Page 125 of Savior

“The minute we do, they’ll know. Celia, Grey got away. If we alert the others, then the Sons will be all over that cabin. Let the boys create the diversion for a change.”

I clasped my fingers over the bridge of my nose while wracking my brain for another solution. There had to be another way to get my family without drawing the Son’s attention.

“It is true?” Gloria made a sign of the cross over her chest from the foot of the stairs. “You are going to go to war now?”

Lauren winced before nodding slowly. “Now, before you call my dads and get them all—”

“We must pray to the saints for their protection. I bring my deck. Come, come.”

“Abuelita, we don’t really have time for that. The lake is at least three hours away. We need to leave now.”

Gloria jerked her chin up, staring daggers at her granddaughter. “I am nothing but an old woman now. If you are going to the war, I insist we pray. Now, come.”

I released an exasperated breath as she ushered us into the kitchen. Several pots were still bubbling away on the stove and our chances of getting to Jamie and Kate in time were dwindling with every second we wasted here. “I think we will have time for the last supper, but…”

Lauren pressed her fingers against her eyelids and leaned against me with a groan. “Please just hurry up. For the love of all that is good and holy, woman. We need to go!”

“You have a deck… of saints?” I asked when she held up the cards, deciding it was the most Catholic thing I’d ever heard.

“Sí, let’s sit.” Gloria shuffled the cards as if we were about to play a rousing game of name that saint. “Let’s see— St. Erasmus? No, he is more for the cramps. Do you have a patron saint, Celia? You and Lauren are the leaders, we must keep you safe.”

I thought back to when Mike was taken to the hospital, knowing I hadn’t been praying to one specific saint as much as anyone who would listen. “I’m sorry, it’s been quite a few years. Can we just skip to the praying part?”

“Who was it?” The older woman demanded, rifling through her cards.

I sighed. “St. Teresa of Avila—”

Her eyes narrowed. “The patron saint of headache sufferers?Mija, are you sure?”

Teresa was a wicked sinner, Celia. It was only by the grace of the Lord that she was redeemed and made whole. When you pray, pray to her. And remember where your lust will lead you if you stray.

I cleared my throat and moved my hand down to smooth my skirt, disappointed to find that I was still wearing pants. “My mother had very strong opinions about what sort of saint would work best for me, Gloria.”

She snorted. “You mean, she found you too likable. Teresa was charming, but always convinced she was full of the sin. No, she is not your saint. I come back to you. LoLo, for you and Dakota, we pray to St. Gerard.”

Lauren took the card from her hand. “A man?”

“Sí. And a virgin. When we must approach the gate of death, we ask St. Gerard to open the door of life for our little ones. I bring the medals to put into your pockets. He will keep you both safe. Will there be lightning?”

We shrugged, and I stole another glance at the clock on the wall, watching the minutes tick by.

“Okay, I will set St. Barbara aside for now. Now, let’s see.” She shuffled through, flipping cards over and discarding others with an accuracy I hadn’t expected. “Celia, I think we should consider St. Gianna for you. She is the patron saint of mothers and unborn children. Read this.”

“It says that she was willing to give her own life to save the life of her child.” I looked up in surprise, and Gloria smiled encouragingly, before gesturing to continue. “‘If you must decide between me and the child, do not hesitate: choose the child. I insist on it. Save the baby.’”

The card shook in my trembling fingers. A woman who knew nothing about me had somehow just assigned the perfect saint to intercede on my behalf.

And, here it is,” she exclaimed. “St. Michael. We need him. He is technically an angel, but the defender in battle—”

“Archangel,” I corrected automatically. “He’s above the angels—”

It’s, uh, it’s Michael. Like the archangel. Do you remember what he does? He’s a protector and a warrior.

I sucked in a ragged breath, a sudden coldness descending over my body as the pieces fell into place.

You look so beautiful…

Mama, I think you’re the key to all of it.

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