The First Sacrament (The Demons of Stone Chapel Book 1)

by Duncan, Lex

  Anxiety hit me hard in the gut. Yeah, he was going to get things started, alright. I had half a mind to go find the server with the champagne and steal his tray.

  Dante's jaw clenched. “Surely you didn't have to wait for me, Mayor Bishop.”

  The mayor's fingers dug into Dante's shoulder like claws. A normal show of camaraderie to the rest of the people at the party. A not-so-subtle threat to us. “That's not true, Mr. Arturo. After all, you're the reason I'm throwing this get-together.”

  Aralia sputtered into her glass.

  I sucked in a breath, cutting a glance at Dante. His flat expression hadn't changed, his body language no less taut.

  “Very well,” he said, breaking away from the mayor's grip and striding toward the ballroom. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

  “That's the spirit, Mr. Arturo.” The mayor followed after him.

  Aralia and I stood in their wake, the rest of the party swirling around us in flashes of Christmas scented glamor. Groups of guests socialized and carried on while a woman and her young daughter deposited presents for the orphans under the tree. Dante and the mayor stepped through the French doors I'd seen previously, and the mayor turned and said in a loud, energetic voice:

  “Everyone, please join me in the ballroom for a toast!”

  Then, like nicely dressed livestock, the guests dropped whatever they were doing and followed their shepherd through the doors.

  ***

  Through the use of brute force and a couple of choice words, Aralia managed to secure us a spot at the front of the crowd nearest the raised platform that served as a stage for the band―some sort of jazz outfit with trumpets and saxophones. The room was crammed to maximum capacity with smiling faces glittering underneath the light of another massive crystal chandelier. The mayor stood at the microphone with Dante at his side.

  “Is this thing on?” He asked breezily, giving the microphone a tap with his finger. It was definitely on. The crowd tittered with polite laughter anyway. “Now that we've got that sorted out, I'd like to formally welcome all of you to the first annual Solstice Ball!”

  Cue the applause.

  The mayor waited for it to die down to speak again. “Given the recent events that have plagued our city, I thought we all deserved a chance to catch our breath and have some fun. 'Tis the season, after all.”

  More applause, lighter this time.

  I leaned over to Aralia. “Like any of these people have any idea what's really going on.”

  “It's hard to see the true picture with your nose stuck that far up in the air,” she replied through a careful smile.

  I snorted.

  The mayor clamped his hand down on Dante's shoulder once more. “But before we do that, I think it's important to give thanks to those who dedicate their lives to protecting not just our freedoms, but our lives.”

  Wow, this was quite the act. I was actually sort of impressed.

  The mayor stepped aside, guiding Dante to the mic. “May I present Mr. Dante Arturo!”

  The crowd responded with as much exuberance as etiquette would allow. They clapped and a few people raised their glasses. Hands behind his back, Dante barely managed anything resembling an expression.

  “Don't be shy, Mr. Arturo,” the mayor said. “Say something!”

  Dante's gaze swept across the crowd, pausing on Aralia and me. I gave him a small thumbs-up and he smiled a bit before leaning down to speak into the microphone. “Good evening, everyone, and thank you for your support. It is my honor and privilege to serve this city.”

  The applause died down completely and silence prevailed. When Dante spoke, people listened.

  “Though I know things have been difficult lately, and many lives have been lost, I do believe we can beat the evil,” he looked at the mayor, “plaguing our streets. It may not be easy, but I can promise you that it will be worthwhile.”

  Someone coughed. A baby began to cry.

  Dante took this as a sign to wrap things up. “Please remember to call the police department right away if you notice any sort of suspicious activity. Be alert. Be active. Stay safe. Thank you.”

  He retreated from the mic.

  The mayor took his place. “Well said, Mr. Arturo. Wasn't that well said, everyone?”

  Applause.

  “Now,” he said, “I―”

  The lights flickered. Concerned murmurs rose up from the crowd. Dante tensed. My hand inched to the gun holstered underneath my dress.

