Dr. Savell turns to me. Despite my best efforts to remain impassive and indifferent, there’s no stopping the tears welling up in my eyes. My stupid ugly yellow eyes.
“She’s afraid of what this means,” Paige continues then turns to Father Ramon. “I know you’ve been trying to help her—we all have. But she’s afraid this means it’s here to stay.”
And there it is—the bitter, cold truth. The dread I’ve only revealed to my best friend. The thing I’m afraid to speak of for fear of making it real.
“That’s why we need to find…” She glances cautiously at Dr. Savell. “This name, no matter what. No matter where.”
Father Ramon steps forward. “I’m sorry, Darcy. I didn’t realize.”
I try to offer a reassuring smile. “I have to find Santa Muerte.”
Father Ramon shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous. You don’t know what this might do to you. There are other ways to find the name.”
I place my hand over my chest. Where my heart is. Where Dudley lives. “I don’t know what this will do to me if I can’t get rid of it soon.”
Dr. Savell rises, breaking the tension in the room. He pulls a bottle of pills off a shelf. “Pain killers,” he says, handing it to me.
“Codeine? Oxycodone?” I wipe my eyes, trying to rein in the emotional moment with humor.
“Tylenol.”
I pocket the pills and mutter, “Thanks.”
“You said you’ve had two recent episodes? How are you managing them?”
“Um, Xanax and Klonopin.”
“Uh-huh,” he mutters. “Prescription?”
I shrug guiltily. “I know a guy.”
He grimaces and pulls out a pen and prescription pad. “Dosage?”
“Half a mill of the Klonopin twice a day. Six for the Xanax to mitigate the episode.”
He scribbles on the pad then tears off two sheets for me. “Congratulations. You’re now my patient.”
When I stand, the pain in my feet reminds me that I’m not entirely healed. Since I dumped my footwear during this evening’s earlier chase, Dr. Savell provides me with a pair of the ugliest shoes I have ever seen—Crocs, men’s size ten to accommodate the bandages wrapped around my feet. With our prior outfits either covered in blood or full of bullet holes, Paige and I are stuck wearing the nurse scrubs. And since I’m freezing, Dr. Savell digs up an old hoodie with the logo of a men’s erectile-dysfunction medication printed on the breast—a gift from a pharmaceutical rep.
Now I remember why I’ve heard of Hollydale Homes. The local news featured this facility as it was covering a report on the surge of STDs in nursing homes. This city is so weird.
Dr. Savell escorts us through the halls of Hollydale. The building is Spanish Colonial, with various apartments and activity rooms throughout. When we walk outside, I get a sense of its large scale. The complex is perched on the side of the main hill that rises above Silver Lake.
“Now that you’re my patient,” Dr. Savell says before we leave, “if you need anything, please call me.” He pulls out a business card and hands it to me. When I try to take it, he holds fast. “I mean it. I don’t care if it’s medical, paranormal, both, or neither. You call me.”
I take the card, feeling admonished but also relieved to have someone else in my corner. When Dr. Savell leaves, Father Ramon turns to us and takes a moment to look at my wounded arm in its sling.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you tell me about the demon?”
“You’ve already done so much for me,” I say. “I didn’t want you to worry about me.”
“I’m worried about you even more now.” He chuckles in mild exasperation. “I don’t want you working on this case for Carmen anymore or chasing after Santa Muerte. I want you to promise me.”
I don’t say anything.
“Promise me, Darcy. Promise me this, and I promise you that we will find this demon’s name.” He locks me in his gaze, and I can’t look away.
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
“You promise?”
“Yes,” I say impatiently. “I promise.”
“Okay. Now, remember, I’m a priest. A promise to me is a promise to God.”
“I know.”
Father Ramon seems satisfied. He offers us a ride home, but we decline. Paige pulls out her phone and calls for a rideshare. We say goodbye to Father Ramon, and I make another promise to visit him soon so we can resume the search for Dudley’s true name.
As we watch him drive away, Paige asks me, “Did you just lie to a priest?”
“Yep.”
“You are so going to hell,” she says then winces in regret. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that literally.”
On any other occasion, I might actually take that personally, but not tonight. I have other things on my mind. As our rideshare pulls up in a Ford Escape, I know we’ve already wasted too much time tonight. The person who kidnapped Elizabeth and is working with Santa Muerte is the same person who tried to kill me tonight. With my good arm, I drag Paige inside the car.
“Hey!” she says. “What’s the hurry?”
We slide into the back seat, and I tell our driver we have a destination change.
“Where to?” our driver, Ted, asks.
“Pasadena.” I turn to Paige. “We’re going to see Carmen.”
Chapter 23
____◊____
TED DRIVES US THROUGH the late-night streets of LA. The fog has rolled in, so the city lights are diffused in a soft glow as we drive along Los Feliz Boulevard.
“Why are we going to see Carmen?” Paige asks, confused. “And why in the middle of the night?”
Struggling against the pain of my shoulder, I pull out my phone then dial and place a call.
“You remember what David said,” Paige says. “She’s dangerous. The last thing we need to do is go back there.”
The phone rings then ultimately goes to voicemail. “She’s not answering,” I say, hanging up. “Shit.”
“Darcy! What’s going on?”
“I know who kidnapped Elizabeth.”
Ted finally looks in his rearview mirror.
“What? Who?” Paige asks.
“The same person who tried to kill us tonight. Leona.”
Ted casts another glance our way.
“That was Leona?”
