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Auguste flicked his hand again, a command. “Strip them of their weapons and take them to the back room. I have calls to make.” The priests took their weapons from them, tossing them into a heap in the center of their makeshift circle. They dragged the Fallen and Coven down several hallways to a back room and threw them inside. The priests left, locking the door and sealing them in.
Noa hung her head. All the rage she had mustered had fled from her soul, and shame and guilt had moved in in their stead. Despair and failure chased close behind.
Strong arms wrapped around her, keeping her from falling apart—Diel. Only he could ever make her feel like that. He was the one bastion to her wavering strength.
Noa fell into Diel’s chest, allowing him to bear her weight, giving herself just a moment to be weak. Tears fell in hot rivers down her cheeks. When she pulled back, she looked up at her sisters and the brothers of the Fallen, who were leaning against the walls of the room.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Dinah shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. They were prepared for our attack anyway,” she said, frustration sneaking through her voice. “The ledgers were wrong.” Dinah placed her hand on her forehead. “I don’t understand. How did they know we would attack? Auguste had a fucking army waiting for us. How the fuck did he know?”
Silence lay heavy between them, until Gabriel rasped, “The Purgatory attack.” Noa detected the pain in Gabriel’s blue eyes. “Father Quinn survived. He didn’t die in Purgatory’s fire.” The color fled from his cheeks. “He must have told Auguste it was us, that we had come for them. Auguste must have prepared his men, his crusaders, for the day we would strike again.”
“I’m going to kill them,” Diel hissed, arms shaking. He released Noa and began to pace. “I’m going to fucking kill them. All of them.” The temperature in the basement rose as the other Fallen brothers burned with anger too, creating a hotbed of wrath.
“How are we going to get away from here?” Candace said to no one in particular. She shook her head. “I can’t be under them again. I’d rather die …” She trailed off into a helpless silence. Jo wrapped her arms around her and kissed her head.
Suddenly, Beth gasped, her back slamming against the wall. Her brown eyes grew to the size of saucers and she trembled like a leaf. No, not now, Noa thought. Beth’s eyes rolled back in her head and her body began to jerk.
“What the fuck?” Bara said. Noa and her sisters ran over to where Beth was falling apart.
“Naomi,” Beth said, her fingernails trying to claw at the skin on her hands, her chest, her stomach. “H-help …”
Despair filled Naomi’s face. She shook her head, looking to Dinah and Noa for help. Noa could see by Naomi’s expression that she didn’t have her bloodletting kit with her. Of course she didn’t. Even if she had, the Brethren had taken all their weapons. Beth had never needed letting when they’d been on a mission before.
Beth thrashed harder, as if she were being possessed. The Coven had gotten so used to Beth like this over the years, they were no longer shocked by her episodes. But the Fallen …
“How can we help?” Gabriel said, stepping beside them.
Dinah pinned Beth against the wall, arms by her sides. Fear built in Beth’s face as she sweated and panted through the horror that was one of her psychosomatic breakdowns.
“My blood,” Beth shrieked. Noa cast her eyes to the door. They didn’t want to attract the Brethren’s attention. “My blood … please …” Beth said. “Get it out. Please, get the poison out!”
“Shh.” Dinah kissed Beth’s forehead. “You need to be quiet, Beth.”
“My blood!” she said, voice rising. There was a pause in the movements outside the door. Noa and Dinah looked at one another. Noa didn’t know what to do. She had no idea what the hell to do!
“What does she need?” Gabriel asked.
Dinah bit her lip. Noa knew she didn’t want to share the ailment that plagued Beth, didn’t want to betray her sister’s secret. But as Beth started panting, her frantic pleas for help getting louder, Dinah said, “She … she gets her blood let. The Brethren …” Dinah shook her head as if she didn’t know how to explain Beth’s condition, why she was like this. Her sisters didn’t. Not really.
“She believes there’s a poison of sorts in her blood. She is blood-let when she believes it has become too much and is hurting her, slowly killing her. Naomi lets her in a safe, controlled way, one where she won’t get hurt, or catch an infection. But—”
Beth let out an agonized scream. Everyone in the room froze, waiting for the Brethren to reappear at the shrill sound. Noa went to pull out her knife, but her hands ghosted over an empty belt as she remembered that their weapons had been taken from them. It was probably for the best. Beth didn’t respond well to being cut by a knife. She claimed it didn’t keep the poison away, didn’t cleanse her, didn’t remove the evil filth that ran thickly within her veins.
