The First Sacrament (The Demons of Stone Chapel Book 1) (32 page)

It wasn’t surprising, then, that once we made it inside the Mansion, I immediately felt out of place. Everything about it screamed money. The immaculately polished marble floors, the pure crystal chandeliers, the funny smelling food with names I couldn't pronounce. I never thought I'd feel so condescended by appetizers―sorry,
hor d'oeuvres―
but I was. Just buy some sandwich trays from the supermarket and be done with it.

A woman in an emerald green dress greeted us in the vestibule. She opened her arms up in greeting and kissed Dante on both cheeks like this was France or something. “Why, if it isn't Dante Arturo! I'm Georgiana Robinson, head of the Stone Chapel Arts Council. So lovely to finally meet you. Please, please give your coats here.”

We peeled our coats off and she took them, then passed them to a girl standing next to her.

Dante slapped on his Famous Person smile. “Thank you, Ms. Robinson.”

Ms. Robinson's quick eyes assessed the rest of us. They paused on me for a moment longer than necessary. “I see you've brought guests, Mr. Arturo. How wonderful.”

“Yes,” Dante turned to introduce us properly. “This is my very old friend, Aralia Spinosa―”

Aralia bowed her head a fraction, eyes never leaving Ms. Robinson’s face.

“―and next to her is a colleague of mine, Max Morrison―”

“Hi,” he said.

“―and his date, Sadie Li―”

Sadie was braver than the rest of us and shook Ms. Robinson's hand.

“―and lastly, another colleague of mine, Beatrice Todd.”

I didn't say anything. I couldn't even muster a fake smile. This woman rubbed me the wrong way and I wasn't going to fake courtesy for her. I didn't care how rich she was.

Ms. Robinson's mouth twitched. “Very good, then. So lovely to meet you all.”

We mumbled the appropriate responses and, satisfied with our manners, Ms. Robinson excused herself to accost a new crowd of incoming guests.

“So, who's going first?” I asked as we stood in the doorway looking into the bustling sitting room. All the furniture had been pushed aside to make room for tables of food and fountains of chocolate. Servers in red suits circulated through the throng hoisting silver platters of
hor d'oeuvres
and champagne above their heads. Jazzy Christmas music filtered in through a set of French doors that looked like they led into a ballroom. Another elaborately decorated tree stood tall and proud in the corner with a sign in front of it that read in big, bold letters: DONATE TOYS FOR THE STONE CHAPEL ORPHANAGE ASSOCIATION HERE.

A pile of brightly wrapped presents sat around it.

I rolled my eyes. These people could donate toys but they couldn't donate anything that would actually
help
the orphanages. They donated when it looked good, when it was convenient. Otherwise? They didn't give a shit.

Aralia nominated Dante by giving him a push forward. “Go on, darling. You first.”

He pressed his lips in a thin line, set his shoulders, and led us into the Christmas colored fray. It took all of five minutes of mingling and stealing crab cakes from one of the server's trays for the mayor to find us.

Thirty-Three

“Here he is, my honored guest!”

Mayor Bishop, in top Clark Gable form, cornered us by one of the chocolate fountains. He took Dante's hand and gave it a brisk shake. Dante didn't try to smile. He didn't try to appear cordial. He just stared at the man who would be the mayor, the man who was actually a vessel for his father, and pulled his hand back.

“Mayor Bishop,” he said curtly.

The mayor took a couple of champagne glasses from a frazzled looking server and offered one to Dante. “You look tired, Mr. Arturo. This is a party, you should be celebrating.”

“I appreciate the concern, Mayor Bishop,” Dante took the champagne and gave it to Aralia instead. “But I'm fine. Thank you.”

I doubted the words
thank you
had ever been said with quite as much condescension than what they had when they passed Dante Arturo's lips. Hiding my smile by fake-coughing behind my arm, I busied myself with looking around the crowded room for any signs of suspicious activity. Nothing yet. Maybe Bishop wanted to wait until
after
the food was served to ruin everyone’s lives.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he was staring at me.

“Beatrice,” he said, “always good to see you again. You look wonderful.”

Ew. He was the last person I wanted complimenting me.

“Nice party,” I gestured to the presents under the tree to derail any more possible compliments. “I like the presents. Very charitable.”

The mayor paused for a moment, narrowed his eyes at me as though doing so would help him see through my very thinly veiled sarcasm, then laughed. Always chipper, that Michael Bishop, even when possessed by the literal devil. “You're funny, Ms. Todd. I like that.”

Ew.

Beside me, Max took Sadie's hand. “Sadie and I are gonna go get some punch,” he said, and pulled her away before he became the subject of the mayor's scrutiny. Way to be a team player, Max.