  The mayor looked up at the chandelier, then laughed like nothing was wrong. “And here I thought that blizzard passed a few days ago. I suppose not!”

  Nice try, Satan. This wasn’t a freaking blizzard. This was a damn set-up and I knew it.

  “Anywho,” he hooted, “I want to thank you all so much for coming. It means the world to―”

  The lights flickered one more time before going out completely, abandoning us to the dark. Ha! I knew it. Definitely a set-up.

  Like in every single horror movie I'd ever seen, it only took a moment for someone to start screaming. It was the pebble in the pond, the ripple on the surface, the first domino. Chaos erupted mere seconds later. More screams joined the first. People fumbled in their blindness, and despite the fact that most of the guests here considered themselves above violence, I got elbowed in the stomach and shoved to the ground.

  Someone grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up.

  I swiped my hair out of my eyes. “Okay, who the hell shoved me?!”

  “Beatrice,” Dante's familiar voice pierced through the shadows. “Where's Max and Sadie?”

  Oh, crap. “I don't―”

  “Uh, guys?” Max’s voice entered. He must have followed the sound of my rage. I assumed he had Sadie with him. “Is that you? What's going on?”

  “I don't know,” Dante replied. He hadn't let go of my arm. “Aralia? Are you here?”

  “Yes, yes,” she sighed from somewhere behind me. “We're all present and accounted for.”

  That was something, at least.

  “Do you think the mayor's making his move?” I asked my group of disembodied voices. I moved my arm a bit and Dante quickly pulled his hand away, like he just realized he'd still been holding it.

  “This is far too convenient to be anything else,” he said.

  “Then let's get with it. Kill the bastard while we have him here.”

  “Tell us how you really feel, Beatrice,” Aralia said.

  The chaos moved from this room to the next as most of the guests found their way out, stumbling from one hell to the next. A fresh chorus of screams split the air. Together, we all moved toward them. I bumped into Max and Sadie bumped into Aralia and Dante bumped into the doors. Through the glass, we could see the terrified crowd of party-goers―barely lit by the moon shining in through the windows―collectively cringe as something very large and very scary hovered above them.

  I hiked up my dress and grabbed my gun.

  Kazraach. A huge one. Baring down on the crowd with claws (talons?) outstretched. This was not good.

  Dante rammed his shoulder against the doors. They didn’t budge. Instead of trying to bust them down, he drove his fist through one of the glass panels and reached around to flip the lock, providing us access to the room.

  We rushed in as the kazraach swooped. People screamed and many tried to make a break for the exit. It, too, was locked. They beat their fists against the door, pleaded for mercy that wouldn't come. Rage ate away at my fear.

  The mayor―Amarax―wasn't going to murder these people. We were going to save them. Starting with killing the winged monster that was about to eat Georgiana Robinson for Christmas dinner.

  She screamed bloody murder, cowering in a corner with her arms thrown up to protect her face. The kazraach latched onto them with skeletal fingers and screeched, razor blade teeth posed to take a chunk out of her neck. I trained my gun on the monster’s head and got one bullet off when a spectacular pain ignited in my chest.

 
Groaning, I doubled over, my breath coming in excruciating gasps. My hands shook violently, so violently that I couldn’t keep a hold of my gun. It fell to the floor with a clatter and two hooded figures separated themselves from the mob. Crap. Not again.

  I didn’t have the best track record with hooded figures.

  “Get—get away from me,” I wheezed, stumbling backward into the wall. I looked around for Dante or Aralia or Max or Sadie. I didn’t see them. My vision blurred and the world seemed to be tilted on its axis, like I was looking at it through a crooked lens.

  The screams of the dead and dying filled my ears, punctuated by the heavy wing beats of the kazraach. This was a nightmare, it had to be a nightmare. I was going to wake up and be in my room at Dante’s and—…Oh, who was I kidding? This wasn’t a nightmare.

  This was worse.

  ***

  The pain in my chest receded when the bitter winter air filled my lungs.

