Page 61 of Love At the Gates of Hell (The Seven Sinners Trilogy #1)

“I need you to put it back,” she said, propping herself up against the pew.

“Are you sure?” Luke asked, his eyes searching hers.

“We don’t have time for you to be precious with me,” she told him, exasperated. “It’s fine. This has happened before, just snap it back into place.”

Her eyes, usually so bright and clear, were dark and urgent.

He swallowed, nodding his head as he grabbed her arm.

Cleo braced herself against him, fingers digging into his skin.

A million questions were burning in his brain but he didn’t have the time to dwell.

Instead he did just what she asked, popping the bone back into the socket without giving her much warning.

A little whimper passed through her lips as he held her for a moment, keeping her steady as she got her bearings. It did something to Luke to hear that noise, his chest tightening at the sound.

“You good?”

“I’m good,” she said, nodding her head. She managed a wonky smile. “Thanks.”

He pulled her to her feet using her good arm, handing her back her shotgun. He pressed his lips together as he studied her, suppressing the sudden urge to smooth the wrinkle from between her brows. Was he precious with her?

Another rumble worked its way through the cathedral floor, startling them both, and they turned their attention to the altar as Frank drew his knife into his own chest, dragging a shallow line down through the rune tattoo.

A heavy hiss escaped from the back of his throat and he staggered slightly.

The line was only a few inches long. But Luke began to understand then what he was doing.

Before any of them could stop him, Frank pressed the ruby into the center of his chest, directly in the fresh wound, the light at the center of the gem glowing brighter and brighter until it seemed to illuminate the man from the inside out.

And then the floor began to cave in.

It was slow at first, bits of the stone floor falling through the hole the vampires had broken up with their sledgehammers.

Then a deep crack worked its way through the ground until it reached the altar, continuing to where Frank stood.

His skin was glowing a deep red hue and he was laughing, his arms outstretched and his head tossed back. It was a relentless, hysterical sound.

And it did not cease even as the ground cracked completely open.

Frank sank beneath the floor of the church, leaving nearly everyone stunned.

Luke wasn’t sure what the fuck was happening. Had the ritual worked?

The amber light that had been glowing since the start of the ascension went dark.

Luke and Cleo exchanged another glance before he leaned just a little forward, his eyes taking in the sight of what was beneath the rubble.

Part of him was wondering if the cathedral was going to collapse in on them all, the foundation utterly wrecked.

But to his surprise, there was an entire basement beneath their feet.

And although it was now dark, he could make out two very large doors, a hint of light peeking from beneath them.

It was like time stood still.

Luke could feel all the hearts rapidly beating from the humans around him. He rubbed at his chest as if it were his own giving him grief. Then, he heard a slow, high-pitched creak.

It grew louder, the doors beneath them pulsing.

“Master, Master,” came quiet chanting.

Luke and Cleo exchanged a heavy glance. All of Frank’s men had worked their way toward the hole in the floor near the altar, the chanting increasing in volume as they got closer.

Luke’s jaw clenched as he tried to prepare himself.

Then, suddenly, the doors burst open and a heavy step ricocheted off of the stone walls.

“How bad is this gonna be?” Cleo asked.

“You got enough ammo?”

“You should know better than to ask me that.”

Something shifted within the rubble, chunks of stone tumbling over themselves as a large hand reached out from below.

Not a hand. A claw. The skin was dark and scaled with webbing between each finger and long, sharp claws instead of fingernails.

Another followed, and Luke grimaced as he saw two very large horns slowly rise from the basement.

It worked.

Halmanthoran was pulling himself from the carnage, climbing from the pit beneath their feet.

If Luke thought the demon in the Codex was hard to look at, it had nothing on the creature Frank had become.

He stood nearly nine, maybe ten feet tall if Luke counted the horns, and well, shouldn’t he?

The horns glimmered in the moonlight that slipped through the stained-glass windows, and there was a weird sheen to his skin, like the scales were slick with something wet.

They covered nearly his entire body, save for a thick patch of fur from the knees down which led to hooved hind legs like that of a bull.

He was lean and broad, a tail whipping around his legs as he seemed to gather his bearings, large batlike wings fluttering behind him.

Luke could see hints of Frank’s face in the demon’s, maybe, if he tried hard enough.

It was hard to see beyond the bright gold eyes and long sharp teeth, the way his forehead jut out in a hard ridge.

But when it spoke, it was all Frank Markos.

“I AM RESURRECTION,” he boomed, voice deeper but familiar. “I AM LIFE—”

His declaration was cut short as another rogue gunshot rang through the church, this time hitting the demon in the other shoulder.

The impact forced him back for just a moment, and Luke wasn’t sure if it had breached the skin or not.

But the demon let out a deep laugh and brushed at the wound as if he had just been stung by a bug.

Luke whipped his head around to see where it had come from and found Torretta standing there with a rifle in his hands, his face set and his jaw clenched as he fired off another shot.

“No man-made weapon can truly harm me,” Frank replied, gold eyes glowing.

“But it’ll keep you busy,” Torretta snapped.

The demon stepped down from the altar, his footsteps heavy on the stone. “Kill them,” he called out to his remaining men. “Kill them all. I must find our little witch so I can bring all of Hell’s delights here on Earth.”

And the men that had crowded at their master’s feet were on their mission once again, leaving Luke wondering how their own numbers looked. It had been hard to keep track. To know where Harker was. Where Tefi was. If any of Torretta’s men were still standing.

“Shit, it looks like Harker could use a hand,” Cleo said, her hand curving around Luke’s wrist for a moment. A moment they didn’t have lingered between them, her eyes boring into his. “Stay alive, will you?”

He looked just past her to where the demon hunter was suddenly surrounded, and he nodded. “Go. I’ll find Gideon and Benny.”

Cleo turned on her heels and readied her shotgun once more, cocking it with one arm as she approached the opposite side of the church, managing to take out one of Harker’s attackers.

Luke watched after her with a frown for a brief moment before he turned to look for his brother.

If Frank was going after them, Luke was going to be there.

He was the one who got them into this mess to begin with.

But then, suddenly, Luke felt something warm and hot pierce his middle.

One of Frank’s men took the opportunity to lodge a bullet directly in the pit of his stomach, the force of which knocked him off his feet, like an iron spike had wedged itself within him.

He sank back against the column, his hands clutching at the wound, his blood spilling over his fingers.

He cursed, gritting his teeth as he felt the pressure of the bullet, knowing that he didn’t have the fucking time to heal through this. But without fresh blood he was going to have to deal with the slow regrowth and the utter fucking agonizing pain working its way through his body.

Luke sank back, his head thudding against the wall.

He just hoped they could do this without him.