Jerusalem kicked the body into gasoline. She crossed herself and prayed to the Holy Virgin, ending the prayer with a kiss on her tiny gold cross. It glinted in the neons, then reflected a single flame. She dropped the match and ducked behind the stolen SUV.

Light exploded in darkness. The SUV’s alarm screamed.  Jerusalem heard sirens in the distance. Time was short. The bastard’s bitches would be back. She pulled a spray can out of her long leather jacket. Shook it. The alley was filled with Santa Muerte’s shrines and images. She sprayed white X’s on as many as she dared.

Revenge was not the way of the sisterhood, nor the way Father Gideon had raised her, but this wasn’t revenge– this was redemption. The convent had taught her the only atonement for blood was blood. Slaughtering her adopted sister sealed the gang’s fate. Jerusalem would not rest until every member was dead. Killing would be easy, keeping it from the sisters and Father Gideon would be the hard part, especially with a half hour until sunrise and morning prayers.

She turned and looked one last time at the burning body. She spat at it and leapt down the empty street, her heels echoing into the distance.

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