Julian spoke first, facing the beast without fear. “Andras, Author of Discords, we call you to do our bidding in the name of his holy father. We command you to seek out the men who call themselves the Illuminati and—”
The demon laughed. “You dare to call me and command me? I command six thousand legions in the Labyrinth, and you stand before me, five men, and this”—he faced the angel with disdain—“cast off, as if she has the power to control me?”
The angel showed no emotion as she responded to the beast before her. “This would not be the first time I have commanded you, Andras. Or the first time you have bent to my will.”
In that moment, all things happened at once.
Andras crossed the line enclosing the circle and looked into Markus’ eyes.
Then he stepped inside our friend’s body, as Markus’ chest expanded, as though he were taking a deep breath. His back stiffened, and he stood straighter than any man I had ever seen.
When Andras had filled him, Markus turned toward the angel, cracking his neck as though his bones were stiff from days of sleep. The demon’s shining ebony eyes replaced Markus’ green ones.
Markus opened his mouth, but the voice that spoke to us was not his own. “I should thank you all for inviting me into this world. The Devil’s Labyrinth has become crowded, with fewer souls to harvest. I prefer my space.” He turned to Anarel, whose terrifying and tattered wings flickered in and out of view like a candle flame.
She drew a sword from her belt, clear in places and stained with dark streaks in others. “Killing you will be a great honor. One for which I will be greatly rewarded.”
Konstantin stepped forward, his rosary and Bible in hand. “He is an innocent, possessed by the darkest of evil. You are an angel, a messenger of God.”
Anarel’s tattered wings rippled in the candlelight, and she faced Konstantin with the same disdain she had shown the demon. “A messenger? That is what you believe me to be? I am a soldier for a father you do not know. My loyalty is to Him, not to you. Soon enough, the sins of man will rival those of the demons in hell.” The angel raised her sword. “There are no innocents among you.”
In futile desperation, Konstantin began to recite the rites of exorcism. Julian, who knew them by heart, ripped the crucifix from his own neck and joined him:
“I cast you out, unclean spirit,
along with every Satanic power of the enemy,
every spectre from hell,
and all your fell companions;
in the name of our Lord.”
In a flurry of actions, the angel lunged at the demon inside Markus’ body. Another blade, infinitely smaller, forged from steel and the hands of man, shot forth from Vincent’s hand.
This ordinary blade cut through Anarel’s glistening chest plate.
The angel seized, the shock passing across her face as she looked down at the dark pool gathering at her feet. Blood as black as coal soaked the floor of the church.
Vincent dropped the dagger, as much from shock as horror.
The man who killed an angel.
It is the name they would give him in books written hundreds of years from now. Andras reared back his head, thrashing and jerking as Konstantin and Julian continued the rites, their voices unwavering in the face of the carnage.
The angel held her wound with one hand and drew something from beneath her chest plate with the other. Anarel raised the object above her head, her wings hiding it. “From the gallows of hell you emerged, and in the prison between that world and this one, you shall reside. Command your legion there, Andras. The only way I would send you back to hell is skinned like the beasts that serve you.”
A blinding light burned my eyes.
“With this key, I open the door to your prison,” the angel said, pressing the wound, a pool of dark blood at her feet.
A shrill sound ripped from Markus’ throat and pierced my eardrums.
I turned my face away and covered my ears, knowing that if I ever survived this night, that sound would haunt my every waking hour.
May the black dove always carry you—and us all.
I closed the book and handed it back to my aunt. “Thanks for letting us read it.”
“Unfortunately, that isn’t the end of the story.” Faith paced in front of us, stopping in exactly the same spot each time, before she turned and followed the same path back in the opposite direction.
“OCD much?” Elle whispered.
“The Legion went back to the Vatican that night. But after they lost control of Andras and failed to deliver the Illuminati members, the Vatican deemed them enemies of the Church. As ex-communicated priests, the Legion members were well versed on the way the Church dealt with its enemies. So they fled through the tunnels under Vatican City. But they didn’t leave empty-handed. They took the Diario di Demoni—the private journals of the Vatican’s exorcists.”
“Exorcism records?” Alara asked. “Seems like a weird choice.”
“Not weird. Smart.” Faith paced faster. “No one knew more about demons than the Catholic Church’s exorcists, and the Demoni was filled with their first-hand accounts.”
“Were they trying to exorcize Andreas?” Elle asked.
My aunt scowled at her.
“It’s Andras,” Lukas whispered.
Elle rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It’s not like he’s here to be offended.”
Faith waited to make sure Elle didn’t have any more stupid questions, before she continued. “The Art of War: ‘To know your Enemy, you must become your enemy.’ If you want to destroy a demon, you have to know everything about them. Any exorcist will tell you that demons love to talk. One of their favorite topics? Hell.” She stopped pacing. “According to the Diario di Demoni, demons don’t want to live in hell any more than we do. They like it here.”
Lukas shook his head. “More good news.”
My aunt ignored him, lost in her own manic train of thought. “But when demons cross over, they aren’t strong enough to take their true forms.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” Priest muttered under his breath.
“Until they consume enough souls to regain their strength, demons need human bodies to posses.”
“Consume?” Elle winced as she said it.
“Demons feed off violence, so they entice people to kill or brutalize each other. If a person racks up enough sin, when they die—or kill themselves, which is often the case when the devil’s soldiers are involved—the demon consumes their soul.”
I thought about the Boy Scout leader, who had killed his troop and the fireman, who set his neighbors’ homes on fire. In the last nineteen days, most of the mass murderers ended up killing themselves.
Faith glanced at the canvases in the next room. “If Andras opens the Gates of hell, the people whose souls they don’t consume, or bodies they don’t use as temporary housing, will be enslaved or tortured for their amusement.”
I envisioned my disturbing nightmares and the images in
Faith’s. “Our world will become the new hell.”
Jared’s expression hardened. “I’m not okay with that.”
“Unless you have a magic wand or the Vessel, you won’t have a say in the matter,” Faith said.
“Where do we find this Vessel?” I asked.
No one ever mentioned it before, which seemed strange. Jared, Lukas, Priest, and Alara listened, waiting for her answer.
My aunt stared at us like we were idiots. “No idea. You’re the ones who lost it.”
“She’s talking about the Shift,” Priest said.
Faith threw up her hands. “Of course I am. And without it, there’s no way to stop Andras.”
Lukas stepped in front of Faith before she could start pacing again. “How do we keep him from opening the Gates?”
She stared at him for a long moment, sadness passing over the green eyes she shared with my father. “Once he gets strong enough, you can’t.”
9. BULLETS AND BEAR TRAPS
The closet door slammed behind Faith. Within seconds, the doors upstairs began slamming, one by one, like falling dominoes.
Bear crouched at the base of the steps, barking.
Faith raced to the windows and checked the salt lines. When she turned around, the blood had drained from her face. “None of them are broken.”
Lukas yanked a paintball gun from the waistband of his jeans. Instead of paint, the casings inside were filled with Alara’s holy water cocktail. “I’ll check upstairs.”
Alara followed him, taking the steps two at a time.
Faith pointed a thin arm at the second landing. “Bear. Search.”
The Doberman jumped the moment she gave the command.
Priest watched the dog vault up the steps. “Where can I get a dog like that?”
“Spend five years putting one through combat-training.” Faith hit a button on the wall with the side of her fist. The fire sprinklers above us hissed, and salt water rained down on us.
The lights flickered, and the dead bolts on the front door started unlocking themselves from top to bottom, in rapid succession, and then locking again in reverse order.