“What do you think?” Paige asks, looking back at the display.
I follow her gaze. My curiosity is piqued. “There could be something to this.”
I’m talking not just about Santa Muerte but about my own personal situation as well. Maybe Dudley’s identity has roots in Aztec culture. Maybe that’s how and why Santa Muerte recognized the demon in me. Maybe this case is leading me down a path for a reason.
I shudder at the thought of having to endure yet another unsuccessful exorcism. I cannot describe how painful an exorcism attempt is. It’s a searing, tearing agony that courses through every inch of my body, like I’m peeling all my skin off then taking a bath in isopropyl alcohol… that’s been lit on fire.
As we continue our stroll through the museum, I learn more and more about the Aztecs. They did not believe their many gods were evil. They were strict and demanding gods, yes, but not evil. After the conquest by Spain, however, many priests would characterize some of those earlier gods as actual demons.
The final relic we encounter is a replica of the Aztec sun stone, carved into a circular rock face. It’s twelve feet wide, with ornate symbols in concentric rings. In the center is an angry god holding a human heart in each of his hands. Human sacrifice was part of their culture, but the act of removing the human heart reminds me of Santa Muerte—and of Lupe. Poor Lupe.
Ramon walks Paige and me out and offers to drive us to my car. I’m quiet, hoping he’ll pick up on the fact that there’s something I want to discuss. As we approach his white Prius, I ask Paige to give us a moment. She knows what I’m about to ask, so she goes for a short walk to give us space.
I take a seat in the passenger side of his car. We’re alone in the concrete parking structure south of Sunset Boulevard. I can hear the din of traffic racing past in spurts.
“What is it?” he asks.
It’s difficult to spit out. Finally I say, “I need reconciliation.”
Ramon is taken aback. “You want to confess? You’ve never wanted to confess before. What happened?”
I take a deep breath, then I start talking. I tell him about the case, about Carmen and her drug empire, about Lupe’s murder, and about Santa Muerte.
* * *
Ramon sinks into the driver’s seat, trying to absorb everything I’ve just told him. He blesses himself, and I struggle to contain my internal revulsion at this act. Dudley tends to cause some minor discomfort whenever I’m near Father Ramon, which I’ve learned to endure. But when he says or does things—whether out of instinct or habit—that are innately religious, Dudley can cause serious pain.
“I never should have involved you in this case,” he says. “I didn’t realize where it would lead. So much darkness and evil.”
“Well,” I begin, reluctant to mention why I’m sharing this with him. “I haven’t gotten to the worst part yet.”
His face falls. “What’s worse than that?”
Then I tell him about the meth lab. About how I found Sebastian. What they tried to do to me. And what I did to them.
I can tell Ramon is struggling to find the words to talk with me. He’s usually forthright, but this time he is deliberate. “You have sinned, Darcy.”
“It wasn’t me,” I say, shaking my head. “It was the demon.”
Ramon shakes his head. “I’m not so sure.”
I’m taken aback. “You think I wanted to kill them?”
“This entity inside you doesn’t merely emerge and cause destruction then retreat. This demon wants you dead so it can bring you back to hell with it. Why would it emerge to save you from getting killed?”
I’ll be honest—I’ve asked myself this question before. I’ve never come up with an answer I liked. Maybe I’m about to find out why.
Ramon continues. “The demon does not have power over your body whenever it wants. It only appears at times when you lose control of your inhibitions—when you let your emotions get the best of you.”
He takes a deep breath. “This demon didn’t use your body to kill those people. You willingly harnessed the demon’s power.”
I struggle with this notion. I don’t want to admit I committed a murder. Then again, why else would I feel such guilt?
“How do I control this demon?” I ask.
“You can’t. The question is, how do you control yourself?”
I am the first person to admit I’m my own worst enemy. Self-discipline is not exactly one of my shining attributes. I think about the consequences of what I’ve done. Dudley has given me the power to commit a sin, one that could damn me to hell. Even if I exorcise him from my body, I’m now guilty of a mortal sin—murder. And the punishment for that is damnation… right?
For now, there’s only one thing I can do. I look at Ramon. “I need to make my confession.”
His eyes widen in shock. “Are you sure? You’re asking me to bless you. You remember what this feels like.”
I nod. He’s done it once before. Dudley does not like to be blessed, and he lets me know in the most excruciating way possible.
He starts his car, and we drive out to the entrance to pick up Paige. I direct Father Ramon to an old fire road in the hills where we’ll have some isolation. We make our way as far as you can get from civilization and still be within the Greater Los Angeles Area. Once we park, I can tell Paige is worried. She came all this way to protect me, and here I am, putting myself through another ordeal.
I turn from the front seat and look at her in the back. “I need you to go for a walk.”
She shakes her head, confused but resolved. “No. I’m staying.” There’s a reason why
