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I glanced at him briefly. “What, you thought the priest might have been secretly sucking on a Coke during Sunday service?”
“Well, these days you never know.” Amusement laced his tones as he followed me down the aisle, yet I could feel the tension in him, smell the fear. They were as sharp as my own. “Will the church offer any more protection than the cell?”
“I don’t know.” I hoped so, but I really didn’t know enough about the supernatural to say.
The smell of sulfur suddenly intensified, catching in my throat and making both of us cough. The howls of the creatures swirled around us—a force that sent goose bumps fleeing across my skin and caused the temperature in the old church to suddenly plummet. The wooden doors shook, even though nothing had physically hit them.
I gripped one side of the basin and hoped like hell the water had been properly sanctified. It might be our only chance.
Tao gripped the other side, his expression resolute as we stared at the age-stained doors. The hounds stood on the other side. I could feel the heat of them. Smell their anger.
Again, the doors shook. I licked my lips, but I couldn’t do much about the dryness in my throat or the trembling in my limbs.
Another crash, then the doors were wrenched open, revealing the two hounds. The smell of their blood mingled with their scent of death and hell and evil, swirling around the inside of the church, somehow darkening it.
But the creatures didn’t move.
Neither did Tao or I.
Seconds ticked by. Sweat began trickling down my back and my hands grew clammy inside their wet bandages. The creatures growled low in their throats, the sound rumbling through the building—a sound of such power that dust and bits of masonry began to fall from the ceiling.
“Fuck,” Tao said. “They could bring the whole place down on top of us.”
“But this is still sacred ground. We might be buried, but at least we won’t be torn apart.”
“I’m not convinced it’s a better option,” he said, glancing nervously upward.
One of the hounds stepped forward. His paw hit the threshold and something flared—something bright and wholesome and somehow clean. The creature leapt back as if stung and their low growling intensified, until the air hummed with fury and the whole building shook under its assault.
“Well, at least that proves the theory that churches are sacred ground,” Tao commented. “Now we’ve just got to hope it doesn’t fall down around our ears.”
As he said it, a huge chunk of plaster crashed onto the bench behind us. Dust flew upward in a cloud, briefly smothering the rainbow streams of sunshine and creating an even darker atmosphere.
And yet there was a strength here, too.
I could feel it, feel the heat of it …
Joy leapt through me. It wasn’t the church, it was Azriel.
He appeared behind the hellhounds, Valdis held high above his head, the blade screaming in fury and dripping flame.
The hellhounds twisted around, then, as one, leapt. Azriel stepped to one side, and Valdis swept down, her scream almost ear shattering. She cut one creature in half, but it simply reformed and leapt again. Again the blade flew, separating flesh but not killing. The hounds were fast, not giving him the chance of a kill.
He needed help.
We threw the water on their backs. It hit the nearest hellhound full-force and splashed across the back of the other. Their flesh began to bubble and steam, and the first creature twisted and howled as his body disintegrated, the flesh dropping from his bones in chunks and the water like acid on his bones. Soon even they fell away, until all that remained was a writhing, boiling mass. Valdis hit the middle of it, and her blue fire exploded, sweeping away the shadowy smoke.
The second creature leapt. A warning surged up my throat, only to get stuck as Azriel swung around, his bright blade a smoking blur. It took the creature in the neck, severing its head from its torso. They fell to the ground in separate pieces that were consumed by the sword’s dripping blue flames.
Azriel waited, holding Valdis over the remnants of the creatures until her screaming died and her flames muted. Only then did he turn around. His gaze swept the two of us and a small smile touched the corners of his lips. It said something about my exhaustion that I couldn’t muster any sort of reaction.
“It was a very shrewd move to come to this church.”
“It wasn’t like we had much choice.” I wiped a shaky hand across my forehead. It came away sweaty and bloody. I hadn’t even realized I’d wounded my head. “Is the witch dead?”
“Yes.” He hesitated, then added, “There were two men with her. I did not harm them, but I did restrain them.”
“Then you need to give me the address so I can send it to Uncle Rhoan.” He could uncover who the two men with Margaret were—and if they weren’t two of the three men behind the consortium, he could take over the task of tracking them down, too. Right now, I’d done more than my fair share.
