Chapter 8
Istared at the door leading to the balcony before slowly pushing it open and sticking my head out. The faint smell of charred wood, metal, and the sulfur of matches filled the space of the cavernous room. Thankfully, the second-floor area was blessedly vacant.
We did not have time to do more than rest a few seconds before venturing a glance down below.
Ten figures clad in full armor roamed the chapel below. Large rifles were strapped to their backs along with handguns secured in holsters at their waists. They wasted no time smashing pews and shredding curtains as they tore the room apart searching for us. The act was careless, one I knew the witches would not take kindly to. This chapel was a sacred temple to them. It held the story of their history and a guiding light for their future.
I looked over my shoulder at Sloane, whose posture had gone rigid as she clenched the guns in her hands. It was taking everything she had not to rain down hellfire on them, for which I was grateful. We were already working against time. It would not take long for them to realize there was nowhere for us to hide downstairs.
We would have to act fast. Once our first shot rang out, it would alert them of our location, sending the full force of their arsenal our way. There would be no chance of a truce; the fight would not end until fresh blood spilled across the stone floor.
“Where the fuck are they?” one man hissed, flipping up the visor on his helmet. “They can’t have gone far.”
“Dunno. Maybe they slipped out,” another said. “The smoke was pretty thick… Hey, least we didn’t have to get tattoos this?—”
The first man walked over and rammed his fist into the other man’s stomach. “For your sake, you better hope they didn’t make it far. It’s more than our ass on the line if they escape.”
I checked my weapon, the weight seeming foreign in my hand. It had been so long since I fired a gun. Usually, I opted for ripping out various organs and leaving their owners to bleed out. “Leave one alive,” I whispered, drawing Sloane and Jasper’s attention. “We need to know who ordered this hit and how they knew about our meeting.”
Sloane nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me. I can make him sing.”
We turned back toward the scene, aiming our weapons at the men below before Jasper fired our first shot. By the time the first man had fallen, four more had quickly followed.
Sloane’s aim was exceptional, and it seemed she was lightning fast as well.
The men sprang into action, taking cover behind pews they had just torn apart. They reached for their weapons, returning fire quicker than I had hoped.
A bullet flew past my head as I ducked, narrowly escaping death as it lodged into the wall behind me. Turning, I focused on the direction it came from, firing two shots off before they could register what happened. Seconds later, I relished the sound of a body collapsing against the floor.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Sloane shouted above the noise. “That was my kill.” I opened my mouth to thank her but stopped when I saw her jaw slacken. She pointed below, tucking one of her pistols at the back of her jeans. “Fuck,” she cursed.
Before I could ask what she had seen, she vaulted over the railing and landed atop a figure attempting to run away. “Shit,” Jasper cursed, taking out the three remaining mercenaries in quick succession.
Sloane groaned, letting out a guttural cry that turned into a scream. She was no longer in sight, forcing us to follow her lead and leap over the railing to the ground below. My knees shook with the force of the landing, and I caught myself on a dead body before I toppled over. Jasper followed, cursing lightly as his legs gave out, and he landed on his ass.
We stumbled into the foyer, scanning the room for any sign of Sloane before finally catching sight of her. Jasper shook his head, chuckling as he walked toward her.
She was sitting atop the man, who was now bound and gagged, smiling. Her lip was busted, and there was a cut above her eyebrow where a thin line of blood trickled down her face, but she was otherwise unharmed.
“This one,” Sloane said, patting the struggling man’s head, “was trying to slip out the front before we noticed.”
I clicked my tongue. “What a cowardly thing to do.”
“Especially for a mercenary,” Jasper said, stepping up to my side.
The man screamed, or rather, he tried to. Whatever Sloane had stuffed inside his mouth muffled the sound.
Jasper stepped forward, crouching down in front of our captive. “I don’t suppose you’d just tell us what we want to know, would you? That would really make things easier for us.” When he did nothing but thrash, I gestured for Sloane to release the gag. His cries for help reverberated off the walls as it fell from his lips.
There was no response from his squadron, seeing as their bullet hole ridden bodies littered the floor.
“Fuck you,” he spat, looking at each of us. “You’re going to kill me anyway, so what’s in it for me?”
“Obviously,” Jasper chuckled. “But if you give us what we want, we might be inclined to make sure your death is quick and painless. How’s that for motivation?”
“I’m not telling you shit.”
My friend sighed, hanging his head. “Alright, but when we begin peeling your fingernails back with pliers, I don’t want to hear you complain about how much it hurts.” He stood, peering down at the body at his feet. With a quick kick, the man’s head fell against the floor with a thud.
Sloane stepped up with her hands on her hips. “If he had told you what you wanted, would you have really made his death painless?”
“Not a fucking chance,” I said, flipping the safety and tucking my gun into my waistband.
“But sometimes it gets them talking,” Jasper noted. “Especially the weak ones. Then we don’t have to worry about taking things too far before we have what we need.”
“Well, I have good news.” Sloane picked something up from the floor before flashing it our way. “At least we won’t die.”
She tossed the object my way, and I caught it with my outstretched hand. A smoke canister. I read the fine print label at the bottom, relieved when I saw the name. “White phosphorus. There are not many people who have access to this,” I mused. “It might make it easier to track whoever hired them if he does not give them up.”
“Tomorrow will be hell, though,” Jasper said, cracking his neck. “I already have a migraine setting in.”
“Now what?” Sloane asked, looking at the utter destruction surrounding us. The ceremony area had been demolished. There was no way the covens could mend what was broken. It was a shame, seeing that most of those items dated back over five hundred years. And three out of the six arched stained glass windows had been shattered, littering the bloodied floor with opposing bits of color. “Who gets to clean all of this up? And who gets to carry this heavy bastard?” She asked, nudging the body with her foot.
The unconscious man was massive. He had a good three inches on Jasper and me, with biceps as large as our heads. We looked at each other and groaned, knowing it would take both of us to get him into the car. Even then, it would be no easy feat.
As if realizing this, Sloane smiled and clapped her hands. “How about I make a call for this,” she said, pointing at the wreckage, “and you boys take care of him.”
And then she skipped into the chapel, leaving Jasper and I to our heavy lifting.