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

The church had never looked like this before. On most nights it was glowing and warm, framed and illuminated by the moon. Tonight, however, it was little more than a dark and ragged shape against the cloudy sky.

Joaquin bit his lip as he pulled at the front door handles. Locked tight. "Hello?" he called out, taking a few steps back and looking up. "Anyone still up?"

He thought he saw a light burning in one of the east windows for a moment, but it quickly vanished. Isn't there a door on that side?

It was locked as well, but smaller and slighter than the front doors. "Sorry about this," Joaquin muttered as he backed up and took a running stance. Aiming his shoulder at the door, he rushed forward and threw all his weight at the wood. It gave way easily, and he nearly fell over as he stumbled inside. "Manny! Maria!"

The hallway was dark and dead. Only the faint, faraway sound of something shuffling about answered Joaquin's call. He began to walk forward and turned the corner, drawing one of his swords as he did so. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor - or was that another set? - and he thought he could catch the smell of blood as he neared the stairs to the attic. "Guys…?"

Something grabbed him by the shoulder. He screamed as he whirled around, but it died in his throat when he saw the near-specter standing in front of him. "Maria!?"

There was blood in her loose, tangled hair and even more on her ripped clothes and blanched skin. It was all coming from her right hand, which had been crushed almost beyond recognition and was wrapped in several now-stained scraps of cloth. Her eyes were bloodshot and wider than he'd ever seen them, and she was gripping a knife in the hand she still had use of.

Maria placed the cold metal against his lips before he could say another word. "Go back to my house," she whispered. "Go find Ofelia."

"You're hurt…"

"I'm not going to tell you again."

For a moment, Joaquin considered carrying her to safety whether she wanted it or not. She must have been able to see it in his eyes, because she gripped her knife even tighter. "Go," she hissed.

"What do you still need to do?"

She brushed past him without another glance. "Find Manolo."

"Let me help - "

But she was already gone.

He sighed. Only one way you can help now, buddy.

Valeria's rooms had been stripped of their previous clutter. The shelves were almost bare, and the piles of books had been removed. Even most of the furniture was gone. Only the desk in the back remained, along with a few crates and papers.

Maria paid no mind to them at first. "Manolo!" she shouted, searching every room and pounding on the walls. "Manolo!" She leaned against one of the shelves, fighting back tears. They had to be keeping him somewhere up here, weren't they?

Her feverish gaze fell on the desk, which was still covered in papers. Maybe they left something about him there.

Stumbling forward, she began to sift through the piles. "Come on, come on…"

Something slipped off the desk and fluttered to the floor. A long, narrow scroll covered in red markings. I remember that, Maria thought. What did she call it yesterday? Personal? Picking it up, she sat down and began to pore over the words. The red ink had bled deep into the paper, but it was still recognizably a list of names. There must have been dozens, all wildly different and all crossed out with red. Lambert Fenn, Zita Walentowicz, Karina Dobrev, Hiraku Miyamoto, Angelina Mendoza…

Maria's blood froze in her veins. "Angelina?"

"Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever and ever…"

The hoarse whisper roused Maria from her uneasy sleep. "Not so loud, amiga," she said, closing the book which had been resting on her lap. "The nuns might hear."

The girl lying in bed, little more than a corpse now, paused in the middle of her prayer. Her frame was gaunt, her skin ashen, her brown eyes dull, her blonde hair thin and stringy. "What else can they do?" she said with a smirk. "I'm already dying, aren't I?"

"Please don't say that."

The two sixteen-year-olds were quiet for another minute. "I know what you're scared of," Angelina finally said, sitting up.

Maria sighed, and a small sob came with it.

"Don't cry," the other girl said. "We'll meet again someday."

"You don't know that."

"No one really does. But we can hope, can't we?"

"It…" Maria shook her head. "It shouldn't be like this. I should have done more for you."

"You did all you could," Angelina answered. "And you can help me finish the Shema. I know it's meant to be said with family, but - "

"Of course."

They bowed their heads. "Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever and ever. Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever and ever. God is the Lord," they whispered after that, seven times. "The Lord is King, the Lord was King, the Lord will be King forever and ever."

Angelina's smile remained on her face as she closed her eyes. The rise and fall of her chest slowed, and a few minutes later it had stopped altogether.

"Angelina?" Maria asked, trembling. "Amiga?"

No answer. She placed an ear to the girl's chest and felt her wrist - nothing.

"Maria."

