Padre Salas Read Online Free PDF

in the city centre, and went down the avenue Francisco Ignacio Madero , towards the Palacio Municipal . He could feel his heart beating: the blood pounded his chest and pulsated in his temples, causing his hands to tremble. He arrived at the Paseo Ramón Corona , with its tall palm trees and marvellous views of the lake. He walked down the long street until he reached the last of the restaurants, which bordered a grove in which he got lost on his way to the enormous lagoon. Guided by instinct, he went down a little dirt track with the mind-set, according to his own interpretation, of a group of ten intrepid little girls who were having the adventure of their lives. His eyes scrutinised each corner, each area of the ground, in search of any evidence, like a detective carrying out the search for the evidence of a crime. Finally, his heart skipped a beat when, now very close to the bank of the lake, he found the pyramid constructed out of small twigs, exactly as Valeria had described. Walking around it, he could discern some drawings in the sand, but the passage of time, together with the wind, had rendered them barely perceptible. In spite of everything, the reporter took an enormous amount of photographs, from all possible angles. He had to graphically document the place in which the girls had potentially carried out a ritual which had had fatal consequences for them.
    He could not discern whether he was just being influenced by everything that was happening, or if it really was to do with something more physical, but he noticed a sort of electrical discharge in the tips of his fingers when he picked up the pyramid, to place it with the utmost care into a bag.
    Like a common and petty thief, Sancho returned slyly back to his car, and left the camera and the bag containing the bizarre tetrahedron, for which he already had a peculiar respect, on the back seats. Not only had he received an electric shock, but his vision had also become momentarily clouded, like when one is dizzy, feeling the effects of vertigo.
    Driving down the jam-packed Federal 44, on the way back to his hotel in Guadalajara, thousands of ideas, speculations and questions piled up in his mind: how had Gabriela been able to carry out the ritual? What was the significance of the pyramid? What had the girls drawn in the sand? What sort of invocations had they performed? But there was one question that pushed all the others into the background, tormenting him, and was the epicentre of all his misgivings: was it really possible that, this far into the 21 st Century, an innocent ritual, performed by a small group of little girls, who were only playing, could really unleash the fury of a demon, causing a terrifying tragedy?
    XI. Some remote area of Guadalajara, State of Jalisco
    Padre Salas was going around in circles, waiting, shrouded in the white chasuble and purple stole, now arranged over his shoulders. He was nervously mumbling some litany to dispel his fears.
    “They’re all here now,” whispered Padre Rincón, appearing discreetly through a door.
    “Then let’s not waste any more time.”
    The Archdiocese of Guadalajara had given them use of a small warehouse, which on occasions would serve as a storage facility for non-perishable foods. This was so that Padre Salas could carry out the exorcism ritual in private, and without the fear of being hounded by the press, just in case the information about the girls’ homes was leaked. There was always room for the possibility that one of the parents might divulge it, either out of desperation or ambition, but even so, the situation was much more manageable in that hidden and discreet location.
    The warehouse was a large room, with tall, narrow rectangular windows through which barely any light could come. There were no columns, and the floor was unpolished concrete. They had moved away all of the shelves, tables, chairs, and other objects, with the aim of leaving a completely clear space. The four walls were