The pews weren’t empty.
They were also the source of the wretched smell.
They were full of bodies.
twenty-two
I DREW IN a deep breath, and while I immediately regretted it, the stench was overshadowed by the horror of what we were staring upon.
Dozens and dozens of bodies were scattered throughout the pews, some slumped over while others were still sitting up, their heads fallen back, jaws slacked open. They were in various states of decomposition. For as much as I’d experienced in recent months, never in my life had I seen anything like this.
“Good God,” I said, horrified.
Roth stiffened as movement near the chancel drew our attention. It had been vacant moments before, but now a figure stood in front of the altar. I winced. It was the Lilin—and he’d taken the form of Sam once more.
“I think this is appropriate,” the Lilin said, spreading its arms up at his sides. “I have a congregation of the dead.”
“Most people would aim higher,” Roth said, eyeing the carnage with distaste.
“I am not most beings, now, am I?” It grinned slightly from its elevated perch. “I’ve been waiting for you to come, sister.”
“I am not your sister,” I gritted out.
“Acceptance is the first step of recovery, or so they say.” The Lilin walked to the edge of the chancel and crouched. “You’re here to help me.”
That wasn’t so much a question, but I answered anyway. “No. I’m here to stop you.”
The thing chuckled smoothly. “You cannot stop me. Neither can the Prince.”
“I wouldn’t put money on that,” Roth retorted.
Milky white eyes drifted to Roth as the Lilin smiled mysteriously. “I guess we will see about that, won’t we?” The Lilin’s gaze found mine. “We need to free our mother. It is a travesty that a force such as she should remain chained. We are in this together and—”
“You can stop the sales pitch right there,” I interrupted. “There is nothing that you can say that will sway me. You won’t be able to free Lilith. Don’t you understand that? Nothing will free her. After Paimon attempted to do so, extraordinary measures were put in place to prevent her from getting out.”
“True,” remarked Roth, rather smugly. “The Boss has her on lockdown. It’s not going to happen.”
“That is where you are wrong,” the Lilin responded from its perch. “If I succeed in raising Hell to Earth, no one down there will be paying attention to Lilith. She will be the least of their worries.”
Muscles locked up all along my back. “If you bring Hell to Earth, the Alphas will step in. They will wipe us all out, including you.”
“It’s not like they can throw a magic switch and then we’re gone.”
Roth sighed. “It has a point there.”
“That’s not helping,” I said under my breath.
“The Alphas will fight us and we will fight back, even those who do not want to see Lilith free or for Hell to open its gates. They will fight,” the Lilin continued. “As I will, and while we all are fighting to survive, the world will fall apart. If I cannot free our mother, then I truly have nothing to lose.”
What Grim had warned me about was coming true, but it really wasn’t a surprise. The Lilin really had no thoughts of its own. All it was concerned with was freeing Lilith, and if it couldn’t have that, then it would settle for chaos and absolute destruction.
The Lilin rose fluidly. “You will see. In the end, you will have no choice but to help me.”
The darkness along the wall, which had been still and unnoticeable at this point, suddenly moved. Thick shadows shifted and grew, slipping up and over the ceiling like a muddy oil slick. The stench of the room rose, but the evil in it became suffocating. There was the source of the darkness and we’d been standing in the middle of it the entire time.
“Wraiths,” I gasped, stepping back.
They swarmed across the ceiling, like something straight out of a horror movie, and then dropped to the floor, among the benches.
But that wasn’t all.
We could see the wall now, could see that there were several statues lined up. They looked like the stone gargoyles perched atop so many of the city’s buildings, but cruder, more grotesque than the real thing. Some looked like goblins. Others were part lion and a few looked like birds. Not the happy, dove kind. More like pterodactyls. There were about twenty of the statues.
“They created them out of stone.” The Lilin gestured at the bodies in the pews. “So bizarre. They used them as a reminder of the evil they so badly wanted to fight. Ironic.”
A heartbeat passed.
The first row of pews shot up straight in the air, shattering apart and sending bodies in every direction. The second row followed and then the third, the fourth...
