Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Nathan
Nathan woke to find that Bill had incapacitated him. He was tied to a slab of marble, in fact, the stone cold against his skin. Rough ropes pinned his arms and legs in place, with almost no wiggle room.
His head was the only part of him able to move, which was how he got a sense of where he was. It wasn’t anywhere he’d been before, but familiar images filled the area around him. Statues and stained glass and pews and—
It was a church.
Unlike St. Stephen’s, which despite being small and humble was well-cared for, this place was falling apart. Perhaps it had been abandoned? Often when parishes closed or moved, and the building wasn’t able to be sold, it would revert back to the town.
From there, the old church would either be used, sold, or fall into disrepair, abandoned. This one was definitely the latter.
Large brown spots of water damage marred the cathedral ceilings, like huge misshapen eyes staring down and judging the empty pews below.
The stained glass had been beautiful once, fourteen lovely depictions of the Stations of the Cross, but now most of them had sections missing, allowing in the weather to soak the deteriorating carpet.
The smell of mildew was overpowering, forcing Nathan to fight the urge to vomit. He thrashed, pulling against the ropes with all his might, but finding no give.
Two statues looked down on him from either side of the altar, one of Mary and one of her son. Their benevolent smiles were at odds with the desolation stretching out before them, including Nathan’s bound body.
“Awake, are we?”
The sicky-smooth voice of Bill sounded close to Nathan’s ears. He was standing in Nathan’s blind spot at the head end of the altar. His tone turned Nathan’s stomach, compounding the nausea already surging from the mildew smell.
“Where are we?” Nathan couldn’t sense anything through the mate bond, but maybe there would be a way to communicate. He assumed Bill could prevent Hunter from following the bond, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know enough about any of it.
“Oh, you don’t need to know that. Just an old church the diocese was kind enough to forget about.”
Nathan shuddered at Bill’s words. How deep was the rot here? He assumed the bishop had to be involved somehow, but was that it? Was it worse?
The sound of a stone scraping interrupted his thoughts. A mortar and pestle, maybe?
“What are you going to do with me?” Nathan tried to keep his voice from shaking, not wanting to let on just how scared he was.
“I think you know.” Bill kept a cheery tone, despite whatever evil he was planning.
“I’m quite interested to see how this goes.
You are my first priest, and your soul should provide some exceptional power.
Maybe as much as an innocent child, or more.
I’m not sure how your clerical devotion will affect the output. ”
“You’re insane.” Nathan couldn’t pretend he was okay, not anymore. This lunatic was planning to destroy his soul. “You’re deluding yourself. How can you justify doing this to another human?”
A loud crack sounded as something heavy hit wood—perhaps the mortar and pestle being thrown down? Nathan’s body jolted, straining against the restraints.
“You have no idea what I am called to do. You cavort with demons. You trust in the machinations of Hell.”
Nathan shook his head. He was dealing with a fanatic, and he doubted he could change the man’s mind. “Of course I trust demons, if the alternative is destroying the souls of innocents. No matter what evil they may have done, they don’t stand in the way of God’s plan of life and death.”
“You know nothing.” Bill’s voice came out in a rasp as his face appeared, looking down at Nathan. A quick flash of rage appeared there before the man trained his expression, a friendly smile taking its place. Nathan didn’t trust it.
“I have to go outside and check on the defenses. Your friends shouldn’t have been able to find us here, but better safe than sorry.”
Bill patted Nathan’s cheek, the man’s large hand cold and clammy against his skin. Then he was gone. A few seconds later, the slam of a wooden door reached Nathan’s ears.
He let out a sigh of relief, even if it was only temporary. He searched the surrounding room, desperate for some kind of knife, some tool for escape. It was futile, maybe, considering his inability to move, but he had to try something.
His gaze landed on a rusty toolbox in a shadowy corner of the church. Maybe someone was taking care of the place at some point? It was difficult to see, but Nathan could make out a single screwdriver sitting on top.
But what good would that do him? It was all the way at the other end of the room. Maybe if he could get it, he could use it to wear down one of the ropes, but it didn’t matter. The tool was too far away.
Except some part of him cried out that it wasn’t. He didn’t understand where it came from, but like a flicker of black flame, a belief sparked in him. The belief that he might be able to retrieve it.
