Page 65 of Love At the Gates of Hell (The Seven Sinners Trilogy #1)

forty-four

Benny

“Where are you hiding, Benedetta?”

Frank’s voice was a booming sound, the effect ringing throughout the cathedral as his heavy footsteps worked their way down the center aisle.

Or what was left of it. Pews were damaged and destroyed, tossed aside and shattered in the bedlam of the battle.

The desecration of Our Lady of Perpetual Help was evident.

Benny closed her eyes, her head resting back against the pillar she hid behind.

She pressed her hand against her chest, her heart beating so rapidly it felt like it was ready to burst. She increased the pressure, almost as if she was trying to hold her own heart in her hand to steady it.

Benny took a deep breath. She was giving the others time.

Giving herself time.

She still wasn’t sure this was going to work.

Benny only had a couple of days with her mother’s journal.

She’d hardly had the time to put her mother’s hypothesis into action.

She wasn’t sure she was strong enough. Brave enough.

“If you insist on playing the coward,” Frank hissed over what sounded like the muffled sounds of a man struggling, “I will be forced to find an alternative solution. If I cannot have your heart, perhaps I will just kill everyone here you love instead.”

“No,” she whispered, the realization of his words making her stomach flip.

There was a sudden and brutal crash, a choked grunt of pain that forced Benny to turn, keeping her profile low as she stole a glance from behind the pillar.

She watched in horror as her father rolled onto his side in the rubble of a freshly broken pew, wood and bibles strewn across the floor.

He was bleeding, bright red pooling in one ear as he clutched his arm to his chest.

“I am tired of these games, Benedetta.” Frank sighed. “My patience is wearing very thin, and we have only just begun to test the limits of my new body.”

She could hear the chilling sound of wings beating.

Her jaw clenched as her fingers flexed at her side.

Her patience was wearing thin too. And her rage was beginning to itch.

A door in the second level slammed shut. Then another.

Frank looked up into the rafters.

“Come out, come out, little witch,” he growled. “Do you think I can’t feel you nearby? Do you think the blood we share won’t bind us forever?”

The thought made her sick.

Frank’s footsteps went bounding back down the aisle as his shouted commands to reach the second floor sent the rest of his men scattering.

Just a few more minutes.

“Hey, princess—”

Gideon’s voice was deep and warm, yet barely above a whisper as he came from the back corner of the atrium.

She could feel the sudden relief working its way through her muscles, his presence easing her as he stepped out from the shadows.

But she frowned when she noticed the fresh cut above his eyebrow and the scrap against his cheekbone.

She reached out for him almost as soon as he reached her, her fingers hovering along the cut.

“This is new,” she said softly.

“Yeah, well, the other guy’s dead, so.” She watched as his throat worked over itself, his eyes studying her intently. Something she couldn’t name flashed behind them, something pained. “You ready?”

She nodded. It was time to toss her the baton. The others had done so much already.

“It has to end.”

A moment passed between them, Gideon’s features softening as he looked at her.

“But I can be scared, right?” she whispered, the words a confession.

“Fear and bravery don’t seem all that much different to me at this point in the game, Benny,” he said. “But I think if anyone’s gotta be scared right now, it’s Frank.”

She huffed a breath as she shook her head. “Gideon—”

“You are the only person here who can hurt him,” he said, his hands curving at her shoulders as he fixed her with a steady gaze. “You’re a fucking marvel, do you know that?”

She blinked her eyes shut. She wanted to believe him. She really did.

“Baby, look at me,” he said, tilting her chin with the crook of his finger. “Please.”

She opened her eyes as his hand curved at the nape of her neck.

“I know you can do this,” he told her, voice tender. “You’re incredible, Benny. Everything about you. Don’t let him win.”

She chewed on her bottom lip.

“Do you think maybe you went into the wrong profession?” she asked.

He stifled his laughter as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You’re up,” he said, rolling his eyes at her as a smile crept across his lips.

“Right,” she said, her heart fluttering rapidly once again. “This is it. This is— shit —”

Benny surged forward and pressed her mouth against his, both hands cupping at the sides of his face.

Her kiss was deep and urgent. A little voice in her head whispered mine as his hands pressed into her hips, and it only grew louder as his fingers tangled in the fabric of her dress.

If this was the last instance of pleasure in her life, it would be worth it.

It would be so fucking worth it.

She stepped back, her fingers pressing at her lips.

A thunderous roar bounced off of the walls of the cathedral. Frank was losing it.

Which meant this really was it.

“I think I love you,” she breathed. “I have to say it now because I’m not sure what’s next. And I don’t want to walk out there without telling you that you— God, Gideon, you make me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt in my whole life.”

Gideon opened his mouth to speak, but she powered through. She felt this dizzying mixture of lightness and strength all at the same time and there was more she needed to say. It was too important. And they were running out of time.

“I need you to take cover,” she continued. “And to keep Luke as far away from me as possible. Harker too. I don’t want to hurt them. And my dad—just, keep him safe, okay? Whatever happens. Please don’t let him be alone.”

