FATHER, PLEASE. I’M serious. There is a world right in front of your eyes, but you don’t see it. You can’t. You wouldn’t want to.” Andrei sighed. “From your pulpit you give people the means to resist the evil that is out there…but some of us are tasked with fighting it.” He put his head in his hands, aware of how insane he sounded. “I’ve lost her and I don’t know how to fix it. Why would she take him? Why him?”
There was a long moment of silence from the other side of the screen. Then, Father Everly said softly, “Kidnapping is usually followed by ransom demands.”
Andrei shot to his feet. It all made sense. He knew what she was doing and he knew exactly where she’d be: the very place where she’d stopped being mortal. “Thank you, Father.” He burst from the confessional, sprinting across the church and out into the rain.
A CINDER REACHED out as flames burst up from the cement where she’d marked the circle. Fire engulfed its half-fleshed hand. It recoiled, and used the other rotten limb to rip the burning one from its socket. The severed limb was discarded and the cinder fell to its knees as if to worship. Behind it, the entering melee gathered, edging her circle and filling the space. They also fell to their knees and their chant, “Jo, Jo, Jo,” created a thick rhythm with the drums that had called them to rise.
That was when Jovienne realized what they expected to happen. They weren’t going to perform a summoning. She was.
Lucifer had sent them to bear witness.
But how was she supposed to summon the Sanctus Spiritus?
Would they depart afterward if she was successful in calling the Holy Spirit? Or would they add another layer of menace meant to ensure her actions? The drums blasted on, antagonizing her.
Jovienne formed a small inner circle barely six inches in diameter with blessed daggers. Using the lion-headed dagger, she poured a circle of holy water over the daggers, capped it, and turned to Nathan. “I need to cut you.” It took effort not to shout over the drums even though she knew she was the only one who heard them.
He recoiled.
“Not deep. Just a few drops from your finger. Come here.”
He stood, but reluctance made him slow.
She held Nathan’s arm above the smaller circle and sliced his finger. He twitched, but she kept his hand steady and the blood dripped into the circle.
“No.” He yanked from her grasp and backed up.
She thought he was changing his mind about her using his blood until he ripped off his sweater.
“No. Not now!” Nathan held his arms up before him. The skin split as easily as an eye opening, and dark fluid oozed out. “NO!”
Nathan’s eyes rolled back and his head fell forward. His knees bent slowly as if he were crumbling in slow motion, and then he straightened like a puppet whose strings had been pulled taut. He rose into the air.
Jovienne gaped. She’d intended to try summoning the Sanctus Spiritus through the smaller circle, but it had come before she could begin. More concerning was the fact that the spirit had come through her sealed circle without affecting it. She made a full revolution, scanning the burning base of the circle to confirm this.
“You were commanded to never again open a Hellgate.”
She spun toward that breathy whisper.
Nathan hovered as he had been, but she was certain the Sanctus Spiritus had used him to speak. The voice was almost Nathan’s but not, yet different still from Araxiel’s.
The hanging head raised and Nathan’s eyes opened showing only white. “Who do you plan to slay, abhadhon? This man? The demon within him? Or yourself?” As it spoke, the mouth opened the least possible amount to articulate each word, and it never fully shut.
She noted that it left itself out of the equation. “Can you not tell? You must not be well versed in the ways of weaving.”
“There is but one way to break your circle. A death must occur. I, of course, suggest the demon.”
“What if I prefer to kill you?”
“It would not be a surprise if you choose to squander the opportunities afforded you, but the overall loss would be minimal. Like the opportunities afforded this man and your pedagogue, all were calculated risks. Whereas the two males have shown themselves to disappoint, both maintained their faith. You have exceeded expectations, yet your faith never developed. We are here now because it would seem you are the greater failure.”
Jovienne’s chin lowered and she shook her head. Then, her jaw set and her chin lifted. “What you call opportunities, I call oppression.”
“You were bestowed with gifts far greater than most.”
“And with those ‘gifts’ came enslavement to a single course.”
“Ungrateful.”
She shoulders squared. “Free-willed.”
“Abomination.”
“Unafraid! Defiant!”
“To what end?”
“My freedom! To live without your interference or control.”
“To be mortal? You wish to have the quintanumin ripped from your soul so you may live only to die and have your soul held accountable for all the faithless sins you’ve amassed so that you may end up in Hell anyway?” Nathan’s head cocked. “Save us the trouble, Jovienne. Open your Hellgate and crawl in.”
“No! I mean, yes, I want my life. I’ve done what was asked of me, but I resent what God made happen to make me this. I resent being a slave.”
“Of course you do.” The pragmatic tone had no room for even a scrap of sympathy. “You’re mortal. You were meant to suffer and, through worship, become more than you are.”
There was no reasoning with this Sanctus Spiritus. No negotiating for a better deal. And likewise, there was no escape from her bargain with Araxiel. If she wielded the unholy sword, the Holy Spirit would surely flee her circle as easily as it had entered. Her options dwindled.
What if I raise a demon? Loose it here in the circle. The Spirit will dispatch it or flee, leaving me to do the job. Either way, death would bring down the circle. I can retreat too. Make a better plan.
She faced the smaller circle. “Ahi!” Green flames shot up around the smallest drawn inner circle. “Kehena puka hamama!”
Around them, the cinders punctuated the phrases for her. Energy lifted thick and sharp. Lowering onto her knees beside the green flames, she took a cleansing breath and turned the point of the lion-headed dagger toward her chest.
“No!”
Movement erupted across the sea of cinders outside the circle. The bowing charred bodies twisted to peer up toward the sound. She followed their gazes to the stairwell that led from the roof. “Jovienne, no! Don’t do it!”
BECAUSE SHE WAS working a ritual, Andrei was stuck in the cringe and his skin was crawling non-stop, but desperation kept him focused. He noted the stigmatic in the circle, suspended mid-air. He descended the stairs, searching for a path to get to her, but the floor was packed with the creatures.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she called.
Relief flooded over him as she lowered the dagger. “Neither of us should be here.” He gestured at the mass of nonliving bodies separating them. “Stop this witchcraft and come with me.”
“It’s not witchcraft!” she shouted, pounding her fist on the magic wall. Sparks scintillated across the surface. “And I can’t leave the circle.”
“More circles? More magic? And a knife at your own heart?” He realized her wings weren’t the beautiful downy wings he’d seen before. They had become bat wings, as Raazaq and the others had described. “After what you told me yesterday, I thought you understood this only brought you misery.”
She hung her head.
One of the creatures arose and ambled toward Andrei. His stomach flip-flopped. God help me. He drew his sword. The creature rushed him and got in close before he could use the weapon. It struck him three times before he kicked it off of him. “Jovienne!”
The creatures nearest him snarled and twisted to their feet. His heart raced, but he fell into a ready stance.
“Andrei, just go!”
“I won’t leave without you!”
The creatures moved in. Andrei lashed out, severing one’s head from its shoulders. The others moved in. More followed. Andrei fought, but they surged forward in insurmountable numbers.
He screamed when they touched him. He roared when they stripped him of his sword. Panic set in as they overpowered him, clutching his arms and legs and lifting him over their heads.