Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(29)
Another murmur rippled through the pews as people glanced back and forth at one another, some looking fearful, others looking angry, until eventually everyone was on their feet and shuffling slowly across the room.
“Arms up!” Alex shouted, glaring toward the gathered crowd. “All of you.”
Again, Mr. Peter nodded, signaling for them to do as Alex asked. Once their arms were raised and Alex noted that their hands were devoid of weapons, he reached for Mr. Peter. Taking hold of his neck, Alex shoved him forward. Pressing his gun into the man’s back, he kept his grip on his neck and urged him to begin walking.
Gripping Leisel’s hand, I pulled her forward into the center aisle and followed closely behind Alex, only stopping to reach down and scoop up Mr. Michael’s fallen shotgun. We continued down the aisle quickly as I kept a close watch on the crowd to my right, looking for any sign of movement, ready to run if someone pulled a weapon.
“You’re leaving us unarmed, you know,” Mr. Peter said, his tone suddenly oddly friendly. “We’ll have no way to protect ourselves against the risen.”
Alex laughed, a cold and cruel sound. “You tried to kill us, and you think I care what happens to you?” He barked out another angry semblance of a laugh, and pressed his gun harder into Mr. Peter’s back.
When we reached the set of double doors at the entrance, Alex looked at me and I hurried forward, trying the handles and finding them locked.
“Where’s the key?” Alex growled, shaking Mr. Peter.
“It’s here!” a voice called out, and an elderly man stepped forward from the crowd. Graying and wrinkled, he wore a pair of tattered suspenders and a golfing cap. He reminded me of a grandfatherly type, a great uncle, or an elderly neighbor, someone who looked harmless, kind and caring even. Holding up a set of keys for us to see, he shook them. “I’ve got them.”
Alex gestured for the man to join us and when he did, still keeping his grip on Mr. Peter’s neck, Alex used his shotgun to shove the old man toward the doors. “Open them,” he demanded.
The old man complied, his hands shaking with age and fear as he attempted to locate the correct key. It took several tries, each failed attempt causing the man to glance back at Alex with wide, fear-filled eyes, until finally the doors were unlocked. Pulling them open, the man tentatively peeked his head out, looking both left and right before stepping back.
“The way is clear,” he said, swallowing hard. “Though your conscience will not be if you harm Mr. Peter.”
Alex snorted. “I should kill him,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “I should kill you all.”
The old man swallowed again and shook his head. “No, friend, you should be grateful for what we had planned—for what the Lord had planned for you.”
“What is wrong with all of you?” I cried out, looking from the old man to Mr. Peter to the crowd of people still gathered together. When no one bothered to answer me, I shook my head, feeling both sickened and saddened. “Alex,” I said. “Let’s go. Right now.”
“Yes, go,” Mr. Peter snarled. “Get out of my church, and take with you the evil you’ve brought into my home. Go back to the vile cesspool the world has become, full of sinners and whores,” he said pointedly, looking at Leisel and me as his face contorted with disgust, his eyes burning with madness.
I was shaking, not with fear but with a burst of uncontrollable anger, and as Alex shoved Mr. Peter forward, just barely missing the elderly man, I found myself releasing Leisel’s hand, raising my gun, and pulling the trigger. My aim was wild and the first bullet sliced through Mr. Peter’s shoulder, causing him to lurch backward and cry out in pain. Again, I pulled the trigger, this time hitting him squarely in the chest, piercing his most vital organ. He stumbled backward, his eyes wide, and hit the wall behind him before his knees gave out and he dropped to the floor in a heap.
Gasps and screams erupted from the gathered crowd as the old man fell to his knees, his hands covering the growing red stains on Mr. Peter’s shirt.
“What have you done?” he screamed, his voice shrill and thick. “You’ve doomed us all. You’ve doomed us all!”
Alex, aiming his gun at the old man, let loose a mouthful of spit, sending it directly onto the toe of his shiny black shoe. “You’ve doomed yourselves.”
I was shaking, my gun still aimed at the man I’d just killed, wanting to kill him all over again, wanting to kill every last person inside this church. Though they deserved worse than a quick death, they deserved the very same death they nearly inflicted on us, and who knew how many other innocent people.
“The blood attracts the risen,” the old man wailed, his words barely distinguishable amid his groans of grief. “We’ll need an offering!” he cried, looking toward his people.
Much to my horror, several of the parishioners stepped forward. Their heads were bowed as they silently offered themselves up at the old man’s request.
“We need to go,” Leisel cried out as she grabbed my arm and tried to pull me through the doorway. “Now, Eve, now!”
The three of us ran through the doorway and out into a dark and empty street. Though I didn’t stop running long enough to get a good look at the place, I garnered from what glimpses I did see that it was a quiet sort of neighborhood. It had once probably been full of families, with children laughing and playing, neighbors borrowing sugar, the sort of town where Christmas caroling was a yearly event looked forward to by all.