Padre Salas by Enrique Laso Read Free Book Online Page A

substance to his newspaper. That could entail his having to return to Mexico City, at the very least: or immediate dismissal, in the worst-case scenario.
    He finished the article, and read it through several times. He considered it to be accurate enough: on the one hand, it did not reveal any sensitive information; but on the other, it provided for the reader new information that was still absolutely fascinating, and which he was convinced would arouse the interest of hundreds of thousands of people all throughout Mexico. Secretly, he also dreamed of soon receiving offers from the media in the USA and Europe.
    The brief report came with a single photograph, which was the one that would take up part of the front page of Las Noticias : the pyramid constructed of twigs, surrounded by those strange and almost imperceptible drawings scratched into the sand. It was a closed shot, so that nobody would be able to identify it as Lake Chapala. And there would be time aplenty afterwards to relate all aspects of this extraordinary investigation in the utmost detail. For the moment, it was better and more profitable to give out the information in small but interesting doses. The headline could not be more sensational: DEMONIC POSSESSION HORROR: HOW IT ALL STARTED.
    Feeling rather self-satisfied, the journalist sent the email with the article and high-resolution photograph to his editor. He believed he knew Fuentes well, and he was sure this would bring delight to his office upon reading it. The difficult thing was going to be controlling his anxiety and greed: they would ask more of him, they would urge him to reveal more, to avoid the issue slipping from the public consciousness, or another reporter from any rival media outlet approaching them with any questions. In the end, it was better to contend with the pressure of the demand than with the possibility of adding himself onto the list of unemployed journalists.
    Now more relaxed, and his homework done, Sancho contemplated the plastic bag containing the tetrahedron constructed by the girls. He had not taken it out of there since bringing it back from Chapala in his car. Curiosity tempted him, and, with the utmost care, he opened the bag. No sooner had he done that, he thought he could hear a sort of buzzing in his ears; a sound that did not seem to be coming from the outside world: it was as if it were being generated within his own head. Was it a warning? Despite the fear that gripped him, the journalist dared to place his hand upon the pyramid, to check if he would feel the electrical discharge, like he had done the first time he touched it. This time it was different. A burning sensation shot right through his fingers, speeding up through his arms, as if it were travelling through his veins, propelled as if pulsing through his arteries. It was a horrendous experience, and he thought he was living the last moments of his life. Then the burning reached his brain, and set into his pupils, forcing him to close his eyes, squeezing his eyelids together tightly, wracked with pain. And in this state of derangement, he thought he saw a terrifying being: a gigantic monster, with several heads, one of which was a deformed, half human fly, with red pupils that stared at him fixedly, whilst the rest of the heads rocked violently. The beast had multiple limbs, indescribable, as if belonging to very different animals and insects, and out of its shoulders came enormous, bat-like wings, which seemed to be burning, emitting powerful flames with their drawn-out beating. The pestilent creature watched him with its terrible incandescent eyes, observing him, as if reflecting on what to do with him. Finally, it uttered some words that resonated throughout the journalist’s skull like an infernal thunderclap: “Get away from me, human!”
    XV. Hidden Warehouse in Guadalajara, State of Jalisco
    Padre Salas was feeling lost, and that only served to exacerbate his own fears. He knew perfectly well that an