The doorbell rang, and the boy got up from the stairs, going down to open both the entrance door and the gate leading to the street.
From the dining table, the woman and Nico could see the boy allowing Bobadilla and Oaxaca inside, who followed him in. The officers noticed that the woman was not alone, and upon seeing their confusion, she introduced them.
"Officers, this is Nicolás; I invited him to assist us in this endeavor. Nico, meet Officers Bobadilla and Oaxaca, from the Specialized Public Prosecutor's Office."
They exchanged handshakes and waited in anticipation.
"Please, take a seat," she said while serving hibiscus water.
The police officers sat in silence, exchanged glances, and the woman smiled at them. Nico also complied and remained expectant.
"Well, this won't be easy," she said calmly, looking each one of them in the eye before glancing at the boy on the stairs. "I don't know if you will believe me, so I will be as concise as possible: We are facing forces beyond our comprehension and beyond our control. Emerging victorious will be a matter of chance and will have nothing to do with good or evil, nor with anything we think we can cling to. Having said that, I suggest we focus solely and exclusively on the facts, without thinking about assumptions, fear, or the impossible."
The officers cleared their throats.
The woman asked them for the case files of the confirmed murders committed by the killer, a piece of his clothing recovered from the secured house, and an item of clothing from each of the victims. She carefully placed everything on the table, arranging it chronologically according to the order of the murders. Closest to her, she placed the killer's garment. From the files, she took out photographs of each victim and placed them over their belongings as if dealing a game of blackjack, or laying out a tarot spread. The before and after pictures were placed face down. The killer's photo, however, was placed face up, directly in front of her, staring. Finally, she stood up and grabbed a glass for each victim, one for the killer, and one more that she set aside to her right.
"I ask for complete silence," she instructed, and they nodded. "Nico, did you bring your cousin's ring?"
"Of course, ma'am."
She extended her hand, and he, pulling it from a small purple silk pouch, placed it in her palm.
Upstairs, the footsteps came to life.
A gust of wind rushed through, pushing open the entrance door, sweeping through the dining room and living room before slamming the door shut on its way out, sending shivers down their spines.
Immediately, they recalled the times doors in their own homes had slammed inexplicably, and a shared terror filled the room.
"Lord," she invoked, flipping one of the glasses with her eyes closed and placing her left hand over the first victim's belongings, "please, let what we seek appear, because I cannot see it."
From the stairs, they heard the boy mumbling something, but they could not make it out.
The woman firmly placed the glass upside down and continued in the same manner with each of the victims' offerings and, of course, the killer's belongings. But upstairs, the footsteps did not react, and both she and the boy sensed that something was not quite right. Knowing she was following the ritual to the letter, she hesitated but continued, wondering if the ritual's inefficacy was due to the number of people involved. Still, she pressed on.
"The girl's, the one from—" she glanced at the report in its designated spot, "Daniela's case."
The officers handed her Dani's item, the latest victim, and the witch performed the ritual.
She turned the glass over.
She asked to find what was lost, what she could not see.
She triangulated her fingers.
And just as she was about to turn to them, visibly shaken, the glasses on the table began to shatter, one by one.
Crash!
Crash!
Crash!
Crash!
Everyone was so shocked that they didn't move at all.
Crash! Crash!
It was like fairground targets being shattered from a distance.
Crash...!
And then, something truly bizarre happened. The killer's glass behaved differently—it jumped, flying up to smash against the ceiling. Meanwhile, Daniela's glass crushed inward, imploding, its tiny shards embedding themselves into the tabletop. That was when the woman saw, in horror, something happening to Daniela. But it couldn't be—it was impossible.
At that very moment, the footsteps upstairs began to move. But this time, there were three heavy, slow, and forceful sets of footsteps advancing toward the door. It sounded as if the door was being pounded, broken, exploding as though someone was knocking it down to escape the room. And little by little, but with unwavering determination, six steps—three pairs of feet—descended as the boy, sobbing, hurried down, dodging invisible feet that threatened to trample him.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
The stairs cracked as if they weren't built to bear such weight. The walls and banister shifted, groaning under the descending force, fracturing with each step.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Now on the ground floor, the steps moved more swiftly. The front door burst open.
