Matt suddenly felt faint with shock. His vision blurred and his heart pounded. He twisted his head away from the bodyguard's arm and vomited.

"What the-?" The man gave a startled shout followed by a string of curses. "Crikey! Look at what he did to my suit!"

Matt no longer bothered about the thorn in his foot. Far worse problems overwhelmed him. His stomach felt like he'd swallowed a barrel cactus. Something was wrong with his eyes, too. The hospital walls swarmed with weird colors.

Orderlies lifted him onto a stretcher, quickly wheeled him down a hall, and transferred him to a bed. Someone shouted, "His heartbeat's all over the place!" and someone else ran a needle into his arm. Matt was no longer sure what was real and what was not. He seemed to be in trough at the eejit pens, floating in yellow sludge. He vomited again and again until only a thin, bile-flavored liquid dribbled out. He saw Furball sitting at the foot of his bed, looking reproachful. Was this how Furball had suffered after he'd ingested the laudanum?

Then it was Saint Francis who sat at the foot of his bed. Brother wolf, you have done much evil so that all folk are your enemy. Yet I would be your friend, he said.

Sure. Okay, thought Matt.

The figure of Saint Francis shifted to that of Tam Lin. The bodyguard looked gray and haggard. He bowed his head as though in prayer, although praying was very far from the activities Matt associated with the man.

And then doctors were swarming around him. Somewhere in there, Matt heard Celia crying.

"We're losing him! Adrenaline! Now!"

"No! No, no, no, no, NO!"

The hospital room faded away, until only the shouts of Celia, Tam Lin, and the doctors remained. Matt saw a person walking towards him. He didn't know who it was, but they looked familiar.

"Come, Matt. Come away from the pain, the suffering. Come into a place where everybody loves you." the person stretched out his hand.

Matt looked around. He could hear Celia screaming his name. Matt took the man's hand and walked into the light.


Celia grabbed Tam Lin's arm. She felt tears streaming down her face. Matt was dead. Gone. She knelt next to the bed.

"Padre nuestro, que estás en los cielos
Santificado sea tu Nombre;
Venga tu reino,
Hágase tu voluntad,
en la tierra como en el cielo.
Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada día,
y perdónanos nuestras ofensas,
como nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden;
y no nos dejes caer en tentación,
y líbranos del mal. Amen.

Señor, mantenerlo a salvo. Lo amo más que nada, más que yo. Hazlo más feliz que yo."


Matteo Alacrán died at age 13. El Patrón didn't care, he just went home and went on with life. Celia barely talked anymore. She blamed herself for Matt's death. Hundreds of years passed, but no one ever forgot the clone who died on the same day that his El Patrón had a heart attack. El Patrón was still alive. He didn't even remember Matt, even though Matt had been his clone. But the statue in the garden never let anyone else forget.