She turned and stood. Valeria was in the doorway, a small glass vial in her folded hands as she observed the scene. "S-She won't wake up…"

The old woman's face was stone. "You know better than to think she will."

She held out her arms. Staggering into them, Maria buried her face in her dress and sobbed.

Valeria sighed as she stroked the girl's hair. "I think you should go. There are matters here I must attend to."

Maria slipped away, still weeping. By the time she was able to return, Angelina's body had vanished.

There was one more name on the list, crossed out like the others. Manolo Sanchez.

"Put that down, girl."

Maria gripped her knife as she looked up, her eyes burning with hatred. "You killed them."

Valeria cocked the pistol in her hand and aimed it. "We mustn't make this harder to finish than it's already been."

"You killed them."

"They had to be punished for their transgressions."

"All they ever did was live."

Valeria walked towards her. "Taking it out on me won't bring them back."

"But I can keep you from hurting anyone else."

"The only people you'll hurt are those who don't deserve it, Maria."

"You've done that already."

Valeria's solemn visage was beginning to crack. "You're not thinking clearly, child, you don't know what you want - "

"You can't tell me what I want anymore."

"…Then I'm very sorry it came down to this."

Maria rushed at her with the knife. Valeria grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around, pinning the younger woman against her body with one arm. The knife clattered to the floor as she pushed the gun barrel against the side of Maria's head and placed a finger on the trigger.

A deafening bang echoed through the room - but not from the gun. The attic door had slammed open, and then a large figure was hurling himself towards the women. "Get away from her!" Joaquin yelled as he and Ixa pulled Valeria away from their friend and tried to pin her to the ground.

Ofelia ran in after them, Vicente and Gabriela at her side. "Papa!" she shouted, searching through the remaining bottles on the shelves.

He's in the box by the window, they whispered to her. In a black bottle.

Avoiding the now-fighting adults, she ran across the room and pried open the crate's loose lid. A wine bottle made of black glass lay inside, nestled amidst straw. A faint light shimmered inside, flying about, and a familiar voice full of hope and fear whispered in her head. Mija…?

"It's alright, Papa," she said, picking up the bottle and holding it close. "You're safe now."

"Don't you dare!" Valeria shrieked, flailing out of the Mondragons' grasp. Retrieving the pistol, she pointed it at the girl and pulled the trigger.

Maria shot forward at the same moment, grabbing Valeria by the hair and jerking her back. The barrel tipped up just as the bullet flew out. Whizzing above its intended target, it shattered one of the vials on the shelf.

Everyone froze at the sound, and then at the sight which followed it. A pale gray mist rose up from the glass shards, swirling about and forming a humanoid shape. Its face was gaunt and skeletal, its eye sockets empty. It looked around the room, and when it saw Valeria, it screamed with rage and flew at her, wrapping its long hands around her throat.

"Run!" Maria shouted, pushing the other towards the door. They fled the room as one, the screams of the spirit and its captor following them out into the night.

Ofelia's knuckles were white as she gripped the bottle, even once they were all inside Casa de Mondragon. "You guys probably shouldn't go home just yet," Joaquin said. "Where's Manolo?"

At the mention of his name, Maria's adrenaline seemed to drain away in an instant. She sank into a chair, her head slumping into her hands as she began to cry. "He's…she…"

"Papa's okay!"

They all looked up at Ofelia, who was holding up the bottle. "Where did you get that?" Maria asked, her face growing pale.

"It was in the attic - "

"We have to get rid of it."

"No! Papa's in here!"

"Papa's gone, Ofelia."

You have to let him out now, the spirit whispered from the vial in her pocket. Or else he'll wither away and become one of us, and you'll never get him back.

"I can show you," she said, backing away from the others as she pulled at the cork. "Watch."

"Don't!" the adults shouted, running towards her.

They weren't quick enough. Pulling the cork free, Ofelia dropped the bottle on the floor and watched its contents spill out.

It wasn't a mist, like back in the attic. Instead it was a watery black liquid that quickly flowed from its prison, forming a pool before starting to congeal and bunch into a distinctly humanoid shape. It grew in size, then suddenly gave off a flash of light as it turned to flesh and hair and cloth.

Manolo cried out and gasped for breath as he lay trembling on the floor. Opening his eyes, he stared in wonder at his reformed hands and quickly looked up. His gaze landed on Maria and rested there only a moment before he scrambled to his feet, threw himself at her and held her like she was all he had left in the world.

Everyone stared at him, gaping. Everyone except Ofelia, who hung her head and ran from the room.