Opening her eyes, she looked over her shoulder to the long, dark hallway where she saw only blackness between the thin pools of light cast by the low-lit sconces. Was the demon lurking there? Were his red eyes hidden in the murky umbra? Was he waiting, teeth glistening?

Her heart was beating a thousand times a minute, sweat sliding down her face. She swiped it aside with the sleeve of her habit and, telling herself that she couldn’t let fear paralyze her, continued quickly on, her feet barely skimming the floor as she finally reached the back door to Sister Charity’s office, which she knew was always unlocked.

Biting her lip, she twisted the handle, pushed on the panels, and stepped over the threshold.

She shut the door behind her with a soft click and made her way to the mother superior’s desk.

In the dark, she stubbed her toe on the sharp corner of a bookcase.

“Ssss.” She sucked in her breath and bit back the urge to cry out.

She couldn’t let anyone at the convent know what she was up to.

Never.

Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the darkness and the moonlit shadows in the room where the sparse furniture was cast in shades of gray. She crossed stealthily to the desk, then waited, forcing her breath to slow, her heart to calm.

She listened as she reached for the phone.

Was that a footstep in the hallway?

Her hand froze over the receiver, hovering in the still air.

No . . . nothing.

Quit freaking yourself out! Just do what you have to do!

Without making the slightest noise, she plucked the receiver from its cradle and, while the dial tone buzzed its loud, flat sound into her ear, dialed the number she’d memorized:

Cruz Montoya’s cell.

Her heart was hammering, tiny prayers going through her mind as the phone rang somewhere far away.

Hail Mary, full of grace . . .

Ring!

The Lord is with thee . . .

Ring!

Blessed are thou—

“Cruz Montoya.” His voice was gruff, thick with sleep.

Lucia’s knees went weak, and she braced herself on the edge of the desk. Her heart pounded crazily in her ears.

This was a mistake!

“Hello?” he said, angry now. “Hello! Oh, for the love of—”

“It’s Lucia,” she whispered quickly, trying to pull herself together. Her voice sounded too loud. Surely someone would hear her.

“Lucia?” he repeated.

“Yes! Can you meet me?”

“What?”

“I said—”

“I know what you said, but now?” He sounded less groggy, as if he was finally awake.

“In about half an hour.”

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Of course. But I need to see you. It’s urgent.”

A pause. “So you changed your mind about never wanting to see me again, is that it?”

She’d forgotten just how maddening he could be.

“Please, Cruz. I need your help.”