Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(28)

“Stop!” Leisel screamed, running up from behind. “Alex! Stop!”

She was alive. She was alive and Alex was alive, and even more amazing, so was I. My gaze flickered between Leisel and Alex and the bloodied body on the floor, and then back to Leisel.

She was alive.

Grunting, Alex climbed off the body, using his coat sleeve to wipe away the blood that had spattered across his face. He then tucked his pistol into his waistband and reached down to retrieve the man’s shotgun.

“We need to go,” Leisel whispered.

I knew we needed to go, but I couldn’t seem to stop staring at her and move my feet. I’d been convinced she was dead, that fear driven home when I could no longer hear her screaming. Yet she wasn’t, she was here, and I still couldn’t quite believe that she was real, that she was still alive.

“Lei,” I choked out, reaching for her, my chin trembling. “You’re alive.”

Her face crumpled at the sound of my broken words and then she rushed forward, nearly tripping over the mangled body at our feet as she fell into my waiting arms. Wrapping my arms around her, feeling her warmth and her trembling, feeling the dampness of her tears on my face, only served to reinforce the fact that she was truly alive, and I wasn’t dreaming or imagining that she was here. I breathed out a sigh of relief and slumped against her.

“We need to go,” Alex muttered. “Now.”

He was already moving, heading down the hall, and Leisel and I hurried to catch up. We followed closely behind him, me still clutching my baton in one hand and Leisel’s hand in the other.

“This place is huge,” I whispered when we breached a third set of stairs. “And creepy as hell.”

Wherever we were now, I could hear singing, the same hymn being belted out by the same joyful voices, the sound of it all the more chilling now that I knew what was happening here. In the Lord’s name, no less.

“You ready for this?” Alex asked when we reached a large wooden door, the singing coming from just beyond it.

Nodding, I showed him my weapon, and he rewarded me with what might have been a smile. With Alex, whose smiles and grimaces looked nearly identical, the possibilities were endless.

Tightening my grip on Leisel’s hand, I gave her a hard yet gentle glance, trying to will my strength and reassurance into her. She looked petrified, yet determined, and it was then that I noticed a small blade clenched in her fist. Knowing that she had some way to defend herself if we got separated was a comforting thought.

Raising my baton, I looked at Alex and nodded. “Ready,” I whispered.

As he took hold of the handle, I had a moment of panic at the thought that it might be locked, that we might have to bust our way back into the bowels of the church. If that were the case, we’d lose the element of surprise, no longer have the upper hand.

But my fears were baseless. As the door clicked open and the room we were standing in flooded with light, the three of us moved forward and into the nave of the church.

The room was exactly the same as when I’d been forcefully dragged through it. There were still people lining the pews, the choirs was still situated on the chancel, and the minister, Mr. Peter—apart from his swollen lip—was still smiling, still singing his heart out with his arms raised toward the sky in worship.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Alex bellowed, startling everyone in the room, including Leisel and me.

The singing abruptly ended. A heartbeat of silence followed before a chorus of gasps and murmuring finally rippled through the pews as the parishioners watched us creep slowly into view. Only Mr. Michael was brave enough to stand, though his hands were trembling, giving away his fear and causing his gun to quiver in his grasp.

Alex smiled at the armed man, a menacing show of teeth. “Put it down, or your man over there”—he gestured with his gun toward Mr. Peter—“is going to eat a bullet.”

With a quick nod, Mr. Peter signaled for Mr. Michael to do as Alex asked. Mr. Michael did, gently setting his weapon down by his feet before sitting down again.

Mr. Peter, no longer smiling, his eyes wide as he looked the three of us over, opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t say anything, *,” Alex gritted out, cutting off whatever the man was about to say. “Get your people and go stand over there.” He pointed to the far aisle of the nave, the one directly opposite of where we stood.

The church went silent, the choir and the parishioners all looking at Mr. Peter in question. Sheep, that was what they reminded me of. Unable to think for themselves, to eat, sleep, or breathe without some sort of direction.

“Stay here,” Alex muttered before he stalked forward. With his shotgun raised, the barrel fixed on the center of Mr. Peter’s chest, Alex approached him slowly.

“You would kill a man of God?” Mr. Peter asked in shocked disbelief as he eyed the gun in Alex’s hand. “You would murder innocent church folk for simply spreading the word of the Lord?”

Reaching him, Alex pressed the barrel of the gun against his chest. “Tell them to move,” he growled. “Or I will kill you.”

The two men stared at each other, Alex’s eyes full of hard determination, and Mr. Peter’s full of hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred glowered beneath the facade of kindness.

“Do what he says,” Mr. Peter said, lifting his chin obstinately. “Get up and move to the east side, and let these sinners pass. The devil has a different path for them.”