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD
The gate at the entrance collapsed, crashing onto the sidewalk, and while everyone was paralyzed with fear, the backyard became infested with cats. Drenched under a storm that seemed to start at that very instant.
A bolt of lightning lit up the sky, and its thunder seemed to knock at the door.
"Ma'am... ma'am?"
Bobadilla's voice snapped the woman out of her trance, but she remained terrified as she turned to them and said:
"We need to act fast. The girl is in danger—not just from the killer. She's in danger beyond measure."
She stood up. The cats howled in unison. And the three men sprang into action, running alongside the woman. She climbed into the patrol car.
"I'm sorry, Nico, but it's best if you don't come with us. This could be very dangerous."
"But ma'am, I'd gladly go, I—"
"Nico, our lives will be at risk..."
Bobadilla and Oaxaca exchanged stunned glances.
"Ma'am, you told me I had to help."
"As long as your life wasn't in danger. Lending us the ring is the most help you can provide."
"... Ma'am, if you take the ring, I have to go too," Nico said firmly.
The woman frowned but seemed pleased with the executive's resolve.
"Get in, then."
The boy, from the window, looked at the woman in terror, as if he were trapped in a tower engulfed in flames. But the woman, the witch, Magos, couldn't take him with her. Because she knew, and the boy understood, that if he left, he would never return.
They sped off at full speed, racing through narrow streets and avenues, trying to steal moments from the ticking clock.
"Where are we going?"
"To Pachuca, to a town along the way."
It was now a matter of life or death. The defining moment had caught up with them, and they were already too late.
They stopped at a gas station before the toll booth, refueled, used the restroom, and then turned on the emergency lights, speeding toward their destination.
A torrential downpour pounded against the car, making it nearly impossible to see, but they pressed forward anyway.
"Should I call for backup?" Bobadilla asked.
"Should we request backup, Magos?" Oaxaca inquired.
"Of course! You haven't done it yet?"
"No offense, Magos, but it's hard to explain the circumstances under which we're asking for help. It's nothing personal."
"Oaxaca, then don't explain. There are lives at stake. Along with Daniela, there are other girls we don't have information on."
"What?" both officers asked in unison.
"There are more girls imprisoned besides Daniela. And none of them appear in the reports you gave me."
"Shit."
Oaxaca relayed the information to Otilio, who escalated it to Ulises. But while they awaited authorization, Bobadilla had already contacted the state police forces of Hidalgo and the State of Mexico.
"Understood, sir. I'll keep you informed."
Oaxaca informed them that Ulises had granted full clearance to use whatever means necessary to apprehend the kidnapper.
"Thank you, colleagues."
Bobadilla then informed them that both police departments had agreed to assist and were heading to the location Magos had provided—a small village at the foot of the Hidalgo Sierra.
Upon arrival, they immediately noticed the extreme poverty of the area; simple gray concrete structures, many half-built, some lacking windows. They ventured further into the town, where the locals pointed the way before they even had a chance to ask, as if the villagers already knew exactly why these strangers had come.
Driving through the dirt roads, they reached the end of the path, which was blocked by a stone and concrete wall separating the dirt road from a wild grass trail that snaked up into the Sierra. Several patrol cars were parked there, marking the scene of the crime. They joined another half-dozen arriving state patrols, as well as a few ambulances requesting additional medical support. As they parked and hurried out, they saw a couple of officers vomiting upon exiting the small shack at the end of the path, just before the trail climbed upward.
"Shit! This is going to be hell, isn't it?" Bobadilla said as he limped as fast as he could toward the interior, accompanied by the others, who remained silent but shared the same thought.
The woman sobbed uncontrollably. She knew it. She knew it. They were too late.
They crossed the police barriers, showing their badges, and were immediately hit by a putrid stench.
Bobadilla stayed back to thank the officers and explain what little they knew, while Oaxaca, Nico, and the woman ventured inside, weaving through police officers and paramedics who had just arrived.
"Inspector Oaxaca?" a policeman, the highest-ranking officer on site, inquired as she tried to descend a narrow staircase.
"At your service, Commissioner."
