“What happened next?” she asks.
“I woke up, and Bennet and I were on the roof. During my possession, I’d dragged him out up there. I was holding on to our chimney with one hand, and the other was wrapped around Bennet’s neck. I was holding him over the edge—thirty feet in the air. We were both so confused in that split second—he at seeing me regain control, I at seeing him like that. I didn’t know what was happening. It was like I’d just woken up from a dream. But when I woke, I lost the demon’s power. I lost the strength to hold him up. And I let go.”
Paige lets out a gasp.
“Bennet reached out for me. I tried to reach out for him, but it was too late. He was already falling.” I rub my arm across my eyes, those stupid tears returning. “And he fell right on that stupid ugly wrought-iron fence.”
I remember his face like it was yesterday—the horror when he was falling and looking at me. That was the last time I saw my brother alive. If only I could have held on. If only I never let go.
“So the demon receded into me on purpose, just for a moment, so I could see my brother die.”
Paige takes a moment to digest this new information about me. I wait, not sure how she’s going to react. Honestly, I’m not sure if she’ll judge me or fear me.
“I’m so sorry,” she says with sincerity.
“I let him go, Paige. He slipped right through my hands.”
* * *
The servers at Canter’s are rude, and the food is usually stale, which perfectly epitomizes the Los Angeles experience and explains why the restaurant has been around for ninety years. It’s basically a home for all of Los Angeles’s orphans—for people like Paige and me. It’s also the perfect place to decompress after a shit night like tonight and one of the few places open at four in the morning.
The waitress pours us each some coffee without our asking. I order a spinach scramble, no sides. Paige orders a Denver omelet with a side of bacon, challah French toast, and half a grapefruit. Paige doesn’t say anything after the waitress leaves. Instead, she waits for me to indicate that I’m ready to speak.
“David is investigating the murder,” I say.
“Oh?” Her voice rises an octave and stretches the one word into two syllables.
I can already tell what she’s thinking, but I’m eager to move past it. “It puts an added spotlight on me, so I have to be careful.”
“What are we going to do next?”
We. I enlisted Paige’s help in this case for the tech side. When I needed bait to lure Sebastian out, I pulled her in deeper. But after what I saw tonight, and after what happened to Lupe, I’m reluctant to keep her involved.
“I don’t want you to be any part of this,” I tell her. “It’s too dangerous.”
“All the more reason why you need someone by your side.”
“This isn’t a normal missing-girl case anymore. I saw things last night that I have never seen before. Santa Muerte is real. And she’s trying to kill me.”
“You need protection,” Paige says.
“You can’t protect me from her.”
“Well, we’re going to find out.”
I know there’s no stopping Paige when she decides she’s going to do something. And I’m acutely aware of how stubborn I can be. When the food arrives, we eat in silence—an immovable object and an unstoppable force having a nice quiet breakfast at five in the morning.
My phone rings, and it’s a number I don’t recognize. Curious who would be calling me at five in the morning, I answer. “Hello?”
“Hello,” an automated voice responds. “This is City Librarian Charles Lynton. Due to the tragic events last night, the Los Angeles Central Library will be closed until further notice. There is no need to report to your normal shift until otherwise contacted by your supervisor…”
I hang up, not interested in hearing the rest of the call. Paige looks at me, waiting. “Robocall” I say. “I don’t have to go to work today.”
She nods then digs back into her grapefruit. We continue to eat in silence until Paige says, “Here’s what I think. If Santa Muerte came to kill you tonight, then Santa Muerte is trying to stop you from finding Elizabeth.”
I’ve already reached that conclusion, but I play along. “Why?”
She shrugs. “I mean, if you find her, then you’ll discover who kidnapped her. Right?”
“Only in one particular scenario.”
Paige sighs. I can see the wheels turning in her head.
“Because,” I say, now using Paige as a sounding board, “Elizabeth must still be alive. Some person—or persons—kidnapped Elizabeth. And the only reason the person doesn’t want me even close to finding Elizabeth is because she’s alive. If she were dead, they could dump the body—who cares if I find her? But if she’s alive, they need her alive for some reason.” My mind shifts back to everything I know so far. “Sebastian said an old woman was involved. Fiona thinks it could be a lechuza—”
I stop cold.
Paige examines my face. “What is it?”
“The owl,” I say. “Fiona said the lechuza…” I trail off and pull out my phone. I quickly dig through the bookmarks I made when I did my research on the Santa Muerte cult and spirit.
“What?” Paige asks more anxiously. I find what I was looking for and hand my phone to Paige. She grabs my phone and starts reading out loud. “According to Mexican folklore, the lechuza is an old witch—or bruja—who sold her soul to the devil in exchange for magical powers. Among her powers is the ability to shape-shift…” She looks up at me.
“Keep reading,” I tell her.
“As a result, she can turn herself into a large
