“Leave her alone!” Carmen shouts.
For a moment, I think she’s speaking about Elizabeth. Then I can see the worry in her eyes. The spirit of Santa Muerte must be the last ounce of power she has left in this world.
There’s still one more secret to uncover, and I will get it from Santa Muerte one way or another. I summon every ounce of strength I have. Again, a fire builds inside me. This time, it doesn’t burn me—it warms me. I’m comforted by its familiar heat. My heart glows again, and the blood coursing through my arteries intensifies in brightness.
I pursue Santa Muerte around the corner and down the ambulatory. There are more alcoves—passages that reveal hidden corners and dark rooms. I pause and listen.
From behind me, I hear a scuffling. I whirl around and discover a staircase I missed before. Dimly lit signs indicate it’s the path to a mausoleum.
I slowly descend the stairs into the shadowy bowels of the cathedral. A sloping tiled path lies at the bottom, leading directly to a glowing stained-glass portrait of a saint.
Standing before the glass is Santa Muerte. She waits. As I approach, a set of double doors opens to her left. She floats out of the hall and through the doors. A moment later, I hear the shattering of glass falling to the floor.
This is another trap, but I can’t stop now. I move forward with trepidation. To my right is a mosaic-glass portrait of the Virgin Mary. I catch my reflection in the glass and stop.
Despite the fractured imagery, I can finally see my full demonic form. The now-familiar glowing amber heart beats beneath my white shirt, sending the radiant blood along my bare arms and concentrating in my hands. But it is my face that horrifies me. It’s still my likeness, despite the blistered skin damaged by the holy water. My black hair lies flat on either side of my head. My eyes are the same shade of yellow, but now they burn brightly. In this dark hall, they are all the more menacing.
My jaw is fuller, and when I open my mouth, my fears are realized. Two rows of razor-sharp fangs gnash against each other like those of a vicious animal. I take it all in—the glowing yellow eyes, the malformed joints, the fangs, the molten blood, the burning heart. I am truly demonic.
My fist flies at the stained glass, and it shatters into a thousand pieces. Multicolored shards of the Virgin Mary rain down around me then clatter onto the limestone tiles. I scream. From deep inside, Dudley’s demonic voice bellows through the halls of the dead.
This monster that has killed so many—too many—is more real to me now than it’s ever been. I’m shaken by what I become when the evil takes over, especially now that I’ve seen it for the first time.
In my despair, my control is waning. Then the fire begins to burn again—not by my doing but by his. Now is not the time to worry about the monstrosity I have become but about the friends I still have to save.
I march down the main hall then turn into the mausoleum. It’s a maze of large marble crypts stacked four blocks high. The corridors appear to go on forever, disappearing in the shadows after a few yards. A few sconces are lit, leaving the far reaches of the mausoleum shrouded in darkness.
The doors slam shut behind me. I catch a glimpse of blue robes disappearing around a corner. When I catch up and look around, she’s gone. Before me is another endless row of crypts, intermittently lit. The remains of the shattered glass lie on the floor. As I continue down this new path, the only sound I hear is the footfalls of my boots. I try to walk with lighter steps, but in the silence around me, each footfall is like a thundering stomp.
A blast of cool air hits me on the back of the neck. I look back to find nothing but an empty hall of marble vaults. More glass breaks behind me. When I spin around, I see a corridor disappearing into a black nothingness and the remains of a broken sconce on the floor. She’s leading me deeper into the catacombs and entombing me in shadows.
My eyes shift to another corridor, and I glimpse the robes rounding another corner. I can no longer see to the end of the passage. Each hallway now ends in a deep inky shadow.
After a few more turns, I’m lost. I’m at a dead end, where a handful of crypts and cremation niches form the walls. For a moment, I think I’m losing my mind. The center crypt before me reads Darcy Caine. Below it are two dates—the date of my birth, and today’s date.
Glass crunches behind me. I spin around, ready to strike. A woman screams, and I find Paige crumbling before me. She scrambles backward and cowers against a marble wall. Her eyes widen in fear. I can see her recalling what I did the last time she saw me like this.
I take a step back and drop to a knee. “Paige, it’s me. It’s still me.”
It takes a moment for her to register my voice coming out of this body. She furrows her brow, not sure what to believe. “It can’t be.” She’s ready to run, reluctant to fall for the trap.
So I sing.
“Cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame,
“Wake up the echoes, cheering her name.”
Her eyes widen in recognition. She rises and inspects me, trying to see through the facade and find the real me inside. “How?”
“I’ll tell you later. Do you know where David is?”
She shakes her head. “When I got into the cathedral, I heard the gunshots coming from down here. I ran here then got locked inside.”
“Do you know
