She knew it . . . brokenly, her thoughts random.

But one question cut through her brain like a hot knife through butter.

Would the gates of heaven be open to her?

Or, as she feared, would she be cast into the very bowels of hell for all eternity?

Psssst!

Lucia’s eyes flew open.

No! Not again!

Not before she could leave . . .

Her heart clamored, and despite the cool, slight breeze wafting softly through her open window, she was sweating, her scalp wet from perspiration. She clutched the sheet and thin blanket covering her body and prayed she was mistaken, that she hadn’t heard the unearthly voice, the rasp of a demon against her ear.

“Please, Father,” she whispered, her body so tense she could hardly draw a breath. In her mind’s eye, she saw the image of an angel, arms uplifted as if reaching for heaven. “Not another . . .”

But she knew in the very primal part of her, the thin slice of her brain where fear and hope collided, that she was being forced again into a new and dark horror.

The midnight bells were tolling, soft and plaintive in the night.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

With a feeling of panic, she rolled to the side of the bed, grabbed a habit from her closet, then tossed it over her head. The second the skirt hit the floor and her arms were through the sleeves, she snagged her rosary off the bedpost with trembling fingers and, praying softly, followed the preordained path.

She could almost smell the evil that lingered, the scent of demon spoor as repugnant as it was earthy and seductive, as she hurried out the door of her room and down the dark tunnel of a hallway to the stairs.

She didn’t expect to meet anyone, but as she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with Sister Edwina. “Oh!” Lucia said, clutching her chest. “What’re you doing up?” The communal restroom and showers were in the opposite direction.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Edwina said. “And you?”

“Come with me. It’s too hard to explain.” She tugged on the other nun’s habit and kept moving, not wanting to think too hard, not daring to try and confide in Edwina. “I . . . I think something’s wrong.”

“You think?” Edwina repeated skeptically. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Come on.” Down the stairs she flew, without a glance behind her. “Hurry!” The slap of the taller nun’s footsteps on the stairs told her that Sister Edwina was following. Vaguely she wondered why Edwina, fully dressed in her black habit and veil, was wandering through the hallways, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Nor did she want to consider all the possible reasons.

“Where are we going?” Edwina demanded.

“I’m . . . I’m not sure.”

“Wait a second. You don’t know what you heard, where you’re going but—”