"What the hell is this?"
"To be completely honest, I don't know yet. What did you find?"
Magos wept.
"I have no words to describe it. You'd better see for yourself."
"Then we'll go down."
"If you insist, Inspector," the Chief of Police gestured for his men to lift another barrier, allowing them access to the lower level.
As they descended, they saw officers illuminating the area with portable lamps, their beams blending with the dim glow of the single lightbulb in the room, barely enough to reveal the nightmare before them. Three fresh corpses—girls between nine and thirteen years old—lay sprawled out, accompanied by two others in a catatonic state, starved, overdosed, and stripped of all humanity.
In a partially opened trunk, severed pieces of another girl were visible.
"Is one of them Daniela Regil?"
The officers looked at them, bewildered, unable to fathom how city detectives could expect them to identify the victims under such grotesque circumstances.
"None of them," the witch declared.
Bobadilla descended further.
"There are witnesses outside who claim a stranger entered the house a few hours ago. A gunshot was heard, and soon after, he left, dragging out a girl who seemed intoxicated."
"That's the kidnapper."
"But the locals say the man who lived here was a skinny, bald guy—and he never left."
"What? Is he still here?"
"Fuck!" a paramedic cursed as he threw down his instruments. "We lost her."
One of the surviving girls had just succumbed.
The officers began searching every corner.
"Over here, Chief," one of them called, pointing to a bloodstain trailing toward the last cell.
"There's someone inside!"
"Didn't you secure the place?!"
"Is it a girl?"
"There was no one here when we arrived."
"Daniela...?"
Everyone shone their flashlights into the cell, revealing a gaunt, naked figure drenched in blood, staring back at them with the most sorrowful, utterly bewildered expression.
"It's the kidnapper!"
Immediately, every gun was drawn. The skeletal bald man muttered something, clutching a gaping wound on his torso.
"I didn't... I didn't..."
"Move, and I'll put a bullet in your head, you bastard!"
The officers took in the blood and filth smeared across his genitals. Glancing back at the mutilated bodies, they connected the horrific dots.
"Son of a bitch!" one of them growled, aiming his weapon.
"I didn't... I didn't..." the man stammered, desperate. "Something made me do it, I didn't... I wasn't..." He stretched out his arms in surrender, his body convulsing into a coughing fit just as a policeman fired.
"It wasn't him!" Magos cried.
"No!" Oaxaca shouted.
"No one will mourn him," one officer muttered.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the officer who fired said. "I thought he was attacking."
"Goddammit!" another paramedic cursed. The last survivor had just died.
After speaking, collaborating, and trying to explain the events to the state authorities, after giving statements and filing reports, while drinking atole from a tamale stand that had set up as soon as the patrol cars clustered together, Oaxaca and Bobadilla received all the details regarding the discovery, while the parade of patrols, ambulances, and press trucks began to retreat in caravans towards Pachuca, Tecámac, and Mexico City.
The officers and Magos returned, defeated.
"They didn't find Daniela," said Oaxaca, hopeless.
"The killer is still out there. We shouldn't leave."
"The kidnapper was killed right in front of our eyes. I'm exhausted. Magos, we need to go back and try something else."
"We can, but the kidnapper is still out there, and he has Daniela."
"Magos, for fuck's sake, you saw it yourself."
"..."
"I'm sorry, this has been the worst day of my career. I'm sorry, Magos."
"Don't worry, Inspector. But I want you to understand that the man who died was not the kidnapper."
"He was, Magos."
"Then who took the girl?"
"We don't know!"
"That's exactly why—"
"Goddamn it, Magos, they ran a whole battery of tests on him, and he had traces of having raped all the girls. On his fucking fingers, on his fucking dick, in his fucking mouth!"
"..."
"..."
"The one who committed those atrocities was an evil spirit that enters weak bodies and, while it consumes the life of its host, feeds off the most perverse crimes, leaving hell in its wake. And now, it has switched bodies, dragging that poor girl with it, and it will unleash a new hell in the absolute shadows."
Both of them stared at her.
"And how do we stop it?" Bobadilla asked.
"We have to find Daniela. And we will find her. Then we'll figure it out. First things first."