She laid her palm across her stomach, fighting the sickness that had started about a half hour ago. When she’d first come in here the old church had been drafty and cold, completely cut off from light and warmth. There were no windows in the chapel, the only light from torches along the rows of pews and on the altar.
She’d been chilled to the bone.
But now it was hot in here, and she’d started to perspire. She’d already put her hair up in a clip; could feel the dampness on the back of her neck, the beads of perspiration gathering between her breasts.
She didn’t feel well. Something was wrong.
She stretched out on the hard wood bench and curled her knees against her chest, hoping it would help quell the dizziness and nausea. The cool wood felt good against her face, but it wasn’t enough. Lying down made it worse, so she sat up again, trying to focus on the altar, hoping the colorful artifacts would distract her from her physical ailments.
Statues of the Virgin Mary, her smiling, forgiving face reaching across the chapel. The crucifix. . so ancient-was the cross actually made of a pale rose marble? It was beautiful. She’d love to get an up close look at it. She rose, holding on to the pew railings for strength as she made her way toward the front of the church.
She felt weak. The closer she got to the altar, the more her stomach tumbled. Her legs shook, pain and nausea overwhelming her. What was wrong with her?
She pushed on, forcing her legs to move, but they felt like jelly, threatening to give out from under her. She couldn’t do it, finally dropped to her knees in a cold sweat. The room spun around her and she was certain she was going to pass out.
Everything closed in. The church seemed to grow smaller, as if the walls were moving inward. Her vision had gone askew and she swiped her hand across her brow to push away the beads of perspiration dripping down her face.
When she looked up at the altar, she saw demons.
She blinked, rubbed her eyes, looked again.
Gruesome, horrible creatures made their way toward her, their arms outstretched, long claws pointed toward her as if they were coming to claim her.
No. That couldn’t be. They said she was safe here. It had to be an illusion. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again.
Demons. Still coming, making slow progress, but advancing with every second.
Panic soared through her body as they inched their way closer.
“Help me,” she croaked, but her voice was no more than a whisper. No one would hear her.
Pushing to her feet, forcing her legs to move, she backed away from the altar. Fear snaked its way into the quickly darkening recesses of her mind.
Get out. Get out now. Hurry. They’re coming for you.
She couldn’t breathe. Her throat constricted. She needed air. Sunlight. Away from those. . things. Their claws, fangs. . dear God, they were her worst nightmare come to life. She kept moving, walking backward, afraid to take her eyes off them.
They weren’t supposed to be in here. She had to get away.
Her heart pounded so hard she was afraid it was going to burst from her chest. Fighting to stay upright, she forced strength into her body.
Maybe it had all been a trick. Dalton, Michael, and the others had lured her in here, intending to turn her over to the Sons of Darkness, to be rid of her so they wouldn’t have to deal with her.
Angie had probably been in on it, too. She wanted a life free of having to deal with her sister. She’d read Mother’s diary, knew what Isabelle was. Angelique was no doubt horrified. Not that Isabelle could blame her. She’d been a burden to her sister her entire life.
Isabelle was all alone now.
Her head hurt. She wanted to cry.
“You can’t have me,” she growled in a low whisper, pointing at the creatures. They seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the church as they advanced ever so slowly toward her, their tall, thick bodies more menacing by the minute.
Sucking in a breath, she pushed back, step by step, determined not to fall, to make her legs move. If she stopped, they’d be on her.
She didn’t know where her strength and resolve came from, but she pulled it from deep within and turned around, running like hell for the double doors leading out of the chapel. She pushed at the heavy wood and the doors swung easily open.
“Hey!”
The guard held out his hands, his eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Get out of my way.”
“No. No. You can’t go.”
She stopped, looked up at him, and realized then that he had turned into a demon, too, his face leering at her with those horrible, dripping fangs. He reached for her with his long claws and she pushed with a power she didn’t know she possessed.
The demon guard went flying, crashing against the far wall along the hallway. She heard his grunt as the air rushed out of his lungs. He must have hit his head, because he slumped down to the ground, his eyes closed.
Isabelle shook her head, the visions between reality and whatever was messed up in her head too jumbled. All she knew was that she couldn’t breathe, needed air.
And she was hot. So damn hot. She had to get out of here.
She rushed down the hall, toward the doors leading outside. The windows along the hallway showed no sunlight, only a strange, dark mist swirling near the windows and doors.
A cooling mist. Yes, she needed that relief against her blistering skin.
Running as if her life depended on it, knowing the demons were right on her heels, she turned the short corner and pushed open the heavy door, sucking in great gulps of moisture-tinged air as soon as she stepped outside.
She could breathe out here. As the icy mist enveloped her, she could breathe.
Cold hands touched her, surrounded her, offering relief from the fever.
“Come with us,” they said. “We’ll take care of you.”
She looked up, trying to see them, but her eyes wouldn’t focus.
“I’m so tired,” she said, then closed her eyes, falling into their arms.
Their blissfully cold arms.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Demons surrounded them. Between the mist and the number of demons coming at them out of nowhere, Ryder was firing so fast he could only hope he didn’t hit his own people.
He saw Dalton’s face, though, and pivoted, just as demons rose up in a thick cloud and surrounded Angelique.
Shit! He raised his gun, but they enveloped her and disappeared before he could get a shot off, before he could take a step to get to her. In an instant, they were gone, taking the swirling mist along with them.
As well as Angelique.
“Sonofabitch!” He turned again, hitting the lightningquick pure demons with round after round of laser fire, fury fueling him as he stepped over their melted forms to pump more rounds of sonic bullets into a few hulking hybrids who’d popped up as backup to the purebreds.
Smoke filled the air, taking over where the mist had been. Ryder and the other hunters hit the demons with a barrage of laser and sonic blasts, until the remainder of them disappeared.