Two days ago nightmares and seeing ghosts seemed like the worst thing in the world, but as Orelia stood in the hollow, the room between worlds, between the living and the dead, she realised that Mexico would be her end and her beginning. Bruja, the hollow's keeper flashed her sharp teeth and pointed fingers and handed Orelia the jar of souls. She held the jar up into the light. Santa Muerta was carved into its primeval clay. There was no way of stopping what happened later that day. The sun was always going to set and someone was always going to die. At least she still had tequila. "Just imagine for a moment an old Hollywood love story that's coated in demons and holy water with a dash of humor for good measure." - Shannen