The Bound Angel (Sacrilege Rising: Book 1)

Chapter Thirty Three

Mike’s voice sounded thin and nervous in his own ears. But as soon as he said it, he knew he’d made the right decision. At the same moment, his eyes met Liliana’s. Her face softened into a sad smile.

“But, Michael…” Silas implored.

“I said I won’t do it.” This time his voice rang strong and sure.

Silas recoiled like he’d been slapped. “Fool,” he breathed, eyes wide in surprise. “Child. Playing with forces you don’t understand. Do you know the hurdles I have leaped to get you here? Can you even comprehend what was required? No. Of course not. You’re a toddler whining for a sandcastle, only to stomp right through it just before it’s finished. An ignorant wretch like all the others. You want to be the hero that wins the day and saves the girl, but I’ll tell you this, boy,” he sneered. “Heroes don’t exist. We’re all villains when it comes down to it, just different shades of black. And this day is far from won.”

All pretense of the kindly father figure was gone, replaced by a twisted visage of frothing fury.

Silas spun, black robes whirling behind him, and strode down the hall. A tall, heavy object leaned against the far wall, hidden in the shadows.

Not just an object. A cross. A man strung up on wooden beams. Silas leaned close to the man, the mask of solemnity returning, and whispered something in his ear. They shared quiet words. Silas touched his shoulders, forehead, heart. The man nodded once and closed his eyes. Silas straightened, pulled a wavy knife from somewhere in his robe, and slit the man’s throat.

It felt like a rope, stretched to its breaking point, had suddenly snapped. A breeze whipped through the room, blowing out half the candles and making the hair on the back of Mike’s neck stand up. Now that it was gone, the tension in the room before was obvious. How had he not noticed it?

The floor shuddered, vibrating under their feet. It felt like a freight train passing nearby. He and the girls braced themselves on walls and furniture. But after a few tense moments, the shuddering passed. They looked around, confused. When nothing else happened, they began to-

The ground shook again, sending the polished collection trays skittering across the altar and the stained-glass windows rattling in their frames. This time, there was no pretense that it was a far-away earthquake or some other natural phenomenon. Mike searched for the cause as his heart pounded.

A fire sprang to life on the floor near the altar. It quickly spread, travelling to either side in lines, winding around pre-constructed paths like model trains following their tracks. It curved until the ends met, and a circle of flames was born.

The circle was huge, its edges reaching almost from wall to wall. While the group stared, an enormous black… something… rose from the circle. It was bigger than any of the other demons so far, maybe ten feet tall. But Mike had seen Liliana in action, and whatever this thing was, she could handle it.

Another figure rose up from the circle beside the first, and Mike realized with horror that they weren’t demons. They were arms. The arms heaved and a head rose up from the flames. Elephant-like tusks jutted from its jaw. But instead of curving white ivory, they were black and misshapen, and one was broken off halfway down its length. When it finished pulling itself up from the circle, the backs of Mike’s legs bumped into a pew. He didn’t realize he was backpedaling.

It was colossal. A titanic monster with skin like hardened lava and rivulets of glowing red lines spiderwebbing across its body. The lines seemed to pulse, like a heartbeat, red, orange, yellow. It took a breath that blew out most of the remaining candles. Then it roared.

The scream shook Mike down to the bones. The building quaked and the windows rattled again. When the… thing opened its jaws, white-hot fire glowed deep in its throat, and Mike deliriously wondered if it was about to burn them all to a crisp. But then the roar trailed off, and he was left with a high-pitched whine in his ears. He rubbed them to try to clear the sound, but his fingers came back wet and sticky.

“Now you understand, fool.” Silas had returned, coming closer. His voice was muffled, like he was speaking underwater. “It didn’t have to be this way. I didn’t want this. I wanted to do it the easy way, the painless way, so you and your little friends could go on with your little lives. But you’ve forced my hand, and I will have her. If it’s the last thing I do, Iwill have her. So now you must die.”

In the corner of his eye, Liliana broke into a trot, and then a run. Once she reached speed, it only took a few strides before she was on the immense monster. Or, rather, before she was on its knees. The thing had to stoop to keep its head from tearing through the ceiling. Talons extended, she plunged both hands into its rocky flesh.