Which made little sense. But he remembered Hunter—or was it Tristan?—saying the mate bond conferred some of the hellhound’s power. And Hunter’s power was shadow.
Staring at the screwdriver, Nathan built an image of the object in his mind, no longer in the toolbox, but resting in his palm instead. He blocked out all other thoughts but that one thing. The tool in his hand.
With a blink, Nathan noticed something move. Almost imperceptibly, the shadows enveloped the screwdriver, and it was gone, lost to the darkness.
Except it wasn’t. It was in his palm.
Yes!
Letting out a shaky breath, he didn’t take time to wonder at what he’d done and what that meant about him, even if the ramifications were mind-boggling. Instead, Nathan got to work, pressing the flat head against the nearest rope, rubbing against the fibers and hoping it was enough.
It took a few minutes, but it was. With a snap, the taut rope released, and the whole system went slack. Wriggling out of his bonds, Nathan cast about, pondering where he should go.
Should he hide? Would Bill be waiting for him outside?
Nathan was certain Bill had left through the nearby entrance, which presumably opened out behind the church. He wouldn’t follow the man.
Instead, he ran for the large double doors at the front of the nave, rushing through them as fast as he could. Some part of him thought that if he could break through to the outside, Hunter might sense him. Might find him.
As he ran, he slipped the screwdriver up his sleeve. In all likelihood, the asshole would capture Nathan again, but hopefully he’d be sloppy enough not to look for a weapon.
Entering the lobby, Nathan stopped dead in his tracks. On either side of the church doors were two tall cages, each containing…
Creatures. Monsters. Similar to the one that attacked the bar. But so much worse.
One had a human body, but the head of a Rottweiler. With the largest jaws Nathan had ever seen on a dog, some part of him understood it had been created as a mockery of hellhounds. Sadness rushed through him, thinking of both the person and the animal sacrificed to create this abomination.
In the other cage was a thing almost unrecognizable as having any humanity. At first, he thought it was only a spider, much like any you’d find in nature, if a thousand times larger.
After he stared at it for a few seconds, though, he understood. It was a person. Several people. They’d been reconstructed into the form of a spider, their limbs now purple-black. The only remnants of their personhood were the hands at the bottom of the spider’s legs, palms facing the floor.
The two monsters were sleeping, or at least Nathan thought they were. Inert, at the very least. They weren’t moving and didn’t seem to notice him.
As unique and terrifying as the constructions were, Nathan wasn’t waiting around to find out more. He pushed his weight against one of the tall front doors, stepping out into the sun.
Of which there wasn’t much. It took him a minute to understand why. Someone had planted a large hedge, and it hid the front of the church, blocking out much of the natural light.
The thick evergreen needles gave the front of the building a melancholy feel. The gray stone was pockmarked with age and damage, and the paint was chipping from the windows.
Nathan took a mental snapshot before heading down the walkway, hoping to make his way out through the hedge and onto the street. As he did, he reached out to the bond inside him, as best as he knew how, searching for the connection he’d denied for so long.
Hunter?
A wave of concern, fury, and relief poured through the bond, nearly overwhelming Nathan.
My mate. Where are you? What’s happened?
I don’t know. Can you find me?
There was a long pause, but the bond didn’t go silent. Instead, it became a barely contained maelstrom of emotions. Guilt. Desire. Fear. Anger.
I think so, just stay—
“Stop.”
With that single word, everything stopped. Nathan felt it as the bond was muted. It wasn’t just a lack of communication. It was as though part of him had been sealed in a jar, locked away somewhere he couldn’t access.
From around the corner of the hedge stepped Bill, a stupid smile on his stupid face. Nathan struggled against the paralysis gripping him, but there was nothing he could do. He was stuck staring at Bill’s plastic expression.
“Aren’t you resourceful? It doesn’t matter. I control everything here. God intended this fate for you, and there’s nothing you can do to fight it.”
Nathan wanted to yell, to scream out that God would never require this from anyone, that he would never serve a God that did. That this was delusion and betrayal.
But he couldn’t. His lips wouldn’t move. His voice box wouldn’t produce sound.
Instead, he was left staring at Bill’s condescending grin.
“It’s time to obey, Father.”