DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Dear Maria.

His fifth try, and this was still as far as he had gotten. Manolo stared intently at the piece of paper before him, not quite above hoping that the words he needed would somehow suddenly appear. He let out a deep, tired breath as tapped his pencil on the desk, and his foot absentmindedly kicked at one of the crumpled wads of paper lying on the floor.

I need to tell you something, he wrote, only to cross it out. There's something you need to know. I get the feeling you won't want to hear this, which is why

"What are you writing?" Maria was coming out of the bathroom, pulling on her nightgown and sitting in the middle of the bed as she watched him.

"Just a letter."

"Who's it for?"

"You."

She paused for a moment, taken aback, then raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. "We live in the same house, you know."

Manolo sighed as he stood up from his chair and sat next to her. "I don't know how to explain this to you."

"Is this about Valeria coming over today?"

He lay down, folding his arms under his head. "Yes…"

"Don't take it personally," she said as she lay beside him. "It isn't you. It would have been whoever I'd married."

"I'm not so sure."

Maria sighed. "She left the convent a few months before I did. Said her work there was done. I guessed she didn't want to be there if I wasn't staying."

"Was she really that serious about you being a nun?"

"She talked about it all the time."

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her I missed my home. And that I had someone waiting for me."

Manolo smiled at the thought.

"So," his wife finished, "the least you can do is be nice to her."

"But I still need to - "

"That's enough."

"It's important, Maria."

"Then you can tell me first thing in the morning." She yawned and snuggled against him. "You'll feel better once you've had some sleep."

He glanced at her, then up at the desk. "…Maybe you're right."

Maria smiled and kissed his cheek. "Buenas noches, mi querido."

"Goodnight."

They slipped under the covers. Manolo lay in her arms for several minutes, waiting until he could feel her drift off to sleep. Gently untangling himself from her, he crept back to the desk and picked up his pencil.

Maria,

You won't believe what I'm about to tell you. I don't quite believe it myself. But I know it happened, and I need to make sense of it. I need your help, Maria. I think we're in danger. All of us.

The moon was new that night, the streets of San Angel dark. Those not already inside hurried home, casting furtive glances all around. No one respectable was out wandering the streets this late.

Five swishing cloaks approached the dimly lit cantina, accompanied by the squeak of their old leather boots. The room was quiet before, but it fell silent when Valeria's assistants stepped inside.

"Is there a problem?" the eldest of the group asked, a man with beady eyes and a short, dark mustache and beard.

A few people muttered, but the bartender glared at them and shook his head. "What will you have?"

"Nothing," the man answered. "The one curse of our profession."

"And what profession might that be?" a loud voice slurred from a table in the back.

The five newcomers' heads all whipped around to stare at its source, a brazened old farmer. "You aren't like any church folk I've ever met," he said, glaring.

The other man raised an eyebrow and ambled towards the table. "I suppose we aren't," he answered, sitting down.

The farmer glanced about, then leaned closer to him. "You're here to kill it, aren't you?"

"It?"

"The demon that pretends it's a man," he hissed. "The demon that took the face of the Sanchez boy when he passed."

Valeria's assistant motioned to the bartender for a drink. "Sounds fascinating."

Valeria looked up when she heard the knock on the attic door. "Come in."

Her assistants entered, locking the door behind them. "We plied the locals," their leader said. "Just as you instructed."

"And?"

The man's eyes glittered. "You were right. The monster is here. We shall strike with your permission - "

"Not yet," Valeria said, snapping her book shut. Standing up, she walked to the shelves at the back of the room and began to peruse the rows of vials and jars. "We need more proof."

"There was talk of a body beneath the tree at the end of the bridge."

"Go retrieve it, if it is there. It must be examined."

"Yes, my lady."

"But before that," she added as she plucked a small cylinder of green glass from its resting place, "I want you to bring me the girl."