The owl swoops down just above us, delivering a screech cry. It flaps its wings and disappears down the hall. Santa Muerte jerks suddenly.
“No!” she cries.
I’m confused, but when her body tugs again, I realize what is happening. She slips off me as if pulled by an invisible force. Her hands scrape on the marble tile, trying to get back to me. She snarls, trying desperately to claw at me. Then, with a final jerk, she’s pulled into the hall and dragged headfirst.
Instinctively, I lunge for her. She knows my demon’s name, and I’m not letting go of her that easily. My hand grasps at the hem of her robe, and as she moves, I go with her. I use both hands to hold her robe as we slide through hallway. She tries to swipe me away with her claws, but in her straightened position, she can’t reach.
The atrium looms up ahead. The only thing between us and a seven-story fall is a sheet of tempered glass with a steel top rail. Shit.
I contort my body and dig the heels of my boots into the ground. I try to gain traction, but it’s not working. As we near the glass, Santa Muerte rises off the ground to clear the rail. The owl flaps its wings as it maneuvers past the hanging art installation. The bird is pulling her—guiding her.
Santa Muerte flies over the rail. My boots slam into the glass, and I literally pray it doesn’t shatter. My body crumples against the divider, and a spiderweb of fractures spreads across the pane, but it holds. The inertia of her flying body rips her from my grasp.
“No!” I yell.
I watch as Santa Muerte sails across the open expanse of the atrium. She doesn’t fall—she glides along an invisible horizontal trajectory. The owl circles back toward me, but Santa Muerte keeps sailing to the far wall. She crashes through a window and disappears into the night. Broken glass rains to the ground eighty feet below.
The owl continues its dive toward me, and just when I think it’s going to attack, it swerves. With a final screech, it flies back across the expanse of the library and escapes through the broken window. Only now do I notice red-and-blue flashing lights bleeding through the glass and into the atrium. The police. If they’re not already inside, they will be in moments.
That’s why Santa Muerte was pulled away. I dig into my pocket and pull out a pill box—Xanax. Shit. Lupe’s blood is on my hands. I chomp down on a handful of pills—maybe too many, but with the police just moments away, I can’t risk Dudley rampaging through the library.
“Cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame,
“Wake up the echoes, cheering her name.”
I’m hoping my singing will keep Dudley at bay. I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Paige: SOS. Library. Now!
I keep singing.
“Send a volley cheer on high,
“Shake down the thunder from the sky!”
So far so good—no Dudley.
Voices shout from downstairs. I can hear them sweeping the area. I close my eyes and do my best to remain calm. Sometimes I can keep my cool and suppress the demon. I hope this is one of those times.
Footsteps charge up the escalators. Flashlight beams sweep across the ceiling as they get closer. I look at my smartwatch. My heart rate is at one hundred eighty beats per minute.
One eighty-six. One eighty-seven…
I stay still and take deep breaths. I think happy thoughts and go to my happy place. I think of kittens and ice cream sundaes and a warm fireplace and…
One eighty-eight. One eighty-nine…
The voices are near the top of the escalator. My body goes limp. The Xanax is already slipping into my bloodstream. My mouth feels numb. There’s nothing else I can do. I glance down at my watch.
One eighty-nine BPM, hanging steady.
One eighty-eight.
One eighty-five…
Bright lights blind me as barrage of boot steps approach. “Freeze!” a voice shouts from behind the flashlights. “Hands in the air.”
My hands slowly rise. I’m serene. I’m tranquil. I’m tranquilized. Dudley isn’t coming.
Chapter 10
____◊____
IT’S RAINING. A LOS ANGELES Police Department base camp is set up on Fifth Street, with pop-up canopies clustered together to shield the officers and stations from the weather. There’s even a tent over my Mini, where technicians in white Tyvek coveralls scramble to recover any possible evidence.
Handcuffed, I sit on the rear bumper of an ambulance while a paramedic checks me for injuries. When he’s done, a forensics technician collects samples from my fingers, nails, skin, hair, and clothes. Those samples include Lupe’s blood. I am officially suspect number one.
Down the street, a barricade blocks satellite news vans from getting near the library as they prepare for the eleven-o’clock news cycle. Paige arrives, drenched from the rain, and is allowed to wait with me at the ambulance while two uniformed officers hover above us. I’m not sure how Paige made it past the barricade—whether it was through her good looks, sheer persistence, or a criminal lie—but I’m glad she’s here.
She stays by my side even once the technician is done, but we don’t dare discuss what has transpired tonight. Not with the officers around. In the silence, my mind races with all the new information.
Santa Muerte is real.
Santa Muerte murdered Lupe.
Santa Muerte knows my demon’s name.
This changes everything. My search for Elizabeth has led me down a path I didn’t expect—a path that may finally rid me of this demon. I need to figure out why Elizabeth was taken so I can find her. If I find her, I find Santa Muerte. Then I need to force Santa Muerte to give up the name. I have no idea how I’m going to do any of those things.
An older uniformed police officer hurries from the library and comes toward me, ducking under the canopy. “Ms. Caine? I’m Sergeant Ortiz. The detectives would like to speak to you now.”
It’s time. I stand, and Paige rises with me. The