The monster hardly noticed. To something so huge, she was likely no more than an annoying pinprick. One flinch of its gigantic leg sent Liliana flying through the air until she crashed into a wall. The wood splintered from the impact, and she crumpled to the floor.

The sound of scraping metal brought Mike back to his immediate surroundings. Silas had just drawn a sword from its scabbard, cycling it through the air in circles and loosening his wrist.

Mike watched the sword warily. “I thought you needed me to pass you the bond.”

Silas smirked. “That would have been nice, wouldn’t it? A quick transfer. Simple for you, much less traumatic for her. But now that option has come and gone.” His twisted smile made Mike’s blood run cold. “Your death will also suffice.”

Silas lunged, and Mike had just enough time to throw himself out of the way as the sword pierced the air where he was just standing. He lunged again and Mike sidestepped, afraid of being backed into a corner, hoping to use the wide hall to keep distance between them. But Silas steadily advanced, cutting off angles and shepherding him like a Border Collie.

He slashed twice, the sword whistling through the air, and Mike backpedaled. Another lunge, and Mike leaped out of the way, crashing into a pew. He had just enough time to throw himself the other way as the sword took a chunk out of the wood.

“What shall I do with her first, hmmm?” Silas taunted. “I wonder. Has she danced for you yet?”

Another thundering crash shook the building. A fist, the size of a car, left what could only be described as a crater in the church’s wooden floor. Liliana moved out of the way just in time. She’d been trying to come to Mike’s aid, but the lava monster cut her off.

Options dwindling, Mike started to panic. Maybe he should have made the deal.

Fuck that. Focus. He concentrated on the sword, trying to pick out little details, the same way he’d been taught to hit a baseball.

Silas attacked again and Mike tried to dodge, but the quaking ground made him stumble. The tip of the blade caught him across the ribs, leaving a line of sharp pain.

The monk tsked, then sneered, “I’ll make her beg like a strung-out whore.”

Mike ignored the taunting and felt for the wound. His hand came back wet. Damn, that hurt. He looked for the girls, but didn’t see them and couldn’t spare any more attention. Silas was relentless, swiping and lunging and thrusting, never missing a beat.

Mike’s back bumped against a wall. This was it. Nowhere left to turn. The best he could do now was make enough of a distraction for the girls, wherever they were, to get away.

Something clipped Silas’ shoulder. He spun in a half circle, grunting as a gleaming silver goblet clattered to the floor nearby. Another glint of silver arced through the air, but this one sailed wide. Then a bright golden chalice caught Silas on the hip, making him stumble.

Standing beside the altar, the girls whooped with glee and reached for more polished tableware. Mike wanted to laugh and cry and hug them all at the same time. But Silas quickly put together what was happening. He spun and charged the altar with a bellow. The glee suddenly fell from their faces, and Mike took off after the older man at a dead sprint.

Baltimore’s streets had instilled in him the ability to find another gear when panic set in. He caught up to the robed man in half a dozen strides and tackled him from behind, sending the sword skittering across the floor.

They rolled together, becoming a flurry of snarling jabs, sharp elbows, and bruising fists. When Silas was finally able to kick him off, they both came away bloody.

They each scrambled and came up holding swords. Silas held his own while Mike managed to find one on the floor next to a robed corpse. He held it in a clumsy grip, knowing nothing about sword fighting other than to keep the pointy end away from him.

Determined not to get caught on the back foot again, Mike took a tentative swipe at his opponent, which Silas casually blocked. He tried again, swinging low and then high, which the older man calmly avoided. The move left Mike exposed, and the fight could have ended right then if Silas had wanted it to. But instead, he slashed the back of Mike’s wrist with a taunting sneer.

“Just a child,” he snarled as Mike shook his hand loose.

The slice burned, and wet heat trickled down his forearm. Gritting his teeth, he kept trying. He stomped on the ground, trying to throw off his opponent’s timing but mostly just looking like an idiot, and lunged forward. Silas batted his sword aside with contempt and flicked his wrist again, cutting Mike across the bicep.

