We ran for all we were worth as the blood spirits descended upon us. Their first victim was the Cristero next to me. I would have thought a good Christian would be immune to the spirit that Gus had conjured, but the horse reared up, striking the rebel down with hooves of fire. I nearly lost it then, knowing that the thing had judged me and found me steeped in sin. I crossed myself as I ran and began to pray in a mindless babble—snatches of every prayer I’d ever forgotten since my childhood church-going days.