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The four men from around the trash fire sprinted down the corridor toward us. One of them yelled, “Avenge the king!” Right behind them was the second pair from the wall. Lanterns lit the crazed look in their eyes. These six might not be Pentacles, but they were fanatical followers.

“Down, Tower!” I yelled, just as bullets flew.

Joules and I dove behind a pew. Crouching, I aimed and fired. Hit one. Dodging a bullet, I tagged another. Splinters burst into the air beside my head.

The four remaining guards took cover behind a wall, spraying bullets at us.

“Do your worst, Tower.” Joules had to swipe his damp hands along his pant legs before producing a javelin. He took several shallow breaths, then popped up and threw, drilling the spear into the wall closest to the guards.

Thunk.

No explosion or electricity. Just a spear. Vibrating in a wall.

He ducked back down. “I’m juiced out.”

“Then we do this the old-fashioned way.” I peeked around the pew just as a guard fired wild. I drilled an arrow into his forehead.

Three guards. One arrow left. I motioned for Joules to toss me a javelin. He did, producing one for himself as well.

Then I said, “Shit, I’m out!” Loud enough for the guards to hear. Sometimes the Arcana playbook called for dirty tactics.

Joules caught on. “Damn it, me too.”

Two bogeys broke cover, rifles raised. “Come out with your hands up!”

From behind a cloud of wood dust, Joules and I hurled our javelins. His hit was clean to his target’s heart; mine skewered the guard’s neck in a fountain of arterial spray.

We dove down just as the last bogey opened up for all he was worth, conserving as well as Joules had in his initial attack—in other words, not at all.

Had to run out of ammo soon. Waiting for it . . . waiting . . .

Click, click, click.

Magazine empty. As he fumbled for another clip, I leapt up and stalked over to him.

He stared up at the bow leveled on him and grated, “See you in hell.”

“Save me a spot.” I plugged him in the eye, then wasted no time retrieving the arrow. Hurrying to the corpses I’d dropped, I snared the rest of my ammo and reloaded. I checked the guns from the fallen guards, strapping on one with half a clip left.

As we waited for more guards, my breaths were loud in my ears.

Yet none came. Damn it, where was everybody? We’d only found one suit and a handful of guards.

Kentarch: “I repeat, state your sitrep.”

I ran my sleeve over my forehead. Sweat and splinters. “We’re good.”

Voice thick, Evie said, “As in, unharmed?”

“Not a scratch, ma’am.” ’Course the night was still young. I asked Dominija, “How’d you know demons doan exist?” Some kind of Death deity knowledge?

“I do not for certain.”

I gave a humorless laugh. “Well played.” My laugh faded as I gazed around, wondering if demonic forces were real.

“Ta for the assist, Reaper.” The nicest thing Joules had ever said to Death.

Still on guard, the Tower and I edged around the twitching, smoking bodies to the altar.

Joules made the sign of the cross and told the heartless corpse, “Forgive me, Father, for not gettin’ to you sooner.”

Something about the man’s mouth drew my attention. I used my bow and a bloody arrowpoint to draw down his bottom lip.

“A little respect, Cajun . . .” Joules trailed off at what I’d revealed.

The “priest” had filed teeth—a trademark of the Teeth, miner cannibals brainwashed by the Hierophant to kill Evie. I frowned. I’d thought they’d all been killed off.

Joules looked crushed. “Maybe the Pentacles did it to him. He didn’t have a choice.”

“Face it, Joules, they dressed up a cannibal for their sick rites. Just ’cause you wear a collar doan make you a priest.”

Joules turned to me, coming down from his battle high. “Sorry about offing all your potential hostages. And nearly getting us eaten and all.”

“Fuck’s sake, Tower. Remind me to leave you in the truck next time.” The answers I’d yearned for felt more distant than ever. “Come on. Let’s go try to salvage something.”

Weapons at the ready, we headed out of the chapel. We’d just turned down a corridor when I heard a weak voice calling from a lower level. “Is someone there? We’re jailed down here.”

With effort, Joules produced another javelin. “Prisoners?”

“Or a trap.”

Still, we followed the sound to a narrow stairwell. Pitch-black darkness greeted us. Naturellement. Even with the light from our cams, we wouldn’t be able to see down there.

I fetched one of the Pentacles’ lanterns along the corridor.

Joules blinked at me. “You want to go down into a dark dungeon? With a devil-worshippin’ lantern? Did you never watch horror flicks? I say we chalk this entire night up to experience and get ourselves out of Fort Dodgy here.”

Evie said, “I agree. Jack, you have to leave now.”