He fought to catch his breath through burning lungs. He was bleeding from half a dozen cuts. He wasn’t used to this type of fighting, with the constant lunging and swinging and sliding.

His sword-arm ached. Blood was affecting his grip, while Silas laughed and taunted and landed cut after stinging cut. This wouldn’t last much longer. The sword was doing more harm than good. Maybe he would have a better shot fighting the way he knew. Mike mentally prepared to drop the sword and rush forward when a silver collection tray arced through the air.

Without looking back, Silas raised a closed fist. The runes on his sword glowed with ghostly light. The collection tray halted in midair, ringing against an invisible barrier before dropping to the floor. A vicious smile spread over the older man’s face, and he resumed his steady advance.

“I’ve decided,” the monk sneered, “your little friends will be joining us after all. I will have the Dark Lady turn them into playthings for when I get bored.”

Mike leaped aside from the next attack, then backpedaled, using every ounce of concentration to stay alive for one more second. But it didn’t do much good. The wall was right behind him, and in a few more steps he would be out of room and out of time.

Liliana made another attempt to get to him. She moved like a dancer, quick and light on her feet, weaving between pews as the lava monster swung its enormous fists. She spun and bobbed between crushing blows, the essence of graceful motion, and Mike could have watched her all day. The contrast between how she moved and how everything else moved was like a professional among clumsy children. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she was toying with the enormous demon.

But a piece of burning debris fell from the ceiling, clipping her shoulder, making her stumble. The lava monster’s next blow slammed into her with a wet, meaty thud. Liliana disappeared, reappearing a moment later when she crashed into a wall and dropped like a sandbag.

Shaking her head, she slowly rose to one knee and reached out with an open hand. A nearby shadow began to swirl. She crawled toward it, and Mike expected her to suddenly appear nearby.

But Silas whispered a word. The runes on his sword glowed with that same haunting light, and he gestured to the shadow. It stopped swirling. The inky blackness faded until it was still. Liliana dropped her head, then looked at Mike from across the hall while the lava monster raged between them. The resignation in her eyes broke his heart.

This was it. There were no more outs. The girls were too far away, and Silas’ shield was blocking their attempts to help. Liliana was out of commission. An insane, magic swordfighter was bearing down on him. It was almost funny. Almost.

Liliana would be humiliated and abused. Who knew what would happen to his friends. They’d trusted him, and he’d led them to this. He would die here, in a church, just like how it all started.

That night had sent his life spiraling. What he thought would be a simple painting job turned out to be the catalyst of an early death. He remembered the first time he heard Liliana’s voice, moaning in ecstasy. Then a new voice spoke in his mind, calm and deep.

“Though we walk in the flesh, we do not wage war according to the flesh. Be strong in the Lord and his mighty power.”

He didn’t know where the voice came from. He listened to it anyway. There was a growing pool of blood at Mike’s feet, but he had a few moments of strength left. In his mind’s eye, the church became a little brighter until the shadows receded. Silas suddenly looked like a tired old man. The voice spoke again.

“Put on the full armor of God, so you may take your stand against the schemes of the dark.”

The words banished his fatigue, and Mike felt light as a feather. The voice grew louder.

“So that when the day of evil comes you may stand your ground. Stand firm then!”

For all his supernatural power and skill with a sword, Silas was still just a man. Mike couldn’t do anything against a lava monster. But he could stop a man. The voice shook with anger.

“With the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place!”

Mike squared his shoulders. Sweat stung his eyes and smoke charred his throat. Heat haze obscured Silas’ ever widening smile. The victorious glint in the monk’s eyes gave him hope.

He’d fought. He’d done what he thought was right. He hoped Allie would meet someone that treated her well, and Meredith would forge her own path, and Emma wouldn’t cry too much. He hoped Liliana found her way to freedom.

The time for running was over. Mike calmed his mind and took a step forward, hoping to look defeated. Silas looked like he was about to taunt him one last time, but stopped at the look of resignation on Mike’s face. With a snort and a shake of his head, the older man raised his sword until the tip was pointed at his chest. He spat, “What a waste.”

Then he lunged. Once he began the move, Mike knew it was over. He raised his sword the same way. The monk realized what was happening a beat too late. He tried to flinch, but his momentum was already carrying him forward.