  Flanked by the hooded figures, they dragged me out of the Mayor’s Mansion through the front door. Having noticed their escape route was finally open, the surviving party-goers fled along with us, none of them pausing in their panic to notice the mysterious cloaked people dragging the innocent bystander through the snow.

  “Let me go!” I strained against my captors, but they kept their hold and led me to a car parked in front. The fleeing people didn’t stop for theirs. They just ran. Cars could be replaced. Lives, however, were a bit trickier. “Let me g—Hey!”

  The hooded figures shoved me in the car and slammed the door.

  The man occupying the driver’s seat peered into the rearview mirror.

  I knew those eyes. Blue, drained, sickly, but ultimately familiar. I didn’t know which was worse: Being kidnapped by someone I didn’t know or being kidnapped by him. “Brother Luke?”

  “Hello, Beatrice.” He put the car in drive.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked. I was so deeply immersed in denial that reaching for the most obvious question was the only thing I could do at that moment. My brain cooked up all sorts of excuses. He wasn’t working with Amarax or anything, he just operated a taxi service in his spare time. Or if he was working with Amarax, he was only doing it because Amarax was making him do it. Better yet, this was all a big misunderstanding and he was driving me home. Yeah. There we go.

  Brother Luke stared blank. The city was a blur of ice and lights and snow. The streets, emptier than Jason Clark’s head. “What is necessary. I hope one day you’ll understand.”

  “Understand what? Where are you taking me?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Brother Luke!” I reached for his shoulder to get his attention and he jumped like he thought I was going to attack him. The car lurched hard to the right, skimming the curb of the sidewalk. For a second, I thought we were going to crash into a convenience store, but he corrected himself quickly and we swerved abruptly back into our lane. “If you don’t tell me where we’re going right now, I swear to God—”

  “God wants me to do this, Beatrice!” The force of his shout made me recoil back into my seat. “Don’t you see that? This entire city is festering with sin and nobody wants to do anything about it!”

  …Except for Amarax.

  That’s why Brother Luke was doing this. Elias Cromwell succumbed to the same delusion. God spoke to me last night…

  I had two options here. Option One: I could let the demonically influenced man drive me to my doom, presumably at the church. I probably wouldn’t get the chance to maneuver my way out of the situation there because Amarax wasn’t stupid and more than likely brought a lot of backup with him. Option Two: I could get out of this car and get to the church on my own. Amarax wouldn’t be able to sacrifice me without a fight, and I might be able to sabotage something in his operation in the meantime.

  Yep. I was crashing the car.

  “Sorry, Brother Luke.” I dove between the seats and grabbed the steering wheel, turning it as far as it would go. Tires screeched and the car careened violently off the road. Gravity tugged me to the other end of the cabin, but I held on despite its pull. Kiss my ass, gravity, I was going to crash this damn car whether you wanted me to or not.

  “No!” Brother Luke shrieked, smashing his hand in my face in an attempt to pry me from the steering wheel. I bit down on his finger and he yelped some more, his foot missing the brake pedal and pressing down harder on the accelerator instead.

  The engine revved. The car fishtailed from one side of the street to the other. We sped down the road—or was it the sidewalk now?—and I had no sense of where we were at or what was happening until it was over. I’d set out to crash this damn car. And crash it I did.

  Right into a light pole.

  The impact of the collision sent me flying forward. The airbags released with a pop and a hiss and Brother Luke slammed into one face first while I somehow managed to miss them, smacking into the cracked windshield instead. Groaning, I fell onto the dashboard and rolled off onto the floor. Pain throbbed in my forehead, the threat of slipping into unconsciousness clawing at the edges of my vision. I struggled against both as I climbed into the passenger’s side seat, pushing the door open to stumble out onto the snow.

  Steam billowed from the car’s now crumpled hood. It reminded me of a discarded candy wrapper, metallic and scrunched. I stood there for a moment to get my bearings. I flexed my fingers, poked my ribs. Nothing felt broken. My neck hurt from the whiplash and streak of blood dribbled from my wounded forehead, but both would heal with time and a lot of pain meds.

