I wasn’t planning to throw a narration of what I had seen the previous night in his face, fearing he would think me insane. In fact, that was precisely why I had taken the trouble to be subtle when introducing the topic, attributing my curiosity to the fact that several neighbors had been talking about la Santa.

I wasn’t seeking an ally in Don Aurelio, not at all. Nor was I particularly interested in his opinion on incorporeal entities. The reason I turned to him was for information. I believed that, having studied theology and being well-versed in matters of faith, he might provide me with some additional insight into what I thought I had witnessed.

"I find it absurd as well," I corroborated, as my sense of self-preservation dictated that the best way to deal with a skeptic was to agree with him entirely, giving him the confidence needed to continue talking. "I was merely curious about where such legends originate, considering how well-known they are among the local population. It’s not that I believe they have anything to do with Joaquín’s incident."

"That’s a relief. For a moment, I thought Taboada had run out of ideas and was considering following that lead... if you can even call a handful of senseless rumors a lead."

"No, the lieutenant is more pragmatic than that," I noted, though I was aware he already knew this. "I’m afraid that if I mentioned la Santa to him, even as casually as I am now, out of pure curiosity, he’d first lecture me about how we have more important matters to focus on and then send me off to patrol a neighboring village in hopes that the walk would help me refocus and forget such absurd ideas."

"Yes, I figured he’d react like that. Do you know why these towns are so peaceful, to the point where crimes are rarely committed? It’s because Taboada doesn’t entertain nonsense and always seeks a rational solution to problems."

"I don’t think that has much influence on the crime rate in the area," I muttered to myself, making sure Don Aurelio couldn’t hear.

"If I had to give ear to everything people tell me in confession... No, it’s better to keep a clear head. We don’t want to disappoint our neighbors, but falling into the same traps they do isn’t an option either."

"I agree. I can’t even imagine the chaos that would ensue if we confirmed to those already inclined to believe in the inexplicable that these supposed supernatural entities exist. However, it’s not my intention to discuss these topics with the people who first brought them up to me. The curiosity is mine, and the answers I find here won’t leave this room."

That wasn’t something I’d be able to keep, especially if, as soon as I left the church, I followed through on my promise to tell Leandro everything I was going through. But at that moment, I didn’t care. What mattered was that I had delivered my assertion with such seriousness that the priest wouldn’t question its truth.

"Oh, really? That’s a shame. I had hoped that after speaking with me, you might have a talk with all those fools who still believe in witches and bogeymen to bring them to their senses so they’d stop wasting my time in the confessional."

"Maybe another day," I said with a polite smile. "As we’ve already established, I don’t think the lieutenant would be thrilled about me using my service hours for such tasks, no matter how beneficial they might be for the community."

"I suppose it doesn’t matter. Those people are as stubborn as mules anyway. I doubt that even presenting them with tangible proof that la Santa doesn’t exist would convince them," he said as he turned toward the lone cabinet in the corner of the room. "Regarding your question about its origins... It’s not something exclusive to our community, or even our country. La Santa is something that has been talked about for millennia, in some of the most remote regions of Europe. Of course, it doesn’t go by this name in those places, and in fact, even traveling a bit into Castilian lands, the term changes. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I have a book here that might be of use to you."

And indeed, he pulled an old tome from his collection.

The book in question was a compilation of myths and legends from the Kingdom of Galicia, as its title proclaimed. Published at the end of the last century, its rustic covers and yellowed pages betrayed the decades it must have spent in the same spot, untouched by readers.

"It belonged to the previous priest," he explained, handing me the heavy book, which must have had at least five hundred pages. "Only God knows how long these things have been here. When I was assigned this parish, I inherited everything my predecessor didn’t want to take with him. And while I have my own library in the rectory, where I try to keep some order among these old possessions, it’s impossible to house everything in one place."

I could see where this was going. Don Aurelio was a learned man, with a deep interest in literature. Having visited his library a few times years ago and knowing how well-maintained it was, I could vouch for that. These volumes left to languish in the church, however, clearly didn’t interest him in the slightest.

Covered in a layer of dust that even the cloth he wiped it with couldn’t entirely remove, it was clear to me that this tome and its companions remained there solely as relics of their previous owner.

Or perhaps they served as perfect bait for people like me, coming to inquire about paranormal topics that Don Aurelio clearly had no intention of clarifying.

"I’ll return it as soon as I finish reading it," I concluded after thanking him for lending me the manuscript.

After all, an old book of dubious provenance was better than polite words to dismiss me without answering my questions.

"No rush. I have a feeling that if I miss it, it’ll be for the space it leaves in the cabinet, not for anything its contents might offer me."

I thanked him once more for his kindness before taking my leave, knowing the conversation could have gone much worse.