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Stood still…like the waterfall.
“As if we could trust any clock in hell,” Hondo muttered.
I didn’t care where the extra time had come from—it meant I still had three whole days to find the godborns and get to my dad. “And the bad?” I asked.
“Aside from Zane having to get killed,” Hondo said.
Quinn turned in a circle, looking super confused. “This isn’t right.”
“Is that the bad news?” Brooks asked.
“We need to be over there.” Quinn pointed left. “Or is it there?” she muttered. “Yes, definitely over there. Come on.” She took off in the direction of the church.
“Are you lost?” I asked, trailing her. Because that’s what it looked like. And no offense, but I really thought that the person leading me to my death should have at least some sense of direction.
“No, I am not,” Quinn said. “I haven’t been here since last year, and the door can sometimes move, okay? That’s the bad news.”
“Lost is definitely bad,” Brooks muttered to me.
Rosie sniffed the cobblestone road. Her nub tail wagged as she trotted ahead, weaving between a couple of toddlers sharing a churro. One pointed, wide-eyed, while tugging on his mom’s sweater, and I swear it was like he could see Rosie in her hellhound form.
“Hey, can we stop in the churro shop?” Ren asked as we passed. I felt suddenly hungry, too.
“No,” Quinn said over her shoulder. “There’s no time to spare.”
“Distract her. I’ll catch up,” Hondo whispered in my ear before ducking into the panadería.
We turned right at the corner, and as we passed by the cathedral’s iron gates, I glanced up. Gargoyles lurked on the corners of the building, their eyes frozen wide as if they were on the verge of a scream. That’s when I felt a strange tug. At first, I ignored it, but there it was again. Like something…or someone…was calling me inside. Was this Hurakan’s sign?
I slowed my pace. “Do you hear that?” I asked Brooks.
“The really bad party music?”
If Mom were there, she’d drag me inside to light a candle and say a prayer. But she wasn’t there. I know it had been less than a day, but I missed her and felt lousy that I hadn’t said good-bye. I wandered through the gates and told Rosie to stay and keep watch for Hondo so we didn’t lose him. Brooks and Ren followed me while Quinn circled back, shouting some choice words at us.
Inside, the place was empty. A crystal chandelier cast a dim flickering light across the vaulted brick ceilings and stone floors. Yellow flowers were tied to the ends of each pew, probably left over from the wedding.
Brooks’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Zane, what are you doing?”
“Do you want last rites or something?” Ren asked. “You know, before you die?”
Yeah, that was a depressing thought. I stood very still, waiting. Listening to the distant whispers. Where were they coming from? I made my way toward an altar where dozens of votive candles burned in little red glasses under a painted statue of Mary.
Even Quinn kept her voice to a hush, although it was clear she was furious. “Where’s that uncle of yours, and why are we here, Zane? We have to go! Every second you wander around without protection is a second closer to you losing your head for real.”
I signaled for everyone to be quiet. When I got to the altar, the whispers grew louder. That’s when I knew. The voices…they were coming from the tiny flames.
I couldn’t make out the voices or separate one from the next, but every few seconds I’d catch a name, like Ignacio or Charles, or a few words, like make him marry me, or heal her.
“I can hear them,” I said quietly.
“The candles?” Ren asked.
“The prayers,” I said.
“That’s creepy,” Quinn said, crossing her arm
s. “And voyeuristic. And creepy.”
