The image of Leona dying resonates in my memory. I think about that look of shock. She probably knew it was her daughter in those final moments. I wonder if Elizabeth knew.
Did Santa Muerte release its hold long enough for Elizabeth’s eyes see her mother’s heart in her hands? Was Santa Muerte as sadistic as Dudley was when I killed Bennet?
“As poetic as when your mother was killed by her own magic?” I say, looking at her cape.
This time, she doesn’t hesitate to attack. She sweeps her cape across her body. Dozens of feathers slip from the cape and fly at me—too many for me to dodge. I twist my body and raise my arm to block my face.
Stinging spikes pelt my forearms, torso, and legs. The force of the strike knocks me back, and I tumble across the hard floor for twenty feet before coming to a stop. I gingerly look at the damage on my arms and body. A dozen golden feathers are imbedded in me.
Slowly, I rise to my feet. It’s not Dudley’s strength but my own that’s keeping me standing. Grimacing, I swipe the feathers off me. Metallic bloodstained darts clatter to the stone floor.
Carmen smiles at me and shakes her head. “I’m so glad you could join us. Tonight I can finish my plan. Goodbye, Darcy.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention—something is behind me. I whirl around and come face-to-face with Santa Muerte. I grab her bony wrist before she’s able to plunge it into my chest. Her skeletal face is inches from mine. My other hand grips her neck to stop her from biting.
We struggle. I can sense her claw searching for my heart, which continues to glow within my chest, giving her an easy target. Her strength pushes forward, and her sharp nails scratch away at my shirt and into my skin. Warm blood drips down my chest. Her strength is overwhelming.
I’m weakening and close my eyes.
In the darkness, I can hear Santa Muerte whisper, “Muere.”
In my mind, I can hear the echo of Fiona’s words. You can control it.
I think about Father Ramon dying in front of me. I wonder where David is and if he’s safe. I wonder if Paige is alive.
I won’t believe they’re dead. They’re alive. They have to be. And the only way to keep them alive is to stop Carmen and Santa Muerte.
I am in control. I focus on her claw in my hand. My grip glows brighter then hotter. Santa Muerte’s skin begins to smoke from our contact. She’s confused.
The pain becomes too much for her. She jerks her arm away from me and holds her skeletal hand up. It’s on fire.
The spirit releases an unearthly wail that echoes through the cathedral. She floats away from me and maintains her distance. I look at my hands—they smolder and burn, but I am not in pain. Not anymore.
I turn back to Carmen, ready to end her. I expect her to be surprised by the shift in momentum, but instead, she smiles. She steps aside, revealing a basin behind her—a large cross-shaped baptistery. I realize too late what that means.
With a sweep of her arm, she summons a column of water from the basin. It flies toward me, and a deluge of holy water blasts me. I’m knocked off my feet and land with a thud on the hard limestone. The water stings like a cold burn, and the pain returns. It douses the fire inside me, and the radiating blood in my veins dims.
I struggle to my feet, not ready to give up. Steam rises from my body and clothes. I run then leap toward her. My feet barely touch the ground as I tackle her and wrap my hands around her body.
She’s strong, like me. She whips me around and uses my inertia to push me past her. I keep hold of her as we go flying.
We collapse in the baptistery with a splash. I’m burning as I find myself submerged in an entire pool of holy water. I struggle to resurface, but Carmen pushes me down.
From her neck hangs the Saint Benedict Medal. Its holy energy forces me to the bottom of the basin, preventing me from rising. I swallow water, drowning.
With one hand, I grab the medal, and it sears my palm. Despite the pain, I rip the medallion from her neck and fling it out of the water. I’m almost out of air.
The basin boils as the temperature rises around our bodies. Carmen tries to escape, but I keep hold of her and pull her under with me. Her screams bubble under the surface as the heat from the water scalds her.
Her robe flaps like metal wings, yanking her out of the water and me with her. We sail into the air, arcing across the cathedral. A trail of smoke and steam follows in our wake. Then we crash to the floor and slide across the stone tile, and her metallic cape shatters into pieces.
I look up and see that Carmen is barely conscious. Her skin is blistered, like mine. Unlike me, she’s not used to the pain. I need to stop her but am not sure how.
Then I remember Paige. I crawl across the floor with supernatural speed. My distorted joints propel me in a grotesque gait toward my target. I grasp a feather from the floor and pounce on Carmen then bring it down with all my strength. The shaft pierces her flesh and pins her right wrist to the stone tile. She awakens, and screams. I snatch another feather and stab it through her left wrist. She screams again and struggles to rise. Her body writhes and contorts, but like Melchora when Paige attacked her, she’s defenseless against her own magic. She tries to pull her arms free, but the wide metallic vanes keep her wrists pinned to the floor.
My attention turns to Santa
