Page 67 of Phoenix Academy: Mayhem

The inside of the church is dim, unlit by electric lights, but light flows in from stained glass windows set high in the wall. As the sun filters through the glass, it takes on the colors of the stained glass pictorials: bright green and blood red, mottled yellows and the white of a robe.

Colors that hit the dead bodies piled near the altar and turn them macabre as well as beautiful.

I take a few hesitant steps forward, then feel my body start to tremble. All at once I crumple to my knees, staring at them, feeling it like a weight on my chest. Reggie kneels beside me and takes my hand; his fingers in mine are the only thing that keep me anchored to this world. The others take cautious steps forward, staring down at the bodies, bending to press hands against slit throats and blood-darkened wrists.

There isn't a smell, so this must be recent.

An absurd hope rises in my chest.

"Are any of them...? Could they even be..."

David's face is grim. "I'm sorry. They're all dead, Ari. Every single one of them."

"Six total." Xavier's tone is hard-edged with anger and steel. I can feel how badly he wants to hurt the man who did this. "They all have similar hair and coloring. I think they might've been a family. One of them looks like a high school student."

Sickness twists within me, and I have to close my eyes to let it pass me over. Six witches. That's an entire coven. They were probably all related in some way—sisters and nieces, cousins and aunts.

We have so few intact covens these days. It's hard to keep the line of witch blood going when so many have to marry out. I'd hoped that destroying the Hallgate would change that, and somehow boost our numbers. I forgot that we're still hunted like deer and slaughtered like pigs.

"Goddess protect them and see them through the veil." Forcing my legs to stand, I take the steps up to the altar and stare down at the bodies, Reggie at my side. "Their spirits won't rest easy until they get their revenge. So I'm going to give it to them." Meeting each of my guys' eyes, I promise them, "This death will be easy now that I've reminded myself who he is: not my father, but a monster wearing his body and his skin. A Heretic. Someone who deserves to die before he gets the chance to kill another."

Xavier squeezes my shoulder, his face grave. "I'm glad you said that. Because he's headed this direction, and fast. We have maybe a few minutes at most to prepare."

"Then let's get on it."

* * *

Hallowed ground. That's what this is. Despite the chemical spill and the air of abandonment, this church has been blessed, first by mortals heavy with belief, and now with the blood of witches.

I can feel it as I do my preparations for battle. We set our packs on the church pews, and take out our tools: each of the guys has a special crossbow with rope spooling from the bolts, while I have little pots of paint in every color and a wide brush for each of them.

Pacing up and down the aisle of the church, I paint runes in every darkened corner: ones to weaken your enemy, ones to trap a stray foot, and others to protect us from harm. I call out the color and location of each as I paint them down, so the guys will know where to retreat to in order to lure the Heretic into my traps.

Meanwhile, the three of them practice aiming their bolts with lengths of rope attached, in a triangular formation. Our plan is to tie the Heretic up as I burn the rune into his back, which will be easier said then done. He's a broad, tall man, invulnerable to wounds, and uncaring to everything around him. It'll take great coordination to trap him—each of the guys has to loose their bolt and hit the right target at the same time, so he finds himself in the middle of them. Then they'll run clockwise around him and tighten the ropes as I prepare my fire and carve the rune into his flesh.

At which point I'll have to meet the man who made me, this time with a soul inside his body.

I know Dani said that killing the Manslayer was easy enough for her, but this time it'll be different. My father isn't a Grim who was brought back from death centuries ago. He was only recently made into a soulless Husk. For whatever reason, he's fixated on witches ever since, hunting us down and killing us.

Maybe he'll still be the same awful, horrible person with a soul inside him. He's spent decades hating witches. He just slaughtered six. Some things can't be taken out of a person, and plenty of humans with souls do awful, unimaginable things.

"He's almost here." Xavier jerks his head towards a spot near the front, between two pews, where we agreed I would hide until the right moment. "Time to get ready."

I don't feel ready. I never will, I realize. Grabbing my supplies, I sling my pack over one shoulder and rush to my hiding spot. Once there, I pull a few extra things out of the back just in case: my knife belt, a few throwing knives, and a rifle just like the one I used to hunt with. While none of them will do anything against the Heretic in his current soulless state, they soothe me, their weight and heft like a little girl's stuffed animals in her bed, protecting her from nightmares.

A little smile curls my lips. Dani was right. Neither one of us is normal.

I feel him long before I see or even hear him. There's a sudden weight to the air around us. Little hairs on my arms rise up in attention. The guys crouch, each in a different position around the church, heavy crossbows at the ready.

Everything has been leading up to this moment. I can feel my blood roar in my ears, my pulse pound against my neck, and even my fingertips seem to tremble.

His footsteps are so heavy that the floorboards creak as he enters the church.

"Who is there?" The rumble of his voice fills the empty rafters. I quake with fear. "Whoever it is, come out now, and I might kill you quickly. If I feel like it."

Eternity passes in a second. Then: the guys leap from their crouches. Bolts loose from heavy crossbows. Rope flies through the air. I dare to rise a little from my hiding place and watch what happens next.

He knocks the bolts away with the flat of an open hand and bares his teeth in a wild grin, his dark soulless eyes eating up the light. "Is that all you've got?"

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