Luce feels those icy fingers that have been running all over her body pick up the pace a little, and she shivers. Legba had said something about the special ones. The ones who shined.
“And so I raised you in the church,” Itria goes on, squeezing Luce's hand. “I gave my life to the church, praying that my faith would keep you safe, and I thought I had succeeded, until…”
“Karen,” Luce says, her voice a dry whisper. “Until Karen died.”
“Yes. When your friend passed away, and you stopped attending Mass, stopped going to confession, I did not know what to do. I feared for you, Lucia. You are my daughter and I love you more than anything in this world. All I could do was try to make you come back to your faith, but you were so wilful, so stubborn. When you began playing music, it was all you