Thankfully, Aralia and Dante remained firmly rooted to their positions.

As did the mayor.

“You've arrived just in time,” he told Dante, slinging an arm around his shoulders in a show of good faith. Dante stiffened. “I was just about to do a toast. You know, to officially kick things off. Now that you're here, we can get things started.”

Anxiety hit me hard in the gut. Yeah, he was going to get things started, alright. I had half a mind to go find the server with the champagne and steal his tray.

Dante's jaw clenched. “Surely you didn't have to wait for me, Mayor Bishop.”

The mayor's fingers dug into Dante's shoulder like claws. A normal show of camaraderie to the rest of the people at the party. A not-so-subtle threat to us. “That's not true, Mr. Arturo. After all, you're the reason I'm throwing this get-together.”

Aralia sputtered into her glass.

I sucked in a breath, cutting a glance at Dante. His flat expression hadn't changed, his body language no less taut.

“Very well,” he said, breaking away from the mayor's grip and striding toward the ballroom. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“That's the spirit, Mr. Arturo.” The mayor followed after him.

Aralia and I stood in their wake, the rest of the party swirling around us in flashes of Christmas scented glamor. Groups of guests socialized and carried on while a woman and her young daughter deposited presents for the orphans under the tree. Dante and the mayor stepped through the French doors I'd seen previously, and the mayor turned and said in a loud, energetic voice:

“Everyone, please join me in the ballroom for a toast!”

Then, like nicely dressed livestock, the guests dropped whatever they were doing and followed their shepherd through the doors.

***

Through the use of brute force and a couple of choice words, Aralia managed to secure us a spot at the front of the crowd nearest the raised platform that served as a stage for the band―some sort of jazz outfit with trumpets and saxophones. The room was crammed to maximum capacity with smiling faces glittering underneath the light of another massive crystal chandelier. The mayor stood at the microphone with Dante at his side.

“Is this thing on?” He asked breezily, giving the microphone a tap with his finger. It was definitely on. The crowd tittered with polite laughter anyway. “Now that we've got that sorted out, I'd like to formally welcome all of you to the first annual Solstice Ball!”

Cue the applause.

The mayor waited for it to die down to speak again. “Given the recent events that have plagued our city, I thought we all deserved a chance to catch our breath and have some fun. 'Tis the season, after all.”

More applause, lighter this time.

I leaned over to Aralia. “Like any of these people have any idea what's really going on.”

“It's hard to see the true picture with your nose stuck that far up in the air,” she replied through a careful smile.

I snorted.

The mayor clamped his hand down on Dante's shoulder once more. “But before we do that, I think it's important to give thanks to those who dedicate their lives to protecting not just our freedoms, but our lives.”

Wow, this was
quite
the act. I was actually sort of impressed.

The mayor stepped aside, guiding Dante to the mic. “May I present Mr. Dante Arturo!”

The crowd responded with as much exuberance as etiquette would allow. They clapped and a few people raised their glasses. Hands behind his back, Dante barely managed anything resembling an expression.

“Don't be shy, Mr. Arturo,” the mayor said. “Say something!”

Dante's gaze swept across the crowd, pausing on Aralia and me. I gave him a small thumbs-up and he smiled a bit before leaning down to speak into the microphone. “Good evening, everyone, and thank you for your support. It is my honor and privilege to serve this city.”

The applause died down completely and silence prevailed. When Dante spoke, people listened.

“Though I know things have been difficult lately, and many lives have been lost, I do believe we can beat the evil,” he looked at the mayor, “plaguing our streets. It may not be easy, but I can promise you that it will be worthwhile.”

Someone coughed. A baby began to cry.

Dante took this as a sign to wrap things up. “Please remember to call the police department right away if you notice any sort of suspicious activity. Be alert. Be active. Stay safe. Thank you.”

He retreated from the mic.

The mayor took his place. “Well said, Mr. Arturo. Wasn't that well said, everyone?”

Applause.

“Now,” he said, “I―”

The lights flickered. Concerned murmurs rose up from the crowd. Dante tensed. My hand inched to the gun holstered underneath my dress.

The mayor looked up at the chandelier, then laughed like nothing was wrong. “And here I thought that blizzard passed a few days ago. I suppose not!”

Nice try, Satan. This wasn’t a freaking blizzard. This was a damn set-up and I knew it.

“Anywho,” he hooted, “I want to thank you all so much for coming. It means the world to―”

The lights flickered one more time before going out completely, abandoning us to the dark. Ha! I knew it. Definitely a set-up.

Like in every single horror movie I'd ever seen, it only took a moment for someone to start screaming. It was the pebble in the pond, the ripple on the surface, the first domino. Chaos erupted mere seconds later. More screams joined the first. People fumbled in their blindness, and despite the fact that most of the guests here considered themselves above violence, I got elbowed in the stomach and shoved to the ground.

