos opens a lane as a gurney is carried down the steps. From this distance, I can see that it’s Carmen in that gurney. They must have finally extricated her from my impalement. She’s strapped into the cart, and her wrists are bandaged and cuffed.
She’s awake and soon sees me across the street. She smiles her wicked smile, and I can tell she’s already plotting her escape and revenge. I worry that I should have killed her when I had the chance. Now that she’s free of the magical feathers I used to pin her down, I can’t imagine there’s a jail cell in the state that can contain her.
The gurney is hoisted into the back of an ambulance. A tall paramedic appears at the cargo doors and closes one. Then he turns to look directly at me. It’s Jack Skellington.
Or… what’s his name? Percival.
Percival nods at me in a manner that ominously communicates that he’s going to take care of things. Then he shuts