Boards were flying, along with pieces of those left behind. Each burst of pews was a crack of thunder.
“Somebody better call the Ghostbusters,” Roth muttered. “Because we don’t have time for this.”
I would’ve laughed, wanted to, but a piece of wood winged its way in my direction. I dipped down, narrowly avoiding getting plowed over. The board smashed into the wall behind us.
I shifted immediately, welcoming the change. Roth did the same as he jumped, snatching a rather large piece of board out of the air. Snapping it in half, he tossed it down.
Sparks flew and flames rose from the farthest corner as the knocked-over candles started a fire among the debris.
Reaching down, I withdrew the dagger from my boot, and then started down the center aisle, toward the chancel. The wraiths didn’t like that. They came at me. Shaped like humans, but no more substantial than smoke, they were tricky beasts to fight. One managed to get a hold of my hair, yanking my head back. I hissed as I twisted out of the wraith’s grip.
The Lilin shouted something in an ancient, guttural-sounding language that meant nothing to me, but the wraiths responded. They pulled back, and then darted to the walls.
“Oh crap,” Roth said. “It’s about to get ugly.”
I didn’t have to wait long to see what he meant. The wraiths hit the statues, draping themselves over them like a blanket. I didn’t know what they were doing, but every instinct told me I wasn’t going to like it.
The shadows pulsed, and then they disappeared, seeping into the statues, wiggling their way through the cracks and openings. Some wraiths remained near the ceilings, their forms twisting and trembling.
A great and terrible shudder worked its way through the building, scattering the broken boards and bodies, and the shudder turned into a groan cut off by the sound of stone grinding against stone.
Then the statues moved.
“What in the...?” I said.
Roth growled low in his throat as the things straightened and stretched, as if waking up from a slumber. The lion-shaped gargoyle threw its head back, letting out a deafening roar that was so realistic.
A goblin-like gargoyle pushed away from the wall. Only about five feet tall, its footsteps thundered as it raced toward Roth, cackling in a low-pitched voice.
Roth stepped to the side, spinning around. He grabbed the goblin’s arm, and then shot to the ceiling. Arcing swiftly, Roth flew back down at a harrowing rate, slamming the goblin into the floor.
The floor dented as the stone creature shattered into large chunks, releasing the wraith. The black shadow poured out of the remains, knocking Roth back several feet.
My familiar shifted on my stomach, peeling itself off before I could stop it. Robin appeared, at first the size of a fox and then he grew, taking on the size of a Doberman, and boy, that was freaky.
Robin darted up the aisle, his overly large but sleek body moving incredibly fast. He jumped, snatching the tail end of the wraith, dragging it back down. My mouth dropped open. I had no idea that familiars could touch wraiths, but Robin wasn’t just touching. He was shaking his head like a pit bull with an evening snack, whirling the wraith from side to side.
The other statues converged on us, and in a minute, I lost sight of Roth. Knowing that the blade would do nothing against these things, I sheathed it back in my boot.
Shrieking from the ceiling, the pterodactyl-type gargoyle dive-bombed me, its beak opening as if it planned on swallowing me whole. I jumped to the side, but the bird twisted, and that’s when I saw its tail. It caught me in the hip, knocking me over.
I hit the ground, my hands landing in something wet and sticky. I so didn’t want to think about that as I pushed myself off the floor and stared through the curtain of my hair. The creature dived at me again, and I rolled onto my back. Using my legs, I pulled them up, and then swung them back down, popping up in a crouch.
The bird came at me again, but this time I was better prepared—I launched up and caught one of its wings. Tapping into the strength I’d always had in me, but never really used, never truly understood, I broke the wing near the small horn.
Screeching, the bird spiraled down to the floor, crashing into the destroyed pews. Picking up a board, I followed it to where it rolled to a stop, at the foot of the chancel. I raised the board and as the stone creature rose to its hind legs, I smacked the board into its head. Wood broke and stone shattered from the neck up. The rest of the statue toppled over as black smoke poured toward the ceiling, reminding me of that TV show Sam had gotten me addicted to.