Life continued on peacefully enough. Sadie had healed up with only a limp remaining, and she dutifully followed behind John whenever she could, and always slept by their front door, as though she and her 35-pound frame could stop someone from entering. She was mindful of Vera, but learned quickly enough to stay out of the way of her poking fingers and grasping hands.

Gibson was taking advantage of the autonomy allotted to him for reaching the age of 18 and began to take walks alone, just to indulge in some solitude. But he felt a deep sense of protection towards his adoptive family and he knew that his abilities were beneficial in keeping them safe and out of harm's way, so he rarely went far or stayed out for long.

Winter was beginning to bear down on them and they sought out a new dwelling, this time beside a river in southern Mexico, to avoid the worst of the weather. It was another concrete house, similar to so many that they had rented over the years, with chipped layers of pink and blue paint on the walls, a random smattering of crucifixes and Virgin Mary portraits spread throughout, and old, rusting, uncomfortable furniture that was probably all older than Gibson. The wiring was poor, and the electricity went out often. There was a washing machine that did an acceptable job at cleaning clothes and a clothing line in the back of the house. Water seemed to come in only two temperatures – ice cold and almost lukewarm. But they were happy.

The town was a little bigger than the ones they had lived in at the beginning, for they felt a little safer these days. There were even a few other Americans spread out in the population of 30,000, but they kept their distance. At least here they would always be able to obtain provisions and the clinic was almost large enough to be called a hospital.

Keeping to themselves meant that they were fairly cut-off from the rest of the community, oblivious to the events occurring all around them. Their landlord was consistent with collecting rent twice a month and when he failed to show up after a few days, Monica walked over with Vera on her hip and 200 pesos in her pocket. She found them in mourning. A small casket lay in the center of the room, the pale body of a child inside it.

"What happened? Who is the child?" she asked a person who didn't seem to be grieving as much as the others.

"That is Arturo and Lupe's granddaughter. She drowned."

Monica nodded in acknowledgment. Arturo was her landlord. She went to him and offered her condolences, to him, his wife, his daughter, and his son-in-law. Just as she was about to head home again, she overheard a guest mention that this was the third drowning in a month.

"It just doesn't make sense. It's January. Why are they playing so close to the river?" asked an older woman.

"If La Llorona calls for them, they must answer. That is the way it is," replied her friend.

Monica felt a chill spread over her. "There have been others?" she asked.

The women eyed her suspiciously but were put at ease by her accent and the child she carried in her arms.

"Last week, Miguel Martinez drowned in the river. He was only five. And two weeks before that, it was Luisa Aragon was pulled in too. She had only just turned seven. Now, with Marisol, La Llorona has collected three more children."

La Llorona. Monica had not heard that name since she was a child, during her summers in Guadalajara. Whenever they were near a large body of water, her aunt would warn her to stay away, for La Llorona would call for them, and they would never be able to resist her desperate plea.

There were many legends of the mythical woman, but the one Monica was familiar with was that La Llorona had once loved a man, who did not love her as well as she loved him. She bore him children, but even they could not make him stay. When nothing could bring him back home, she took their children and drowned them. But struck with the horror of what she'd done, she took her own life instead. Upon reaching the gates of heaven, she was asked where her children were, but she could not remember, or possibly she did not wish to confess, and she was sent back to earth, a spirit forced to wander endlessly in search of the children she had already murdered. Parents would warn their children to stay away from water, for she was there, looking for some to replace the ones she'd lost.