Someone grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up.

I swiped my hair out of my eyes. “Okay, who the hell shoved me?!”

“Beatrice,” Dante's familiar voice pierced through the shadows. “Where's Max and Sadie?”

Oh,
crap.
“I don't―”

“Uh, guys?” Max’s voice entered. He must have followed the sound of my rage. I assumed he had Sadie with him. “Is that you? What's going on?”

“I don't know,” Dante replied. He hadn't let go of my arm. “Aralia? Are you here?”

“Yes, yes,” she sighed from somewhere behind me. “We're all present and accounted for.”

That was something, at least.

“Do you think the mayor's making his move?” I asked my group of disembodied voices. I moved my arm a bit and Dante quickly pulled his hand away, like he just realized he'd still been holding it.

“This is far too convenient to be anything else,” he said.

“Then let's get with it. Kill the bastard while we have him here.”

“Tell us how you
really feel
, Beatrice,” Aralia said.

The chaos moved from this room to the next as most of the guests found their way out, stumbling from one hell to the next. A fresh chorus of screams split the air. Together, we all moved toward them. I bumped into Max and Sadie bumped into Aralia and Dante bumped into the doors. Through the glass, we could see the terrified crowd of party-goers―barely lit by the moon shining in through the windows―collectively cringe as something very large and very scary hovered above them.

I hiked up my dress and grabbed my gun.

Kazraach.
A huge one. Baring down on the crowd with claws (talons?) outstretched. This was
not
good.

Dante rammed his shoulder against the doors. They didn’t budge. Instead of trying to bust them down, he drove his fist through one of the glass panels and reached around to flip the lock, providing us access to the room.

We rushed in as the
kazraach
swooped. People screamed and many tried to make a break for the exit. It, too, was locked. They beat their fists against the door, pleaded for mercy that wouldn't come. Rage ate away at my fear.

The mayor―
Amarax
―wasn't going to murder these people. We were going to save them. Starting with killing the winged monster that was about to eat Georgiana Robinson for Christmas dinner.

She screamed bloody murder, cowering in a corner with her arms thrown up to protect her face. The kazraach latched onto them with skeletal fingers and screeched, razor blade teeth posed to take a chunk out of her neck. I trained my gun on the monster’s head and got one bullet off when a spectacular pain ignited in my chest.

Groaning, I doubled over, my breath coming in excruciating gasps. My hands shook violently, so violently that I couldn’t keep a hold of my gun. It fell to the floor with a clatter and two hooded figures separated themselves from the mob. Crap. Not again.

I didn’t have the best track record with hooded figures.

“Get—get away from me,” I wheezed, stumbling backward into the wall. I looked around for Dante or Aralia or Max or Sadie. I didn’t see them. My vision blurred and the world seemed to be tilted on its axis, like I was looking at it through a crooked lens.

The screams of the dead and dying filled my ears, punctuated by the heavy wing beats of the kazraach. This was a nightmare, it had to be a nightmare. I was going to wake up and be in my room at Dante’s and—…Oh, who was I kidding? This wasn’t a nightmare.

This was worse.

***

The pain in my chest receded when the bitter winter air filled my lungs.

Flanked by the hooded figures, they dragged me out of the Mayor’s Mansion through the front door. Having noticed their escape route was finally open, the surviving party-goers fled along with us, none of them pausing in their panic to notice the mysterious cloaked people dragging the innocent bystander through the snow.

“Let me go!” I strained against my captors, but they kept their hold and led me to a car parked in front. The fleeing people didn’t stop for theirs. They just ran. Cars could be replaced. Lives, however, were a bit trickier. “Let me g—Hey!”

The hooded figures shoved me in the car and slammed the door.

The man occupying the driver’s seat peered into the rearview mirror.

I knew those eyes. Blue, drained, sickly, but ultimately familiar. I didn’t know which was worse: Being kidnapped by someone I didn’t know or being kidnapped by him. “Brother Luke?”

“Hello, Beatrice.” He put the car in drive.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked. I was so deeply immersed in denial that reaching for the most obvious question was the only thing I could do at that moment. My brain cooked up all sorts of excuses. He wasn’t working with Amarax or anything, he just operated a taxi service in his spare time. Or if he
was
working with Amarax, he was only doing it because Amarax was making him do it. Better yet, this was all a big misunderstanding and he was driving me home. Yeah. There we go.

Brother Luke stared blank. The city was a blur of ice and lights and snow. The streets, emptier than Jason Clark’s head. “What is necessary. I hope one day you’ll understand.”