Page 206 of Love at First Fright

Bat solidified beside me, horror etched across his pale face. “Margery, please—”

The shadow surged forward—a desperate lunge toward the blood.

Margery’s hand shot out. The air itself solidified between them. An invisible barrier that made the darkness recoil, hissing.

“Thou shalt not have it,” she said simply. “This holy blood is mine.”

Cornelius’s voice rose to a roar—fury and frustration made sound. The basement shook. Stone dust rained from above.

But he couldn’t break through.

The blood responded to Margery’s will. It lifted from the spreading pool, defying gravity, flowing upward in thin streams. Crimson tendrils snaked through the air, twisting and coiling like living things.

She guided them with her hands. Conducting. Shaping.

The blood formed symbols in mid-air. Complex patterns I didn’t recognise. They glowed faintly, dark red light pulsing with each design completed.

The shadow roared.

The darkness exploded outward. It slammed against the pillars, the walls, the ceiling. The entire basement shook. Stone cracked. Dust cascaded from overhead.

A face emerged from the void.

Pale. Gaunt. Distinguished in a cruel sort of way. High cheekbones. Thin lips pulled back in a snarl. Eyes that burned with malice and fury and something that might have been fear.

Cornelius Grimthorne.

“YOU DARE?” His voice split the air. Furious. “I AM BISHOP OF—”

“Thou art nothing.” Margery’s voice cut through his. “Nothing but a coward who preyed upon the weak. A monster who hid behind God’s name whilst committing the devil’s work.”

The blood symbols pulsed brighter.

Cornelius lunged toward her—a wave of shadow and rage. His form rippled, stretching, reaching for Margery with clawed hands made of darkness.

She thrust her hands forward.

The blood symbols shot toward him. They wrapped around the shadow-form, binding him, holding him in place. He writhed against them, howling.

“NO! I AM ETERNAL! I CANNOT BE—”

Margery clenched her fists.

The symbols contracted.

Cornelius shrieked. The sound scraped against my eardrums, inhuman and agonised. His shadow-form compressed, crushed inward by the glowing bindings.

Smaller. Smaller still.

His face twisted in agony. In disbelief. In rage.

“I WILL NOT—YOU CANNOT—”

The blood-symbols squeezed tighter.

His form shattered.

The darkness exploded outward in a final, desperate surge.