“Benny,” Gideon started.

“Promise me, Gideon,” she urged.

He looked stricken. “I promise.”

“Now go,” she said, offering him a smile, her heart feeling like it was going to explode out of her chest. “Please.”

There was a moment where she thought he would say something, but he just nodded before breaking off into a jog to reach the others.

It was Benny’s turn to step out into the light.

Her footsteps were slow and steady as she reached the edge of the aisle.

Bodies lay at her feet, men she knew and men she didn’t.

The fighting had all but slowed. Too many men dead, too many vampires gone.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Gideon reach her father, Jimmy already trying to carry him toward the entrance of the church.

She could see Cleo hidden in the balcony of the second floor, her shotgun propped up on the railing.

Benny tried to keep her head up and her shoulders square, her eyes steady.

But it was impossible not to think of the cost or of the blood that surely rested on her already black hands. All the lives that were lost.

Because of her.

No.

She had to stop shouldering the blame.

This was because of Frank Markos. Because of countless men just like him throughout history, leaving behind the instructions to their mayhem for other pathetic men to find. Well, that was going to end. It had to.

“There you are, my little witch.”

He stepped down from the altar, his hooves heavy on the marble, his eyes gleaming with a certain kind of want.

Like she was a toy or a trophy. A thing to play with.

It made her skin prickle with gooseflesh as she stepped toward him.

He was eager to meet her, eager to rip her heart from her chest. Like he could have ever wanted anything more than to just use up her body, to pull out the pieces he needed most from her without a second thought.

“Are you finally ready, Benedetta?” he asked.

Her eyes flickered to the stained glass, to the burgeoning light beyond the windowpanes. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head. She could feel her strength, could feel her support, and her love. Benny flexed her hands at her sides, letting the magic seep into her fingertips.

“Yes, I am.”

Frank snarled as he bounded across the hole in the stone floor with ease, as if he were merely skipping over a crack in the sidewalk.

The floor reverberated with the impact as he landed and it took everything she had in her not to stumble backwards.

She steadied herself as she tilted her head back to meet his gaze.

He was so close.

His body mere inches away from her own.

“I am going to enjoy ripping your heart from your chest,” he said as he looked down at her. “And I’m not going to be neat about it.”

“You’ve already taken enough from me,” she said. “You’re not getting anymore.”

“Is that so?” he cooed. “Are you the weapon come to kill?”

“I am,” she said. “I am not man-made. I am witch born of generations of Stregas, and all their power flows through me. I am the weapon.”

With a ferocious growl, he grabbed for her, his marled, clawed hand wrapping around her waist roughly.

She could feel the tips of his claws digging into her skin, cutting through the linen he forced her to wear.

A cry spilled from her lips and she could have sworn she heard someone call out her name.

But she needed to focus. She needed to draw on her pain, to channel it into her magic.

She held out her hands, her skin tingling with raw power.

Benny closed her eyes, willing the rage and anger and fear she felt into something more.

Something that could save the people she loved.

She could feel it swirling through her body, bubbling beneath the surface of her skin just waiting to break through.

She welcomed it, willing the heat and power to consume her in a way she never had before, and her skin crackled with electricity.

She could see her mother’s handwriting, the notes she had scrawled across numerous pages. Sophia had this fear that if she wasn’t careful, her power could swallow her whole. That she would become a blitz, a weapon, something more dangerous than anyone had ever seen.

That was exactly what Benny wanted.

She called on the goddess who gifted her these powers. She called on the witches she had lost over the years, the family taken from her. All the Stregas that were killed for their abilities, for their blood.

She was not going to do this alone.

The light within her was growing more and more intense until it was breaking through her skin, illuminating her from the inside out.

“A cute little party trick,” Frank mused.

But his hold on her was loosening, the energy radiating through her skin becoming unbearable to touch. She could feel it tremoring through her, every inch of her body feeling like it was trembling with power. Like she was merely a beacon for it.

“No—” Frank stumbled from the intensity of the light, dropping her back down as he sank to his knees. “ No —”

But her feet never touched the ground.

Benny was floating.

With her head tilted back and her arms splayed out at her sides, her body became a balefire of light and power and electricity. Like a bomb ready to burst. It kept her steady, floating, the power drawing her up into the air and cradling her.

A gunshot ripped through the room, crashing into the stained-glass window and allowing the sun’s morning rays to seep into the cathedral, all of the light channeling through Benny’s body like it was starved for it.

A small gasp passed through her lips.

She was sunlight.

She became Aurora, goddess of the dawn.

A blinding flash of light filled the church, illuminating the entire space before it seemed to centralize into one single unfortunate figure.

It was not with a roar that Frank died, but a strangled cry.

In one moment his body was there, and in another, it was gone. Benny could feel his loss innately; she could feel it in her blood. Would she always feel the ghost of him? The realization brought a dull ache to her chest, her heart feeling tight, as dizziness settled in.

And then, everything went black.