  By all accounts, I’d survived my first car crash. Cool. Now if I could just avoid freezing to death. I didn’t exactly have time to grab my coat before I was dragged away from the party. A serious breach of etiquette on the hooded figures’ behalf.

  Shivering, I took a moment to survey my surroundings and come up with a suitable plan of attack. I knew I wanted to crash the car to stop it from getting to the church, and I knew I needed to get to the church, but I didn’t know where I was. I wasn’t very good at planning ahead.

  Which was fine. I could fix this. I could totally fix this. One step at a time.

  “Okay, let’s see here.” I noted the general appearance of the buildings, ignoring the nausea flaring in my guts. Most were old and decayed by their age, constructed of gray stone or rotting bricks. Windows were boarded up and everything just looked sad. That, to me, signaled we were close to the Old Quarter, or at least on its fringes. I figured that if I went a few blocks west, I’d be back near my apartment building and, by default, close to the church.

  That was my end goal. The church. I had to get there. Not as a victim, but a hero. Amarax couldn’t win. I wasn’t letting him.

  But first, I needed to get rid of my escort.

  I crept around to the driver’s side of the car and peeked into the tinted window. Brother Luke stirred inside, groaning and rubbing his eyes. If I wasn’t heading straight for hell before all this happened, I was definitely going there now, because…Well…

  I opened his door and he blinked against the flickering light the pole still managed to provide, even after I crashed the car into it. A wide cut on his cheek gleamed with blood.

  “Beatrice,” he slurred, “wha ahh yuh—”

  “Sorry again,” I said, and punched him as hard as I could.

  He slumped against the airbag. I leaned down to check his breathing. I didn’t want to kill the guy. Just knock him out cold. A visit from my fist seemed to do the trick. Okay. Moving on. Phase Two. Shit. What as Phase Two?

  I patted Brother Luke’s pant leg, looking for his cell phone. It wasn’t there. I checked the other one. Nope. I unzipped his coat and reached into his jacket. Found it in one of the pockets.

  “Please work, please work,” I poked at its cracked face, pushed the button on the side. An image of the home screen flickered dimly to life. Delighted, I dialed Aralia’s number. Got her voicemail. I tried Dante’s. Got the same response. Max and Sadie didn’t answer e
ither.

  911 it was.

  The phone rang a couple of times before an operator picked up. “Hello, this is 911, what is your emergency?”

  “Hi, uh,” how was I supposed to word this? “I heard from my friend that something really, really bad is going to happen at the church—you know, the big one—and you should send the cops to it right now.”

  “Can you elaborate?” The operator asked.

  “Sure, I—” The battery icon at the top of the screen flashed red. Shit. “It’s really, really bad, I promise, so just send the cops there, okay?”

  “Wait, what’s your—”

  The phone went dead.

  Thirty-Four

  On second thought, maybe I should have let Brother Luke drive.

  The walk back to my apartment building was mercifully short because I took a few shortcuts through a garbage filled alleyways, but between the wind and the cold and the snow in my shoes, I felt like a walking popsicle. By the time I made it to the church, I couldn’t feel my toes. Or my hands. Aralia would say this was the price I paid for beauty. If this was what it took to be beautiful, I never wanted to try it ever again.

  …I hoped she was okay. I hoped all of them were. We had fruitcake to get to after this whole ordeal was over. Dying or getting hurt or setting forth the end of days would put a serious wrench in my Post-Apocalypse celebration plans.

  It occurred to me as I approached the doors of this God forsaken hell hole we called a church that, in a way, I was just retracing the steps I’d taken almost four months ago. When Rosie was still alive, when I still lived in my apartment, when my biggest worry was paying her sanatorium bill on time. I thought things were hard then, but they paled in comparison to what was happening now.

  Here I was, standing in the snow and the wind and the cold in a lacey dress and a pair of ballet flats, looking up at the place that started it all. Without it, I wouldn’t have gotten attacked by that dog. Without it, I wouldn’t have met Aralia and she wouldn’t have brought me to Dante. Without it, I might have still been sort of normal. Perish the thought.