Whatever had been done to Amparo in her sleep, it had not touched the core of her.

That was still entirely intact, and it was made of sterner stuff than anyone in the house had guessed.

Chapter 11 — His Name Was Matías

Inmaculada knelt and held her while she shook.

“His name is Matías,” Soledad said at last, between sobs.

“He’s my brother.”

And then the whole impossible story came out of her, and every detail of it fit together too neatly to be anything but true.

Nearly four years earlier, a rural chapel high in the mountains had sent a cart of old objects down to Santa Clara for safekeeping during a restoration — carved saints, silver, altar pieces, and among them an old wooden coffin meant for a Holy Week procession.