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The eyeball bounced in the air, creating a figure six. Five brides, one vessel. Gwen needed to move.
“C’mon.”
Gwen didn’t look to see if the eye was keeping up with her as she flew into a full sprint.
The back of house was large, taking up the full length of the store. It partially wrapped around the right side, but that area was dedicated to furniture and was tricky to navigate. Gwen was certain Sierra and the others were near the main back entrance door, where the trash compactor was. It was where she had continuously caught Sierra and Tom flirting in the past. It would also provide them with a proper escape if they gave up on the ritual.
Gwen made it to a pallet of Halloween decorations when she heard it. The same broken whispers James had been emitting, only louder. Pressing against the tower of boxes, Gwen slowly edged around to peek. The lights were cutting in and out, making it more difficult to see, but Gwen made out five figures. They were dressed in similar robes, though theirs were red in color. Each one holding a hunting knife.
Are those … sequins?
Ambrosius was right, human cultists were reallytacky.
Lack of taste aside, they were positioned almost like a five-pointed star. Why, Gwen didn’t understand, as nothing she had read online indicated it was needed for the ritual. At that point, she would guess it was more embellishments gone wrong.
Gwen scanned for hermain target. In the center of the five brides, sitting in one of Mary’s office chairs was Tom. He was shirtless, with Ambrosius’ symbol painted onto his chest.
No, not painted.
Shit, they had carved into him. Tom was restrained, ankles bound to the legs of the chair and arms pulled behind him. Black ink appeared on his body, moving with the same urgency as Ambrosius’ had. With every erratic chant of the brides, Tom’s body arched as it slowly began levitating. He was sweating, and he looked ill, another side effect of the cult’s foolishness.
Then he started screaming. His voice mixing with that of another.
Ambrosius!
If they wanted to summon a devil, well, Gwen would give them one.
Anger propelled Gwen forward, boots falling onto cement until they weren’t anymore. The tips of her boots glided across the cement, arms outstretched as black ichor dripped down her eyes. Her chest burned, or maybe it was her heart, jealous and vengeful for what the cultist were inflicting upon Ambrosius.
Trust your intuition.
There was pressure on her solar plexus, an ache that dug into her flesh. Something tore at her ribs, pushing and biting, eager to be free. It hurt, the pain one of many she had felt tonight that she tried to contain. Her chest expanded, and the sound of something snarling echoed in Gwen’s ears.
Trust yourself.
“Get ‘em, boy.”
Gritting her teeth, Gwen let go.
Her chest burst open, black blood spraying as Gwen’s ribs tore. A creature pulled from her organs, leaping onto the ground with large gallops. It grew in size with every step, a beast that walked on four legs. It was no bigger than a large wolf, but its canine features were grotesque, exaggerated.
Massive paws with gnarled claws pounded against the cement. Strong, exposed muscles flexed as the beast jumped onto one of the brides. Teeth that were much too long clamped around her neck, bringing the helpless bride to the ground as it thrashed the woman. Shaking her as easily as a stuffed toy.
Concentration broken, two of the nearby brides screamed.
“Keep going!” a voice shouted. “We’re too close to stop now!”
Sierra.
The euphoria that had once drowned the store quickly vanished. Whether it was hysteria, adrenaline, or a false sense of importance that kept the brides rooted in place, Gwen didn’t know. But one thing was abundantly clear as the beast darted toward its next target.
They had absolutely no sense of self preservation.
And it would cost them their lives.
Gwen made quick work of another bride, catching her before she could vacate the circle. Claws sliced across her neck, leaving the bride choking and gasping for breath in her wake. Another bride got farther, screaming as she ran for the door, only to be stopped by Ambrosius’ eye lodging itself into her throat. The bride fell to her knees, choking violently, eyes wide as the eye blocked her airway. Colorquickly drained from her face, and Gwen knew she’d be dead within the next few minutes.
Which leaves us to…