Chapter 39 - Three Red CandlesThe historic center of Tlaquepaque was eerily quiet at 4:00 AM. The cobblestone streets, usually bustling with tourists and mariachi bands during the day, were empty and bathed in the pale yellow glow of old streetlamps.
Mateo moved cautiously, keeping to the deep shadows of the colonial buildings. He reached the Parroquia de San Pedro, the massive stone church looming against the night sky. The heavy wooden doors were unlocked, left open for those seeking late-night sanctuary.
He slipped inside. The interior was cavernous and cool, smelling of ancient stone and melted wax. A few elderly parishioners knelt in the pews, deep in silent prayer.
Mateo walked directly to the side altar dedicated to the Virgin of Guadalupe.
There were dozens of white candles burning, offering a soft, flickering light. Below them, in a wooden box, sat unlit candles.
Mateo dug into his pocket, finding a single matchbook he carried from the garage. He selected three red candles from the box. His hands were shaking slightly. If Silva didn't answer, his family was dead.
He struck a match and lit the three red candles, placing them in a perfect triangle at the very center of the altar.
He knelt down, bowing his head, waiting.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
"Praying won't save you from a cartel bullet, muchacho."
Mateo froze.
The voice came from the deep shadows behind a stone pillar to his right. It was gravelly, tired, and heavy with years of violence.
A man stepped out into the candlelight. He was in his late fifties, with a thick salt-and-pepper beard, wearing a worn leather jacket. His eyes were cold and perfectly alert.
"Silva," Mateo breathed, standing up.
"You look like hell, Mateo," the former Federale commander said, looking at the blood and soot on the mechanic's clothes. "I heard Arturo Vargas died in a warehouse fire six months ago. I assumed you and your family finally found peace."
"We did," Mateo said desperately. "Until Arturo's brother, Hector, showed up at my garage tonight."
Silva’s expression hardened instantly. "Hector is twice the monster Arturo was. If he is hunting you, lighting candles was a foolish move. You should have kept running."
"He made me extract a ledger from Arturo's old Impala," Mateo explained rapidly. "The ghost accounts. Hector has it now. He burned my house down to tie up loose ends. My family is hiding in an abandoned building."
Silva went completely still. The mention of the ledger changed everything.
"The ghost accounts," Silva whispered, a dangerous fire igniting in his eyes. "That book contains the names of the men who ordered the hit on my son."
"Help me get my family out of the city," Mateo pleaded, "and I'll tell you everything I saw in that book."
May you like
Silva looked at the three red candles, then back at Mateo.
"We aren't leaving the city, Mateo. We are going to war."