A lance of fire drove into Mike’s stomach. At the same time, a weight tugged on his wrist. White-hot pain roared in his belly, twisting, ripping, slicing, burning. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. His brain was screaming to make it stop. Make it stop. MAKE IT STOP.

His knees hit the floor. The two men slumped together, sinking into a wet puddle. They knelt face to face. Silas’ eyes were wide with surprise. He whispered something, his breath soft on Mike’s cheek, but it was too quiet to hear. Then he collapsed face down in the pool of their mingling blood.

Other voices came then, but they were muffled, as if spoken underwater. Emma’s accent was so pronounced when she spoke that fast. He would miss it. Meredith’s voice reminded him of her tequila story, and a smile at the bar just for him. Allie’s swearing made him snort the last remaining breath in his lungs.

On the other side of the church, Liliana was rising, her face twisted in snarling fury, blue eyes like frozen thunder. She began limping over to him, her arm hanging loosely at her side. She was covered in spatters of grime and glistening smears of blood. But she was alive. Mike would have smiled if he had the energy. She approached and knelt at his side, untangling him from Silas.

For some reason, her voice was clear. “You did not pass my bond.”

Mike tried to speak, but nothing came out. Not even a breath. He just shrugged at her words.

Liliana’s eyes were rimmed with red, tears wetting her cheeks. She threw her good arm around his neck and hugged him tight. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking for the first time.

Mike didn’t even have the strength to nod. It was all slipping away. Thoughts were slowing. Vision was fading. The ability to even care was simply leaking out.

“It is time for you to go,” Liliana said.

That sounded nice. He was ready to go, to drift away, content that he’d done all he could.

“Fuck that,” Allie’s voice snapped. “We’re not just leaving him. He needs a hospital.”

“Fix him,” Emma pleaded. “Pull it out and fix him.”

Liliana spoke slowly. “I… cannot. If I remove the sword he will bleed out in seconds. Emergency services will arrive too late. There is nothing I can do. I am sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Emma sobbed, sinking to her knees by his side. “It’s okay,” she whispered as she set his head in her lap and tears filled her eyes. “It’s okay.”

Mike tried to tell her that everything would be alright. His lips made the motions, but his lungs were empty.

“There is nothing more to be done here,” Liliana continued. “You must go. It is what he would want.”

Meredith took Emma’s arm and tried to pull her away, but Emma yanked herself free.

“I’m not leaving him,” she snapped. A sob tore from her throat and her voice broke. “I can’t.” Her face twisted and she broke into tears. “Stay with me Mike. Just stay with me a little while longer. You owe me a drink over a football match, remember?” She smiled as tears rolled down her face.

The floor rumbled under Mike’s back. The lava monster slowly turned its massive head toward the group and Silas’ body lying next to them. It looked like a shark catching the scent of fresh blood. Then it threw its head back and roared. The collar around its throat came apart.

“It seems its bond to the acolyte is broken,” Liliana said. Then her voice hardened. “There is no more time. Go. Now. Call the authorities. Tell them there has been a disaster.” When they just stared at her, she continued. “My kind fear discovery by mortals. It is one of the reasons we do not operate in the open.” When they still didn’t move, her voice softened. “He would not want you to die here.”

Mike was half asleep. Everything was muffled. He was drifting along as if in a boat on a river while the afternoon light faded to dusk.

The ground shook again. The beast was thrashing in its newfound freedom. Liliana herded the girls to the door. With final, teary looks over their shoulders, they left. Then it was just Mike, his demon, and the lava monster.

Liliana must have sensed his thoughts. She looked down on him with a smile that dulled the pain. Her blue eyes were wet and rimmed with red, but they were still the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. Then she kissed him.

Even through the murk, the kiss held searing heat and tear-stained passion. The nerve centers in his brain lit up like a Christmas tree, and the world melted away until there was nothing but her perfect lips pressing against his. He became lost in that kiss and hoped to stay that way for the rest of his short life. When she finally pulled back, he had enough clarity to hear the voice in his head speak one more time.

“We are coming.”

Somewhere, as if from miles away, a bell tolled. The deep, familiar tone reverberated in his chest.