For a moment, I’m worried I fractured my back. But there is no pain, and I am able to pull my knees under me. Blood seeps from the damaged and burnt skin on my hands. Each drop is like lava, forming tiny flaming candles on the floor.
Santa Muerte leaps over the altar and lunges at me, mouth open to bite. She pins me backward against the floor, and I wrap my hands around her neck to stop her gnashing teeth.
When her claws dig into my chest, I realize my mistake. My sternum cracks as her fingers break through, and the air seeps from my lungs. She hovers above me, forcing the weight of her body into me.
Her bony claw scratches at my heart, struggling to get a hold. I try my best to push her away. Her nails sink deeper. The light from my hands dims. I dim. Everything dims. I howl in pain, my voice echoing through the mausoleum. If I don’t fight back at this moment, I’ll be dead.
Footsteps echo down the hall, followed by a voicing shouting, “Let her go!” From my peripheral vision, I can see David above us with Paige next to him. His gun is pointed at the spirit.
Santa Muerte lifts her horrific face to him, and it’s probably the first time he’s seen it, because he shouts, “Jesus!”
“Don’t shoot her!” Paige warns him—not that bullets will do anything, as she and I know.
Santa Muerte ignores them and focuses on me. Her skeletal face smiles wickedly. “They’re next,” she spits.
No, they’re not.
My heart beats faster and harder. I fight against her crushing claws. My hands brighten in intensity as the blood flows again. My fingers wrap around her arm, my talons digging into her flesh. Slowly, I pull her fingers out of my chest. I summon Dudley’s strength—all of it—and push her back.
Wind blows like a cyclone around us, the result of our combined powers. Through the vortex, I can hear David’s confused voice as he continues to swear. I can see Paige trying to pull him away.
Santa Muerte’s fingers slip from inside me. She cannot overpower Dudley. She cannot overpower us.
I rise to my feet, forcing her onto the altar. We are in the eye of my storm, and there’s nowhere for her to go. She struggles to escape, but the fight is over. I loom above her, in control of my body and hers.
I remove one hand and dig into my pocket. My fist rises above her face, holding the veil from Ammon. I let it fall.
By its own accord, the veil unravels and spreads itself wide. Santa Muerte freezes, staring at the veil. For a moment, the fabric floats above her face. Then it drops suddenly. It wraps itself around her head and across her face then slowly constricts. Through its translucent fabric, I can see Santa Muerte struggling.
For a moment, the spirit disappears. In its place is Elizabeth. When she sees my demonic face, she recoils. “No!” she shouts through the ever-tightening fabric. “Please!”
“What’s my name?” I scream.
The body writhes beneath me, trying to escape. The wind continues to whirl around us, whipping her loose clothes like flags in a hurricane. Santa Muerte’s visage returns, and she roars in my face.
“What’s my name?”
Elizabeth returns. “Help me!”
“Tell me my name!”
She’s confused. Her eyes search for an answer. “I don’t know!” she cries.
This isn’t supposed to happen. The veil is supposed to make her tell the truth. Except… she doesn’t know. Santa Muerte does.
The spirit returns, this time noticeably weaker. Yes!
“The name!” I command. “Say it!”
Santa Muerte begins to speak, as commanded. “Your… name… is…” Then she’s gone, and Elizabeth’s face returns.
No!
Elizabeth is also weaker and struggling to breathe. The veil is too tight now. Her life force is waning, and I have only moments left.
“Give! Me! The! Name!” I shout. Santa Muerte knows the answer, and she can’t hide forever. I need this key. I need this thing out of me. I need this hell to be over. “Come back! I command it!” Please.
Elizabeth gasps for breath.
Paige breaks through the cyclone that surrounds us and hurries by my side. “Darcy! You have to stop!” she cries above the wind. “You’re killing her!” David is behind her, trying to make sense of what is happening before him.
Paige is panicking, but I am in control. I am in control. “The name!” I plead.
Elizabeth’s eyes flutter.
“Stop!” Paige shouts, her voice barely piercing the howling air as it intensifies.
Santa Muerte returns and snarls at me in defiance.
“The name!” I demand.
Elizabeth returns, unconscious.
“Darcy, stop!” Paige repeats. Her voice is barely a whisper in a tornado. “Think about Ben…” Her voice trails off, overcome by the cacophony around us. I look up to tell her to back off.
Instead, I see Father Ramon. His bloodstained robes whip in the wind. Ramon shouts above the wind, but I can’t hear him. He holds onto his stomach, grimacing. His lips move, and I know what he’s saying: Please. Stop.
I’m momentarily relieved to see him alive. I look back at Elizabeth, who is possessed by a force she doesn’t understand. That poor girl unknowingly killed someone she loves.
I see myself in her. “I’m sorry,” I say, pulling away the veil. It delicately slips off her face, releasing its hold the instant I tug on it. The key to my salvation now dangles from my hand like an ordinary piece of fabric.
The wind dies down, and Elizabeth lies still. Her face fluctuates between her own and Santa Muerte’s. Back and forth it goes, neither force strong enough to maintain control.
Father Ramon approaches Elizabeth’s still body and lays one hand on her face while another makes the sign of the cross. My eyes stay fixed on him, watching him prepare for the exorcism that will save Elizabeth and banish Santa Muerte.
A tinge of jealousy courses through me. I can’t help it. I want this to be over.
As he lays his hands on Elizabeth, Paige circles around the altar to
