Heavy iron braziers hang from the vaulted ceiling, cold and unlit. Candles line the center aisle of the church, sitting in pools of wax that spill over broken stones. The shadows move, dancing in the flickering glow of the burning candles. Barrels of what smells an awful lot like gunpowder are stacked in the corner. Racks of rusting armaments line the walls, remnants of the old artillery storage.

“Dearly beloved,” intones a voice as dark and deep as the shadows in the nave. “So nice of you to join us.”

A man steps out of the darkness, his face half-lit by the lantern he holds.

Cristobal.

“What is a wedding without the bride and the groom?” His cold gaze moves from Sebastian and Kiki to settle on me. He smiles. “And a witness.”

Now that we are close to the altar, I can make out what’s on it. A dagger, long and wickedly curved at the end. There is a symbol carved into the hilt. Something cold and heavy settles in my gut.

It is the same symbol that had been carved into Alejandro’s flesh. Into Juana’s—I mean, Sister Catalina’s back.

Cristobal caresses the handle of the dagger resting on the altar. The blade is clean, but I have a sneaking suspicion that sharp edge is for more than just show.

“This is my sacred space,” Cristobal says. There is genuine reverence in this tone, and that is perhaps the scariest part of this all. He lights a brazier to the side of the altar, filling the room with warm light. “This is where I like to do my work.”

“Work?” I try to scoff, but the sound comes out more strangled than incredulous. I am scared out of my goddamn mind. This man is insane. Well and truly insane. “Is that what you call your butchery?”

Cristobal huffs a small, mirthless laugh. Good. If I amuse him, maybe he won’t use that dagger to slit my neck. Bile rises high in my throat. That we are standing in the place where he tortured those girls sends a chill up my spine.

“There is beauty in pain,” he says. “There is ecstasy in death. Agony can be most exquisite when delivered by the right hands.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re one depraved son of a bitch?”

My fear is great, but, as it turns out, my horror is even greater.

The coachmen who ferried us here disappears through one of the shadowed alcoves. I crane my neck to see something, anything, but all I see is darkness.

“What is he doing?” Kiki asks. “Where is he going?”

“Will you shut up?” Sebastian hisses at her through clenched teeth.

“I will not.”